S1 EP18

"I'm happy to stay back and read you your book if — and only if — you agree to take some load of my paperwork."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Forget it. You already suck in paperwork. I'm not giving you a cut." Ollie scowled at him, but he ignored her. "Read me the last two chapters again."

The rookie flipped back a chunk of pages on the thick book in her hand. "Don't you get tired?" she glanced at her T.O. in their shop. "On top of all the extra shifts you've been taking up as well—"

"Those shifts are easier to get through," he interrupted.

Ollie hung back a second. "Because you don't have a rookie to train?"

Tim simply nodded. "Quieter, too."

The rookie scoffed in response. "Mean— but understandable," she let out a sigh. "Why are you taking up extra shifts, anyway?"

"Why not?" he muttered. "I've got hours to fill when I'm not studying."

Ollie stared at him oddly. "And I thought I was unhealthy..." she mumbled to herself, staring back at the book in her hand. "Do you not take time off to recharge? Unwind?" she asked again, "What do you do to unwind? Wait, wait, let me guess—" she smirked when he finally glanced over to her, "Work out."

Tim rolled his eyes and stared back at the road. "Yes. It's relaxing."

"Oh, no, I get it, trust me. But... work—study—work out—repeat?" the rookie chuckled drily, "That sounds miserable."

"Well, it's not," he sighed finally. "Chapter fifteen?"

Ollie huffed and began reading the same sentences she had just done an hour ago. She was barely a paragraph in when she turned to him again. "Sir, you need a hobby," the rookie interrupted again, "Something that's actually fun."

Tim frowned. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do," Ollie insisted, "And I'm gonna help you find that something."

Tim's gaze flickered to his rookie's smirk. "You think you can help me find a hobby, Boot?"

"Yes, sir. I'll take it as a challenge," she declared, "Think of it like side quests. Ooh— should I find you a date while I'm at it? Would you be less cranky?"

"I don't need a date," Tim stated curtly, "And I will kick you out of our shop if you don't stop right there. Keep reading."

Ollie grumbled under her breath, then proceeded with the page of text. Tim was close to cursing her out when she paused again halfway through the third sentence. "You know what? You recite what I've just read," the rookie instructed, clapping the book shut.

The T.O. was now glowering at her. "You wanna jog behind the shop all day, Boot?"

"No, no, no. We're gonna do things my way since — clearly — you need my help studying for your sergeant's exam," the rookie countered boldly. "So, Officer Bradford, what have I just read you?"

The T.O. wanted to snap back at her, but his words died on his tongue when he realised that his rookie was, in fact, in the right about that. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

Her cocky response made him roll his eyes. This woman is really challenging my sanity. Tim exhaled deeply. "You still need to open the book to check if I'm remembering it right, Boot."

The rookie gently rested the book on her lap. "Wanna bet, sir?"

"7-Adam-15, assault in progress. Rustic Ranch Paintball," their comms chirped alive, pulling the rookie and T.O. away from the book and back to their jobs.

Tim sounded the siren as they towards the location sent by Dispatch. The pair of officers pulled over in front of the paintball range and headed towards the entrance, where a few guys were already waving for them.

"He's totally lost his mind," one of them exclaimed.

"Who?"

"Jimmy," he answered, "He lives for paintball, but he takes it way too seriously. Carl snuck up behind him and scored, and then Jimmy freaked out and started attacking—"

"Okay. Slow down," Tim paused him. "Who's Jimmy? Who's Carl?"

"That's Carl," the guy pointed at another man sitting on a tree stump, who had a tree branch protruding from right below his shoulder.

"Have you called an ambulance?" Ollie moved closer to inspect the man's injury while her T.O. continued asking the first guy for a description of their suspect.

"We called them, they're on the way," another one of the guys replied.

"You need to keep pressure on it," Ollie turned to Carl, "And whatever you do, do not pull it out." The injured man nodded despairingly.

"Six feet, camo jacket, skeleton face guard, Boot. Let's go!" Tim shouted for her; the rookie got back up at once, directing the guys to wait for the ambulance while she followed her T.O. into the place.

They headed from the entrance into the forestry range, where paint of multiple colours littered the makeshift walls. There were still players in the range shooting and getting shot at, all of them dressed in camo from top to bottom. The players spared the officers a very brief confused look, but they quickly returned focus to their game.

"Have you ever played paintball?" Ollie asked as they trekked up a particularly hilly area.

"No. It's amateur hour," Tim scoffed in reply, "I'd straight up murder these guys."

The rookie shrugged. "Sure." The T.O. sensed the scepticism in her voice and led them behind a chain-linked fence to observe the players uphill.

"Exhibit A," Tim pointed at a woman in a distance, who was trying to sneak up to a man. "She thinks approaching from the rear gives her a tactical advantage. But in reality, had she taken the superior position of the high ground to the north—" they watched as the woman winced as she got shot in the thigh, "—that wouldn't have happened."

"Fair," Ollie shrugged, spotting another pair of players. "Exhibit B," she joined in, gesturing at the same man who had just gotten a point to himself. "Had he properly scoured his surroundings before shooting her, he wouldn't have let his guard down and allow that—" the man grunted as he got nailed in the back by two players emerging from a large tree stump, "—to happen."

"Yeah. Good spot," Tim nodded as they continued their search for their suspect. "You play?"

"Used to, all the time. And then I switched to actual, lethal guns and haven't really been back," Ollie replied, and he turned to eye her oddly. "What?"

"Nothing," Tim assured. "Okay, we know Jimmy's not our average player. This game is his life," he described. "So, where would he go?"

Ollie slowed her steps and examined their surroundings. "Well, if I wanted to win this game, I'd head somewhere with a protected view of the course. Somewhere with..." she beamed a little when she saw a building on the peak of the hill, "High ground."

They made their way up to the building and found a half-open door. Ollie pushed open the door first, but the players lurking inside fired their pellets at their presence, missing her but hitting the door instead.

"LAPD! Anyone else fires, they're going to jail," Tim called out before entering, the players all backed down at once, putting down their paintball guns. "Guy in the skeleton mask?"

"Behind you!" one of the players shouted.

Tim spun around just in time to see their suspect breaking into a run. He swiftly grabbed the gun off the hands of a player by the wall, chasing after the fleeing man. Before Jimmy could leave the building, Tim fired and struck him several times, causing their suspect to surrender at last.

"Go cuff him, Boot," he instructed, still aiming the paintball gun at Jimmy's back.

Ollie reached for her handcuffs as she strode over to the conceded man, not before noting the satisfied look on her T.O.'s face.

➤➤➤

They had Jimmy booked and processed shortly after they returned to the station.

Ollie had started on the paperwork while Tim was nose-deep into yet another material for his upcoming exam. Every few minutes, he would lift his head from the page and recite words in mumbles. But almost every time, it ended with him exhaling frustratedly before he resumed scanning the lines of words with furrowed brows.

The rookie fished out her phone from her pocket and secretly snapped a picture of her concentrated yet disheartened-looking T.O.

"I swear, Boot, if you set that as your lockscreen—"

"Nooooo. Don't flatter yourself," Ollie shook her head. "I've seen your face enough at work. Don't need to see your face out of work, too."

Tim merely rolled his eyes before returning to his book.

Ollie refrained from snickering when she pressed the 'Done' button that confirmed her wallpaper.

"You know, it's scary what happens when a man focuses on one thing only," the rookie inputted. "It's a cautionary tale, in fact. Look at Jimmy."

Tim finally shut his book and lifted his head to her. "Your point being?"

"What do you think of spending time with me after our shift?" Ollie grinned at him.

Tim raised a brow at her. "You just said you've seen enough of me during our shift."

➤➤➤

"You ready, Boot?" Tim glanced sideways at her, "Remember— no mercy."

"Was ready the first round," Ollie replied, double-checking the paint pellets in her gun. He nodded at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You gotta admit, you're having fun."

"No," Tim denied, even though he had been the one cheering the loudest when they won their first round of the paintball match; obviously, Ollie was not buying it at all. "On me."

They slapped on their face masks, carrying their guns sturdily as they sprang into action.

"Go!"

"Incoming!"

➤➤➤

S1 EP19

"Because you're a rookie, bottom of the food chain. Nothing you think or say matters inside the department," Jackson sighed aloud as the four rookies made their way towards the briefing room for roll call. "Especially with the Chief of Police, who personally decides Talia's punishment."

John grimaced. "Sounds a little harsh."

"Harsh as it is, you got to stay focused on yourself right now," Lucy reminded him. "We got a six-month exam in the next week. And we got to ace it in order to move on to the next stage of our training."

"Where we'll still be riding with our T.O.s for, what, another seven months?" John deadpanned.

"Yeah. But we'll get more freedom," Ollie stated with a smile, "And no more daily evaluations."

"Otherwise," Jackson spoke, "it's back to the starting line, and you're the rookie who got held back— or worse." He eyed the three others with a knowing look, and the four of them shuddered before entering the briefing room.

They took their usual places at the front table. Ollie scooted into her seat next to Jackson, whom she realised was polishing a pair of sunglasses. "What's with those?" she asked curiously.

"Uh, I realised I need to start having more fun with the job, stop taking everything so seriously," Jackson declared, putting on the glasses smugly.

Ollie's eyes twitched. "Who are you and what have you done with my Jacks?"

"Your Jacks is right here with a new look in life," he declared before his smile faltered, eyeing her through the glasses as he at her neck. "Is that a hickey?!"

Lucy and John peered over interestedly at the mention while Ollie remained puzzled. She rubbed against the side of her neck, finding a faint streak of red on her palm. "It's just paint."

"Like, paintball paint?" John asked, sending Lucy a look.

"Hm... Shouldn't you spend less time in the paintball range and more time studying, Ollie?" Lucy noted, "Also, Tim should know that you need to study— he needs to study as well. So, why are the both of you always there?"

Ollie opened her mouth, then closed it again, uncertain of an answer. "Unwinding," she managed out lastly.

Lucy, John and Jackson glanced at her intently. The former quickly removed his sunglasses when Grey entered the room with a clipboard in his hand.

"Alright, listen up. Got some bad news for our rookies," the Watch Commander announced, catching the front row's attention, "Thanks to Detective Jenkins being placed on the Brady List, the department is tightening the rules regarding the Field Training program. Bottom line: every recruit now has to complete the 'training and experience' checklist as a primary officer before they'll be allowed to take the six-month exam."

The group of training officers at the back were quick to voice out their displeasure.

"If our recruits experience an event, it shouldn't matter if they were primary," Lopez protested, "It's not fair to them or us."

"I agree," Grey stated earnestly, "But this is cover-your-ass time for the department. When the city gets sued, the first thing they look at is the officer training and experience. They've decided that experience can't just be 'I was standing there, too'."

"We can't start this with the next round of recruits?" Bishop questioned.

"The LAPD is a bureaucracy, Officer Bishop. The last thing they care about is a bunch of rookies."

The rookies up front were already drowning in dread. That, on top of their upcoming exam, was about to push them past their tipping points.

"So, how do we know how many cases we owe?" Lucy asked.

"Putting your listening ears on, Officer Chen, 'cause I'm about to tell you," Grey announced as the rookies scrambled to take out their notebook and pen. "To complete your checklist, you still needed to be primary on an auto theft, carjacking, ethical dilemma, meth possession, a false I.D., assault on a peace officer, and damage to city property."

Avery dropped his head onto the table at the back row; Lucy blinked at the list. "That's like... seven things."

"What about us?" Lopez asked hastily.

"Officer West needs a high-risk crowd control, meth possession, and a carjacking," Grey listed.

"Piece of cake, boss," Jackson responded as he took note, earning himself a look from the Watch Commander. "I mean— Sir."

"Sir, may I go next?" Ollie raised her hand anxiously as Grey nodded and flipped the paper on his clipboard.

"Officer Marshall... You need a damage to city property and a D.U.I."

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's it," Grey confirmed, moving to the remaining rookie officer.

At the back row, Lopez nudged Tim. "Don't you only let your rookies be primary until the second month?" she asked him in a lowered voice.

"Yes. But I've been letting her take the lead on half of our calls for a while now," Tim replied.

Lopez looked at him baffled. "Why?"

"She needs it," Tim elaborated, "She has to learn to trust herself if she wants to be a better cop."

"And, since we are ripping off the Band-Aid, here's the rest of the bad news," Grey announced loudly, regaining everyone's attention, "H.R. needs proof of completion by end of shift tomorrow. Otherwise, the recruits are extended in the program."

Lucy stared in shock. "Meaning we fall behind."

"Respectfully, sir, that isn't fair. We can't control what experiences we'll get in the next two days," Avery complained aloud from the back.

Grey sighed. "Look, I know this is a tall order, but I believe in you. I've notified dispatch of the calls that are needed. They will funnel them to your shops if — when — they come in," he notified, "That's it. Alright? Good luck. Be safe out there."

"Oh my god, there's no way I'll finish that list on time," Lucy wailed as the room of officers got up from their chairs.

"I feel for you, Lucy," Jackson held her arm, "But I have a high-risk crowd control, meth possession, and a carjacking to catch, so— good luck."

Lucy scoffed at him before turning to the other rookie with an incomplete list. "I will, um... pray that you get all of those in a single call?" Ollie offered weakly, causing the other woman to groan louder.

"Chen! We gotta go!" Avery yelled out from behind, and Lucy immediately hurried after him.

Ollie filtered through the room and met Tim at the armoury as they queued to retrieve their gears. The line of officers was kind enough to let the Avery/Chen pair get their bags before all of them.

"Property damage and D.U.I. shouldn't be too hard, right?" Ollie asked. "I mean, those could come hand-in-hand."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Boot," Tim replied instead, "If you haven't gotten those in the past few months, you think these two days are going to work you a miracle?"

➤➤➤

Ollie and Tim had responded to a few calls that morning, none of which were the ones she needed. They had found a carjacking case that she insisted on passing to Jackson; in return, Tim had a brief quarrel with Lopez over a private radio channel about damaged city properties.

Unironically, with the eighteen million people in the Greater Los Angeles area, they struggled to find cars driving crookedly. And Ollie did not have it in her to pull over literally every single vehicle within a mile radius from every bar in L.A.

"This is getting ridiculous," Ollie grunted as they got back in their shop after pulling over a driver who passed the field sobriety tests with flying colours. "It's like you jinxed me or something."

"We still have half a shift and another one tomorrow. You are going to complete that stupid list and sit for your exam," Tim deadpanned as the rookie picked up his book on the passenger seat and shoved it by the door.

➤➤➤

It was raining as they continued their shift into the night.

"Surely, I can get at least a D.U.I. tonight, right?" Ollie asked gloomily. "It's literally a Friday night."

Tim hummed back a response as they continued cruising through the town area, looking for drunken people approaching driver-side doors. At the last hour of their shift, they spotted a few college students swaying in their walk as they exited a club, each clutching onto another as they stumbled on their steps.

Tim took a turn and slowly followed after the group; Ollie held herself back from slamming her head against the dashboard when the student group turned out to be responsible adults and sardined into a cab. "Can you go get drunk and then come back here and drive?"

"No."

A pair of flashing headlights blinded Ollie momentarily through the reflection on the rear-view mirror. A sedan with tinted windows swerved and drifted past their patrol car, missing it by inches, before crashing into a lamppost just in front of them.

"D.U.I. and damage to city property?" the rookie perked up, feeling as though Christmas came early. She quickly got out of the shop and approached the crashed vehicle. She knocked on the window and called out, "Police. Please roll down your window."

After a few seconds, she knocked again, but still received no response. Was the driver hurt? Ollie feared. The tints on the window were too dark for her to make out the driver within, and the streetlight was barely flickering to life above her. Slowly, she drew out her flashlight from her duty belt, clicking it on and shining it into the car.

The rookie's brows furrowed at once.

She moved her light from the driver's seat to the passenger's, then to the backseat, her face growing increasingly concerned. "Uh... Tim?" she called out uncertainly.

"What?" the officer who had been standing by the curb, sighed and walked over to the crashed vehicle. Ollie retraced her steps and shined the light to the driver's seat, passenger's seat, then the backseat again. The T.O. finally mirrored her confusion.

"Where's the driver?"

Tim circled the car to inspect for any inconsistencies. Lastly, he reached for the driver's side handle and tugged on it, finding it unlocked. The seats were painstakingly clean; an envelope tumbled out of the pulled-opened door. He picked it up from the ground, flipping it over, and frowned.

"It's..." he outstretched his hand between them, "...for you?"

Ollie stared at the white envelope with her name written on it. Just 'Olivia'. Nothing else. "I mean, i-it's a common name, no?" the rookies glanced back up at her T.O., feeling absolutely creeped out by now.

"It is." Tim furrowed his brows before opening the envelope and reaching into it; his face fell into puzzlement. He turned the envelope upside down to pour out its contents, but nothing came out of the white paper packet. "It's empty."

Ollie felt a tingly chilliness at the odd sense of familiarity of it— but she could not pinpoint where from.

"Okay, we gotta call this in, secure the scene, then call for this car to get towed," the rookie cleared her throat, blurting out a list of next steps. "And then we will head back to the station — preferably before midnight — and I will get started on the paperwork... And then, I'll go home and sleep this off."

Tim remained quiet, staring at her.

Ollie sighed. "You know what? Can we just, um, can we just get this car towed and head back to the station?" she asked quietly. "I'm not feeling very..."

"Of course," Tim nodded as the rookie hastily backed away from the sedan. He wrapped up the scene by himself before joining her back in their shop, where she sat still and silent. "On the bright side, you got a box ticked," he tried.

"...yeah."

➤➤➤

Tim found Ollie walking out of the locker room with an agitated expression on her face when he approached her. "Hey. So, I ran the plates from that sedan last night."

She lifted her head to him. "And? What did you find?"

"Nothing," he stated as they made their way into the bullpen; Ollie sighed in annoyance. "And I mean nothing. Nothing about the car, the plates didn't even match to an owner."

The rookie frowned now, glancing back at him. "What are you saying, it's a ghost car?"

"No, it's not a ghost car. It's..." Tim trailed off, eventually shaking his head, "I don't know."

"Well, great."

The T.O. noticed her stumped look and decided to prod further, "So, do you think the envelope was addressed to you? Or was it just a common name?"

Ollie furrowed her brows in thought. "A common name, I guess?" she replied uncertainly. She had spent the rest of the night after discovering the driverless car diving into her mind. An odd sense of familiarity gnawed at her, but she just could not place a finger on it. "Actually," she swallowed, pulling him into the empty briefing room, "that's a lie."

Tim folded his arms across his chest. "What do you mean?"

"I couldn't sleep last night, obviously creeped out by, you know, and..." Ollie's voice shrunk as she looked from the floor to her T.O., "I think I might've received an envelope just like that before..."

Tim studied her now. "When?"

"I can't recall. I only know it's been a while," Ollie sighed aloud, rubbing her forehead, "Um, I think it was the night you dropped me home? After Isabel got shot."

"Ollie, that's been months," Tim deadpanned, blinking in concern. "Isabel just got her four-month chip a week ago."

"I'm not even sure if I-I actually received that envelope that night!" The rookie threw her arms in the air exasperatingly. "I drank that night, and I was tired. Even if there was an envelope with my name on it, I threw it away, and it's long gone by now," she shook her head in defeat, "What can I do?"

"I'm afraid, nothing," Tim replied. "There's no evidence, at all. And even if you bring it up to the detective, it's logical that they dismiss it as a 'common name', or even paranoia. There's just no proof."

"Right," Ollie muttered downheartedly. "No, you're right. I, uh, I could just be overthinking it, right?"

Tim watched her, nodding back faintly. "Right."

Sure, the first envelope — if Ollie was even sure it had been there — was addressed to her. However, there was no evidence to suggest that the second one was as well. It was in a car that just happened to crash into a streetlamp in front of their shop, right? So, realistically speaking, there was no point for her to trouble herself with those thoughts.

Ollie nodded shortly, took in a deep breath and exhaled sharply, pushing the envelope to the back of her mind. "Okay. Well then, no point overthinking it anymore," she lifted her head back to her T.O., "Let's get back out there. I still have a D.U.I. to catch."

Tim agreed, nodding towards the armoury. "Alright. Go get our gear, Boot."

━━━━━

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