"Are you going to talk about the fact that you asked your T.O. out?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

Ollie glanced over at Dr Lee when the latter did not answer and was still watching at her anticipatingly. The officer sat up on the couch with a loud sigh.

"Okay. First of all, I did not ask him out— I asked if he wanted to get drinks with me," Ollie huffed, hugging a pillow over her chest as she sunk into the cushions. "It's different."

"He was also the first person you called after getting threatened in your hospital room, a place where you're supposed to feel safe," the psychiatrist resumed intently. "So when you felt your safety was compromised — again — you wanted to reach him first. Why?"

"You know, this feels like one of those sick, brain-wrecking questions they give you in school." Ollie shuddered, finding Dr Lee with no jokes on their face.

The officer exhaled defiantly. "Okay, I really, really don't know. I just thought that, at that time, he'd know what to do?" she answered unsurely. "I've had similar run-ins before about this, um, getting threatened thing, and he was there at one of it, so... I called him. It, uh, logical to do so, no?"

"I wouldn't use 'logical' in this context. More like 'instinctive'," Dr Lee cleared up. "That being said, do you feel safe around him?"

"I guess...? Yes?" Ollie scratched her head. "I mean, I have to, right? He's my T.O. We're literally work partners in a dangerous job."

The psychiatrist lowered their head to the folder in their hand, writing down some words the patient could not see. "Or it could be a sort of attachment with your rescuer."

"Whoa, hold on, hold on," Ollie interrupted curtly, shaking her head. "I know what you're implying, Doc. But it's not like that."

"Then how is it like?"

This next question sent the patient into a stammering fit. "I... Well, I... Uhh..."

How is it like?

"Hm... Let's revisit this on our next session," Dr Lee declared at the officer's loss of words, lowering their gaze back to her file as they continued jotting down notes.

"Wait," Ollie finally let out a heavy sigh, "we have doctor-patient confidentiality, right?"

The psychiatrist looked up from their folder, sensing the officer's hesitation. "I am only required to report anything related to your inability to resume work."

"Uh, okay, um," Ollie jabbed her chin further into the pillow she hugged. "What if I told you that we actually hooked up the night before I started the F.T.O. program, not yet knowing who he was, and hasn't quite been able to get that night off my head ever since," she blurted out hurriedly, pausing to catch her breath, "...then, what?"

"Oh," Dr Lee spoke after a short silence, "Then, that changes a lot of things."

Ollie buried her face into the pillow, her groans muffled in it. "Yeah... That's what I thought."

➤➤➤

S2 EP12

Even though Ollie had rejected their offer to stay with them, the rookies did not leave her alone throughout her recovery days. Lucy had come up with the idea of sleepover rotations at Ollie's apartment. Jackson insisted on staying every night, even bringing his own pillow. Sometimes, all three of them would gather for drinks and chats, then nap.

On her first night back home, Jackson had to shake her up when Ollie was struck with a nightmare that left her collar soaked, throat sore, chest heaving. "You're safe, you're safe, you're safe..." Jackson had carefully wrapped his arms around her, soothing her, while she clutched onto his arm, digging into his skin so tightly.

The first few days were torture, but it did help a lot that her friends were there for her even at the latest hours.

Even though she never admitted it to their faces, she was immensely grateful for them.

All three of them slept over at her apartment — cramping into her living room while Lucy occupied a sleeping bag in her room — the night before Ollie returned to work. There had been a short celebration; everyone was knocked out tired shortly after.

The next morning, they got up one after another to shower, change, get ready for their shift.

"So, um, how is she?" John asked quietly as he folded their bedding in the living area.

Jackson yawned aloud. "She made me run out to buy her concealer. To cover the tattoo. At five a.m., just now."

"I would've, too," Lucy grimaced by the kitchenette. "I mean, can you imagine walking around with a serial killer's brand on you?"

"When can she have it removed?" John asked.

"Four weeks, two days, nine hours, thirty—" Ollie glanced at her watch as he stalked out of her room, "—seven minutes."

"Hey, first day back, are you ready?" Lucy asked.

Ollie shrugged in response. "I mean, I'm signed off on both physical and mental. So, I guess I'm as ready as it gets, right?"

The three others exchanged a brief look. "Yeah, you are," Jackson responded.

"Great." Ollie smiled at them, heading for the coffee pot. "But, uh, but could you guys do me a favour?"

"Anything."

"Please don't let anyone clap during roll call..."

"Well, that's tradition, though," John voiced out with furrowed brows. "You know, I mean, you survive something like that, they're gonna want to show you some respect—"

Jackson cut him off with a loud yawn. "Ollie, we'll see what we can do."

➤➤➤

"Hey, so, what's your plan?" Harper asked, catching up to Tim, who was striding in the bullpen.

Tim eyed her oddly. "For what?"

"Officer Marshall," Harper clarified. "I'm sure you've got some Alpha strategy, to 'get her back on the horse'. So, what is it?"

"Your standard input overload," Tim answered, "Have her to push through dynamic engagements. Hone in her fight-or-flight response."

"So basically get her into as many fights as possible," Harper concluded with a frail smile.

Tim turned to her intently. "I'm gonna remind her that she's a cop, not a victim."

"She knows she's not a victim," the detective let out a weak chuckle. "Look, Marshall doesn't need to fight, she needs to make peace with the voice inside of her head telling her she's never gonna be safe again. What happened to her is every woman's worst fear."

"I'm aware of that—"

"But you have never lived that fear," Harper cut him short as he exhaled heavily. "It's clear that you have her best interests at heart," she added, "I'm just asking you to consider, whether she might be better served by... someone who has been through what she has been through."

Tim met the look on the detective's face, nodding frailly. "And that someone's you," he muttered, and Harper nodded. "Okay," he settled at last, "I'll tell Grey to make the switch."

➤➤➤

Ollie eyed her seat in the front row of the briefing room hesitantly. She inhaled deeply, preparing herself to bolt to the empty chair with the least possible attraction.

Alright. Screw this.

She pulled open the door and beelined towards her seat, not before receiving a loud round of applause from all the other cops in the room. She squirmed at the attention.

Ollie dove onto her chair as the claps gradually died down, sending each of her fellow rookies a hard glare.

"Sorry. We tried," Jackson murmured, earning himself a deadlier glare from the woman.

"Welcome back, Officer Marshall," Grey greeted as he entered the room. "How're you feeling?"

The rookie drew in a deep breath. "Good, sir, all things considered," she replied. "Looking forward to get back on the streets."

"So glad to hear that," Grey nodded pleasingly. "We're gonna mix things up a bit. You're gonna be riding with Harper this week. Which means, Nolan, you and your ride-along are with Bradford."

"Sorry, wait," Tim interjected curtly, "What? Ride-along?"

"Next, bringing us to Officer West," Grey ignored the T.O. at the back, turning to the rookie at the corner. "Tell me, son, you enjoy the red carpet last night?"

"What?" Jackson blinked at the watch commander, stammering, "H-How did you know— I was at a red carpet—?"

"LAPD Media Relations sent me a link." Grey played a TV clip on the screen up front that featured Jackson on a red carpet-event with Sterling Freeman.

The rookies struggled to retain their snorts, but the room broke into laughter quickly enough.

"This might be the highlight of my week," Ollie whispered to the rookie next to her.

Jackson chuckled back weakly. "I'm honoured."

➤➤➤

Ollie had loaded the warbags into the patrol car on her own, still not knowing how to feel about the unfamiliarity of today's shift. Harper was... well, Harper. Except perhaps a notch less snappy than she was with John, at least than what he had described, anyways.

"May I ask, why the switch?" the rookie finally voiced out in the strangely soundless ride.

Harper glanced over to her briefly. "Tim felt you'd be better served riding with me."

Ollie quirked a brow at her words. "Sure," she strained, "Did he rope you into some kind of elaborate Tim Test of his? Because you don't strike me as someone who could get roped into anything, ma'am."

Harper nodded agreeingly. "Especially by Bradford."

"Right. So, why the switch?"

Harper paused before replying, "I convinced him that I would have more insight into what you were going through. And could therefore be more helpful to your re-integration onto the street."

Ollie exhaled deeply, turning her head back out the window. "Did you go on a date with a serial killer, too? Then get threatened by a what-seems-to-be deadly organisation right after?"

Harper hung back at a brief loss of words. "Uh, no."

"Yeah, I figured." The rookie sighed. "But it's fine, 'cause I don't need any help. I've dealt with it — no, that's a lie, I'm still dealing with it — but I'm healing. Small, certain steps. That's progress. And, well, progress is what's gonna get me back on track from now onward."

The detective peered over at the rookie again, looking very much unmoved by her rambling.

"7-Adam-07, headed south on Hauser near 9th. Need backup for a felony car stop."

Ollie motioned to grab the comms to respond but was briefly stopped by Harper. "You sure?" the T.O. asked.

"Mm-hm," the rookie simply nodded, chirping the radio, "7-Adam-19, responding. We're approximately thirty seconds out, heading Northbound."

The Harper/Marshall pair arrived at the scene soon after, skidding to a halt in front of the pulled-over car with Lopez/West at its rear. The officers took their positions behind the doors, pointing their firearms at the felony driver.

"Driver, turn off the vehicle and place both hands outside the window," Lopez instructed through the speaker, and the suspect obeyed immediately.

Yet when the T.O. and rookie exited their patrol car, two fangirls came running up to Jackson with loud, sharp squeals that left the officers startled. The driver saw his chance and took off.

"Jackson!"

Ollie pursued their suspect into the convenience store just down the road. Harper raced right behind her, both officers shouting for the shoppers inside to move out. "Get out of the store!"

Ollie ducked down behind a shelf when she saw the man lifting a gun in her direction; the bullets flew over her head in different directions. Just as quickly as the firing started, Ollie heard the click, click, click of the empty chamber.

"He's empty!" she informed, leaping up from her cover. "Hey! Stop where you are!" she yelled out again, chasing after the man once more.

"Police! Stop right there!" Lopez's voice shouted from the back exit, where their suspect was heading. The man had nowhere else to flee to this time. "Hands behind your head, fingers laced! Down on your knees!"

Ollie holstered her handgun and reached for her radio. "Control, show us one in custody. Code 4."

A set of hasty footsteps finally joined them, and all three women sent a disapproving look at him. Lopez, in particular, looked as though she would put her rookie in his grave there and then.

"Nice of you to join us," she scowled in discontentment, "Maybe our suspect wants your autograph."

Jackson swallowed uneasily.

➤➤➤

"Okay, we're done here. Transport will be here soon," Ollie announced to their arrestee after completing the standard processing steps, handing the man off to another officer.

"You want me to do the paperwork?" Harper asked as she approached the rookie, just as the latter clicked on her pen against the clipboard.

Ollie peered at her. "That... sounds very tempting," she confessed, "but, again, I appreciate the help, but I'm fine doing it my own."

"So, you're just not gonna let me help you at all."

"Nope. I'm fine."

"We'll see," Harper shrugged. "Hey, that was a nice job out there."

"Thanks," the rookie turned to her with a light smile, "That means a lot." Ollie then spotted a familiar face over the detective's shoulder entering the booking area. "Abigail?"

Abigail whirled over to her voice. "Hey!" the young woman grinned while heading into the processing area. "I'm so glad you're okay. Did you get the basket we sent?"

"Definitely. And it's amazing, thank you!" Ollie chuckled. "So, I heard that you're John and Tim's ride-along. How's it going?"

"It's, uh," Abigail gave her an honest nod, "a lot."

Ollie snickered. "It's every day."

Another person stalked over into the processing area with a stern look on his face, yet both women remained unbothered. "What the hell is this? I let you run around with Harper for half a day, and you start chatting with people on duty?"

"Don't listen to him. He's all bark," the younger woman snorted before turning to him. "I gotta pee."

Abigail excused herself from the two officers; Ollie gave Tim an amused look. "Cut the act. She's obviously not buying whatever you're selling," Ollie mused, "And here I thought, scaring rookies off the job is your specialty."

Tim rolled his eyes at her tease. "That's because I don't hold her fate in my hands," he insisted. "Heard you dodged some bullets."

"Nothing I can't handle," the rookie quirked a brow at him. "So, you're keeping tabs on me now?"

Tim shook his head, though Ollie still looked unconvinced.

"Sure."

"Look, if you need anything, you let me know," he spoke again, his voice softening, unlike his usual snappiness.

The rookie shrugged in response, the smile on her face faltering. "A time machine doesn't sound so bad."

He returned a remorseful smile, nodding weakly. "Yeah, I wish I had one, too..."

...because I definitely would've said yes, this time.

➤➤➤

Ollie was digging through her bag frantically in search of her concealer— but to no luck. Her hair was still damp, the droplets of water dripping onto the towel slung across her shoulders. Sure, she had a top on covering the tattoo, but she still felt so exposed—

"Ollie!" a voice interrupted her, snapping her out of her was-going-to-be-panic.

Ollie spun around by her locker door, letting out a sharp exhale when she saw an already-changed Lucy hurrying towards her with a wide smile. "Uh—"

"Ready?" another voice called out before Ollie could even process her friend grabbing her arm.

"Almost," a third voice responded, joining the corner of the locker room.

Ollie was momentarily dumbfounded by the three women standing before her in regular clothing, each waiting patiently for her reply. "Um... What's going on? R-Ready for what?" Ollie questioned, looking at her friend in puzzlement.

"So..." Lucy cleared her throat, "we have plans tonight."

"Girls' night," Harper confirmed with a grin.

Ollie glanced back at the T.O. with furrowed brows. "You're still not convinced that I'm fine on the job," she reached a conclusion, eyeing the detective wearily.

"No, that's not it," Harper claimed, trading a look with Lopez and Lucy. "We just thought it would be fun."

Lopez shared her grin. "But if you're not up for it—"

"I-I am... I am," Ollie interjected sharply. "Sorry, it's just— you two have just never asked me out before, so that was, um, unexpected— but that's cool. Okay. Yeah," she cleared her throat as she shut her locker door.

"Alright," Lucy cheered, "Let's go."

"Okay, um, wait—" Ollie hung back a moment, staring at the three others, "Where are we going?"

The two T.O.s exchanged a smirk.

➤➤➤

Ollie was still confused when Harper drove them to a hotel and led them into an area that had been set up with rows of tables. There were also lots of people there, already chatting with one another, some even with drinks in their hands.

But her confusion was replaced with an abrupt wave of shock when she saw the signboard by the entrance.

Meet Someone Special
SPEED DATING
TONIGHT

Ollie spun sharply on her feet. "This is a sick joke, right?"

Harper shook her head. "You were right," she prefaced cautiously, "I have never gone on a date with a serial killer, and you have."

"And that would make anyone question their judgment," Lopez added.

"Right. But this— this is—"

"But nothing," Harper cut her off sincerely. "Look, you can never truly know that you are fine until you know that you can trust your judgment again. So, we're here, in this controlled environment with zero stakes, so you can meet and evaluate a succession of men."

Lucy eyed the room. "If you can call them men..."

"Um, look, I appreciate what you guys are trying to do here," Ollie chuckled weakly. "But this is... This sounds insane. And unnecessary."

"Actually, it's fairly psychologically sound," Lucy inputted; Ollie shot her a stern look.

"Well," Harper cleared her throat again, "it'll just be a great story for tomorrow."

"You're not taking 'no' for an answer, are you?" Ollie deadpanned.

"I am just real committed to getting you to say 'yes'."

"Okay, fine," Ollie sighed in defeat. "On one condition: all three of you are doing this with me."

Harper and Lopez looked hesitant, but Lucy shrugged. "I'm in," the rookie spoke, "Can't have a controlled study without independent data, anyway. Otherwise, how will we know that your judgment is sound?"

Harper sighed, glancing over at Lopez. "She's got a point."

Ollie turned to the last woman with a smile. "Don't make me pull the buried-alive card."

Lopez eyed the room of people, then sighed. "Screw it, I'm in."

"Great!" Ollie beamed at the three, lastly gesturing to Lopez, "Okay. Now, pass me that flask..."

➤

"Do you like cats?"

"What's the most adrenaline-pumping thing you've ever done?"

"What's your take on pineapple on pizza?"

"How do you react if your server got your order wrong? Do you tell them, or do you just sit and eat?"

"If you were arrested, what would your friends think you did?"

Ollie was grateful that Lopez had something strong in her pocket flask.

Because, so far, each person she speed-dated with was either too smug or too comfortable. Nobody gauged her mind right enough for her to hold an interest of longer than three minutes.

When the I've-lost-count timer went off in the middle of the table, Ollie got up from her chair. Fair enough, the man she had just spoken with was not the worst person she had chatted with that night. But the hatred he had expressed towards cats basically made her brain shut off for the remainder of their conversation.

"This has actually been really interesting," Mr Not-A-Cat-Lover beamed, standing up from his seat as well. "I feel like I learned something about myself."

Ollie nodded with a stiff grin. "Glad you did." She flashed him another mustered smile as she slowly turned away to find the next man to repeat the entire process with.

Mr Not-A-Cat-Lover nodded, spotting a piece of loose string on her sweater. "Oh, you have a string coming—"

The next thing he knew, he was pressed face-first against the table with his hands bent behind his back.

Ollie snapped out of her trance right as her three cop friends rushed to her.

"You know, you really shouldn't touch a woman without asking, but, you know, we don't need to make a thing of it, right?" Lopez's voice faded away in her head while escorting Mr Not-A-Cat-Lover away from the scene.

"Ollie, are you okay?" Lucy steadied the heaving woman. "What happened?"

Ollie shook her head, trying to calm her shallow breathing. "This is clearly not working," she finally muttered. "Let's just go."

She did not spare them another response before she trudged out of the room.

➤➤➤

The car ride was unsurprisingly quiet on the journey back.

"Look, I appreciate tonight, I really do," Ollie sighed, breaking the silence in the tense yet awkward air. "But... I think whatever trust I had for this world died in the barrel in my place."

Harper sighed, returning the rookie with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about tonight."

"I am, too," Ollie leaned her head onto Lucy's shoulder at the backseats. "But I like this Girls' Night thing. We should do it more often."

"We should," Lucy perked up next to her. "But no more speed-dating," she then grimaced. "None of those men are even half-decent." The car murmured in agreement.

"Let's just stick to food and drinks, next time," Ollie muttered bleakly. "And, after tonight, well, I guess... I'm just not gonna date anymore— as sad as that may sound. But, like Nolan said, it's statistically safer this way."

"Yeah, for both you and the poor man," Lopez chipped in; Ollie groaned exasperatingly.

Not dating is actually pretty sad— but safe.

And safety is what I need. At least for now.

The car was silent for a few more moments before Lucy interrupted it with her struggle to hold back from cackling aloud. She was muffling out a string of apologies as Ollie's head left her shoulder, the other woman giving her a worn-out look.

"What?"

"Sister Officer Ollie Marshall."

Ollie's expression was immediately mortified. "Oh my god— go to hell!"

"You know, you really shouldn't say that, Sister," Lopez joined in gleefully from the passenger seat; Harper, too, broke into chuckles.

"Oh my god!"

Despite wanting to throw herself out of the car there and then, Ollie was still grateful that her first day back to work ended with laughter.

➤➤➤

"I think I'm healing," Ollie announced confidently, "Or, starting to heal, at least."

Dr Lee took off their glasses with a sigh. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, Ollie," they reminded, "If you were healing, you would not have declared so loudly that you're off the dating market when you came in here."

"So, I should've declared it softly?"

The psychiatrist shook their head helplessly. "Healing takes time, Ollie, and definitely more than one week," they uttered. "Right now, you're just beginning to deal with the fact that your life was threatened twice in the span of two days."

The smug grin on Ollie's face soon withered away as the officer sank back into the couch. "Man, I wished I would've just gone home and slept that day..."

➤➤➤

"Hey," Tim greeted just as he ran into Angela in the bullpen the next morning. "You seen Nolan?"

"Not yet," Angela replied. "But, uh, Ollie had a bit of a moment last night when we were out— It's not a big deal," she cut him off before he could bite back, "She's fine."

"What the hell is Harper doing?" his expression turned quickly into a frown.

"Helping," Angela assured him.

"But—"

"Don't get all 'Tim' on me," Angela snapped unamusingly. "Clearly, you care about her a lot. I just thought you should know."

Tim exhaled heavily. "Ollie's okay?"

"She will be."

"Alright... Thanks for letting me know."

➤➤➤

Ollie walked out of a convenience store alongside Nyla, both with coffees in hand. The rookie could sense a stinging stare at the side of her head and turned to glance at the T.O. with a sigh.

"I know what you're thinking, but I'm fine."

"You nearly broke that guy's arm," Nyla reminded.

The rookie shrugged. "React quickly, subdue the threat— that's what they taught us in the Academy."

"He was picking a piece of thread off of your shirt," the T.O. pointed out, "And you got triggered."

Ollie rolled her eyes with another huff. "Yeah, well, what do you know about it?" she murmured to herself as they got into the patrol car.

She clicked on her seatbelt and took a sip of her coffee while waiting for the detective to put the car back into motion, but Nyla lingered.

"When you're undercover, you can't let go for even a second," the T.O. prefaced, "You have to maintain complete control over your responses, read between every glance. It is physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting."

Ollie peered over to her now. "So, what, you slipped up, and one of them figured out you were a cop?"

Nyla shook her head frailly. "I always met my case officer at a bar. It was the one place, that I could go where I could drop the character, and I could stop strategizing and just have a beer, and be myself," she continued, "So, one night, one beer turned into two, which turned into— well, I lost count.

"And if it were any other scenario, I would have sobered up, I would've cut myself off, but I wasn't with the crooks. I was with another cop," she paused, "And I trusted him."

The rookie's expression dullened. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, it was a long time ago, but my point is, I shut down. I didn't even tell my husband. I just, I kept telling myself that I would deal with it when I was ready." Nyla let out another sigh. "Maybe I pushed you too hard, last night. But I know what it is like when you do not face things head-on."

"Yeah, I may know a thing or two about it, too," Ollie offered weakly. "My mom had loads of issues, with drugs, with debts, with boyfriends ..." she shifted on her seat, "There was this one that I used to like — only because he never acknowledged my existence — as a teen, that was all I wanted. Until, he started yelling, throwing stuff, and it even got bad enough that I had to wait it out in my room."

Nyla remained silent; her eyes weary in understanding.

"One night, he came over furious, and I locked myself in the room. They were shouting... something about money. I knew it was about the drugs. I think she stole his money to get high. Anyways, he was not at all happy about it," Ollie swallowed hard, "I was, I think, fifteen when that happened. And I just grabbed my headphones and maxed up the volume— I just didn't want to hear it, you know?

"But I still heard their voices, their words, plates crashing, cries for help, and finally— the front door slamming shut," her voice wavered. "He hit her bad that night. When I finally went into the kitchen, she was lying on the floor, bruised lip, blood on her forehead. She told me she 'just tripped and fell'. And I just... I went back to my room, convincing myself that it wasn't my problem.

"I could've called the cops, but it was more likely that they'd arrest her for the drugs, or even for stealing, anyways," she sighed at last, "I should've at least made her go to the hospital that night. But I did nothing. I just... left her there, told myself it's not my problem to deal with."

"And you've been carrying that with you ever since," Nyla inputted.

Ollie nodded slowly. "So, when my date led to me being buried alive in a barrel, I guess... a part of me believed that was it."

"Hey," Nyla offered at the rookie's distress, "You're gonna get through this. I promise."

"Yeah," Ollie smiled back wearily. "I really, really hope so."

They shared a beat of silence before Nyla put on her seatbelt and put the shop in drive again.

"Wait, what happened to your case officer?" the rookie suddenly asked.

"He fell down a flight of stairs, a few times," Nyla replied. "Had to take a disability pension."

Ollie gaped in thought. "Like, fell, or— fell?" she asked, receiving a look from Nyla, "Well, either way, nice."

➤➤➤

The cops had spent the afternoon on a call that included a gang who was threatening people in a trailer park; Abigail and Henry were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Partnering with SWAT, they managed to ensure zero casualties and brought most of the gang members into the station.

It had been a hectic afternoon processing and booking them all.

Ollie swore she was going cross-eyed as she went through her portion of the paperwork, secretly hoping that Nyla would offer to take some off her plate again— because she definitely would have agreed, this time.

By the time shift was over, she found herself missing her bed extra much.

"Hey."

"Whoa, hey," Ollie got startled a little walking out of the locker room, "Were you trying to scare me?"

"Uh, no, sorry," Tim responded with an apologetic look. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"Um, well, great, I guess," Ollie replied. "Yeah, I'm still not back to normal, but I'm getting there."

"There's nothing normal about what you've been through."

"And my therapist reminds me about that every session," the rookie muttered grimly. "It's progress, at least... I may not get back to the way it was, but maybe I'll get close enough to put all these behind," she sighed, "I'm dealing with it. And that will start with getting the tattoo removed. I hate the visual reminder of the worst day of my life."

There was a short silence as Tim walked out of the station alongside Ollie. "You know I got half a dozen scars," he spoke again, "Bullet wounds, knife wounds, broken bottle. Then there's the ones you can't see Isabel's addiction... a dad, who would tune me up on the regular," he trailed off, "And whether I like it or not, they're a part of me."

"But it's not the same, is it?" Ollie countered defensively. "I have my supposed day of death literally etched onto my skin."

"But you didn't die. You lived. And now he's the one in the ground," Tim reminded her firmly. "Look, I'm not trying to tell you what to do with it. Hell, burn it off, if it gives you peace. All I'm trying to do is give you some hard-won perspective.

"You can choose to see that tattoo as your greatest failure, but I see it as proof that you're a survivor. It wasn't your day of death. It was the first day of the rest of your life— and no one can take that away from you."

Ollie gnawed on her cheeks, letting his words sink in her head. His perspective of this altered her take more than she would admit. Finally, she exhaled with a nod. "Thanks."

"Yeah, you're welcome," Tim smiled back. "Also, I wanted to return you this..."

Ollie glanced over at him curiously as he reached into his pocket to retrieve a familiar item.

It was the earrings she had dropped onto the ground to leave tracks for the others to find her. She collected them from him with an appreciative grin. She was glad her Hansel-and-Gretel idea worked, gladder that he still recognised them.

"You found me."

Tim softened at the look in her eyes. "Something like that," he nodded with a smile. "You riding with me tomorrow, Boot?"

"Absolutely, sir."

"Good. Get in early. War bags need restocking."

Ollie paused in front of her car, narrowing her eyes at him. "If I ask nicely, would you do the restocking?"

"No."

━━━━━

I'd actually like to hear your answers on the speed-dating ques in this chapter hehe,, 👀