S3 EP2

With one last glide across the wall, Ollie, Jackson, and John grinned at the freshly plastered wall triumphantly, finally repairing the last damaged wall in John's house.

"Finally finished! Good as new. Hope it'll stay that way this time." John grinned, tearing off the dust mask over his face. "What smells like smoke?"

"That'll be Lucy," Ollie told him. "She's smoke-cleansing your house."

"Okay, all done! Armstrong's energy is no longer welcome in this home," Lucy walked out of the bedroom with the cleansing equipment in her hand, "But if you feel it coming back, just call me. There's a more intensive treatment I can do."

Jackson sent the other man a look before turning towards the table; John glanced at Lucy gratefully. "Ah, that sounds awesome, but no, actually, this is— this is good," he chuckled weakly.

"You know what? We should really cleanse the station," Lucy suggested instead.

"They've already reassigned a third of our officers to other divisions," Ollie reminded grimly, setting down the tool in her hand on the covered kitchen counter. "I think that's cleansing enough."

"Yeah. Word is, my new T.O. is from Valley Bureau," Jackson inputted.

Lucy sighed. "Man, it sucks that Lopez couldn't finish your training."

"Yeah, but I'm psyched for her," Jackson smiled back, "I mean, being a detective is all she ever wanted."

John shrugged at them. "On the bright side— even if your new T.O. is a nightmare, you've only got twenty-five days till you graduate."

"You should be moving up with us," Lucy grunted, "It is not fair that Grey's holding you back. That letter of reprimand was severe enough."

"I screwed up," John stated, "Actions have consequences. But when you graduate, you have to celebrate."

Ollie broke into a grin. "Hell, I can't wait for life with no more Tim Tests."

Jackson cocked a brow back at her. "Don't think you're running away from him, though," he laughed, "I'm pretty sure he's already planning something."

Ollie sulked. "Don't you dare jinx me! Let a girl dream."

"Oh, I definitely agree with Jackson," John added another cunning jab before turning to Lucy, "Now, last touch. Where's the paint?"

"In the car," she replied, and the four rookies headed out of the house one after another.

John pulled open his front door, letting the others out before him. But as they walked down his porch, four confused faces took over their looks. Lucy, especially, looked horrified.

"Um... Didn't you park, like, right there?" Ollie stared blankly at the curb, which was now empty with no sight of a vehicle.

"Someone stole my car!" Lucy scoffed aloud, coming to a realisation. "Who hikes halfway up to the Hollywood sign to steal someone's car?!"

Jackson, behind her, snorted. "I'm surprised they got it to start."

"Do not speak ill of my baby." Lucy shot him a glare.

"Did you lock it?" John turned to her curiously.

"Wow," Lucy deadpanned. "Way to blame the victim. That's..." She gulped.

"So, you locked it?" Ollie asked intently, eyeing the other woman's faltering look.

Lucy turned to them with a deep worried frown on her forehead, her voice frail. "It doesn't actually lock..."

➤➤➤

Nyla caught up to Tim and Avery as they walked into the station's parking lot; the former had a puzzled look on her face. "Why is roll call in the parking lot?" she questioned.

"It was all in the departmental e-mail," Tim replied.

"You actually read those?" she looked at him oddly.

Tim nodded to his side. "Morrison does."

"You don't?" Avery quirked a brow at them, "Aren't we supposed to?"

"Yes, but we have you to tell us anyway," Tim simply stated.

Avery let out a sigh. "Whatever. Our briefing room needs some serious earthquake retrofitting."

Nyla blinked back. "And we've just been sitting in it day after day?"

The man shrugged in response as they reached the assembly area, where a crowd of officers were already taking their places. An officer handed them a document consisting of a list of departmental changes that were supposed to take place effective immediately.

"Listen up," Grey called out, "In the wake of recent events, several changes have been instituted department-wide. Officer Bradford, you want to read the top-line change?"

Tim glanced at his paper. "Any officer requesting a copy of a police report must get written approval by a sergeant. After use, all copies must be destroyed. Failure to do so will result in discipline."

The watch commander nodded at him, then turned to the rookies at the front. "Officer West?"

"Every recruit in the academy must now report all contact with active-duty officers, no matter how small."

"And Officer Nolan."

"No officer shall buy, own, or possess a phone without also providing the department with the number," John read out last.

"Do I have to tell my girlfriend about it, too?" Smitty spoke up from the back of the group, earning laughter from the other officers in the parking lot.

"These changes are necessary," Grey stated sternly. "What Nick Armstrong did has tarnished the badge and made all of our jobs harder. We have to prove to the community that we are still worthy of their trust. And I know each and every one of you will go the extra mile to do that. To business. Among our new faces is Officer Doug Stanton. Where you at?"

"Here, sir." Stanton raised his arm among the crowd; the group of cops peered over at him curiously.

"Officer Stanton will be taking over the training of Officer West," Grey informed the rookie, who nodded in response. "And finally, we've been asked to man the Fourth Street Community Centre this week. Harper, Nolan, you're up. Be safe out there."

"U-Uh, sir, real quick," Lucy flew to the front of the group, standing unsteadily next to the watch commander. "Um, my car was stolen yesterday. It's in the S.V.S., but I took the liberty of making some flyers. So, if you happen to see it on patrol, I would really be grateful if you could just text—"

"Is this the car you left unlocked?" Grey interjected with dismay.

"Well, technically," Lucy stammered, "I-I mean, it's the door mechanism—"

"Dismissed," the watch commander shot to the rest.

Lucy stood with a weary smile while most of the others came up to her to take a flyer. Avery sighed at his Boot when Lucy passed him the self-made flyer for her missing car; Tim and Nyla looked rather amused, neither of them taking a copy, though. Ollie and John each took a piece on their behalf.

"Marshall, let's go!"

Ollie quickened her pace to catch up with her T.O., who eyed the flyer in her hand displeasingly. The rookie folded it and shoved it into her pocket swiftly.

➤➤➤

"Grey's right," Tim spoke in the patrol car, "We need to rededicate ourselves to doing this job the right way, which means the last twenty-five days of your training are gonna be even more intense."

"Thrilled, sir. Really looking forward to it." Ollie refrained from sighing out loud. Screw you, Jacks.

Her phone rang shortly after. She picked up the call, resting her phone between her and Tim. "Hey, Nolan. You're on speaker with me and Tim," she informed. "How's community policing going?"

"Um, good, good..." the man answered on the other end, "Listen, do you have any interest in tutoring for a couple hours this week after shift? Just wanted to offer some perks here at the C.P.C., you know, Lucy said she's on board."

Ollie hummed in thought. "Is Jackson on board?"

"Well, I'm calling him next. I sure hope he is."

"What's the pay?" she asked again; Tim shot her a look from the driver's seat.

"A sense of accomplishment."

"Hm... Alright, sure. Sign me up."

"Great! You're the best. Thank you," John let out a deep exhale, "I don't suppose Tim will be—"

"No," the officer in question interjected sharply.

John chuckled weakly through the phone. "No problem, sir. Now, how do I stop a copier from making this noise?"

A loud wave of screeching took over the speaker, and both officers winced.

Ollie held the phone closer to her. "Have you tried pulling out the plug?"

"That... doesn't fix the machine, though."

"Well, you did say how to stop the noise, not how to fix it," Ollie replied smugly; Tim shook his head, partly amused, partly done with.

John sighed through the phone. "I should call Jackson."

"Definitely should," Ollie laughed, "Alright. See you."

Tim gestured at the street before them, seeing a commotion going on between a woman in a car and another person inside the vehicle. He chirped the radio as they approached the scene. "7-Adam-19, show us Code 6 for an on-view 415."

The two cops got out of their shop and approached the woman, who was yelling at a man inside the car.

"Get out! This is your house. Get out— now!"

"Hey, ma'am. What seems to be the problem?" the rookie asked.

The woman stood back up with a resigned scoff. "The problem is the drunk giant in my back seat. We landed here twenty minutes ago, and he refuses to get out!"

Ollie ducked down to get a view of the drunk man. "Sir, get out of the car."

Yep, no movement.

"Can you please stand on the sidewalk?" Tim spoke to the woman.

The woman did so with an anxious huff. "Don't hurt the car. It's my only source of income."

Tim assured her, then turned back to his rookie. "What is the goal of this call, Officer Marshall?"

"To get him out of the car," Ollie replied before adding hastily, "Without making things worse."

"Exactly," Tim nodded back at her pleasingly. "Now, do you think you can get him out without relying on your weapons?"

The rookie turned to him slowly, with a weary look. "Seriously? A Tim Test? Now?"

"Our goal as police officers should be to de-escalate whenever possible."

"Sir, you set me up to fight a suspect on my first day."

He turned to her intently, folding his arms over his chest. "Does this mean you're not up to the challenge?"

Ollie narrowed her eyes at him. Hell's sake, you know exactly how to wind me up. And you just did. "Bring it on. Do your worst."

She may have regretted the last part just as the words tumbled out her tongue. Just a little.

"Great. So, here's the deal," he stared back intently, "You start with a hundred points. Reach for anything on your belt, and you lose points. Baton is ten. Taser equals fifteen. If you take out your gun, that's fifty. Leave this call with eighty-five points or less, and you lose, and I write up a blue page on you. Getting one of those at this stage of your training would be a real problem."

Okay, that's a proper challenge, she thought hard, cocking her head at him. "Can I earn points?"

"Absolutely. You get him calm, five points. He agrees to get out of the car, ten. You get him to apologise to the driver, twenty points. But if you use any of your weapons, game over— you lose."

Ollie maintained his gaze, with a scheming look he quickly picked up on. "And if I win, then what?"

"Boot, it doesn't work that way," Tim deadpanned.

"Oh, come on, humour me," she insisted, "If I win... you come with me to the C.P.C."

"No deal."

"You're no fun!"

"Hey, are you getting him out of my car, or not?" the woman by the sidewalk interjected.

"Right away, ma'am," Ollie called out before returning to her semi-glaring T.O. "C.P.C. vs blue page. I've really, really done you good, you know?" she smiled fondly at him.

Tim was captured in a spot; part of him already knew that he was going to clear out his schedule. He ultimately shook his head with a long sigh. "Fine."

"Great," the rookie beamed. "Now, back up. I got this." She shoved at his folded arms to push him to the side before turning to the man in the car. "Excuse me, sir. Hi. I'm Officer Marshall. What's your name?"

"I want the pretty girl," the man whined, "Where'd the pretty girl go?"

"Well, she's right by the sidewalk," Ollie told him, "Why don't you come out and see her?"

"You're trying to trick me. They told me all about that in the Marines."

"Oh. You're a Marine?"

"Two tours in country," the man confirmed, then belched.

"Thank you for your service," Ollie smiled back grimly. "Why don't you get on out and let the pretty girl have her car back?"

"Don't tell me what to do," the man suddenly huffed, kicking the door open. The car door nearly missed the rookie, whose first instinct was to reach for her taser.

Tim caught her with a smirk. "Ooh! That's fifteen, Officer Marshall. You're already in the loss column."

Ollie huffed as the man hung against the opened car door, eyeing the lady on the sidewalk. "Let's go out."

The woman scoffed. "Eat a bag of d—"

"Not helping," Ollie interjected abruptly, turning back to the man with a sigh. "Sir, look—"

"Back off!"

Ollie took two steps back at once, holding her hand out in another attempt to calm the man down. "Okay. Sir. Look, I get it. It's been hard being home, back in your life, where nothing feels normal. But the lady over there is just trying to do her job," she tried again, "I know you're better than this — you know you're better than this — because, come on, you fought for freedom. Our freedom, that lady's freedom. Why harass her and disrupt her freedom just because you got drunk and lonely?"

The man's head dropped in regret, letting out a heavy sigh. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise to me."

He turned to the woman on the sidewalk. "I'm sorry."

The woman glared back at him unamusingly. "Bite me."

The officer shot her a look. "Seriously?"

"Fine," the woman finally caved with a sigh, "Thanks."

Ollie turned back to the man. "Do you live here, sir?" she asked, and he nodded. "Alright. Head on up, straight to bed. And take it easy next time you're at the bar," she advised him, then turned to the woman, "Have a nice day, ma'am."

And with that, the man was heading back into his home; the woman had her car back; and the rookie had the smuggest grin on her face as she whirled around to meet her T.O.'s grim look.

"Calm, leaving, apology— I crushed this test," she smirked triumphantly, "Which means, you are coming with me tonight."

Tim let out a heavy sigh, pulling out his phone while they headed back to their shop. He furrowed his brows suddenly at his screen. "Huh."

"Huh?" the rookie glanced at him curiously, but he did not respond to her even after they got back into their shop. "What?" Ollie tried to peek at his phone.

"Officer Chen got herself a puppy," Tim finally responded as he pocketed his phone again; his rookie looked puzzled. "Not a real puppy," he elaborated, "Every rookie adopts a puppy at some point— someone they think they can save. Chen's going to be dragged down the rabbit hole for this one."

Ollie quirked a brow at him. "Is a puppy really, really that bad?"

"It never goes well," he assured her.

"Did you have a puppy?"

Tim shot her a look. "Not your concern."

Ollie snorted, pulling on her seatbelt. "And Avery texted you about it?"

"Not me directly," Tim shared, "He texted the group chat."

"You guys have a group chat?" Ollie eyed him amusedly. But when their patrol car went into drive again, the rookie snapped her head sharply at her T.O. "Wait— to shit-talk about us?!"

➤➤➤

Ollie had managed to catch Jackson during their lunch break; the man was grinning rather broadly, sparking a curiosity in the woman.

"Why are you all smiley?" she asked, slipping into the seat opposite him at the food court.

"Stanton might be putting in a word for me in SWAT," Jackson shared, beaming, suddenly realising that his friend lagged on sharing his giddiness. "What is it?"

"I don't know, but, um..." Ollie glanced over to the man by the food truck with narrowed eyes, "Officer Superman-Face gives me bad vibes."

Jackson gaped at her. "Bad vibes?"

"It's a feeling."

"A feeling?"

Ollie shook her head. "You know what, never mind."

"No, no. Your feelings never bring good." Jackson frowned at her.

"Ugh. Don't start. What's Papa West gonna think about you going into SWAT, anyways?" Ollie huffed; Jackson's smile slowly faltered, turning into a scowl as she snickered back at him. "Kidding, kidding— Good for you, Jacks. I'm sure you can figure something out with your dad."

"Yeah... That's going to be tougher than the Academy exams," Jackson muttered grimly, poking at his piece of carrot. "Have you thought about where you wanna go, what you wanna do?"

Ollie furrowed her brows in thought. "Honestly, I haven't given it, like, a proper thought," she admitted, "But, I don't know, something high-action sounds good."

"Sounds perfect for you," Jackson snorted, "Metro?"

Ollie shrugged. "Or we could be buddies in SWAT."

"Little lady like you shouldn't dream of pursuing a career in SWAT," a voice stated loudly from behind them; both rookies turned to see a laughing Stanton approaching their table. "Seriously. You're like, what, 5'3"—"

"5'5"."

"—the guys over at SWAT aren't going to take you seriously," Stanton looked amused, "Go for something else. Be a T.O., stay in patrol, or, the safest option, be a court liaison or sort. A pretty girl like you would be a waste in a body bag, after all. I mean, didn't you already have a taste of it?"

A. Taste. Of. It.

Jackson's eyes widened in alarm. "Sir—"

"What the fuck did you say to me?" Ollie shot up from her seat at once. Jackson sprang up to his feet as well. The look behind her eyes was nothing short of a blazing fuse, making him on edge.

Stanton scoffed back at the rookie, looking cunningly entertained. "This is how Bradford teach you to respect your senior officers?"

"What's going on?"

Jackson looked partially relieved when Tim and Avery joined them, each trudging over with frowns on their faces. Stanton remained unwavering at the rookie's glare. "Well, your Boot here—"

"Wasn't asking you, Stanton." Tim shot him a sneer.

Stanton scoffed aloud, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Now I see where she learned it from."

"Learned what from?" Avery shot in next. Stanton spared him an appalled look, eyeing him from head to toe, then walking off from the group of four, muttering words under his breath. Two men at the table furrowed their brows in disbelief. "Did he just..."

"West, what's going on?" Tim turned to the other rookie.

Jackson shook his head, eyeing his friend wearily. "Bad vibes," he breathed out, "Bad vibes is what's going on..."

"Jackson! You coming?"

"I—" the rookie was called to his feet, swallowing down all the unresolved tension, "Yes, sir!" He quickly turned back to the remaining three. "Ollie, I'm so sorry—"

"Jacks, don't apologise for him." Ollie scoffed, then sighed when he smiled back weakly. "Hey, be safe."

Jackson nodded shortly. "Yeah. I will."

Ollie snapped her head at the two T.O.s when Jackson scurried off. "Do you two not get the bad vibes from him?"

Avery rolled his eyes. "Well, I just got a strong dose of it," he uttered displeasingly, "Did you hear him calling me a..."

"Yes." Tim clenched his jaw, glancing at the younger man. "You alright?"

Avery shrugged with a heavy sigh. "Used to it. Sadly."

"Sexist, and homophobic," Ollie scoffed out, crossing her arms as she glanced at the two men. "How much you wanna bet he's a three-in-one deal?"

Tim and Avery fell quiet, exchanging a look with each other. They knew the answer; all three of them knew the answer and would bet high on it.

"Gosh, someone's got to keep an eye on them," Avery voiced out, "On Jackson."

Ollie's agitated look was still clawing at him. Tim did not want to prod about what Stanton had said to her now, but he believed that she would be pouring out all her anger when they returned to their shop, or when the fireball explodes. Right now, he could only offer his support in one way he could think of.

"We will," he assured— both of them.

Ollie was still glaring at the patrol car parked by the curb. "He dare even breathe wrongly at Jacks, I'm gonna break his ribs apart."

➤➤➤

Ollie was sitting by the desk with a bored-appearing Tim when Lucy broke her abrupt news to them.

"Whoa, whoa. You— You gave her your car?" John gaped at Lucy.

Ollie shared his shocked expression. "Wow. I guess Tim was right after all."

"Of course, I am," Tim chipped in before lowering his voice, "About what?"

"Lucy and her puppy."

"Oh," he nodded, "Yeah. Of course, I'm right."

"Listen, I can't deal with any more judgment," Lucy wailed out, eyeing them tiredly, "From any of you."

"I was gonna say that's very generous," John amended his statement with a smile instead.

Ollie grunted from the side of the room. "Nah, I still can't believe you gave your puppy your beloved, prized car!"

"Tamara needs it more than I do," Lucy shot her a look, "And I can hitch a ride with you or Jackson... for now."

Ollie raised a brow at her. "So, Tamara is your puppy?"

Lucy groaned, slumping onto a chair in defeat. "Wait till you get your own puppy," she huffed.

Ollie shrugged. "Don't think I will."

"We'll see," Tim spoke instead. Ollie snapped her head at him with a scoff of betrayal; he rolled his eyes at her.

"I must ask," John prefaced, staring at the pair, and pointing at the T.O., "How did you manage to get him here?"

"I lost a challenge."
"My charm, duh."

John and Lucy exchanged an interesting look.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Where even are the kids we're supposed to tutor?"

On cue, the door to the place swung open, and four heads turned to them at once. James Murray stepped into the room with his sons.

"Hey! Uh, hi. Come on in," John greeted with a smile.

"Oh, thanks. These are my boys, Aaron and Michael," James introduced as the three rookies sprang up to their feet.

"Uh, hi. I'm John."
"Hi. I'm Lucy. Nice to meet you."
"Hey, I'm Ollie. That's Tim over there. Welcome!"

James nodded at them appreciatively. "Look, I know I've been giving you a tough time, but I really do appreciate what you were trying to do this morning," he told John.

"Even though it was misguided," John mused.

"Yeah," James chuckled back. "Plus, they've changed the way they teach math again, so I'm a little lost."

"Well, you came to the right place," John declared. "Lucy is excellent at math."

The woman in question widened her eyes at him, and John took back his words hurriedly.

"Uh, Ollie is..."

Ollie shook her head back at him alarmingly; John chuckled wearily.

"Tim...?"

Tim just stared back at him with a deadpan; Ollie smiled back at John weakly. "Jackson's excellent at math. And he'll be here soon," she stated, turning to the two boys. "Why don't we, uh, get you guys settled?"

"Right this way, gents." Lucy smiled at them, leading them to the desk and chairs.

The door opened again after a while, and Jackson ducked through, grinning at the room of people. "Perfect timing," John beamed, "Jackson, this is James. You met him outside the park. Right this way," he led him to the desk, "These are the guys that need your help."

"And this is the numbers guy," Ollie pointed out with a chuckle as John moved a chair over for Jackson to sit and tutor the kids.

"How old are you?" Lucy asked them.

"Twelve."
"Thirteen."

Ollie stalked across the room, to the man by the side. "You're not going over there?" she asked, dragging over the chair next to him and sank down.

"I'm not going to embarrass myself there," Tim eyed her.

Ollie broke into chortles. "Tim Bradford sucks in something? That's music to my ears," she cooed, and he rolled his eyes in response. "Hey, can I talk to you about yesterday?"

Tim eyed her carefully. "At the food court?"

"Yeah..." Ollie gnawed on her cheeks, "Stanton basically said that I'd have no shot in divisions like SWAT or Metro. I mean, I get it, it's male-dominated and everything — hell, this whole job is male-dominated — but I... I don't know, I think I'm letting his words get into my head."

"You are, and don't let it." Tim turned to her intently. "You're one of best rookies I've ever trained," he shrugged lightly, "You're the perfect mix of feistiness and compassion. And your eagerness is something I really admire about you— it is what's going to get you wherever you want."

Did she expect him to be pouring out compliments? Definitely not.

Ollie was taken aback, but in an oddly warm, and comforting way.

Why must his eyes look so genuine saying all that?

She stared at him wordlessly.

I swear that look is not good for my health.

His gaze fell slightly.

Why the hell did I sit so close to him?

"Even K-9? Ooh— I could keep the dog, right?" she ended up asking cheekily; his eyes flickered back up to her.

"You, an adrenaline junkie, want to leash a dog around to sniff out drugs? You're the one who busts down drug ops head-first," Tim sighed, folding his arms, "Also, Freddie's not going to be happy."

Ollie chuckled back grimly. "Oh, he won't."

"Mm-hmm." Tim felt trapped in the minute. The look on her face. That smug grin. The thud in his chest. The night. The conflict in his head. "What are you staring at?"

"You."

The reply tumbled out quicker than Ollie could process. When his brow flickered upwards, only did she click on what she had said.

"Uh— um— sorry." She scrambled up to her feet, feeling the heat reaching her cheeks. "I should probably see if they need any help, you know. Yeah. Okay... Um, yeah."

Tim leaned back against his chair with a deep exhale, watching as Ollie stalked back across the room to the other rookies. They seemed to be dissecting a particularly oddly-worded question.

Ollie looked confused, though, staring at the paper over West's shoulder. Chen was writing and annotating all around the question paper. Nolan was questioning the difficulty of nowadays-mathematics. Murray was just as lost as his two sons.

Ollie tried pointing at something on the paper; Chen swatted her hand away. Ollie scowled back. She appeared to be giving up on the math. She had a frown, with her bottom lip jutted out, like how she always did when she was deep in thought...

Oh, she caught me staring.

Oh.

I've got to stop thinking about it.

About her.

This affection has to stop.

━━━━━

*Screams*