S1 EP8

"Why are you still stretching?" Ollie asked with a sigh as she watched Jackson standing on one foot, stretching his quads.

"Hey, stretching's necessary before exercise, okay? Especially an intense one like sparring," Jackson proclaimed with a huff.

"Right," Ollie deadpanned, "Tell your suspects that you need to stretch before you fight them, then." Impatiently, she hauled Jackson away from the waiting area and ushered him into the gym, where Lucy and John were already going on the training mat, grappling each other.

"You're holding back," Lucy remarked after flipping John over her shoulder, causing him to land face on the training mat.

"I wish I was," the man grunted as he rolled over to get up, straining on his steps.

Jackson nudged Ollie as the two other rookies continued to spar; Ollie sneakily took out her phone and started recording the scene. John took a chance and lunged forward, but Lucy was quick to dodge backwards, hitting the former and sending him onto the floor again.

Ollie snickered while Jackson burst into a laugh. "I could watch this all day," the latter laughed, catching the other two's attention.

"And now we can," Ollie agreed, zooming in on John's sore look.

"Are you two recording this?" the man on the floor questioned.

"Teaching purposes," Ollie responded with a smirk.

Lucy rolled her eyes at them, calling for John to continue sparring. They each delivered a few close calls, making the two other rookies go 'Oooh' behind the camera; ultimately, John was able to take Lucy down on her back, causing them both to fall onto the mat, with him leaning over her.

"Ooh! There you go! Nice takedown, Nolan." Jackson and Ollie exchanged an amused look at their awkward position; the latter slyly clicking on the phone screen to capture a photo.

John groaned as he stood back up with a hand on his back, his face worn. "Okay, I'm done. Any of you want a turn?" he asked.

"Come on, Marshall," Lucy challenged, "We were always a close call in the Academy."

"No, we weren't. I won you by far," Ollie scoffed, handing her phone to Jackson, "Jacks, record this historic moment of Officer Marshall, yet again, beating Officer Chen in physical combat."

"Yes, ma'am!" Jackson started the recording; John joined him behind the screen, both eager to see how this spar would turn out.

Ollie cracked her neck dramatically as she stepped onto the sparring mat in the gym, taking her stance on the side where John had stood before. After a few moments of scheming, Ollie took the first lunge, grabbing Lucy by the shoulders, but the latter broke free within seconds.

Lucy thrust towards Ollie's torso next, pushing her off her balance for a split instant. With a heavy but firm step to stop her fall, Ollie managed to regain her balance and twist to free herself, shoving Lucy to the side of the mat. "That all you got?"

The boys sucked in their breaths.

The brawl went on rather evenly, with each woman trying more ways of tackling the other, both coming close to knocking the other down but still never succeeding. After a particularly long grapple, Ollie was able to free herself again by turning over her shoulder. "You're worsening, Ollie," Lucy commented with a pant, swiping her damp hair from her forehead.

"So, you're admitting that I am better than you in the first place?"

Lucy charged towards her again at her tease, intending to hook the other woman by her ankle and bring her down. But, as quickly as she reached, Ollie was quicker to counter her move, kicking off her extended foot and tripping her onto the mat.

Lucy landed sideways on the floor, staying there in defeat. Ollie, too, sank on the mat with her legs extended and her hands propping her upright from behind. Jackson and John cheered on the sidelines.

"I'm still better," Ollie managed a smile at Lucy, who had rolled over to face her.

Lucy panted heavily, "Yeah, sparring has always been your strongest suit in the academy."

"Hm, I beg to differ," Jackson chipped in, joining them on the floor while John remained standing next to the group. "Firearms was definitely her strongest suit," he countered, "The shooting range was her second home, after all."

"No, it isn't," Ollie protested with her brows furrowed.

"How often do you go to the range, then?" John asked this time, staring at the woman for a response along with Jackson and Lucy.

"I remember she said every time we don't have shifts early in the morning," Lucy recalled, "That's what, three days a week?"

"Two days," Ollie corrected in defence, shaking her head, "I still pick a day to sleep in, alright? I'm not insane."

"Not insane," Jackson prefaced, "Just..."

"Adrenaline junkie," the three rookies chimed in unison; Ollie rolled her eyes at them with a grunt of discontentment and got up from the mat— then quickly hooked onto Jackson's shoulder and brought the man down.

Jackson yelped in pain as John quickly took three steps backwards to avoid becoming the next target. Lucy was laughing uncontrollably as Jackson swatted Ollie, vocal about his 'taken aback-ness' and her unfairness.

Ollie beamed at the group of rookies sitting around her (John had inched his way back onto the mat secretively). It was a group she trusted, a group that had each other's backs, a group that would come running towards you if you were ever in need of help, no matter the extent.

If Kid Ollie could see her right now, she would be mad jealous— and proud.

But Rookie Ollie knew that she still had much work to do; but she was getting there, slowly but surely.

Their first of many major hardships came when they received a notification during patrol that afternoon about an officer-involved shooting.

➤➤➤

Ollie sat uneasily in the interrogation room, not having to be on the other side of the table. A part of her did not rationale for her nerves of the upcoming questioning.

"How would you characterise Officer Nolan?" Detective Barrett asked.

"Officer Nolan is one of the best people I've ever gotten the privilege to meet," Ollie answered, "He always sees the good in people, sympathises with even the worst of them."

"Is he on any medication?"

"I think he mentioned an allergy before... but I'm not sure what."

Detective Barrett nodded, now lifting his head back to her with an earnest look behind his eyes. "Has Officer Nolan ever talked about wanting to use force?"

"Wanting? No. Never."

"Is he going through anything in his personal life?"

Ollie hesitated for a second. "Not that I'm aware of, no."

➤➤➤

"That was intense," Ollie had commented when she passed him in the corridor.

"Yeah, and that's for you," Tim sighed, "Imagine Nolan."

Four officers now sat in the break room, each with a coffee in hand as they awaited the rest to complete their interview with Internal Affairs. Tim was currently in the interrogation room to answer the same set of questions after Ollie had left.

"I can't imagine what Nolan's going through," Jackson shook his head, resigned, "Can you?"

"Yeah," Lopez answered. "My second year as a T.O., a prisoner transport went sideways. My Boot didn't search the suspect properly, lost her gun. The guy would've killed us both if I hadn't pulled the trigger."

The three rookies grimaced.

"What happened to her?" Ollie asked.

"I don't know," Lopez said, "She wasn't a cop after that."

The rookies looked at each other, shifting on their seats uneasily.

"Is there anything anyone said or did that helped you through it?" Lucy asked, but Lopez shook her head.

"No, I just had to make my peace with it."

"Is that healthy?" Ollie asked now.

Lopez shrugged wearily. "It's the job."

➤➤➤

Ollie, Jackson and Lucy sat at a table in the bar after collectively agreeing that a couple of rounds of drinks were needed at the end of that day. They had been quiet for the better part of the night, each of them worried for their friend.

"It feels weird, sitting here with beer without Nolan," Jackson muttered in the silence. "Has anyone heard from him?"

Ollie shook her head. "I spoke to him briefly before he went home," Lucy stated.

"How was he?"

"Shaken up, as anyone would expect," Lucy described earnestly. "It could be any of us, you know, in the future. We could kill someone in self-defence, like John did," she gulped, "It could be us."

Jackson nodded with a huff. "Then, we'd deal with it if it ever comes to that. If," he emphasised.

Ollie hung back on Lucy's words, the reality of it meeting the pit of fire in her stomach. It was true; she had known the possibility of it since she joined the police. But she would be dead if the thought of it did not bother her a fraction.

She took another swing of her drink at the thought of it, gulping down the liquid. "We need darts. Or pool. Or both," she suggested, "Something to take our mind off everything for a while. Come on."

Jackson and Lucy stood up at once, and the three of them took their drinks as they made their way towards the other side of the bar.

➤

The phone in her pocket buzzed when she was aligning her cue stick against the ball. It was currently her against Jackson and Lucy, who had teamed up. They were having a rather even round, so far, and Ollie could see from the corner of her eyes that the other two had their fingers crossed for her to miss the risky shot she was attempting.

The repeated buzzing in her pocket caused her to actually miss her shot.

"Hell's sake," she grumbled as she fished out her device, surprised when she unlocked it and found texts from Tim. "Uh... give me a sec," she lifted her head to the other two, "It's Tim."

"What's he texting you at one a.m. for?" Lucy asked, sharing the same curious look as Jackson by her side.

Tim bradford

[12:58 am] Are you awake?
[01:00 am] Where are you
[01:00 am] I need to talk
[01:01 am] Reply me if you're awake

"Boss guy needs to talk..."

"What have you possibly done at this hour?" Jackson questioned.

"No clue," Ollie replied to their questioning gawks, growing confused herself. "I swear I finished today's paperwork already..."

Her phone rang afterwards, and Tim's contact flashed on the screen. With a sigh, she waved her screen at the other two before excusing herself; Jackson and Lucy sent her wishes of good luck.

"It's one a.m.," Ollie stated the instance she picked up the call.

The man on the other end paused for a brief moment. "Are you at the bar?" his voice rang, neither replying to her words nor addressing his intention of a late-night call. "Can I come pick you up?" he asked again before adding after a brief pause, "When you're done?"

Ollie glanced back to her friends; Jackson had taken over her spot and was purposely tanking all of the striped balls. "Tim, what's this about?" she demanded resignedly, "If it's about my paperwork again—"

"They had Isabel wear a wire, and the operation went south," Tim elaborated blatantly, "She got shot. In the head. And, uh, she's in surgery right now."

"What?" Ollie's eyes widened, "Yeah, okay, come pick me up. I'm at the bar."

Tim muttered a quick 'okay' before hanging up. Ollie rushed back to her friends, who had been watching her closely since the phone call.

"Everything alright with boss guy?" Jackson queried.

"Isabel's in surgery. Got shot in the head," Ollie informed, earning shocked gasps from them. "He's picking me up. I'm sorry, I gotta call it a night here."

"No, no. Don't worry. Go," Lucy encouraged, sending her a worried look. As Ollie bid them goodnight and hurried off towards the door, she turned to Jackson with the cue stick still in her hand.

"Why is Bradford picking her up when his wife is in surgery?"

Jackson simply shrugged in response.

➤

"I should warn you, I get talkative after I've had a few," Ollie muttered as she got into the passenger seat of Tim's car.

"It's fine," Tim murmured in response, putting the car in drive again after she got in and buckled her seatbelt.

"So, I'll go first," she started, turning to look at him, "Why aren't you at the hospital?"

The man sighed tiredly in the driver's seat. "And do what? I can't do brain surgery. I went to the station, but Grey sent me home."

Ollie hummed, bringing her hand to her chin. "Well, I would say 'let's get a drink', but I don't want to be blackout drunk tomorrow," she mentioned, and the T.O. sighed in agreement.

"Let's just drive around," Tim suggested, even though he was already doing so. His mind was hazy; his mouth gaped open, attempting to speak, but no words would come out. "She shouldn't have let herself get taken advantage of like this," he finally let out.

Ollie raised a brow at him. "You really believe that's what happened?" she asked solemnly, though her tone came out denouncing.

"Isabel's not like your mother."

"Yeah. I would know."

In the next few silent seconds, Tim retraced his words and shook his head with gritted teeth. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It came out wrong."

Ollie sighed. "Don't worry about it. I talk shit about her when she's brought up anyways," she paused, finding a way to formulate her words in her half-tipsy half-sleepy mind, "What do you think is gonna happen with Isabel?"

"Stay alive, hopefully. Then hopefully she'll finally agree to rehab," Tim replied, sensing the narrowed eyes of the woman beside her. "I know what you're going to say. It's a stretch."

"I actually think she'll consider," Ollie claimed instead, "But, of course, it's still up to her."

He nodded quietly. He thought of how he would confront Isabel when she made it off the table; not when— if. Would she still be reluctant to finally get her life back straight? What if she ends up pushing him away again? Would it just be a repeat of his last year?

Tim clamped his jaw shut; he was tired, exhausted from the constant worrying.

"Hey," Ollie snapped her fingers by his face, "Talk. Don't go deep diving into your head. It does more harm than good."

"I don't know what to talk about," he eventually huffed out earnestly.

"Um..." Ollie trailed off, diving into her head instead for something. "When I was thirteen, I ran off from home, once, because I overheard that my mom offered our place as a drug exchange spot," she shared, "I was scared out of my mind, so I just left. Took about two days for the cops to find me. It was Percy West."

"Commander West? Jackson's dad?"

"Yeah," she nodded, continuing her recollection, "Turns out, my mom reported me missing. It was shocking to me, 'cause, well, addicts and cops don't really mix." She sighed, "When I went home, she bear-hugged me so tight, I could barely breathe. And that was the most sober I've seen her. Because she was worried for me, I suppose."

"How was it like living with her?" Tim interjected with a question, "Must've been hard."

"It wasn't hard, just rough," Ollie replied, "Honestly, I didn't have to put up with her because she was either not there, or high off her ass. By high school, she was only getting worse, and I was mostly on my own then."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"So, how come CPS never did anything?"

Ollie glanced at him. "Who's there to report her?"

Tim hung back a moment in thought. "You?"

"Too much of a coward to do so," she let out a weak, dry chuckle, staring back ahead at the road. "And it was nice to still have a home to go back to," she added quietly after, "On the rare days she's not high, she's actually pretty decent, tolerable, asks me about my day, about the new bruise on my own, how's school... I like still having those small moments from time to time." She sensed a burning stare at the side of her head; she turned to meet with his questioning look. "What?"

"You gave me the impression that you deeply resent her," Tim claimed.

"I do now. After her last O.D., basically," Ollie clarified, leaning her head against the window. "I was mad that she was gone, mad that she did all that to me all those years. She left me on my own, I hated her for that. And then, I also felt relieved," she admitted, "Relieved for not having to worry if one day I'll go home from school and see the cops at my door telling me she's dead. Relieved that I was no longer in danger of her actions, too. And that relieved feeling made me resent her more."

Tim's eyes flickered to her, noticing the resemblance in their attitude. "I get that— the relief. I felt it when I saw Isabel for the first time after a year," he remarked, "The past year, I had feared that Grey would call me into his office and inform me that one of our cops found her dead in a dumpster."

Ollie snorted lightly at his vividness. "Yeah, it's torturing, even for you now."

"It is," Tim shook his head, "How do you deal with it for your entire childhood?"

"This," Ollie said, gesturing lazily at the air between them, "Take my mind off it, in any way possible. Except it was less talking about it, but more getting into much shit to avoid staying home."

"Like what?"

The woman shook her head. "Not gonna say."

"Illegal?" Tim prodded.

"I hereby exercise my rights to remain silent."

He chuckled a little at her antics. Despite the occasional sass or jokes, she never let her rough past dictate her future, waking up every day and picking the right path to move on, and he really respected her for that. "Why do we bond over addicts?"

There were a few moments of silence... before Ollie broke down snickering.

"What?"

She waved her hand in the air. "I honestly don't know, but the irony of that just kinda hit me," she claimed, trying to stop herself from laughing but failing to do so, "Sorry, really shouldn't be laughing, but I had a few drinks, and I really, really can't help myself."

Tim peered over at her. Her continued snickering made him crack into a smile, as well. It was a fleeting rest from the intense night he had had, and he was grateful for the cheering up. One thing he knew for sure: he was fortunate to have someone like her to talk with; someone comfortable, straightforward, and relatable.

"You wanna drop me home, yet?" she asked when she finally managed to contain her laughs, "It's just that, you've been circling my neighbourhood for the past ten minutes now."

"Yeah, I'm good," he nodded, making a last turn and pulling over at the curb. "Should I walk you up?"

"It's fine. I got it." Ollie got out of the vehicle, bidding her goodbye. "Oh, and Tim?" she cleared her throat, slanting against his car door, "The only reason I've talked about my mom is 'cause you're all sappy and I've just had enough to drink. Don't bring her up when I'm wide sober, 'cause then I'll be very, very pissed."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "Got it. Good night, Ollie."

"Nights, Tim."

➤

Ollie yawned as she twisted the keys to her apartment, unlocking the door and swinging it open.

The first thing that caught her eye was the piece of envelope sitting on her floor, completely out of place.

She shut her door again before picking up the brown envelope, flipping it over.

Olivia

Her name was written on the envelope. With no address— neither a return one nor hers. Curiously, she opened the envelope and peeked into it, finding...

Nothing.

There was nothing inside of it.

There was only her name written neatly on the outside of the envelope, with no contents to fill her in.

Weird, she thought.

But the night was late, and she could feel her eyes shutting the next instant. So, without another thought of it, she tossed the envelope into the trash, dragging herself into her bedroom to sleep.

The next morning, she would wake up groggy, totally forgetting and completely unaware of the discarded brown envelope sitting in her trash can.

━━━━━

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Lmk what you think about the book so far! (: