WARNING: As long as you have seen through Season 2 episode 11, most spoilers stop there. Lucy/Tim hinting, but nothing too bad. Please enjoy!
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Rookie Officer Lucy Chen went out of her way to make sure she was ready for working with her original T.O: Officer Tim Bradford. Aside from seeing him in passing, she hadn't seen him much since getting told she could return to work after the 'Caleb and Rosalind Incident'. She finished covering her death day tattoo with cover-up makeup, adjusted her high ponytail, and checked her phone for the time.

"Crap, no! Jackson, we gotta go... like yesterday! " She yelled as she opened her bedroom door, only to find that he was standing by the front door waiting for her with a thermos filled with coffee for both of them.

"Come on, we don't want to be late. You're back with Bradford today, right?" Jackson asked as he ushered her out the door. He locked the door behind them, after handing one of the thermoses to her.

"Ohmygosh! You are a total godsend! Yes, I'm back with Tim again." she said with a nervous laugh. Yes, I'm back with Tim again." she said with a nervous laugh.

The drive to the station was filled with good conversation and a ton of laughter. Once parked, they made their way to their separate gender specific locker rooms to change into their uniforms before roll call.

"Once everyone is paying attention, I have some announcements to go over. The overnight patrol left us with a wonderful mess of a case to follow up on. Last night just after 1 am, a group of six thugs robbed a jewelry store. Leaving no fingerprints and no signs of forced entry, and all were clothed in black. All we have to go off of is their heights and a couple of reflections that show us one or two of their eyes." Sgt Grey said in exasperation.

"Where do you want us?" Nolan asked itching to get a move on, he looked at Chen and West who both nodded their agreement and anticipation.

Grey regarded him thoughtfully, before looking to Harper and Lopez for any sign of the same zealous excitement. Neither seemed to show anything besides the typical boredom. He sighed, knowing both would be needed, and he wasn't sure about Bradford who looked bothered by something.

"Alright, Harper and Nolan do follow-up, Lopez and West hit the streets and run damage control, and Chen and Bradford coordinate with the other daytime patrol officers on calls that come in." He said, dismissing everyone to their assigned jobs. "Bradford, hang back." he added, not wanting to question the man in front of anyone.

"Get the gear into the shop, Boot." Officer Bradford ordered Chen to do, so his meeting with Grey could be without a spectator.

"Yes, sir, "Chen said automatically, taking off with Nolan and West to set their shops up.

"You doing okay?" Grey asked once all the rookies and their fellow officers had vacated the room.

Bradford looked taken aback, not expecting the sergeant to be worried about him. "I'm fine," he responded in true Bradford form.

"Alright, get out there," Grey said, not thrilled with the other man's response but he wasn't going to tell the man that.

"Yes, sir." Bradford mumbled, leaving as quickly as he could while remaining walking. He walked straight to his and Chen's shop, tossed her the keys, and got into the passenger side without a word.

Chen stood confused for a moment, then walked around to the driver's side and climbed in. She buckled up, making a mental note to watch her to watch her T.O. closely,since he wasn't acting like himself.

"Where to first?" she asked, trying to engage the man without being too personal.

"Let's drive around, see if anyone needs anything while we wait for calls." Bradford said, sounding bored and tired. He reached around the laptop to blast the AC, causing Chen's mouth to drop open in surprise. For once, she managed not to say anything, as her T.O. closed his eyes for a moment.

She drove around in silence, before spotting a fight in progress. She pulled up in front of the cul-de-sac, turning the lights on, but no siren.

"7-adam-19 responding to a possible 415 in progress," she said into her walkie talkie before climbing out of the shop. She looked for Bradford for backup, but he waved her forward, as he slowly got out of their shop. He stayed by the shop, watching her and how she held herself after everything. Harper had told him, She was doing way better, but he wanted to see for himself.

Chen walked up to the two men holding knives toward each other. "What seems to be the issue?" she asked, keeping enough distance between her and the armed men to avoid injury.

"This isn't your concern, back off..." the taller of the men growled, not taking his eyes off the other man with a knife.

"Put your knives away and disperse." Bradford warned from beside the shop, his hand going to his gun and making it clear he was ready to draw  it at any moment.

"Why don't you come and make me," the first man growled in response, moving to point his knife at Chen.

"Drop it on the ground... both of you!" Both Chen and Bradford yelled in unison, drawing and pointing their guns at both men.

The second man dropped his knife quickly, putting his hands up, and, without being told to, interlaced his fingers behind his head.

Chen surged forward, kicking the knife out of everyone's reach and handcuffed the guy who was cooperating. Then she turned her attention to the man still posing a threat. Before she could say or do anything, Bradford jumped into the mix, disarming the man with a swift hit to the wrist.

However, Bradford didn't see the man balling his fists and took a few hard punches, before Chen had tased the man, resulting in the man collapsing. Once both had been handcuffed and put in the back of the shop, she turned her attention to Bradford.

"7-Adam-19, show us code 4." she said, into her walkie talkie. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking him up and down. From the looks of it, he had taken a hard hit to his gut, jaw, and ribs before she stepped in.

"I'm fine," Bradford said for the second time that day. He reached up when he felt something wet on the corner of his mouth, pulling his hand back to see red. "Just hand me some napkins or tissues," he added nonchalantly.

Chen got in the first aid kit in the trunk, pulling out Tylenol, Advil, a bottle of water, and the aforementioned tissues.

"Which one do you want?" she asked using a no-nonsense tone to mean there was no room for argument.

Bradford surprised her and himself by accepting the Tylenol, water, and tissues without so much of a comment or look. He walked back to the passenger side, opened the door, and climbed in. He didn't miss the look of confused concern that crossed Chen's face.

"7-Adam-19, please send an additional unit to our location for transporting the men from our 415," Chen said into her walkie talkie, expecting to be chewed out, but Bradford stayed silent, with his eyes closed.

Within twenty minutes, Smitty pulled up and took over custody of the two men in the back seat of their shop.

"Is he okay?" he asked Chen, motioning to Bradford who hadn't moved since sitting down and closing his eyes.

"Yeah, he just took a few hard hits during the stop, he'll be fine shortly," Chen said, doing her best to sound upbeat and eager, even if deep down she had a sneaking suspicion she was wrong.

Moments after Smitty took over custody and left, she got back in the shop and turned to examine her T.O. Without all the distractions, She could see he was pale, but she figured that had to do with the bleeding cut on his lip.

"Where to next? Need some food or coffee?" She asked, pretending like she wasn't aware that something was most likely wrong.

"Yes, let's go there," Bradford said after a long pause, as he buckled up and turned up the A.C. again.

"You got it," Chen said with a big smile, as she wanted to check in with Jackson and Nolan. It would be lying, to say she, also, wanted to watch her T.O. more covertly.

She pulled up to the usual haunt, grinning in relief when she saw the other two rookies in line for food. She got out of the shop and walked over to join the other rookies, sending anxious glances at Bradford, Harper, and Lopez.

"Why are you watching them so closely? Did something happen?" Nolan asked, noticing that Chen seemed distracted.

"Does he look okay to you guys?" she asked, after ordering for her T.O. and herself.

Nolan threw a glance over his shoulder and shook his head. "Nah, he just looks beat up and tired." he said trying to not only validate her concerns but ease them as well. His comment earned a nod of agreement from Jackson.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm gonna take him his food, then I'll join you." She said, not sounding convinced, but she still took him his food and walked away without a word. She sat down at an angle, so she could keep an eye on Bradford and still eat with her friends.

"Shots fired at the Diamond District, requesting backup," came a panicked voice across the walkie talkies. All six officers jumped into action, with Harper and Nolan leading the pack.

"Don't," Bradford said, as he saw Chen reaching for her walkie talkie.

"We're not going to respond?" She asked with a bit of an accusatory tone, which she didn't mean at all.

"Load up." was all he said, as he stiffly cleaned up his, Harper, and Lopez's table before walking too slow to their own shop.

"Code 4 for Diamond District." came one of the dispatcher's voices canceling the call for help.

"Oh well, back on the streets?" she asked, working hard to hide her disappointment.

"N... yes, back on the streets," Bradford echoed, getting in the passenger side again.

Chen nodded in silence, buckled up, and got them back out onto the streets. She checked the log a couple times, but nothing was showing up long enough for them to take it.

After an hour of driving in silence with the A.C. blasting, Bradford cleared his throat a few times.

Chen wordlessly grabbed his water bottle, opened it, and held it out to him, without missing a single beat.

Bradford didn't say a word when he accepted the water, sipping on it almost as if he was trying to avoid actually drinking any of the offered water. After a few sips, he took the cap from her and closed the bottle.

"So I was thinking..." Chen started saying, when he cut her off out-of-the-blue.

"Pull over," Bradford growled, bracing himself for fast movements by grabbing the extra handle on and above the door, for dear life.

"I can't, we are on the highway." Chen said, peeking at him in confusion.

"I'm sorry," Bradford ground out through clenched teeth.

"Sorry?" Chen asked, as she heard a burpy gag come from his side of the vehicle. "Oh shit! Are you sick?!" She asked, concern overriding any other sensations she might have been feeling.

The only answer she received was a much louder and more aggressive gag, that rocked Bradford's battered body forward.

She looked for an opening to get off the highway. beyond grateful when one opened up; even if it was moments too late. Right as she was about to pullover, Bradford shot forward gagging hard enough to bring up a meager amount of his stomach contents, onto the floor of their shop.

She grabbed her walkie talkie immediately, knowing he shouldn't be working if he was sick like this.

"7-Adam-15 requesting a private channel to Sergeant Grey." she said before Bradford could stop her, not that he even tried, all he did was bring the back of his hand to cover his mouth.

"7-Adam-19, go to channeI eleven." the dispatcher said a moment later.

Chen switched her walkie talkie to channel eleven and waited for Sgt. Grey to speak first.

"What's going on? Is someone hurt?" Sgt. Grey asked immediately. hoping to whoever may be listening that there was not another kidnapping, cop shooting, or something else catastrophic.

"No, we need off this shift completely. Bradford and myself," she explained, trying to not to make Bradford look bad.

"Did something happen?" Sgt Grey asked again.

"Um..." Chen said, chewing on her bottom lip, as she tried to figure out the best and least embarrassing explanation.

"I just puked in our shop," Bradford ground out, followed by a violent and unproductive gag to prove his point.

Chen dropped the walkie talkie, grabbing some tissues that she used to blot at his sweaty forehead, face, and neck.

"Take Bradford home, don't worry about the shop, we'll get it cleaned up. Over and out," Sgt. Grey said, before signing off.

Chen went back to the normal channel. "7-Adam-15, show us 10-7a." She said, informing dispatch and all officers-on-duty that they were offline until further notice. She got out of their shop, walked around to Bradford's side, and opened his door.

Bradford unbuckled and promptly vomited on the ground beside her feet. "S...sorry," he stammered before vomiting violently on the ground again.

Chen jumped backwards with the first heave, but still moved back beside him, awkwardly rubbing his back but stopped when he stiffened.

"Was that too much touching?" She asked softly, having a sneaking suspicion he had a headache from the beating earlier.

Instead of responding, he surprised them both and leaned into her, his head finding her hip and closed his eyes in relief.

She stood awkwardly for a couple minutes, before she lost the internal debate in her head. She lightly carded her fingers through his short, sweaty head hair, immediately catching the fever that was brewing. Feeling the fever seemed to be all she needed to step up to the plate, to get him home and back on the mend.

"Hey, Bradford?" She said with a gentle but questioning tone. When he didn't respond, she looked down at him to see his features were completely relaxed, almost as if he were asleep. "Tim?" She tried again, barely stifling the sigh of relief that washed over her when he stirred, burying his face against her hip. She giggled softly, finding his behavior endearing.

"You said my name," he said with a hoarse voice, not pulling away yet.

"Yeah, you have a fever and look exhausted. Is it safe to get back in the car?" She asked, concern raising her voice ever-so-slightly.

"It's a shop..." he grumbled, as he mentally took stock of how he felt. He knew she was right about the fever, as he kept getting chills even in 100 degree weather. He couldn't tell if it was the heat, the fever, or just nausea, but his stomach was really upset still.

"Oh, right. Well we aren't on the clock anymore, so I can call it whatever I want." She snarked playfully, frowning when he let out a soft whimper. "You okay?" She asked, carding her fingers through his hair again.

"N...no," he ground out, as he wrapped his arms around his middle.

"Slow deep breaths, in your nose out your mouth," she suggested gently, hoping the breathing technique would help, not make matters worse.

Of course, they weren't that lucky, and he pulled away from her hip with a vicious gag that coated the cement all over again.

"Oh Tim, I'm sorry," she said with conviction. She moved her hand from his hair to his back, which resulted in him stiffening again.

"Not my back," he said with another unproductive gag that sounded really painful.

"Oh crap, sorry," she said automatically, moving her hand back to his hair. She wasn't going to ask about why, not while he was still trying to rid his body of whatever yuck was in it. She reached past him, grabbed his bottle of water, uncapped it, and offered it when the gags finally stopped,  for the time being again.

He looked at her quizzically, really not wanting to drink anything.

"No drinking it, just rinse your mouth, it should help you feel less crappy once the nasty vomit flavor is lessened." she explained, even if she knew he wasn't a child and didn't need her lengthy explanations.

He eyed the water in a moment of loaded disdain, before accepting it and bringing the water to his lips. However just as he tipped the bottle up, a gag erupted from his throat.

She quickly took the bottle from him, so he could focus on his stomach and not be stuck trying not to spill or drop the bottle.

He gagged unproductively a few times, before his burning forehead found her hip again with a weary sigh.

"Ready to head out?" she asked gently, smiling when he leaned into her hip again.

He sighed again, pulling away from her with a tired look. He moved back to his seat properly, his cheeks flushed with fever.

"Want to take some of your uniform off now, or later?" she asked, not wanting him to be anymore uncomfortable than was necessary.

His eyes met hers, before offering a shake of his head, as his eyes closed in exhaustion.

She walked back to the back of the shop, opened the trunk, searched around for some towels or something, and walked back to Tim's side of the shop. She placed some paper towels, which is all she could find, on the floor to hide his earlier incident.

"Thanks," he said hoarsely, hating that he was feeling so crappy that his rookie had to take care of him.

"Sure, I figured you didn't need the reminder. Just relax, oh, and let me know if we need to pull over again." she requested, knowing her training officer had to be feeling pretty awful to allow her to dote on him.

He nodded his agreement, as he swallowed convulsively. He really didn't want to swallow, as his saliva was bitter from throwing up and was making his queasy stomach churn painfully.

She walked around to close the trunk, before returning to her own seat. She buckled up, watching as Tim closed his own door and buckled up too. She could see his seatbelt was as loose as was legally safe, which worried her because he never tried to break the rules, unless it was to pick a fight with some lowlife.

"You good?" she asked, looking away when she realized she was kind of staring at him.

He cleared his throat a couple times, before starting to hiccup. Each hiccup sounded more painful than the last one, and each one sounded like they were trying to piss off his already pissed off stomach.

"Just drive, I..." he was cut off by a hiccup that made the whole car spin aggressively. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and reached out blindly for anything that could possibly ground him.

She operated on instinct alone, grabbing his hand in hers, not liking how badly he was trembling. She waited in silence until the man beside her stopped trembling.

"Sorry, I got dizzy and felt like the shop wouldn't stop spinning," he explained, his tired eyes meeting hers.

She could see a genuine sense of vulnerability in his eyes. Almost as if he had no choice but to trust her, as his body continued to fight him left and right.

"Not to worry," she said with a gentle smile. "Would you like my hand to stay here?" she offered, not wanting him to shut her out, but she wanted to help in any way he would let her.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as his sluggish brain was struggling to keep up.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to have it stay, its presence is keeping me from spinning too much," he admitted, sounding almost shy with his request.

"Sure, no problem," she said nonchalantly. Using her opposite hand, she got them moving again, being careful to not jerk the vehicle too much. She tried not to react right away, when she felt him beginning to tremble again. She looked at him through her peripheral, quickly noting his change in appearance and behavior.

She was tempted to ask if he was alright, but judging by the trembling and how tight his grip had become, she knew the answer. She was also aware that if she pushed too hard in trying to take care of him, he would retreat inward, and she'd be lucky if she ever got him to drop his guard again; so she stayed silent, as she pulled into the parking lot of her apartment. She would have taken him to his home, but she wasn't sure if he had the supplies needed to get him on the mend.

She parked the shop in her parking spot, before turning to look at him. She gasped softly, any color that had been in his face, besides the deep red flush of his cheeks, was ghost white and it looked like he was clenching his jaw so tight she worried he'd hurt himself.

Before she could think better of it, she used her free hand to caress his cheek and jaw.

His eyes flew open, looking at her warily, as if he was expecting something bad to happen or appear out of nowhere.

"That's quite a fever you are sporting. Doesn't clenching your jaw like that hurt a lot, after the big guy got the jump on you?" She asked, hitting his buckle so he could move more freely.

He looked at her for a brief moment, before whirling around to fling his door open aggressively, as another violent and unproductive gag erupting from his lips.

"Oh dang, you're okay. Try to breathe, if you can." She encouraged, rubbing a gentle hand up and down his closest arm.

He panted through waves of dizzying nausea, trying so hard to not look phased and not throw up at the same time.

"I...I..." he stammered hoarsely, as he realized there was no hiding how miserable he felt. "This sucks," he panted out, after realizing he had started talking but hadn't finished.

She couldn't help but laugh, as she shook her head. "I know, let's get you inside and out of your uniform." She said apologetically, when he flashed her a wounded look.

"Not my house," he mumbled, looking around in confusion.

"Oh yeah, I took you to my apartment. Come on, you look like you're about to pass out." She said, getting out of the shop and walked around to his side of the shop. She side-stepped the little bit of vomit he had managed to get up since arriving. She offered him a hand, not wanting him to end up keeling over when he stood up.

He eyed her hand for a long moment, before grasping the offered hand and climbed out of the shop, never letting go of her hand.

"How far?" He asked, as he tried to appear normal, even though deep down, he knew he needed to sit or lay down soon because he felt very lightheaded, tired, dizzy, and nauseous.

"Use me to steady yourself, and we can use the elevator instead of the stairs." She suggested, offering him her arm to steady himself. For a moment she thought he was going to ignore her offer, but at the last second he nodded briefly.

Once he had gotten a good grip on her arm, she led the way inside to the elevator. She helped him lean against the wall for the ride up, not liking that he kept clearing his throat and swallowing with an audible gulp sound.

"You okay there?" She asked once they disembarked from the elevator after it jerked to a stop on her floor.

He looked at her for a loaded minute, before lifting his free hand to cover his lips, seeming to answer her question with a silent gag.

"Alright, only a few doors and you'll be at my door." She encouraged, all but pulling him down the hallway to her door, then guided him to lean against the wall while she unlocked the door.

In the moments before she could open the door, he leaned his head against her shoulder, obviously too worn out to stay upright.

She shoved the door open, being careful not to shake Tim too much. Before she could say a word, he lurched away from her, into the open apartment, and to the kitchen sink. She was right on his heels, kicking the door shut in her haste.

Painful gags ripped from his lips, making his trembling return with a passion. Finally after gagging unproductively for what felt like forever, his stomach gave in, causing him to vomit twice back to back. It wasn't until he was breathing in his mouth in a panting motion, that he realized he was in Lucy's kitchen, trembling worse than a newborn animal, and still in his uncomfortable uniform.

Lucy reached around him, turned on the faucet, and rinsed out the sink without a word. Once the sink was clean again, she encouraged him to face her, and continued her mission of care, when he didn't protest. She unbuttoned his shirt, untucked his shirt at the bottom, before helping him to remove the top uniform piece. After she had removed his walkie talkie and loaded belt.

"Let me get you some sweats, is there anything else I can get for you?" She asked kindly, trying to make it clear he wasn't a bother.

He blinked in confusion, as her words took a while to sink in. "Couch?" He rasped, all energy seeping out of him with that single word.

She mentally facepalmed herself, as she grabbed a mixing bowl from one of the cupboards, leading him to the couch, which he sank down onto it heavily.

"I'll be right back," she promised, as she left the room quickly. She changed into leggings and a t-shirt, grabbing her ex's sweats, since they were bigger than her own. She grabbed her phone from her uniform's pants and headed back into the living room, to see Tim was looking at her with fever-glazed eyes.

"Who's sweat are those?" He mumbled, barely keeping his eyes open as she walked up to him.

"One of my ex's, at least they have a higher chance of fitting than mine would." She offered with a shrug.

He took the sweats, looking around in confusion, as he didn't see an obvious door for the  bathroom. He looked at her quizzically, not wanting to voice that he was lost and vulnerable, but she seemed to understand either way.

"Bathroom?" She asked, earning a barely perceptible nod. "Through my room... uh do you need help?" She asked, biting her bottom lip in sudden apprehension.

He looked at the sweats in his hand, before looking at the floor. It all seemed very overwhelming out of nowhere.

"I... help," he whimpered, knowing if she didn't steady him, he'd either collapse from dizziness or pass out, all the while trying to puke at the same time.

"No problem, do you need to use the bathroom, or to just change?" She asked, giving him a reassuring smile.

He frowned, before clearing his throat. "M... both," he admitted, wishing deep down that his rookie wasn't going to have to help him like he was an invalid.

"Alright, up you go." She said, offering him her hand again, judging by how pale he had become over the few moments of their talking, it wouldn't be wise to have him stand up without assistance.

He regarded her hand, before struggling to stand up without any help. Keeping an unsteady hand on the couch, he took a few steps, before he had to stop, with a groan of discomfort.

She moved to his side, wrapping her arm around his waist to steady him. "Are you okay?" She asked in a gentle voice. She wanted to help him, but wasn't sure how to. Being caring is one thing, but taking care of someone who had learned the painful way, not to ask for help or to not appear weak, was another thing entirely.

"The room won't stop spinning," he admitted, his voice breaking more than once, as he sagged into her embrace, barely supporting his own weight.

"Hey! No losing consciousness while standing up." She gasped, not expecting to support the majority of his weight. Not that he was heavy, more just surprising.

"Not passing out," he mumbled, as he straightened up a bit, with a lot of difficulty. He transferred the majority of his weight to the couch armrest, so it wasn't pulling on her so much.

"Oh. Okay, good. What can I do to help you?" She asked awkwardly, as she was too overwhelmed by the relief that washed over her at his mumbled comment.

He thought for a moment, before looking at her in defeat. "I need the bathroom," he said in an exhausted voice.

She nodded, half pulling, half guided him into her room and towards the bathroom, stopping in the bathroom doorway in hesitation.

"You got this part, or do you need help?" She asked, biting her lip in confusion, as she normally wouldn't be so hesitant to help her T.O.

He looked at her for a moment, before grabbing onto the countertop, and used the countertop to get to the toilet.

"Don't go too far?" He requested, his voice was all raspy.

"No problem," she said, closing the door before moving to her bed, which she sat down on as she scrolled through her phone.

He got himself to the toilet, deciding that he would sit down to pee, reducing the chance of his dizziness knocking him out while half-naked or mid-pee. As he went to the bathroom, he squeezed his eyes shut against the ever-spinning sensation. He groaned under his breath, too disoriented to be able to stand up or switch out his pants.

"B... Lucy?" He called wearily, as he felt like he was about to pass out from the constant spinning.

She walked into the bathroom, after opening the door, only to stop short when she saw how miserable her poor T.O. looked. She moved to stand in front of him, trying to assess the situation.

"You okay?" She asked gently, resting a worried hand on his head which felt warmer than when they were in the blazing sun.

He groaned, allowing his head to rest against her hip again, as she turned and grabbed the thermometer from under the sink.

She was relieved that she had paid the little bit extra for one of the fancier thermometers that operates with no-contact forehead readings. She looked down at him with a small smirk, before carding her fingers through his really sweaty, short brown hair.

"Mmm..." he grumbled, pressing his burning forehead against the cool fabric covering the hip of his 'boot'.

"I need to take your temp, it doesn't feel too high, but I'd prefer having an actual number versus a guess." She encouraged, as he turned his head just enough to let her scan his forehead. After a moment, the device beeped and flashed red with the numbers 103.4. She watched him flinch away from the sound, and it hit her, he most likely had thrown up the Tylenol he had managed to take after the fight.

"How bad?" He asked, sounding like he was about to fall asleep.

"103, which means more Tylenol and some water." She said, moving to grab the Tylenol she kept in the bathroom, stepping away carefully, and walked into the kitchen to get him a brand new bottle of water from the fridge.

He grunted, slowly and methodically, working to get up from the toilet, change into the sweats, and get them pulled up, before she could walk in on him in a compromising position... again. Once his sweats were pulled up, he sank back down onto the toilet, with a dizzying groan.

She walked back into the bathroom with bland crackers, a water bottle, a heating pad, and towels galore.

"You okay?" She asked, relieved he was decent again. She handed him the Tylenol and the water bottle, which she opened before handing it to him.

"Do I have to?" He asked in an exhausted voice. He looked at her briefly, before closing his eyes tightly to slow the onslaught of dizziness.

"We need to get your fever down, so take the Tylenol with a few sips of water, then you can take a nap." She instructed, walking back into the bedroom to setup the bed with towels, in case of an emergency.

"What's the towels for?" He asked, having pulled himself up and was now leaning against the door jam, and was looking ready to collapse.

She moved to his side, wrapped her arm, and led him to the bed, only tightening her grip when he stumbled.

He sank down onto the bed, too worn out to fight that sleeping on/in her bed was a bit awkward. But if he was being honest, he was grateful that she was willing to take care of him, after everything. Thinking about all that had happened set his upset stomach churning painfully, making him wish he hadn't taken the Tylenol and water.

Somehow she knew something was wrong, because she darted into the living room, returning seconds later with the mixing bowl from earlier. She placed the bowl in his lap, sat down beside him, and started rubbing his arm lightly.

"It's okay, if you need to puke, I'll have you take more Tylenol later." She encouraged, not wanting him to be any more miserable than he already was. Though if she was honest, she was confused by how sick he was... and why she hadn't caught the bug too.

As if on cue, all the water and Tylenol made a reappearance, and left him dry heaving.

"Sorry," he rasped, once he could semi-breathe again.

"Shh... lay down and rest," she said, taking the bowl from him and helping him get comfortable.

He grabbed her hand, when she got up to leave the room. "Stay please," he half-begged, when she turned to look at him.

She smiled, moving to sit on the bed against the headboard. "Only if you rest," she said in a gentle but firm voice.

He rolled over, his head finding her hip again, causing him to sigh in relief. After a while of silence, he spoke in a low, sleepy voice.

"I'm so sorry you got hurt, if I'd known..." he admitted softly.

"Oh Tim, it's not your fault, besides you're already forgiven. Now rest, I'm not going anywhere." She said calmly, understanding finally dawning on her, as she realized why he was so sick... because he felt responsible for her kidnapping and almost death. She waited for a time, her brain racing through the events and her 'death day' tattoo.

"You okay?" He asked, startling her out of her waking nightmare.

"Wha? Oh yeah, I'm great. You should be sleeping..." she said kindly, knowing he was looking out for her.

"You're thinking too loud," he teased, before yawning and pressing his head against her hip harder.

"Oh go to sleep," she said with a laugh.

"Mmm..." he mumbled softly, his breathing evening out, as he fell asleep.

She waited a while to make sure he stayed asleep, before allowing herself to fall asleep too.

Neither one woke up until Jackson got home that evening, and came searching.

"Lucy, you two okay?" He asked in concern, jolting her awake in surprise.

"Hey, Jackson, yeah. We're fine," she said in a low voice, before carding her fingers through Tim's hair again. "Oh, his fever broke, thank goodness!" She said with a relieved yawn.

"Oh, that's good, I'll let you sleep." Jackson said, with a shake of his head, as he grabbed the mixing bowl to clean out.

"Can you let Sgt. Grey know that Tim is doing better, please?" She requested, as her eyes drifted closed again.

"Of course," Jackson said, as he left the room, closed the door, and called the Sgt. while he cleaned out the bowl. He slipped into the bedroom, leaving the bowl where it had been, in case either of them needed it.
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I know this is one of longer fics, but I hope you all enjoyed it! Please let me know if you want a sequel, and if said sequel should be Tim still... or switch it to Lucy. Lol.

As always: vote, comment, and request away. Love you all! <3