S2 EP13

Ollie stepped into the briefing room in utter confusion when she saw a crowd of police officers around Smitty, who wore a 'MR. IRRELEVANT' sash over his shoulder. The room of officers were cheering and applauding him, laughing and getting photos.

It was no wonder the rookie found her T.O. sitting on a table by the side of the room, not wanting to join in the photo session. Though, he did have an amused look on his face.

"Hey, what's going on?" Ollie approached Tim.

"We're celebrating Smitty's last day as Mr Irrelevant," Tim explained, "The sergeants exam happens once every two years. Whoever scores the lowest gets called Mr Irrelevant 'cause they got no chance at getting promoted."

The rookie turned to him intently. "Does that mean the new scores are gonna be posted soon?"

"Tonight," Tim confirmed with a nod.

But his rookie noted the nervousness under his tone. As Tim stood to head away, Ollie trailed along after him. "And you remember our bet, right?"

The T.O. snapped his head to her as he caught on to her words. "There's no 'our' in that bet— and there is no bet," he deadpanned, "I am not buying you dinner if I don't make it into top ten."

"But I read you all those books!"

"I'm not, Boot," he glowered at her.

Ollie sighed in defeat. "Hell's sake, you're really, really no fun at all, sir."

"Alright. Party's over." Grey dismissed the room of cops as he stepped into the room, taking his place at the podium up front. "So, Officer Smitty," he began, "these past two years, you have handled your irrelevance with the poise and dignity I expect from a man of little ambition."

As the officers chuckled, Smitty flourished a bow. "Thank you, sir."

"To business," the watch commander announced, and the room died down at once. "Today is Follow-Up Day. Detectives have several cases that are on the edge of being back-burnered. You're gonna take the day to see if you can breathe new life into them.

"So, Bradford and Marshall, you have a three-day-old home invasion," Grey assigned, handing the rookie the case file, "The victim is a former gang member, Nevin Cooper. No forensics, no suspects."

Ollie immediately opened the file to quickly scan through it. "On it, sir."

➤➤➤

Ollie headed into the bakery first as Tim opened the door, the T.O. following in closely after. They went up to the counter and were greeted by the cashier.

"Good morning, Officers," Sasha greeted. "What can I get you?"

"We're looking for Nevin Cooper," Tim answered.

"Oh, he's a little busy right now," the cashier informed them. "Can I help you with something?"

A crash from the room at the back grabbed the officers' attention; Sasha had no choice but to let them behind. They made their way into the kitchen, where they found an uneasy-looing Nevin being confronted by some other men.

Tim frowned. "Hey, everything okay?"

One of the guys turned around and observed the cops cockily. "Yeah. It's just some confusion in our order."

"Sorry for the misunderstanding," Nevin added in, taking a bag of pastries from the tabletop and handing it to the other man.

Tim did not buy their theatrics for a single moment. "Marquel, right?" he nodded at the guy who had been pestering Nevin.

Marquel furrowed his brow at the cop. "I know you?"

"I'm the guy who put Keon in Pelican Bay," Tim introduced. "Heard you filled the void."

Marquel clicked his tongue. "Ah, what can I say? Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."

Alas, none of the people in the room got his reference. Tim ignored Marquel, glancing over his shoulder to address the man they came for. "I read you weren't running with these guys anymore, Nevin."

"Found a different path in prison," Nevin stated.

"Bitch binge-watched too much British baking," Marquel jeered, "Got himself rehabilitated."

"It's not every day that you see a gang be so forgiving to someone who's left the flock," Ollie challenged with her carefully chosen words, not before adding a jab, "That's inspiring."

Marquel eyed her displeasingly.

"Unless you're here to sweat him," Tim countered, nodding at the rest. "You guys wouldn't happen to know who broke into Nevin's house a couple nights ago, tied him up?"

"I sure don't," Marquel shrugged, "But I tell you what, I hear anything, you will be my first call," he sneered at the cop before peering back to the man behind him. "I'll see you around, Nevin."

The officers watched as Marquel left the kitchen along with his buddies, each of them having a nastier look than the previous. Tim turned to Nevin when the others were gone. "You alright?"

"Fine," Nevin muttered, already dashing through the back of a shelf. "Got a lot of work to do and it's tight in here, so Sasha'll give you some donuts on your way out."

"I know you're scared, but we can help," Ollie extended.

"I'm not scared. I'm busy," Nevin persisted, "I got things handled."

Tim stalked over to him. "Okay, so why call the cops if you got it handled?"

Nevin stared back at the officer. "I didn't."

"Let me guess: Sasha did before you could tell her not to," Ollie chipped in; Nevin lowered his gaze.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do— turn your life around," Tim stepped towards the other man, "I know it isn't easy—"

"It is what it is, man."

"—you can't handle Marquel and his crew on your own."

"I don't know what you're talking about. They just came to buy some pastries," Nevin insisted, even though neither of the cops were persuaded. "Now I gotta get back to work," he said at last, pushing the door open for their departure.

"Sure," Tim conceded. "You change your mind, you know where to find us."

➤➤➤

Tim and Ollie returned to the station after leaving the bakery.

"Are you nervous about your score?" Ollie prodded as they were heading out of the garage into the bullpen.

Tim shot her a glance. "No, I'm not."

"Liar," she called him out, unconvinced. "How does the sergeants' exam work, anyways?" the rookie asked. "Do you get the stripe right away, or is there still a wait?"

"Passing the test is the first step. You only get promoted when a spot opens up," Tim explained, "If you're at the top of the list, might take a month or two. The lower you are, the longer it's gonna take. And for some, they'll never get a shot. Be taking the test again in two years."

"Wow," Ollie blinked, "And how many did you say took the exam with you?"

"More than a hundred."

"Hey," Grey called out, tramping over to them in urgency. "Your home invasion victim was just assaulted. He's on his way to the E.R."

Both officers frowned at once. "Nevin? But we just saw him," Ollie stated.

"Marquel must have doubled back after we left," Tim huffed displeasingly.

The rookie turned to the watch commander again. "How badly was he hurt?"

➤➤➤

"Fractured right arm, bruised ribs, couple of loose teeth," Grace listed as she guided the officers through the E.R. "He's gonna be in pain for a few weeks. Do you guys know who did it?"

"Yeah," Tim responded, "but we can't do anything about it unless Nevin makes an official I.D."

"Which he's not going to do," Ollie added with a sigh as they reached the hallway of Nevin's room. Sasha stood outside, looking immensely worried. "But maybe his girlfriend will..."

The cops stopped by the room as the doctor headed off. Sasha noticed their presence and exhaled with dread.

"How is he?"

"He's tough. Didn't want me to call 911, even though the bone was sticking out," Sasha glanced into the patient room, "He's trying so hard to make up for the things he did. Why can't they just leave him alone?"

"Because they're predators," the rookie replied. "But we can help."

"How?" Sasha snapped at them. "He's here because you came around this morning," she informed, "Marquel had to make sure that Nevin wasn't snitching."

Ollie held her gaze on the woman. "Snitching about what?"

Sasha scoffed at the pair of officers, turning to leave. "No way."

"Sasha, you walk away, he ends up back in prison or dead," Tim made clear to her, his voice stern. "Look, without us, Nevin either gives in, gives Marquel what he wants, or he doesn't— and Marquel kills him. We're his only hope at a different outcome."

Sasha turned back to them jadedly. "You promise you can protect him?" she questioned.

"I'd be lying if I said yes, but he's got no chance without us," Tim told her truthfully.

Sasha hesitated for a moment more, but the sight of her boyfriend badly beaten up on the hospital bed made her give in reluctantly. She stepped closer to the cops, lowering her voice. "Marquel wants Nevin to launder drug money through the bakery. Said he had twenty-four hours to decide," she informed them. "Now you know."

The officers were at a brief loss as Sasha turned away and went into the patient's room, shutting the door firmly.

"So, what's the play?" Ollie frowned, "We arrest Marquel for assault? Will he get his guys to attack Nevin again?"

"Yes. We do that, and Marquel's guys will kill both Nevin and Sasha," Tim stated curtly.

"Okay. Then what?"

"I don't know." Tim stared back at his rookie, still trying to rack up a solid idea.

➤➤➤

"So, what do I do?" Tim asked after explaining their issue to the watch commander.

"The smart thing would be to get Nevin to launder the money," Grey suggested, crossing his hands on his desk. "Use him as a C.I. to roll up Marquel and his whole crew."

Tim nodded, but Ollie cut in with a frown. "But... Nevin's trying to go straight," she stated, "We'd be destroying that."

"Yes, in order to put some pretty bad people behind bars," Grey explained. "Look, it's a tough call, but..." he pushed himself up from his chair and walked over to Tim, "you're gonna have to get used to making those as a sergeant."

Tim straightened his back at once. "The scores are in?"

"The list just arrived," Grey informed him, "You're number 8 out of 140."

Tim let out a relieved exhale; his rookie perked up, looking more excited than he was. "Yes!" Both senior officers looked at her oddly, and the rookie sulked back down, clearing her throat. "Congratulations— Sergeant Bradford."

"Not a sergeant yet," Tim told her. "At eight on the list, it'll probably take six months or so."

"Actually," Grey interjected, "there's a position opening in North Hollywood. The captain there owes me a big favour. If you want, I can make it happen. You'd start in two weeks."

The rookie's eyes widened at the watch commander, then whirled her head over to her T.O., who mirrored her stunned expression on his face. Grey was still waiting patiently for his response; Tim furrowed his brows deeply.

"Uh— can I think about this overnight?" he managed out.

"Yeah, of course," Grey nodded. "But there's no guarantee you'll get a better opportunity if you pass this up."

➤➤➤

Tim and Ollie found Marquel and his gang hanging out at some benches by a car shop. Tim got out of the car first, making his way towards the gang members.

"Hey, Marquel. Can we talk for a minute?" he asked. "Unless you gotta get permission first."

Marquel scoffed lightly. "Nah, man. I'm good," he responded, getting up from his seat before heading out to meet with the officers. "You here to threaten me, Officer Bradford? Stay away from Nevin or else?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "No. We both know you don't scare."

"So what?" Marquel cocked his head, "You here to play to my better angel?"

"Yeah, something like that."

The man snorted mockingly. "See, here I thought you were a hard case, the man who put Keon in Pelican Bay."

"Nevin did his time. He gave your crew a decade of his life. Took the fall like a good soldier," Tim tried reasoning, "Let him walk away."

"And what's that do for my rep? Lettin' people slide?"

Tim remained in his spot. "You don't want to go down this road," he warned, "Trust me."

"Ain't no off-ramp here, Bradford," Marquel sneered at the cop. "See, I got plans for Nevin. There's nothing you can do to stop 'em." He sauntered off, leaving the officers to head away in defeat.

Ollie got into their shop and cleared her throat. "What's your next plan?"

To her surprise, Tim shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "We made our play, and we failed."

The rookie turned her gaze to him. "Since when do you give up that easily?"

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. "You got a path to victory, Boot? I'm all ears."

Ollie narrowed her eyes at him. "There has to be some way to win by coming at this sideways..." she muttered, more to herself as Tim raised a brow at her. "Brainstorm with me."

"What?"

"How do we stop Marquel from laundering money through the bakery..."

"That's literally what we've been asking since yesterday."

"We can't just shut down the place..."

"We really can't just."

"And we can't permanently relocate Nevin..."

"They're just going to find him again."

"So, what can we introduce to a place to stop it from being used for illegal activities..."

"Good question."

"What will make Marquel and his gang back off..."

"Enlighten me."

"...like they did yesterday?"

Tim's gaze flickered to his rookie in realisation. "Us. Cops," he perked up, "As long as there are always cops around that place, they sure as hell aren't going to launder money there. And that place is a bakery after all, right?"

➤➤➤

After a day of phone calls and texts and spreading the message, Ollie and Tim stood outside the bakery proudly as they watched group after group exiting the bakery with bags of pastries in hand. Tim noticed his rookie had the most satisfying grin on her face, watching the sight in awe.

"This may be one of the safest shops in the city, now," Ollie chuckled.

"You bet," Tim nodded, watching the cops flooding in and out of the bakery.

Ollie turned to him. "Good job, making Nevin's the go-to donut shop for the LAPD."

"Yeah. Couldn't have done it without you, though."

"Aww. Is Tim Bradford finally giving recognition?" The rookie nudged him, and her T.O. rolled his eyes. "Jokes aside, I will miss you when you're at North Hollywood. They're lucky to have a sergeant like you coming in."

"Actually, I, uh," Tim turned back to her, clearing his throat, "I told Grey that I'm not interested in moving up, just yet."

Ollie stared back at him. "But it's a great opportunity."

Her T.O. shrugged. "Tim Bradford finishes what he starts," he nodded at her, "I haven't finished training you yet."

And the fluttery feeling filled up her chest. "You're right, you haven't."

The chilly December breeze was not exactly helpful when Ollie took familiarity in this proximity.

With him.

Who was still watching her with those softened eyes.

"Then, that changes a lot of things." Her therapist's words clung onto her mind like a parasite. But she was not lying when she confessed about not being able to forget that night.

Especially not when she had to meet his face every day.

It was strange; she knew how to wind him up on a daily basis, yet she could not gauge his thoughts just by staring at that face of his... outside a call.

Hell's sake, man—

"So, when are you buying me dinner?" Tim asked out of nowhere, jerking Ollie out of her brain-dive.

"Huh?"

Tim cleared his throat with a shrug. "Well, I made it top ten. Which means I don't have to buy you dinner— you have to buy me," he clarified. "It's called a fair bet, Officer Marshall."

Ollie gaped at him. "What happened to 'there is no bet', Officer Hypocrite?"

Tim merely shrugged in response, a smirk building up on his face.

Shit, shit, shit.

Every part of her was telling her that this was a gravely bad idea.

Except perhaps her heart...

"You free now?" her words spilled out before she could rethink.

Tim turned to her intently; admittedly, he was taken aback by her instance.

Although he had no time machine, this felt close enough to a second chance to correct his fault.

"Yeah, I am."

Ollie blinked at him and nodded with a cough. "Great."

"Alright. Get in the car."

And she did.

This was a high-stakes game to play—

—yet Ollie had always been one for high stakes.

"Just so you know," Ollie cleared her throat as she buckled her seatbelt, "if you end up abducting me as well, just shoot me in the head and get over with it."

Tim glanced at her with a look of concern. "Does your shrink know you're this grim?"

"Yup. And they are definitely not a fan of it."

"Yeah. I can see why..."

Ollie tried just as hard to stop her mind from roaming as she did to stop her chest from fluttering. Tim seemed oblivious, though.

"Wait, where are we heading?" she finally glanced over her.

Tim's eyes remained on the road ahead, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the centre console. "You see, there's this Italian steakhouse I've been meaning to try—"

"Hold on there," Ollie cut him off abruptly. "You do realise that I'm a rookie putting myself through hell to afford rent in this god-expensive city, right?"

And he had it in him to snicker at her.

"Well, a bet's a bet."

Ollie scoffed at him, gritting her teeth because he knew how to provoke her just as she did him. "A bet's a bet..."

━━━━━

Does this count as a first date? 🤔
(No)