S2 EP5

"I wouldn't use the term 'adrenaline junkie' like your friends do, but I do agree that you have this itch for... how should I say, high-stakes situations," Dr Lee spoke to the officer who was lying horizontally on her comfy couch.

"I know. And it feels like I haven't been able to scratch that itch recently," Ollie murmured, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"And does that feeling make you want to actively seek out situations that get your blood flowing?"

Ollie glanced over to the psychiatrist, furrowing her brows. "If you're asking that I want to intentionally put myself in danger, the answer is no," she replied, returning back to her ceiling, "But I won't deny that I have wished for some high-action calls..."

Dr Lee set their glasses aside with a sigh. "May I suggest you give yourself some challenges while you're at work?"

The officer turned to them intently. "Like what?"

"Just small ones that you can easily achieve. Like... try finishing your paperwork in an hour, or writing five tickets in a day," Dr Lee suggested, "Make up something from your everyday duties, maybe compete with yourself to do better than yesterday. It could give you small doses of that pumped feeling without you actually being at risk."

"Writing tickets is boring, by the way."

Ollie's phone dinged twice from the side of the couch, and she sat up immediately. She frowned upon reading the texts, which caught her therapist's attention.

"I assuming it's work?"

"Um, kind of. Lucy's car broke down last night, and the repair shop still hasn't got it fixed," the officer muttered, checking the time on her watch, "She needs a ride to work. So, I gotta..."

"Of course," Dr Lee nodded, getting up from their seat and walking the officer to the door. "Think about my suggestion. We'll talk again Friday."

"Can't wait."

➤➤➤

"I feel like Goldilocks, except instead of 'too hot' or 'too cold', every guy I date is either, you know, too 'frat-bro', or too 'stick me with the check because you are never going to finish that screenplay working on your abs'," Lucy let out a heavy sigh, stalking out from her bedroom as she and Jackson got ready for work. "Let's face it, I am never going to find someone."

"Yeah, not if you keep looking in hipster clubs and hot yoga studios," Jackson chuckled, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "What you need is a grown man."

"I would just settle for a decent pickup line," Lucy sighed as her phone chimed. "Oh, thank god, Ollie's outside. We gotta go."

Jackson nodded and quickly joined her as she opened her front door, only to be surprised by her fellow rookie standing with two large suitcases in hand and an apologetic look on her face.

"Ollie, did you get evicted? Why do you—" Lucy's eyes widened when she spotted her mother stepping out from behind the rookie. "Mom— What are you doing here?" she questioned, peering back to Ollie unsurely, "What is she doing here?"

"Well—"

But Mrs Chen interrupted them with a loud sigh as the three rookies stared at her intently. "Your father and I are getting divorced."

Lucy gaped at her mother, then at the rookie who looked like she had been obliged to carry her mother's bags. "Yeah..." Ollie gave her an apologetic smile as she rolled Mrs Chen's luggage bags into the apartment.

The older woman nodded gratefully at her. "Thank you, Olivia—"

"Ollie," she corrected as she let herself into the apartment after Mrs Chen.

Jackson grimaced at the crossed- and displeased-looking woman. "Hi, Mrs Chen. I'm so sorry," he offered.

"Oh, Jackson, sweetheart, thank you," Mrs Chen smiled lightly, giving him a hug.

Lucy shook her head at her presence. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Mrs Chen muttered back, beelining towards the living room. Lucy scowled and followed her mother into the living room. Jackson and Ollie shared a look as he shut the front door after her.

"Okay, is this like the time that you didn't talk to Dad for a week because he forgot your birthday?" the daughter prodded.

"I said I don't want to talk about it," Mrs Chen repeated, eyeing the couch sorely. "Oh, I'm sure my back will be fine. I assume you have extra bedding."

"Oh, Mom, you're not sleeping on the couch," Lucy blinked at her, "I'll get you a hotel."

"Nonsense," Jackson interjected, looking between the mother and daughter. "No, I'll take the couch. Mrs Chen, you can take my room."

"Such a sweet boy," Mrs Chen smiled back. "Would you mind putting this in my room? I have to get ready for work." She handed her luggage bags to Jackson, who looked more than happy to help her put them away.

Lucy sent Jackson a death glare while Ollie shook her head. "Congrats on getting yourself backaches for all your upcoming shifts," the latter whispered as he made his way to his bedroom.

Mrs Chen examined Lucy disapprovingly, the former's eyes fixed on her daughter's outfit. "Is that really what you're wearing?" she asked disapprovingly.

"Ollie's wearing a band tee!"

The rookie in question put her arms in the air and took a few steps backwards. "Hey, I've already done my share of mom-drama," she grimaced, "Don't get me into this mess."

"Which reminds me, Ollie," Mrs Chen's head snapped to the other woman, who looked a blend of alarmed and terrified. "How come I haven't heard back about the sessions I've recommended you?"

Lucy rolled her eyes, burying her face in her hand; Ollie's eye twitched, managing a forceful smile back at the woman.

➤➤➤

"If only you'd fixed that car earlier — before it broke down again — I wouldn't have to deal with your mom as well," Ollie groaned as the rookies made their way to roll call.

"I know. I said I'm sorry!" Lucy sighed apologetically as she returned to her phone call.

Ollie sighed heavily. "Please, please, please get her out of your place, or I am not giving you and Jackson a ride ever again."

Jackson snapped his head at her with an offended shriek. "What?!"

John caught up to them as they entered the briefing room, looking somewhat queasy. "Henry got engaged," he announced to the group.

Jackson peered over to him. "He just turned twenty."

"I know," John exasperated, "It's too young."

Ollie raised a brow at him, taking her seat. "But didn't you get married around then?"

"That's not the point."

"So, I just talked to my dad," Lucy cut in with a frustrated look on her face. "Apparently, he only brought home a bagel for himself. He did not bring one for my mom."

The three others furrowed their brows in confusion. "That's why she left?" Jackson questioned.

"Bagel that broke the camel's back," John noted, shrugging back at her, "Maybe it's for the best."

"Oh, god, no," Lucy dulled, "Separately, they will make my life twice as miserable. I have to get them back together.

Ollie perked up with a rather evil thought. "Oh, I actually have an idea—"

"Morning," John greeted his training officer with a smile, but Harper proceeded to ignore him. "She is definitely warming up to me," the rookie claimed, nevertheless.

Lucy turned back to the other woman. "So, tell me about this idea..."

Grey entered the room, and the officers quieted down at once. The watch commander wasted no time in getting into business. "So, Officer West, can you tell us what a 'friendly' is?"

"Yes, sir. A 'friendly' is another term for a Confidential Informant," Jackson answered.

"Correct," Grey nodded, "And Confidential Informants can be an incredibly useful tool."

"They're definitely tools," Tim chipped in from the back of the room, causing a few other officers to laugh.

Grey shot him an unamused look. "Are you saying you don't use them, Officer Bradford?"

"No, sir. Just saying they're lying liars who lie, and they need to be dominated, never allowed to think they're in control," Tim clarified.

"Officer Lopez, you agree?"

"No, sir. C.I.s are most useful when they think they're part of the team," the other T.O. objected.

"You're both wrong," Harper interjected.

Grey turned to her now; the rookies, too, glanced over to her interestedly. "Please, school us, Detective."

"C.I.s are just people trying to get by. Some are psychopaths who play ball because it's the best available option, some are people in over their heads who cling to you desperately as a way out of trouble," Harper described, eyeing the T.O.s at the back. "Treating them all the same is a mistake."

"Well, it's time to put these theories to the test," Grey announced, "Nolan, Chen, Marshall, part of the second phase of your training is developing your first C.I. See, you've known this day was coming, so I'm confident that you have a plan of action in place. But be forewarned— you will be evaluated on the arrests generated by your C.I., as well as their long-term viability. So, choose wisely."

Ollie raised her hand. "Sir, are we only recruiting our first C.I.? Or can we do a second while we're at it?"

Grey raised a brow at the rookie, then at her T.O. at the back of the room, who looked just as surprised. "As police officers, we will be interacting with more than one C.I.s in our career. But as a rookie like yourself, stick to picking a first. We'll see from there," Grey made clear. "Alright, that's it. Be safe."

➤➤➤

"That was a very ballsy move with Grey," Tim remarked as he drove their shop out of the station garage.

"It's a valid question."

"Yeah. But trying to recruit two C.I.s as a rookie? Never heard of."

Ollie slowly turned her head to him, her mind already formulating a thought. "Oh, well now— you shouldn't have told me that last part," she hummed, "'Cause now, I'm up for a challenge."

Tim shot her a look. "It's not a challenge of who recruits the most C.I.s, Boot. It's about the quality of your C.I.s. Whether their information is any good, whether they'll stick around in the long run," he explained, "It's not easy to find even one good C.I. So, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

The rookie merely shrugged in response. "You have any good ones?"

"Of course. I have a few," the T.O. replied matter-of-factly.

"How did you recruit them?"

Tim was about to speak, but he shut his mouth and peered over to his rookie with a frown. "No. You're not getting any tips from me."

Ollie shrugged in response. "Worthed a shot."

"What's it with you today, anyways?"

"My therapist said that I need to provoke myself to get myself going. They suggested some healthy competitions. And who better to compete with than with myself?"

Tim glanced over at her rather distrustfully. "Did they actually say that? Exactly that?"

"No," Ollie let out a heavy sigh, "But I will be setting myself up for some challenges here and there."

"Okay. But do that some other day. Not with C.I. recruitments."

"Too late," the rookie announced, clearing her throat. "I have—" she fished out a piece of paper from her front pocket, "—a list."

Stopping at the red light, Tim leaned over to peek at her paper, the frown on his forehead settling in quickly. "You have a list of three," he deadpanned, "and you want to recruit two C.I.s?"

Ollie sulked. "It was just a question."

"Where did you get those names from?"

"Well, I got a list of flagged locations from Metro, and some names from Narcotics," the rookie explained, "Cross-ref-ed those and narrowed it down to those I can get talking without a warrant. Which filled up my list of, um, three."

Tim hung back a moment. "How did you, a rookie, bottom of the food chain, get info out of Metro and Narcotics?"

"Well, I kept in touch with some of the officers, after the pet store drug bust a few months back," Ollie noted; then, she suddenly looked small, sinking in her seat. "And I, um, may have mentioned your name..."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Cheater."

"Hey— you'd be surprised how much info 'Officer Bradford' gets me," the rookie quoted with her fingers, sending her T.O. a look. "Anyways, our first stop is right up the corner... there."

Tim stopped their patrol car in the parking lot right up the corner of the street. The officers got out of their shop, the T.O. eyeing the building sceptically. "You think they're, what, dealing drugs at a local pizza chain?"

"Just looking for a delivery guy," Ollie remarked, making her way into the store.

The pizzeria was bustling with customers, even at the earlier hour of the day. The aroma filled their senses invitingly, but Ollie had only one objective here for today. The two officers made their way to the cashier, where a tired-looking manager attended to them. "Order?"

"I'm looking for Jason," Ollie stated instead.

The manager looked up at her — briefly — before lowering his gaze back at the cashier and murmured, "He's not in."

The officer peered over to the lockers by the side of the wall. "His apron isn't there."

"What would he need an apron for? He was our delivery guy," the manager huffed.

Ollie furrowed her brows. "Was?"

The manager exhaled impatiently. "Jason is dead, alright?" he rolled his eyes, "His roommate found him high off his ass a couple days back, called him in sick, and he O.D.'d the same night."

"Do you know this 'roommate' of his?"

"Yeah. He's at the back— Alex!" the manager yelled. A short boy with dyed green hair scrambled out from the kitchens, catching a look at the two officers before staring at his manager. "Cops wanna speak to you. About Jason," he paused, eyeing the worker cautiously. "Take your break now."

The boy nodded at his manager uneasily before removing his apron and joining the police outside the store. He stood a distance away from the cops, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes.

"Your name is Alex?" Ollie asked.

"Y-Yeah."

"You got a last name there, Alex?" Tim questioned.

"Davidson," the boy cleared his throat, flicking his lighter to life.

"And you were the last who saw Jason before he died?" Ollie asked intently.

"I-I could be. I don't know," Alex puffed, "I woke up that morning, Jason was high. I, uh, I knew he couldn't come to work so I called in sick for him. I-I don't know if he has been out the whole day, but when I, um, went back after my shift, he was already... well, he had these coming out from his mouth, and..." he gulped, taking another puff, "Look, I've already told all of this to the police, why am I..."

Ollie nodded shortly. "Do you know where Jason got his drugs?"

"N-No," Alex muttered in response, fidgeting with his lighter. He looked uneasy and was sweating unnecessarily. "No. I-I really don't."

Tim seemed to have noticed what Ollie saw. "Do you use, Alex?" the T.O. questioned.

"No!" Alex snapped back, suddenly nervous.

"Are you sure?"

"I would never! I-I... Especially after Jason... I... Never."

"Okay, okay. I hear you," Ollie sighed finally. "Alright, thank you for your time... Sorry about your friend."

She whirled around and was already heading back to their shop. Tim followed after her, seemingly taken aback by the rookie's halt in pushing any further, much unlike her usual feistiness. "That's it?"

"Alex isn't who I'm looking for. Jason is, but he's dead," the rookie muttered in disappointment, "And Alex said he didn't know where Jason dealt."

"And you believe him?"

"He looks shaken up, and he was sweating like a pig," Ollie pointed out. "I do believe that seeing Jason's body must've scared the crap out of him. There was no point in torturing him any more with his friend's death. Trust me, that's the last thing he needs right now."

Tim glanced over at his rookie, noticing the unsettling look on her face. "Are you sure you should be using drug dealers as C.I.s?" he asked genuinely. "There are plenty other options."

"I am," Ollie huffed, "Don't doubt me now."

"Never did," Tim nodded at last, getting into the shop. "Well, you're off to a great start."

➤➤➤

At lunch, John produced an envelope he had received from Armstrong, consisting of a background run of his son's fiancée Abigail. He had much hesitation in deciding what to do with it, bringing his doubts onto the lunch table with his fellow rookies.

"So, what do I do?" John asked the group.

"Throw it away," Ollie deadpanned at the envelope in Lucy's hand.

"Open it," Jackson responded instead.

"It's about Henry's safety. You should see what it says," Lucy finalised, handing the envelope back to John.

"Dad."

"Hey—!" John whirled around at once, shoving the envelope to his back. He looked more than surprised to see the two meeting them at the table the officers were sitting at. "Oh, my god. You guys are all about the surprises this week."

"Hi, I'm Abigail— Henry's fiancée."

"Oh, we know," Ollie smiled back while Lucy went in for a hug with the young woman; the former settled with a friendly handshake.

Abigail beamed. "I just really love saying that, so..."

"Congratulations," Lucy exclaimed with a wide smile.

"Yeah, that's awesome," Jackson added with a grin.

The newly engaged couple quickly excused themselves to get their food, looking all sorts of lovey-dovey that made the rookies smile. They watched as Henry and Abigail headed over to the food truck, wrapped around each other.

"They look so happy. I want that," Lucy whined.

"Baby steps," Jackson and Ollie chimed in unison.

Lucy rolled her eyes at them. "Right. Well, first, I have to get my mother out of our apartment."

"Oh, that's for sure," Ollie responded grimly.

John exhaled, still staring at his son and his fiancée. "They really do seem happy..."

Ollie nodded intently in agreement. "So, throw the envelope away and let them be," she urged, "Life is meant to be lived."

➤➤➤

Ollie's next search for a recruit led her to a bartender at a nightclub, where she had heard that it was a place where dealers like to gather to either deal, or just talk.

The bartender did manage to give her insights about an upcoming drug deal. But when Ollie and Tim turned up at the location with a bunch of backups, the deal turned out to be just a minor one, in which the rookie managed to arrest all on her own.

Arrests, quality, longevity.

The bartender was not going to work out for Ollie, but she kept them in mind anyway, just in case.

By the next morning, she remained spirited to recruit her first C.I. despite the setbacks. It was a challenge for herself, and she had her mind set on crushing it.

Tim matched only half of her enthusiasm, though.

"You know, you could go after a pawn shop or even look for a forger," he suggested midway into their shift. "They will be easier to convince, and easier to recruit."

"Sir, I appreciate the suggestions, but Lucy and John are already recruiting for both," Ollie mumbled in response, "And Jackson's going after a feds' C.I. to get himself out of long sleeves quicker. Fortunately for you, I'm not that insane."

Tim rolled his eyes before exhaling deeply. "Alright. Who's next on your list?"

"An old friend," Ollie replied. She sensed a questioning stare burning at the side of her head, and she sighed. "Of some sort," she added after.

Ollie made Tim pull over at a gas station in a quiet neighbourhood. The pair of officers got out of their patrol car soon after, the T.O. looking puzzled. "Store owner?"

"Oh, no," Ollie shook her head, heading towards the side of the convenience store, "Just a guy lurking behind."

Tim followed his rookie out to the back curiously, where they came face-to-face with a man, who looked just as shocked to see them. "Isn't that—"

"Yo, Ghost Head!" Ollie called out. The man in question hastily shoved a wad of crumpled cash into his pocket while he tried to make the run for it. But the officer sneered at him, "Come on, man. If you make me chase you, I will put you behind bars."

Ghost Head caved, finally turning to the two officers. "For what?"

"Possession with intent to sell, for starters," Ollie cocked her head, nodding at the backpack that he was gripping too tightly, "You want to make me check that bag? You know I can fight you for it."

Ghost Head let out a frustrated groan while Tim turned to his rookie, appearing considerably confused. "Hold on. Isn't he just some dirtbag drug dealer?"

"Oh, he was," Ollie nodded casually. "But he has since added 'escaping from the cops' to his resume, which made him climb up the ladder. He has you to thank for that—" she sent her T.O. a look before glancing back at the dealer, "—but me to remind him that I can push him off that ladder."

Ghost Head shifted on his feet, rolling his eyes resignedly. "What do you want, ma'am?"

Ollie folded her arms, lowering her voice. "I hear you're a runner now, right? A delivery guy for a drug lord of some sort?" she prefaced, "I just want you to flip on your supplier."

Ghost Head dreaded, looking at her bewilderedly. "You're crazy," he spat out, taking a few steps backwards before turning in an attempt to run.

The officer had already predicted his flee beforehand and was well-prepared to race him, tackle him down. Nevertheless, he did not go down without a fight, sending a few blows of his own. But Ollie managed to pin him on the ground with ease.

While the man struggled under her grasp, she tore his backpack off his back, tossing it to her T.O. Tim unzipped the bag and immediately frowned, tilting it to show her its contents. There were packs of white powder filled almost half of the bag. Ollie scoffed, pressing Ghost Head firmly against the wall.

"Heroin and coke? You're running quite a business, huh?" she challenged, "That's enough to put you away for a long time— unless you give up your boss."

"T-They will kill me!" Ghost Head grunted out.

"You help me here, and I'll help you," Ollie stated, leaning closer to the straining man. "For now, all you gotta do is tell me who's your current supplier. And we'll go from there."

"Then, what?"

"Then, if I do make a solid arrest out of it, I'll come find you and offer you something better. From there, you'll give me details of dealings, shipments, exchanges, that's going down around here. From time to time, or when I ask."

Ghost Head frowned in thought, torn between disbelief and opportunity. "So, you want me t-to become a snitch."

"I'd like to call it an 'informant'— my informant," Ollie clarified curtly. "You give me the details I want, and I'll look out for you. I'd say it's great business. That being said, if you screw me up with your input, you're seeing a lifetime behind bars," she warned sternly. "So, old friend, what's it gonna be?"

"Alright, alright," Ghost Head gave in bitterly, and the officer loosened her grip on him at last. "What do you want to know, ma'am?"

Ollie rested her hands on her belt, lowering her voice. "What do you know about Jason Danes, or his roommate, Alex Davidson?"

"Oh, those two," the man scoffed out, shaking his head. "They're runners. Deep in the hook with some strong circle up north. But— whoever they run with, they're powerful, and big. I was warned not to go knocking on their doors unless I'm ready to give them my head."

"Great. But not what I asked," the rookie cut short his rambling. "Tell me, where do I find their dealing ground?"

➤➤➤

Ghost Head had tipped the officers back to the pizza place from the day before.

Truth be told, Ollie was rather surprised to learn about it. There was a scheduled exchange happening at noon, involving dealers who had been in the game for a long time.

The pizzeria was packed with people, customers who sat for lunch. It was a bold attempt to make a deal in broad daylight, let alone in a crowded space. But, this way, they won't be drawing attention to themselves, Ollie supposed.

The cops were staying hidden in several blind spots, where there was still visual access to various parts of the pizza store. The main entrance, the back door, even the kitchens. Ollie hoped hard that when their bust came, no weapons would be involved; a shooting at a pizzeria was basically equivalent to a bloodbath.

"All units be advised. Vehicle approaching the store."

Ollie took a good look at the motorcycle that was zooming into the premises— that made a sharp turn into the back alleyway. "7-Adam-19. Vehicle has entered the back alleyway."

The rookie leaned forward on her seat in the patrol car, narrowing her eyes at the motorcyclist who hopped off the bike. Their suspect looked left and right to check for any eyes before knocking on the back door of the pizzeria.

Out came the manager with a cigarette in hand.

The manager exchanged a few words with the motorcyclist, who was visibly fidgety and uncomfortable. The latter opened the delivery bag at the end of the bike; the former nodded approvingly with a smirk. After a few more words, the manager threw the rest of his cigarette on the road, squashing it with his shoe before getting on the motorcycle.

When the motorcyclist eventually removed his helmet to hand over to the manager, Ollie was rather taken aback to see the same head of green hair from the morning before. "Isn't that Alex?"

"Damn straight," Tim responded, putting the shop in drive as the motorcycle sparked its engine, already heading away. "Let's go."

The chase proceeded with the Bradford/Marshall, Avery/Chen and Lopez/West patrol cars going after the bike while Harper/Nolan hung back to arrest the delivery guy, Alex.

The three cars sped through several blocks in pursuit of the manager and the motorcycle, finally taking it down when they had cornered the bike into a dead alley with six guns drawn, aiming at the motorcyclist. He was ultimately forced into surrendering.

Tim moved forward to cuff the man, then patted him down, retrieving a wallet from the back of their suspect's pocket. "Boot," he called, tossing the wallet to Ollie, who caught it and immediately looked for an identification.

The rookie pulled out a license in the middle of a few cash notes, turning it over to read—

Jason Danes

Ollie frowned instantly. "You are Jason?" she questioned while Tim was hauling their arrestee over to their shop, her T.O. mirroring her surprised look.

The manager, Jason, now glanced at her with a smirk, looking unnaturally comfortable with his arrest. "You can read, right? You tell me, Olivia," he sneered cockily.

His words caught the rookie cold in her blood.

"What did you call me?"

Jason shrugged, looking pleased with himself for shaking up a cop.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, asshat," Ollie's voice grew louder, "How do you know my name?"

But Jason kept his silence, mouthing her name repeatedly with a grin that taunted the officer.

Ollie felt a flicker of terror and puzzlement creeping up against her skin. The empty envelopes jumped into her mind at once; the very ones she had thought to dismiss as a major coincidence.

But what if they were never a coincidence?

"Boot," Tim muttered as the rookie stormed up to their suspect; Ollie stopped in her tracks at once, refraining from hauling the man by his collar and ramming him against the patrol car. Tim gave Jason a warning look before yanking him to the side. "Hey, Morrison!"

The younger T.O. whirled around just as the rest were about to get back into their shops and head back. "Sup?"

Tim shoved their arrestee over to the other T.O. and rookie pair. "Take him in."

"Got it," Avery nodded slowly, glancing from Tim to Ollie, and noticing the startled look behind the latter's eyes. He frowned, but ultimately took over Jason and put him at the back of their shop.

Tim turned back and found that Ollie was already sitting in their shop. He got in, too, instantly noticing her unsettling look. She was tapping her foot anxiously, gnawing on her cheeks, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Officers' names are public record," he stated, "He could've looked you up after yesterday."

Ollie's gaze flickered to him, flatly. "So, what? Another coincidence?"

"Could be."

"Again?" the rookie deadpanned, rolling her eyes in frustration, "Are you just not gonna entertain the possibility that there's something bigger going on? And involving, well— me."

Tim sighed resignedly. "I just don't want you to be constantly worried on the job—"

"I'm not," she bit back sharply.

"Right," the T.O. nodded, still hanging on his rookie's restless demeanour. Plan things ahead, was it? He thought for a moment before asking, "Alright. What are you going to do next, Boot?"

Ollie immediately sank into her thoughts, the anxious fidgeting soon ceasing as her mind got occupied with his question.

"Head back to the station, for now," she answered a moment after, planning out her steps in her head. "Then, we're going to find Ghost Head and make him my C.I. And then, uh, finish my shift," the rookie drew in a deep breath, "...and call my therapist."

Tim nodded at his rookie, who was starting to calm down. "Sounds like a plan."

➤➤➤

"Oh my god, that Jason guy was some sort of psychopath, I swear," Lucy grimaced as she walked to her apartment with Jackson and Ollie, the latter who had very kindly dropped them off after their shifts. "He could not stop smiling at the back of our shop."

"Whoa, okay— that's creepy," Jackson noted.

Ollie just shook her head with a shudder. "I need a drink."

"Oh, we have beers in the fridge," Jackson stated.

Lucy nodded in agreement as she unlocked her front door, finding her mother's luggage bags by her feet. "Hey, why's your bag by the door?" she called out to the woman by the couch.

"Your father is on his way to pick me up," Mrs Chen informed with a smile. "He apologised. He just needed to miss me— Oh, he's downstairs," she got up at once as her phone rang, heading towards the rookies by the door. "Alright, sweetheart, it's been a lovely visit. Come by the office. We can talk about why you're not dating anyone," she added the last part quietly.

Lucy rolled her eyes.

"Thank you, Jackson." Mrs Chen smiled, then turned to the last officer. "And my offer is still standing for you, Ollie."

Ollie returned her smile, though rather forcefully. "Bye, Mrs Chen."

As the woman left the apartment, Jackson shut the door at once, and the three of them exhaled in relief.

"No wonder I can't find a healthy relationship," Lucy complained, slumping onto her couch. "My dysfunctional parents are why I am twenty-eight and still single."

Ollie snorted. "Are you sure that's why?" the former asked, sharing a suggestive look with Jackson, who was smirking as well.

Lucy eyed her two friends strangely. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jackson cleared his throat, maintaining his smile. "Look, we're just saying that your only real relationship was with... Nolan," he noted as Lucy's eyes widened in shock. "Yeah. We've known the whole time."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait—"

"Lucy, did you think we're stupid, or blind?" Ollie mused, chuckling at Lucy's turmoil as the latter groaned in embarrassment.

"Listen, you fell for a divorced guy coming out of a twenty-year marriage, okay? It was safe. Never meant to last," Jackson consoled her. "Come on. Let's go celebrate. Tomorrow, my forearms will be liberated."

Lucy nodded with a sigh. "It is pretty glorious."

Jackson was about to get up, but plopped back down with a curious look on his face. "Wait, actually— How did you get your parents to make up?"

"Oh, it was Ollie's idea," Lucy noted, glancing over at the snickering woman. "I got Wesley to call each of them pretending to be a divorce lawyer, telling them the costs of a divorce, and that snapped them out of it pretty quick."

Jackson's eyes widened in astonishment, looking between the two women with an approving nod. "Well played— both of you."

"Thank you."

"Let's go."

"Wait," Lucy called out as Jackson and Ollie got up from the couch; the two turned to her intently while she smiled pleadingly. "Will you two please, please help me get the furniture back to where it was?"

Jackson scanned the living room with a shrug. "But it's better this way."

"No, it's not," Ollie opposed, turning back to Lucy, "I'll be glad to. Let's do it right now."

Lucy murmured a 'thank you' as she got up from her couch, already heading to move her coffee table to the side. Jackson got up with a sigh, pushing the couch back to the opposite end. "Well, guess it's a yes, then..."

━━━━━

Ollie 🤝 Lucy
Evil ideas to solve problems

coming up with original plotlines is brain-wrecking 😀😀😵‍💫