S1 EP1

"Like I said, I was just jumpy," Ollie explained with a roll of her eyes. She sat at the frontmost row in the briefing room between Jackson and Lucy, with John just taking his seat beside the latter. "I didn't hear his footsteps."

"Ollie Marshall never gets jumpy," Lucy raised a brow at her, "Like, ever, literally. You're the worst target for jumpscares."

"First-day nerves, then."

Jackson chipped in this time. "That's not your thing. You're too calm for those things," he mentioned. "What's this about, anyway?"

Ollie sighed loudly in defeat, knowing that they were not buying her lies.

"Are you sure that's it?" Lucy asked this time, "You've switched from Happy Ollie to this Angsty Ollie persona ever since you cursed at a senior officer just now."

"You cursed at a senior officer?" Jackson shrieked.

"I'm just fine," Ollie stated curtly.

Lucy and Jackson exchanged a look before silently deciding to back off on their prodding.

The accustomed feeling of her life was fucked greeted Ollie, once again. They had their own special handshake, at this point, and she swore that the universe was taunting her with much joy.

The burning gaze at the back of her head was not helping, either.

"Alright, alright. Settle down. Settle down," Grey called out in the room filled with conversations as he erased with whiteboard at the front. "So, okay, we got some new blood this morning," he turned back to them, eyeing the front row, "And some pushing the expiration date."

Laughter filled the room as John smiled uncomfortably.

"Get up," Grey instructed, and the four rookies shot up from their seats, turning to face the rest of the room. "After six months together in the Academy, you've earned the right to be here. But you'll have to prove yourself to stay," Grey prefaced, "The way we do things matters. Protocol and tradition are the metal from which every cop in this city is forged. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sit down. It's time to play the Training Officer match game," Grey spoke again, strolling back to the front of the room. "Our contestants are: Lucy Chen, a hotshot who made her first arrest before clocking in for work; Legacy Jackson West, who broke all his dad's records at the Academy; Olivia Marshall, who impressively managed to top West's upbringing; and John Nolan, who was born before disco died."

More laughter filled the room at the Grey's muse at the older rookie.

"And the winners are," he resumed, "Officer Morrison, you get our hotshot. Officer Lopez, you get our legacy. Officer Bradford, you get the top of the class."

Ollie carefully turned her head to the back again, scanning the four T.O.s for their name tags. When the nametag 'BRADFORD' led to her coming eye-to-eye with none other than the man who was in her bed — and shower — this morning, she wanted to shoot herself there and then.

"Leaving Officer Bishop to ride with the 40-year-old rookie," Grey concluded before addressing the four rookies again. "Now, hear me. Today is your first day. Don't let it be your last," he cautioned, "Forget the Academy and listen to your T.O.s. They'll teach you the way it should be done. That's it. Alright, be safe out there."

The room of officers got up from their seats at once. The rookies were quick to scramble to the back of the room to meet their T.O.s, except John, who was held back by Grey.

Ollie absolutely dreaded the moments to come as she walked towards her T.O., who had his arms crossed in front of his chest. Tim clenched his jaw at the sight of her, who now stood in front of him waiting for orders. He noticed the change in her — how she now carried herself, how serious she looked, and how guarded her entire stance was — not even the faintest hint of this morning making an appearance.

"Let's get our war bags, Boot," he grumbled out at last.

Ollie nodded and trailed behind him as they headed towards the kit room. The T.O. taught her the way they requested for their bags, and she did just so. She strapped the two large bags over her shoulders and held the shotguns in both hands; Tim rested his hands on his duty belt and instructed her to follow him.

They stopped when they reached the garage; the rookie was rather in awe at the sight of their patrol car. It took her a minute before she realised that her T.O. was standing silently, his stone-cold frown from before now resembled more of a glare.

"Sir?"

He finally sighed. "Look, this is not how I things would go. So, if you wanna switch T.O.s, I understand," he rubbed his forehead, "I can tell Grey and have it done by the next shift."

It was the rookie's turn to stare back without a word, now.

It looked as though the gears in her head needed a lagged moment to reach a decision. But now was not the time for her to pause and think. In this line of work, he needed her to be quick on her feet— and in her head.

"Officer Marshall?" he demanded impatiently.

"Can I ask you a question?" she inquired before adding, "Sir." He furrowed his brows sceptically but nodded for her to go on. "Are you the best T.O. in this station to train me?" she questioned boldly, "Because I have put in my everything towards this job, and I'm not letting anything stop me from excelling in it."

The woman standing before him was a completely different person from the one he knew from last night. The taste of determination was radiating off her, and he knew it too well. "I am."

"Okay. Then there's no need for switching."

"Great."

Her mind was made up. However, there was one more thing she had to let out- or, in this case, let down. "Also, the last twelve hours never happened," she affirmed, holding out her hand, "We're starting over."

Tim was stunned at her directness, staring at her extended hand. "Olivia—"

"Ollie, please," the woman cut him off with a grimace, "Only my mom calls me Olivia."

He sensed a tension in the mention of her mother and decided not to push any further, settling for a single, sharp nod. He grabbed her hand in his to shake, looking her firm in the eyes. "Alright. Start over."

To her, it felt as though the cruelty of the universe sealed on her; to him, it felt as though the loss wrecked on too early on him.

➤➤➤

"So, why do you want to be a cop?"

His question averted her attention from the streets to him. "Huh?" Whether he was trying to start a conversation to fill in the silence between them or what, she did not know. The patrol ride so far had been quiet and uneventful, and she was selfishly wishing it to be otherwise.

"Why do you want to be a cop?" Tim repeated his question to the rookie, "You want to be trained by the best, and you're eager to excel," he detailed, "I need to know why you're in this car."

Pause, look, think. "I don't know."

"What?" Her answer certainly caught him off guard. Every rookie he had previously with nearly even half the determination she had voiced out before had some story or answer to his question. But not her. "You don't know why you want to excel, or you don't know why you want to become a cop?"

Ollie gritted her teeth in thought. "I'm an overachiever, that much I'm aware of. And—"

The vehicle screeched to a halt.

"I've been shot! Where are you, Boot?!" Tim's voice blared in her ear.

"You— what—?"

"I'm bleeding to death. You have to call for help. Where are you?!"

This time, she really glared at him as if he had grown five pairs of horns. "I— Uh—" the rookie blinked hard, shifting her view from his serious look back on the road.

"Now I'm d—"

"South Citrus. Cross street West Olympic Boulevard," Ollie recited, her heart rate still soaring. "Nearest hospital is Shaw Memorial."

Tim did not acknowledge her and barely even nodded, but she figured that she was right when he put the car in drive and started driving again. Hell's sake, man.

Settling back in her seat, she cleared her throat, "Was that a test?"

"Did I say you could talk?"

Right. Definitely not trying to fill the silence, then.

Ollie had a know-it-all teacher in high school who enjoyed making their students' lives a living hell. And right now, Tim Bradford reminded her of that teacher an awful much. Except, she could no longer slip laxatives into his morning coffee and get away with it.

It was a great memory, and Jackson being there as her lookout was a cherry on top. However, he had been vocal about his disagreement with her actions and was paranoid the entire three minutes when she was engaging in the endeavour.

She looked out the window again, surveying the neighbourhood for potential crimes as Tim continued driving. The tension that filled the air might as well just shoot her in the face. He had just made a left turn when he broke the silence again.

"Finish your story of why you became a cop, overachiever," he called out but cut her off again before she could even open her mouth to speak, "Here, I'll do it for you. You're an overachiever because it makes you feel good. Let me guess, you've tasted the attention and praise once when you were a young girl and have been craving for more ever since. It's really common among you rookies, actually. You topped your class in the Academy, right? Even beating Commander West's son? That must've felt amazing."

Hell's sake, did I let him down too harshly earlier on that he's taking it out on me now?

Ollie waited for a few seconds to ensure that he was done profiling her. "Have you ever thought of becoming a detective, sir?" she asked instead, "Because you'd do a very poor job."

Tim's gaze flickered to her. "Excuse me?"

She barely bothered looking back at him. "It only felt good because I worked for it, and the late nights paid off," she corrected, "Everything else you said? Not even remotely close."

Ollie never intended for further elaboration, but the cocky raise of her T.O.'s brow at her was like getting poked at by a hot iron rod— and that irritated her.

"Let me be clear, I've tasted nothing growing up. I've lost everyone around me, barely survived the rest of my teenage years, and was on the track of throwing my life away," she snared, "But I didn't. I picked up the pieces I threw out. I became a cop because I need a sense of purpose in my life before I-"

Her words were interrupted, once again, by the honks of a vehicle on their rear. Tim hit the brakes of their shop, noticeably irritated, and stepped out of their car. The rookie followed suit and exited the shop as well, walking up to the small truck that had stopped behind them. She stood by the sidewalk as Tim addressed the driver in the car.

"Gentlemen, I have an honest question for you. Were you grown in a petri dish of stupid?"

The rookie's eyes widened in alert.

"Por favor, no hablo ingles—"

"Don't pull that crap with me."

Ollie hastily cleared her throat and lowered her head at the passenger seat side's window. "Um, licencia y registro, por favor," she requested, mustering up an apologetic smile.

"Well, aren't you fancy?" Tim scoffed as he took the papers from the driver, "Tell him that it's immigrants like them that make Americans like you look bad. If it was up to me, we'd send them all back by catapult."

"Seriously?" Ollie scowled in disbelief, her entire perception of him altering. Tim was not faltering, his back straight as he stared at her over the roof of the mini truck. "All due respect, I'm not saying that, and neither are you," she cut him off before he could speak, "Sé que tú también hablas español, porque lo aprendemos antes de convertirnos en policías. I don't care if this is another test of yours, Officer Bradford, but casual racism is just disgusting.

"And to answer your question, I want to excel as a cop because I've seen first-hand how the lack of professionalism and the lack of attitude in this line of work affect people," she huffed, "So if you're one of those cops, I will definitely rethink my decision from this morning."

➤➤➤

The still traffic on Hollywood Boulevard led to shouts and honks from the citizens. Ollie and Tim shut the doors to their patrol car, moving towards the origin of the ruckus. A man stood on top of a car with a baseball bat in his hand, visibly irritated.

The pair met John and Bishop, with the former trying to de-escalate the situation. "We just need you to get down off the car," John called out.

"No. No, you're trying to trick me! No... You don't want me to find him!" the man howled, swinging the bat frantically.

"Sir, I can handle unicorns, alright? This is what we train for," John tried reasoning again, "I just need you to get off the car and give me a description so we can find him."

The frantic man seemed to have calmed down a little, now breathing heavily as he carefully stepped down from the car.

"Exactly. Yeah, just jump down. Put the bat down right there," John pointed to the ground, and the man slowly lowered the item from his hold. "Excellent. Perfect," he tried taking a few steps towards the man, "What's your name?"

Before John could get a response, the man spun and fled; the former promptly chased after the latter.

Tim turned his attention to his rookie. "Go get him, Boot."

Ollie stammered, joining John's pursuit of the man. She swiftly moved between the lanes of congested vehicles, then ducked a moving car, then another that nearly crashed into John. Their chase continued on the crowded sidewalk, with the man shoving pedestrians left and right and Ollie sliding through the crowd.

The man skidded down an alley, and Ollie sped up her pace to catch up to the fugitive. It did not take too long before she leapt and reached out, tackling the man down onto the pavement. The man struggled against her grasp, trying to shake himself free, but her grip was firm as she held him down.

"John, are you stuck?" she asked aloud, removing the handcuffs from her back to cuff their thrashing fugitive.

"Uh..."

Ollie stifled down a peal of laughter as she watched the other officer straining against the metal chain on the gate. "Just so you know, I would record a video of you right now if this man would just stop moving," she teased.

Two patrol cars arrived on their scene, and each of their T.O.s exited their vehicles at once. Tim shook his head as he pulled free the chain tangling John's leg. "Welcome to the arrest," he deadpanned before crouching down to help his rookie keep the man steady.

Bishop picked up the man's ringing phone and answered the call. "Who's Lucas?" The three other officers watched as her face turned into an alarming look. "Sir, where is your boy?"

"I only left him in the car for a minute," the man screeched, "The unicorn has him."

Ollie wiped the sweat on her forehead, the sun above their heads scorching and burning. "In the car? In this weather?"

"That car is gonna be an oven," John frowned, "We got to find that unicorn."

➤➤➤

The search for the boy took six patrol vehicles and an airship. When they received the news from dispatch about the boy being found and now safe, everyone let out a relieved breath.

"Some people just shouldn't have kids," Ollie voiced out, and Tim raised a brow at her. She shook her head with a sigh. "Sorry, it's a harsh thing to say."

"It's harsh, but it's true," he remarked. She turned to him sceptically; that may have been their first civilised conversation since the start of the shift. "But it's not our job to judge."

She sighed again. "Yeah."

The patrol car came to a stop again; Tim had parked the vehicle by an alley packed with people queueing by a food truck. "Go buy our lunch, Boot," he instructed, "And what you pick will be judged."

"I have good taste..." the rookie grumbled under her breath as she exited the car.

She strolled into the alley and caught sight of the other rookies, who waved her over to one of the food trucks. Jackson was already munching on his lunch while Lucy had just received her order.

"I was just asking, how was everyone's morning?" John spoke as Ollie greeted them.

"Morrison's strict... until he isn't," Lucy chimed in with a shrug, "He's quite fun, actually."

The three other rookies stared at her like she had grown horns. "Fun?"

"Well, he's young, so he pretty much jokes around our age — no offence, John — and he's nerdy, believe me or not," she chuckled. "Also, he's buying lunch today." The three other rookies scoffed in disbelief, each having to receive the same 'You're buying lunch' treatment from their T.O.s.

"So, Morrison's a complete opposite of Bradford," Ollie deadpanned, "Nice."

"Speaking of," Lucy nudged, "Having any fun with the T.O. you cursed at this morning?"

Ollie rolled her eyes at the recollection as Lucy snorted. "He had given me three 'F's in four hours, tossed my paperwork into the trash and had me redo it 'cause my handwriting was shit. Is that fun?" she muttered sarcastically, before turning to the food truck to place her order, "Yeah, extra, extra hot sauce on one of them."

"You don't like spicy food," Lucy pointed out.

"It's not for me," Ollie stated with a hint of evil. "Remember the time I slipped laxatives into Mr Thompson's drink in our junior year, Jacks?" Jackson's eyes widened at the recollection; as their minds clicked in realisation, Lucy and John, too, stared at her, horrified. "What? I swear he has a personal vendetta against me."

"Think someone could use a hug," Jackson offered, but she swatted him away as he lifted his arm.

"Well, that's their job, right?" John reasoned, "They've got to get inside our heads, push our buttons, see how we react. It's not personal. Just turn it around and figure out what makes your training officer tick."

Lucy raised a brow at him. "You make it sound easy."

"Piece of cake," John shrugged.

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm."

"So, what does your T.O. want for lunch?" Ollie asked this time with a smirk, and John was quick to shut up and began inspecting the menu.

"Should I get something with meat?" John asked weakly, and the three younger rookies responded instantly with a 'No'.

With eight sets of lunches in their hands, the rookies made their way to the end of the alley where all four of their T.O.s sat, each occupying a side of a square table. One after another, they handed one of the two meals in their hand to their T.O.s, some more anxious than others.

Ollie had set down a tray of grill in front of Tim; he eyed the dish curiously, but his expression did not give away anything. Ollie stole a glance at Jackson, who had ordered a large tray of food for Lopez, and Lucy, who handed Morrison an overfilling burrito.

Bishop opened the paper bag that John had set down in front of her. "Is there meat in this?"

"Uh... no?" John replied frailly, eyeing the other rookies, who were biting back their laughter. He then realised that he had been conned by them.

"You didn't forget the hot sauce, did you, Boot?" Tim spoke, taking a bite of the food. After a few chews, he lifted his head to his rookie with his brows furrowed; Ollie was prepared to make the run for it. "Hm. You're the first recruit to actually get something I like."

Ollie stammered, and her three friends were now gaping at her, snickering. "Oh, I— Um— Y-You're welcome?"

➤➤➤

"To the first day," Lucy called out, lifting her beer up for a toast. The other rookies joined in, clinking their bottles and taking a large sip.

Ollie, Lucy, Jackson and John occupied a table at the same bar they were in the night before, all agreeing to celebrate the end of their first shift despite the exhaustion. They swapped stories about their first day, John opening up about the death in the late hours of his shift.

"I saw my first body when I was ten," Jackson shared, "My dad took me to the morgue, pulled a drawer, and there was this kid, maybe eighteen. O.D.'d on oxy."

"That's some questionable parenting right there," Lucy commented.

"Better than the lack of parenting," Ollie grimaced, waving for another round of beer for the four of them.

"I'm sorry. Didn't your folks put you in therapy at the same age?" Jackson turned his head to Lucy, who scowled defensively in response.

"They were trying to teach me coping skills."

"Yeah, so was my dad," he claimed, still receiving questioning looks from the other three. "You know, this job is a magnifying glass. It reveals everything, especially the parts you're trying to hide," he explained, directing the last part towards Lucy.

A waitress came to them with four bottles of beer in hand, opening the caps of each before passing it to them. She was particularly slow with the last bottle, leaning close to John to hand him the drink. The three younger rookies watched the exchange curiously, and amusedly. Lucy had to cut in and send the waitress a disguised sweet look to send her off; Ollie and Jackson exchanged a look, refraining from snorting out loud.

"Wow. I've never seen a real badge bunny before," Lucy commented.

"Well, she's just being friendly," John insisted.

"No, she practically handed you her panties," Ollie mused. John shook his head, a mix of sadness and guilt pouring into his face. "John, that guy was never gonna admit that he was getting his ass kicked by a woman."

"Yeah. It wouldn't have mattered if you'd said anything to Bishop," Lucy added, "and if she said any different, then she was just flat-out wrong."

John nodded, smiling at them. "Thank you."

"Now, no more sob story," Jackson chimed in to shift their mood. "Ollie," he faced the woman, who was dreading his next words, "Where did you disappear to last night? Because sending us a 'Retiring early. See you guys in the morning.' text in the group chat requires more explanation."

"Oh, wait!" Lucy exclaimed, grabbing the other woman's arm, "You said you were going to meet the guy again tonight!"

"What guy?" Jackson questioned.

"The one she met last night."

"Whoa— Did we drag you away from a date?" John's eyes widened, "Are we interrupting?"

"No, no, no," Ollie assured, shaking her head, "I am where I wanna be right now."

Jackson quirked a brow at her. "So... You're not meeting him?" he asked, and she nodded. "Why?"

Ollie nibbled the inside of her cheeks and ended with a sigh. "Change of hearts," she shrugged, "Job comes first, now."

"Aw... But you said the sex was good—"

"Lucy!"

"It's karaoke hour!" the microphone cracked with the announcer's voice. "First up, Jackson, Lucy and Ollie!"

Jackson and Lucy's heads snapped towards Ollie, who was more than glad to be free of their topic of conversation. She groaned loudly in defeat. "Fine."

"Wooo— here we go!" they cheered. Ollie tried freeing the grip on her arm, but Jackson only grasped her tighter, claiming that he was to make sure that she would not flee on them again.

Walking to the stage, Ollie could not help but scan the crowd in the bar— specifically, the counter.

Had she hoped that he would turn up? Maybe. But after she made it clear of her stand this morning? Maybe not.

Though, deep down she knew that even if he showed, she would not have gone over to him. She had given too much to destroy her career before it even started. Her head had always had better reasoning than her heart.

It was for the best, the angel on her shoulder consoled.

Yeah, but 'the best' is miserable, the devil on the other side sneered.

Ollie shook her head to clear her mind of the thoughts. She had made a choice, and she was going to stick to it. She had never turned back on a decision, and she sure as hell was not going to do that now.

Now, she was just going to enjoy the karaoke and singing her lungs out with friends that matter.

➤

He stared at the trio on the stage; the night breeze catching his cheeks.

Tim found his hand gripping the door handle, but he could not bring himself to open it. The bar was just as happening as any other night, but the conflicted feeling in his chest was not. The seats they shared the night before were unoccupied, as if they knew they were reserved for him— and her.

"Sorry," he murmured when a group of youngsters excused their way to enter the place.

The door flung open, welcoming him to enter, but his legs stood its spot.

What was he doing?

He would never forgive himself if he were to ruin her career like that. No, she has the potential of becoming a hell of a cop, and he was not going to stand in the way of that.

Sighing, he turned around and left.

It was for the best, after all.

━━━━━

Now, the burn begins 😀