S2 EP17

Jackson stood in the middle of Ollie's living room with a deep sigh. "Look, don't get me wrong. I love hanging out with Lucy, and I do kind of pity her after all those failed date attempts, but... I miss my boyfriend."

Ollie had her head tilted as she stared back at her friend by her kitchen counter. "Tell her exactly that."

Jackson sent her a look before collapsing onto the couch with a muffled groan into a pillow. Freddie the cat hopped off the other end of the couch with a loud meow. "Oh, sorry, Fred." Jackson lifted his face from the pillow back to the woman in the kitchen. "I can't just tell her that."

"Okay, well..." Ollie frowned in thought, picking up the cat that had come up to her. "Tell her that you wanna have sex with your boyfriend," she offered blatantly, "I'm very sure Lucy will back off, then."

"Oh my god."

"Yep."

"Not helpful."

"Jacks," Ollie let out a sigh, "You gotta tell her that she's third-wheeling your relationship, or you'll never be getting any action with Sterling. At all."

Jackson sat upright on the couch with a defeated look. "Do you think sex is all I want with Sterling?"

"Well, you won't be here if that's not what you want, at least right now," Ollie countered, still cuddling the cat that had curled itself snugly in her arms.

The man tried to speak but ultimately rolled his eyes with a groan. "I have to tell her."

"Yes, you do."

Jackson huffed. "Fine." He got up from the couch again, walking over to Ollie in the kitchen. "Can you come with me?"

"To confront Lucy?" Ollie gaped at him.

"To confront Lucy," Jackson confirmed, battering his eyes at her with his signature smile.

"What, you want me to hold your hand? Or should I bring Freddie along for emotional support?" Ollie deadpanned, caressing the cat in her arms.

"That actually sounds like a good idea," Jackson raised a brow, reaching for the orange cat. Yet before he could reach its fur, the cat hissed at him, leapt off Ollie's arms onto the counter, jumped down the counter, and darted into the bedroom. "Your son hates me."

Ollie snickered. "My son just dislikes physical contact like his mom."

"He just snuggled in your arms," Jackson deadpanned.

"Because I'm his favourite human— the only exception."

Jackson rolled his eyes with a defeated groan. "So, will you come with me? Pleeeeeease?"

Ollie rolled her eyes with a final sigh. "Fine."

Jackson beamed at her gratefully.

➤➤➤

"Lastly, the brass wants us to increase our social media presence within the community."

Tim shot up from the back of the room. "We're cops, not influencers."

"Like it or not, Officer Bradford, you're both," Grey enlightened, "A strong relationship with the public makes us all safer. So let's show them we're people, too. Get out there, take a few selfies... Yes, Officer Nolan?"

John put down his raised hand. "Back in Foxburg, I knew most of the cops by name."

"Because there were four of them," Nyla pitched in from the back as the room broke into laughter.

"Five," John corrected, "but the number didn't matter. It's just that they spent most of their time on foot. I mean, how are we supposed to take a selfie with someone when we're trapped in our shop most of the day?"

"That's a good point. We do spend too much time locked inside our shops," Grey's eyes twinkled with a sly smirk. "New plan. Everyone spends the morning on foot patrol."

The officers immediately burst into grunts of disagreement while John hung back on his words. Ollie, Lucy and Jackson whipped their head to him with a glare.

"Harper, mind accidentally shooting your Boot later this morning?"

"Don't tempt me, Morrison. I've already thought of it."

Grey pointed delightedly at the rookie, who was currently despised by everyone else. "Good one, Officer Nolan."

➤➤➤

"I've got no problem with community engagement," Tim stated as they strolled down a sidewalk, past a café., "Citizens play a vital role in policing. The more they like us, the more they help us.

Ollie glanced at him with a stifled snicker. "That's a surprisingly enlightened attitude from you, sir."

Tim rolled his eyes at her words just as a man stepped out of the café to speak to them.

"Yo, officers. Uh, I got a legal question."

Ollie was about to open her mouth to respond when Tim cut in. "Sorry, we're not real cops," he replied, "We're extras. There's a movie shoot down the street."

"Oh," the man blinked at them embarrassedly, "Cool. Thanks."

Tim shook his head as the man scurried back into the café. "What am I? Google? Do your own research," he scoffed lightly.

Ollie was sent into a laughing fit.

➤➤➤

"Oh, hey, Girl Scout cookies!" Ollie pointed out excitedly as they turned down the corner into a street.

Tim peered at her briefly. "You like those things?"

"You don't?" the rookie shot back, already quickening her pace towards the set-up booth by the street.

She had barely got in a few steps when a man ran up the table, hastily grabbed a few boxes, and sprinted away again. The scouts by the table were left in shock; the two officers ran after the thief at once.

"Police!"

The man noticed that he was being chased, and he took a sharp dodge to the opposite street in hopes of running away from the cops. Yet before he could cross the street, a car driving down the direction collided right into him, sending the man headfirst into the windshield.

Tim stopped in his tracks just as the crash happened; Ollie stood by him with a grimace on her face. "Hell... Talk about instant karma," she whispered to herself before rushing over to the car that had screeched to a halt.

"Control, 7-Adam-19. Requesting an RA unit. Palmetto and Mateo. Head verse vehicle. CT."

The driver panickily stumbled out of the vehicle, looking horrified. "He came out of nowhere!"

"Ma'am, please step aside for me," Ollie told her, and the woman stepped away from her car to let the cop gauge the man-in-the-windshield's condition.

The rookie sat in the driver's seat as the man groaned weakly in pain. His whole head up to his shoulder was lodged through the windshield, with blood soaking down his face and arms. And there was a lot of blood. "Hell, I think it got an artery," Ollie stated. "Okay, stay still for me."

Her gloved hands gripped around the man's arm, trying to slow down the bleeding. But other than the man wailing in more pain, her pressure did not appear to help.

"Here," a tiny voice injected. The officer turned to her side to see one of the Girl Scouts by the car door, holding out a piece of fabric and a pen to her. "You can use this scarf and pen to make a tourniquet. Place it two inches above the wound."

Ollie hummed back a response as she gratefully took the items from the girl. She then wrapped the scarf around the man's arm, securing it tight with the pen. The man wheezed a little, but his bleeding started to slow down, thanks to the tourniquet.

"The bleeding's stopped," the officer nodded at last, turning back to the girl by the door. "What's your name?"

"Emily."

"Well, thank you for your help, Emily."

Emily grinned back. "Am I gonna get a badge for this?"

Tim, at the passenger side window, was shaking his head lightly at the girl's frankness. Ollie, on the other hand, snorted amusingly. "I'll make sure you do."

➤

The man in the windshield had to suffer a while more before they heard sirens approaching their scene. Tim took a glance at his watch as he strode over to the incoming ambulance. "Nine minutes, Lang?" he scoffed at the E.M.T., "You guys are usually much faster than that."

The medical technician merely shook his head as he headed to the scene; Ollie quickly got out of the seat when she saw the buffed man hurrying over. He had unintentionally blocked her path in front of her before they awkwardly shifted around to switch their spots.

"Bradford's your T.O.?" he smirked.

"Yeah."

"My condolences."

The rookie sighed. "Heard that one about ten times now."

The E.M.T. chuckled as he got into the driver's seat. "Emmett."

"Ollie." The officer smiled back.

Emmett finally turned to the injured man, assessing his injuries. "All this over a few boxes of Marsh Yellows?"

"Yeah, tell me about it," Ollie mused with a chuckle.

"Who made the tourniquet?"

"I did!" Emily hopped up from the side of the car with a beam. "Officer Ollie helped."

"Well, excellent work!" Emmett gazed at the rookie officer with a smile; Ollie thanked him appreciatively.

Wow, a nice face with a nice smile.

The man in the windshield called out when the two first responders engaged in a perhaps prolonged stare. "Uh... help."

"Oh, right," Emmett blinked hastily, returning to his victim.

➤➤➤

Ollie was looking for her T.O. in the hospital lobby when she found the E.M.T. by the nurses' station, distributing the boxes of Girl Scouts cookies.

"Oh, she got you good."

Emmett eyed her amusingly. "Yeah, that Emily kid's a hustler," he chuckled, "I'm handing them out to my favourite nurses, so I don't have to eat them all."

The cop chuckled, walking over to him. "She made me promise to get her a badge for the tourniquet."

He turned to her interestedly. "And...?"

Ollie sighed. "Well, I promised, so..."

Emmett chuckled, offering her the remaining boxes.

Ollie sucked a breath at the sight of the snacks, her mouth already watering. "Well... I do not have it in me to reject snacks unfortunately," she muttered, taking over the boxes gratefully, "And my cat doesn't have it in him, too, apparently."

"Wait, does your cat want to eat all the snacks you have around your place?" Emmett perked up.

Ollie stared back at him with her eyes wide. "Yes!"

Emmett snickered. "I have a cat like that, too— actually, two."

"You have two cats?"

"Yeah. And the younger one is a proper animal. She would jump to my top shelf just to push one specific item down, and— guess what it is?"

Ollie cocked her head at him. "Enlighten me."

"Chocolate."

The officer groaned in disgust. "That's like the most toxic option available!"

"Exactly!" Emmett groaned. "Like, what happened to survival instincts, man?"

Ollie shrugged back. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, my cat teleports to me once I open a bag of chips, and I have no idea how to tell him that he's a cat— he can't eat my chips!"

"I know, right?" Emmett sighed, shaking his head lightly. "But, hey, maybe they're onto something. I am a true believer that cats are smarter than people give them credit for."

Ollie quirked a brow at him curiously. "So, what are you saying? My cat secretly knows how to push my buttons— by fighting with me over my snacks?"

"Honestly? Maybe." Emmett chuckled at her with a playful grin. "You know, if snacks make you that happy, maybe you'd want to grab a bite with me sometime? I promise to get nachos. With toppings."

Ollie's eyes widened, thoroughly taken aback. "Did you just ask me out over... mutual cat struggles?"

He shrugged with a hint of nervousness. "Is it working?"

"I..." Ollie suddenly felt rigid; her mind was stuck in a trance, chanting to her how the ease of all of this was probably going to backfire on her again; she felt like her mind was in a coma. "Uh—"

"Boot, let's go!"

Tim's voice became her saviour at that moment.

"I—I have to..." Ollie cleared her throat as she backed away from the nurses' station, giving him an apologetic smile. "Uh, sorry, can I, um, get back to you?"

Emmett blinked at her and nodded. "Oh, uh, of course. Yeah. Hey— your cookies."

"Oh, right, right..." Ollie cleared her throat, hurrying back to grab the boxes clumsily.

"Let's hit it, Boot," Tim called out again, and his rookie finally hurried over to his side. He nodded after at the E.M.T. "Later, Lang."

Emmett nodded back. "Alright, Bradford... Ollie."

The rookie officer turned around and smiled at him before whirling back to walk with her T.O. Tim was staring at her, then he glanced back at the E.M.T. by the nurses' station, then at his rookie again. Ollie noticed his odd gaze and returned him with a frown.

"Was he hitting on you?" the T.O. finally asked.

The rookie's stare flickered to the floor of the hospital, suddenly feeling her cheeks warm. "Yeah," she nodded weakly, awkwardly, cautiously, "Do you, um, know him well?"

"Play a little pick-up basketball together," Tim offered hesitantly. "Why?"

Ollie shrugged, still avoiding his burning stare. "No reason."

➤➤➤

Ollie had just stepped out of the locker room at the end of her shift when Jackson appeared right in front of her. She startled, nearly whacking him with the boxes of Girl Scout cookies she was holding.

"Now."

Ollie stared at him puzzledly. "Now— what?"

"Oh, hey, Jackson!" Lucy joined them by the door, holding a similar box of cookies under her arm. She peered down at her phone as the three rookies made their way away from the locker rooms.

Jackson glanced back at Ollie behind Lucy's back with a rigid grin. Now, he mouthed to her alarmingly.

Do you wanna hold my hand? Ollie mouthed back, offering her hand between them; Jackson rolled his eyes at her.

"So, I just texted Sterling," Lucy looked up from her phone again, "We are going to binge-watch 'The Bachelor' and eat these cookies that Ollie gave me."

Jackson cleared his throat. "Yeah, Lucy, look—"

"No, please," Lucy suddenly turned to him, "I cannot watch 'The Cardinal' again. It is so boring."

Jackson stepped in front of her, looking offended. "A, it is subtle and nuanced," he objected firmly, "But, B— Look, it's not even about what we watch."

"Okay..." Lucy eyed him curiously. She briefly glanced over at Ollie, who was pointing back at Jackson like a child passing the blame for a broken vase over to her brother.

Jackson drew in a breath before letting out a heavy sigh. "Sterling and I... we love hanging out with you, but..." he began; Ollie nodded encouragingly at him to go on, "...but we really need our alone time... too...?"

As Jackson's voice faltered away, Lucy looked like a deer in headlights. "Oh, my god," she dulled, "I am the third wheel."

"Yes, you are," Ollie nodded bluntly.

"Uh," Jackson cut in, "A beautiful, talented, badass third wheel."

"A third wheel, nonetheless," Ollie cut in again with a shrug. Jackson shot her a look as Lucy cemented on her spot, looking like she was contemplating her life choices there and them.

"Marshall!"

"Yes, sir?" Ollie spun around at once; the tone of that voice was borderline traumatising, so to speak.

"Grey needs another team on the D.E.A. op," Tim informed. "You wanna put in some OT?"

Ollie's eyes brightened. "Hell, yes— I'll go get changed," she answered before turning to her friends and pushing her cookie boxes into Jackson's hands. "Put this high and away from Freddie, okay? That cat is a snack monster— Thank you!"

As the woman hurried off, Jackson turned back to Lucy with a sigh. "Hey, we're okay, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Why wouldn't we be?" Lucy nodded with a tight-lipped smile, eyeing the boxes he was carrying. "Should we steal those as well?"

Jackson's eyes widened alarmingly. "Ollie's going to kill me."

"But we'd be full of cookies when she does, so..."

He grumbled, passing the remaining boxes to her. "Fine."

➤➤➤

The Bradford/Marshall patrol car was unusually quiet as the overtime officers sat on lookout for the operation involving a drug bust. While Ollie knew that she was supposed to put her full focus into stakeout right now, she could not help but allow her mind to slip into her thoughts at the quietness.

Why had she frozen up when Emmett asked her out? She would admit that he was attractive, funny, not a bad candidate to go out with overall; and they shared a common interest, at the very least. Was it still too soon? The first thing that came to mind when he asked her out was Caleb's charm. The abrupt turn of events. The barrel...

Yeah, maybe it is too soon.

"Are you gonna go out with him?" Tim asked with a sigh, noticing her knitted brows of deep thoughts; Ollie was snapped out of her head instantly.

"Emmett?" she turned to him; the man had just been on her mind, after all. "I... I meant it when I said I'm off the dating market."

She was not ready to share the trust that she was still slowly piecing back together with another person, not just yet. More less for a person that she had only met that noon itself.

She had learned it the hard way.

"I just don't think I have it in me to trust anyone else that much to feel... safe with."

Tim unmet her eyes. "Oh."

Two knocks on their window grabbed the officers' attention. "Hey," John gazed into the shop at them, "Just going for a coffee run. Can I get you guys anything?"

"Two coffees," Ollie answered him, "Sugar in mine. Black for his."

"Great. I'll be back in a bit," John nodded at them before heading off again.

Ollie peered back at her T.O. curiously. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why'd you ask if I was gonna go out with Emmett?"

"No reason," Tim shrugged.

"No, I'm curious," the rookie insisted. "Would you have pushed me to him? Or tell me not to go to him?"

Tim tried to ignore her direct question, but she prodded him again anyway. At last, he rolled his eyes with a loud sigh. "Why would you even care what I think?" His words came out rough, and tight, and... frail.

She watched him with a baffled pause. "Wh-Why wouldn't I?"

He exhaled heavily. "The last time... I-I pushed you towards Caleb, and... you almost died."

And there and then, Ollie recognised it: guilt.

"Tim, that's... That's ridiculous," she turned to him intently, her voice softened. "There was no reason to suspect anything. What happened to me wasn't your fault."

Tim shut his eyes with a clenched jaw. "Look, I lied to you that day. Grey didn't need me for anything, I just... I could've said yes that day, then you wouldn't even have met up with him," he glanced back at her, "You can blame me all you want now, but I am— I am truly sorry."

The brittleness in his voice clawed onto her. "I've never blamed you for it," she told him, "You should stop blaming yourself, too, Tim. Stop holding onto the guilt."

He averted her gaze. "It's not guilt, it's—"

"—guilt. It is guilt," Ollie cut him off, holding the side of his arm. "Hey, look, there are only a handful of people that I do trust and feel safe with now, and you are one of them," she spoke earnestly. "Hold onto that."

There was a long pause for him to let her words truly sink in, truly alter his belief; a part of him was astounded at how easily her words did so. "Thanks."

Ollie hummed back, leaning back in her seat with a long sigh. After merely a few seconds, she shot forward again. "Although... now I am a bit offended that you rejected my offer," she muttered at him with a smirk. "So, do tell. What's your opinion of Emmet?"

Tim finally eyed her again, though annoyedly. "You can do so much better."

"Oh, you sure you're not just threatened by his... hunkiness?"

"Hunkiness? That's not even a word."

The rookie snorted, sinking back in her seat one more.

Sure, Emmett seemed like a nice guy and all, but... He did not make her want to get to know him more in that way... Was their interaction too brief? Was it still her trauma response?

Or was it something else?

"Bradford, Marshall. Let the SUV get out of the area and then stop that vehicle."

Just as Nyla's voice chirped in, the pair of officers spotted a car speeding past them.

"7-Adam-19, suspect vehicle spotted heading east on Midland. Pursuing," Ollie responded. Tim immediately turned on the sirens and drove after the vehicle.

Their chase was getting increasingly tough when the SUV noticed their sirens and was going even faster than before. Tim's grip on the steering wheel was firm as he floored the gas in pursuit.

"7-Adam-19, be advised. Ripper is in the decoy vehicle. I repeat, he is in the decoy vehicle."

Ollie picked up the comms again. "Coming up on the vehicle heading northeast on Beaudry, approaching 4th Street intersection."

However, before they reached the intersection, another vehicle came speeding at them from an adjacent road. The officers were sent rolling off the road just as quickly as they noticed the blinding headlights.

Ollie regained consciousness a moment after, her head still spinning lightly. The airbags had been ejected, and their windows were shattered; the rookie could feel her blood trickling down the side of her head.

A hand was tapping on her arm lightly. "You okay?"

"I think so... Yeah," she muttered back. "You?"

"Fine as well," Tim answered, kicking open his side of the door. He tried pushing it wider with his hand, then came in contact with the shattered glass and retracted his hand quickly, grunting a little at it. When he stepped out of their totalled car, he pulled out his radio from his duty belt. "Harper, Bradford."

"Go to Harper. Was Ripper in the SUV?"

"Unknown," he responded with a pant, "We got ambushed by a second vehicle. Brown pickup truck. Both vehicles got away."

When he holstered his radio again, his rookie had walked over to his side and was examining the wreckage of their shop. The engine was smoking, the dent from the impact was deep, not a single window remained unbroken.

"You're bleeding," Tim spoke, pointing at the side of the rookie's head.

"You're bleeding," Ollie muttered, pointing at the hand that he had just used to point at her. "So," she turned back to the car with a sigh, "how much paperwork are we looking at?"

Tim shook his head tiredly. "A lot."

➤➤➤

Emmett walked up to the cop with an amused grin on his face as she smiled at the sight of him. "We've gotta stop meeting like this."

"I second that," Ollie huffed back, removing the tissue from the side of her head.

"Let me see," Emmett lowered his head to check her wound, then straightened his back again with a grin. "It's not that deep. You got lucky."

"Tell that to my shop," Ollie sighed.

The E.M.T. chuckled. "Nah. That guy is gone."

He picked up the equipment to clean the cop's wound, and she let him do so silently. Emmett's eye contact was comfortingly gentle, but alas, her mind betrayed all. She just had to spit it out.

"Look, I'm just gonna be honest with you, Emmett, but my life is kind of complicated right now," Ollie admitted quietly, "I'm still trying to get myself back together, so I really, really don't think I'm ready for anything else at the moment."

"No worries," Emmett replied with an understanding nod.

Ollie smiled back at him gratefully. "But," she suddenly thought, "I do have a cop friend who may be interested... She's an amazing, amazing person. I could introduce you...?"

Emmett paused for a thought. "You know what, why not, huh?"

"Awesome!"

Tim stalked over to them, eyeing the lesion on his rookie's head. Emmett peeked at him curiously. "Nothing deep, Bradford," he stated, finishing patching her up at last. "And... we're all done here. Your rookie's as good as new."

"Great."

"Thank you," Ollie touched the side of her head gently. Tim nodded at her and turned to leave, but his rookie hauled him back. "Wait— Emmett— check on him."

"It's nothing," Tim insisted, but could not escape his rookie's grasp.

"Not nothing. Officer Hardcore here cut his hand on some glass," Ollie offered him a flat smile as she gripped his hand to the E.M.T.; her T.O. had no choice but to show the grazes on his palm.

Emmett examined the other officer closely. "Could be nothing, honestly, but that still needs to get cleaned up in case of infections."

Tim let out a sigh as Emmett searched for the disinfectant wipes in his kit bag. The T.O. peered back at his rookie. "Mind giving me my hand back, now?"

"So you can run away?" Ollie glanced up at him, "Pass."

So I can stop thinking about your hand on mine.

━━━━━

Is the slow-burn burningg? 👀🙂‍↕️