S3 EP4

"How would you justify being this angry at him?"

"Because he had done a shit thing."

"I recall you mentioning that he apologised?"

"Doesn't matter," Ollie huffed, staring at the ceiling with a squeezed pillow against her chest, "Still a shit thing."

Dr Lee nodded shortly, folding their arms. They thought for a moment, picking their words before asking, "And do you feel like he may have broken your trust?"

Ollie very slowly turned her head to meet the psychiatrist, who studied her deliberately. "Doc, how did you even get there?" she asked in a bewildered tone.

Dr Lee clicked their tongue interestedly; Ollie sighed aloud, having to already pick up on their current posture: in preparation to either yammer on, or literally call her out— likely both.

"Far as I know, from your words, Tim is a person you trust a lot," they prefaced, "And now, he had said and done something that made you question that trust and question his overall character," they paused a moment watching the cop's head spin, "Does a part of you feel disappointed? Betrayed? Feel like he is different from the person you had in mind?"

Ollie blinked at her psychiatrist, grimacing as though she had just been slapped by a lunatic philosopher. "Where are you going with this?"

"I'd like to say that emotions amplify when it comes to someone you, well, care about," Dr Lee concluded, their voice steady.

Ollie stared back at the ceiling with her brows furrowed as she took a bit to process their words. Care is such a casual word, not a deep enough word to properly describe what she felt, but it was also the word hanging in her head. She sighed defeatedly. "Was I being unnecessarily mad at him?"

"Oh, no. Your anger is completely justifiable," Dr Lee assured the officer. "Sometimes, the closer you are to someone, the more negative, or positive, you'll feel about their conduct."

Having to spend the past year with one person every single day? Yeah, closer is also too casual of a word.

What is the word? She did not know. But it was definitely much deeper, much stronger, much... intense.

Ollie threw the pillow over her face and let out a muffled grunt. After a minute, she yanked off the pillow, and sat straight up on the undeniably comfy couch, staring at the psychiatrist pointedly. "Hell's sake, I blame you for planting that seed in my head."

"Ollie, I planted nothing," Dr Lee replied evenly, "I just helped you bring it to light."

Her jaw fell open with a light scoff as she ran a hand through her face infuriatingly. "That I have feelings for my T.O.?" she finally burst out, looking bewildered, "That would've been better not brought to light!"

Dr Lee simply hummed as the rookie buried her face into the couch with yet another muffled grunt.

➤➤➤

Okay, Ollie, let's put the 'conversations with my therapist' log at the veeeeeeeeery back of your mind.

The rookie cleared her throat uneasily when she saw her T.O. stalking across the bullpen towards her. "Hey," Tim greeted as they walked to the armoury. "So, Jackson went to Grey last night."

"Yeah, I know. He came to my place and told me all about it," Ollie informed with a nod, turning to the kit room officer to request their gear. "He also told me that you took a stand for him," she spoke again, glancing up at him. "Thank you for that."

"No, there's no need for thanking. Silence is complicity. And it's time for changes to be made," Tim stated, his voice firm. "Grey is getting Jackson to 'keep book' on Doug. Hopefully, it'll be enough for them to go to I.A. about it," he shared, "And I managed to get Grey to loop us in. He's assigning us to the same sector, so we'll be filled in every time they take a call."

Ollie sighed. "I suppose that's the least we could do."

"It's a step," Tim affirmed, nodding at their bags that were just placed on the counter. "Alright, go load up our shop."

➤➤➤

"Dispatch, 7-Adam-07, show us at a pedestrian stop, Waring and Seward."

Ollie listened closely to the call, turning her head to Tim at once. "Seward and Waring," she repeated. "Let's go."

"Relax. We can't be too obvious. Doug realises we're shadowing him, Jackson's screwed," Tim advised, "We'll get close, wait to see if it escalates."

He had driven closer to Jackson and Stanton's location, circling the neighbourhood whilst keeping a certain distance; Ollie was growing anxious in the passenger seat. It took a few more minutes before they heard the static through their comms again.

"7-Adam-07, Code 4, show us clear."

Ollie let out a weary exhale, slumping back in her seat; Tim began driving off. "This isn't fair to Jackson," she huffed.

"I know. Having to ride next to a guy, hoping he doesn't cross the line," Tim shook his head, "Can't imagine what that's like."

The rookie's eyes narrowed as something flashed in her mind. "You know, I kinda can," she spoke again, gaining his puzzled stare. "I mean, my first day as a rookie, I thought you were gonna be my Stanton."

"Excuse me?" Tim turned to her, looking shocked and disturbed. "How am I anything like that guy?"

The rookie cocked a brow back at him, surprised. "Do you not remember our first day out? Some Spanish-speaking gardeners honked at us, and you turned it into a Tim Test, where I refused to translate your oh-so-kind words to them— and for good reason."

"So what? I'm a bad cop now?" he deadpanned.

"No, you're not," she sighed. "But you gotta admit that was a bad stop. You think those men got a positive experience from their interaction with you?"

"I'm not looking for five-star Yelp reviews. I've got a job to do," he countered, sounding increasingly defensive.

"Okay, but so did they," she reminded, "They were just trying to get to work, alright? And then they met you."

"Excessive and unnecessary use of the horn is against the law," he stated firmly, "Plus, they had several vehicle violations— I could've impounded their truck."

"And that justified you terrorising them?"

"Terrorising?" he snapped his head to her.

"Uh— yeah," she stared back at his look of disbelief.

"Really?" Tim scoffed at her, suddenly feeling a rising distraught in his head. "That's it. You know, don't say another word to me."

"Okay. Why are you getting so defensive?" the rookie questioned anyway, "I'm just pointing out a different perspective of that call."

Tim shook his head, staring back at the road ahead. "We're done with this conversation."

➤➤➤

Ollie studied his face closely, trailing beside him as they walked up to a house. "You still look mad."

"I'm not," Tim insisted.

"Sure," the rookie muttered as they met with the woman watering the plants in the front yard.

The woman instantly perked up. "Thank you for coming. We keep getting our deliveries stolen," she exasperated, "Most people on the block are having the same problem."

"Sounds like a porch pirate," Ollie noted, quickly scanning the area. "And no front door camera."

"We'll walk around and see if any of your neighbours have one," Tim informed the woman before the pair of officers headed off. As they walked back down the yard, he let out a sigh. "Okay, I'm not mad, but I am upset."

"Knew it," Ollie hummed.

"At myself," he clarified curtly. "You're right. I used the situation with the gardeners without thinking about the impact I had on them. I can't undo it, but I can make sure I never do it again."

"Well, that's good progress," the rookie cooed with a smirk, "I'm proud of you."

"I'm thrilled," he muttered back sarcastically.

Ollie suddenly patted his arm as she caught sight of something; Tim followed her gaze to see a dog trotting up a neighbour's front porch. "No way," the rookie chuckled, "Our porch pirate is that cute dog?"

Sure enough, the dog bit on the food delivery bag and went off with it. The cops shared a look before following after it. The dog turned towards another house soon after, loping towards the garage. A man was sitting there, ruffling the dog as he received the package from it.

"Good boy! Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?"

Tim rolled his eyes at the scene; Ollie looked amused, eyeing the stack of parcels of various sizes lying in the garage. "Alright. Who's under arrest here?"

The man glanced at them, alarmed, abruptly taking a step away from the canine. "Bad dog! Bad dog!"

➤➤➤

Jackson had just storied to Ollie about his call involving a woman and a trunk of guns. Stanton had had the woman arrested for burglary, possession of stolen property, and illegally transporting firearms. And it was yet another coloured individual.

Jackson was disturbed, to say the very least.

"I'm telling you, it was awful," he grunted, "And, by the way, her story completely checked out. She has a restraining order, called 911 a bunch of times. She needed protection from her ex. But instead of helping..." he drew in a heavy breath, "turns out that she needed protection from the cops, too."

Ollie shook her head with a sigh. "Man, if Tim and I weren't stuck on a call, maybe we could've—"

"No, no. This is my fault," Jackson cut her off, "Grey wanted to bench Doug. I-I pushed him to do more, and now that woman is in jail for no reason."

Ollie set down her drink and stared at her friend intently. "Jacks, you can't blame yourself for this," she stated solemnly, "We already know that getting rid of that son of a bitch is gonna take time."

He upheld her gaze solemnly. "But how many more people are gonna get hurt in the meantime?"

Ollie clenched her jaw, shaking her head at last. "I wish I could tell you none."

"Yeah... I wish I could, too."

➤

Tim spared the man a glance when Stanton stopped next to him by a food truck. "Hey, what's the deal with Jackson? Kid's questioning all my stops."

"Sounds like the mark of a good student," Tim replied flatly.

"I don't see you letting Marshall question your every move," Stanton mused, "My last rookie didn't ask questions. And he was a brotha."

Tim finally peered at him pointedly. "Maybe the issue isn't the student, it's the teacher."

Stanton turned to him with a realisation clocking in his mind. "Huh. Yeah, maybe you're right," he slurped on his drink, "Whatever nonsense Lopez was teaching him, I got twenty days to straighten him out."

Tim barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes there and then. Son of a bitch.

➤➤➤

Ollie was still bothered by Jackson's words, and especially the troubled look behind his eyes, the blame he held across his face. She watched her friend across the bullpen, twisting the pen in her hand resignedly.

"Why should Jacks have to go through this with Stanton?" she finally sighed, "If I did one-tenth of the things that that guy does on the job, I'd be gone so fast."

"As a rookie, sure, but not once you're off probation," Tim responded, shifting his eyes away from the computer. "There are layers of safeguards that protect cops from getting fired, and some of those safeguards are important, considering the risks we take."

"But Officer Son-of-a-Bitch still gets a pass on being a total asshole."

"He doesn't get a pass. He gets POBOR— Peace Officer Bill of Rights," Tim elaborated, "And he gets a union and a legal defence team. If he gets fired, he gets to appeal. If he gets convicted, he gets to appeal. And those lawyers, which our union dues pay for, will tear apart every detail surrounding his termination. If they find one thing out of order or it just seems excessive, he gets his job back, including back pay."

Ollie groaned frustratingly at the thought. "And then—"

"He gets emboldened, with a huge chip on his shoulder, and that negative attitude is contagious," Tim concluded, getting up from his seat. Ollie stood up and followed him.

"There's got to be more we can do than just be guardian angels out there, hoping that we get to him in time if something goes wrong."

Tim nodded in agreement. "There might be."

➤➤➤

Ollie glanced around their location when Tim pulled over in a secluded and deserted parking garage. "What are we doing here?"

"Doug mentioned his last rookie was Black, so I thought he might be inclined to give us some dirt on his old T.O., something actionable," Tim explained.

His rookie stared at him curiously. "And who is this guy?"

"Ben Owens. And he's right on time," the T.O. looked out the window just as another patrol car approached their location. "Now, look, I don't know this guy, so we can't tip our hand. We make no accusations and no demands. Understood?"

"Yeah. Got it," Ollie muttered back as they got out of their shop, meeting the other cop, who was walking over to them.

"Officer Owens?" Tim called out. "I'm Bradford, this is Marshall. Thanks for agreeing to meet up."

"No problem. Asked around, heard you're good people," Owens replied. "So, what's up?"

"I need some insight, but on the D.L., if you know what I mean. Ten-thirty-six."

All three officers turned off their body cameras at once.

"Code of silence," Owens nodded at them, "Talk to me."

"Doug Stanton. He was your T.O."

Owens chuckled drily. "The Dougernaut. What about him?"

Ollie furrowed her brows a little at that nickname. "You ever see him doing anything shady?" she asked directly; Owens looked momentarily taken aback.

"Relax," Tim cut in, "Um... we were just wondering if you liked the way he does business."

Owens scoffed. "No. No way. He's a hater," he eyed them cautiously, "But what do you really want to know?"

"Whatever you feel comfortable sharing with us," Ollie muttered but ultimately rolled her eyes. "No— you know what? This is ridiculously stupid. We all know what we're talking about," she scoffed; her T.O. shot her a warning look, which she ignored, staring back at Owens solemnly. "Do you think Doug is a racist? Have you ever seen him treat minorities unfairly?"

"If I saw something outside of policy and I failed to report it, I'd be looking at disciplinary action, too," Owens stated firmly.

"We're not here for that, okay?" Tim interjected in an attempt to turn things down a notch. "Just be real with us. He's creating some grief on our end."

"Hey, you got a good rep and all, but I don't know you," Owens countered, "I do know Doug Stanton, and I am well aware of what he can do to me and my career. I'm weeks away from joining Metro. I can do more good in that unit than I can by throwing it all away," he gave the pair of officers a final look, "I'm sorry. I can't help you."

"You have a good day," Tim spoke lastly as the other cop turned to leave. Next to him, his rookie still looked fairly pissed.

"Well, so much for something actionable," Ollie grumbled.

"No, but did you see him? How conflicted he was?" Tim glanced at her, "We just got to give him time. Trust me."

➤➤➤

"Control, 7-Adam-07. I have an on-view eleven-three deal in alley between Lomita and Vineyard."

"Hey, that's them," Ollie sat straighter, listening intently to the comms while Tim took a turn down the street.

"7-Adam-07, foot pursuit! Male, adult, Black, blue shirt, black jeans!"

"We're not close," Tim notified hastily.

Ollie glared at him. "Then floor it."

➤➤➤

The Bradford/Marshall patrol car pulled into an alleyway behind the other shop, finding Jackson and Stanton standing face-to-face by their vehicle. Tim and Ollie got out of their shop at once.

"Uh... I don't remember calling for backup," Stanton called out as they approached.

"We were in the neighbourhood," Tim merely replied, gesturing at their scene, "What's going on?"

"Well, this rookie doesn't know how to follow orders," Stanton declared.

"Yeah, I-I was just, um..." Jackson stammered as his T.O. cocked a brow at him, "...making sure you were all right, sir."

Stanton scoffed at him. "You know, my last rookie did everything I told him to. Guy's name was Owens," he turned to Tim intently, "You know him? Always had my back— still does."

Ollie felt her eye twitch, standing next to her T.O.

"Too bad Jackson isn't more like him," Stanton stated, sending the other pair a look before walking away.

Tim rolled his eyes in annoyance while Ollie turned to her friend before he headed into the car. What happened? she mouthed to the other rookie, but Jackson just shook his head back weakly.

➤➤➤

S3 EP5

Lucy chen

[11:46 pm] Sgt Grey just left my apartment.
[11:46 pm] SOB wrote Jackson a blue page.

Ollie had left her apartment and drove to Lucy and Jackson's place immediately after reading the message. It took barely two knocks before Lucy swung open the door to let her in. Jackson was slumped on the couch, hardly reacting as his friend strode into the living room.

"What the hell happened? Lucy said that jerk gave you a blue page?"

"Yeah. For disobeying an order and leaving evidence unattended." Jackson mustered a weak smile back at her. "Unfortunately, as Sergeant Grey pointed out, I'm still his rookie, so he can keep issuing me blue pages until I'm bounced out of the program."

"What the— Can't you request for a new T.O.?" Ollie exasperated.

"Grey offered to, but Jackson here declined," Lucy interjected curtly.

Ollie gaped back at the man on the couch. "Jacks, have you gone mad?"

"Maybe. But I'm not giving up now," Jackson scowled, sitting back up with an infuriated look on his face. "Doug needs to go— I need to see him go. So, for now, I'm going to kiss his ass and let him believe that I'm a whole new leaf. And then, when the timing's right, I will drag him down."

Ollie exchanged a worried look with Lucy, but she ultimately sighed and dropped onto the couch next to him. "Okay. We'll be right here with you," she offered wearily.

"I know you will," Jackson smiled back, "You always have."

➤➤➤

"He gave Jackson a blue page?" Tim asked, bewildered, as they got out of their shop in the garage.

"Yeah," Ollie sighed in response, opening the back door to bring out the person at the back. "It's not your fault."

"Of course it is," Tim scoffed wearily, shaking his head. "I'm the one that reached out to Doug's old rookie to get dirt on him."

"What's a blue page?" their arrestee, Frida, glanced between the officers, "Who's Doug?"

"None of your business," they both replied in unison.

Frida shrugged at them. "Any way I could get some breakfast?"

"We arrested you for stealing bagels," Ollie interjected with a pointed look.

"Yeah, but I didn't get to eat any."

The rookie refrained from rolling her eyes. Tim's gaze flickered to the opposite of the area, catching sight of just the person he wanted to speak to. "Can you take her to processing?" he informed one of the officers, who had just walked in.

Ollie trailed after Tim's fixated gaze, her eyes widening as her T.O. started storming across the station. "Hold up—" she hurriedly handed Frida over, rushing up to her T.O. and whisper-yelling at him, "Tim, de-escalate, de-escalate! Let's not make things harder for Jackson—"

Tim only took in her words half-heartedly. "Hey, Stanton!" he called out loud, meeting the other man in the middle of the bullpen. "You ever want to brush up on any arrest-control techniques, I'm available."

"Any time," Stanton bit back.

Tim took another challenging step towards the other T.O. "Yeah? How about now?"

"Let's go."

Ollie cleared her throat loudly, trying to squeeze herself between the two towering men. "Uh, no— We're still on duty, maybe after shift?" she coughed out, hastily nudging her T.O. backwards. "Tim, come on."

"Aw. That's sweet," Stanton sneered, peering downwards at the rookie, "Your hot little Boot's trying to rescue you."

Ollie immediately snarled at him; those words were just enough to snap her into fury mode once again. "Ohh— you're the one that's gonna need rescuing after this."

"Are you threatening me?" Stanton dared.

Ollie's glare was sharp and unforgiving, with a hand held out to stop her T.O. from butting in. "I'm just saying," she snapped back, "When the station hears about you getting your ass beaten up by a cop a head shorter than you, you'll have no face left to save."

Tim grabbed her shoulder, sensing the situation escalating exponentially by the second. "Alright, Ollie, we got a suspect to book. Let's go."

Stanton scoffed, watching the two officers walk off. "What a joke."

Tim gave his rookie a weary look. "What happened to 'De-escalate, let's not make things harder for Jackson'?"

Ollie huffed. "I felt like I just got a strong dose of violent testosterone."

"Alright, look. Keep in close contact with Jackson today," Tim stated firmly. "If they call for backup of any kind, we're there."

The rookie nodded at last. "Yeah. Agreed."

➤➤➤

Ollie was guiding Frida back into the lobby with her T.O. following behind them. "You're being released on an 849(b), which means we're not charging you," she told the woman.

"Does this mean I get the bagels back?" Frida glanced at them.

"No. The bagels were disposed of," Tim deadpanned.

"Do you know how bad that is for the environment?" Frida scoffed at them. "I'm a freegan. That goes against my whole ethos."

Tim rolled his eyes while Ollie sighed. "Real freegans don't steal from bakeries. Try the dumpster."

"Dumpsters are gross," Frida grimaced. "Look, could you at least call me a cab? I don't believe in money."

"No. Sorry," Tim interjected, "It's against our ethos."

Frida rolled her eyes and headed away as Ollie turned to the officer working at reception. "Hey, John. How did your exam go?"

"Uh, passed," John smiled back behind the computer.

"That's great!" Ollie exclaimed, but quickly realised that the other rookie did not meet her joyfulness. "Or... not?" she quirked a brow at him, "Why don't you sound excited?"

"Oh, no, it's just, um..." John's voice faltered, "Grey confirmed I'd never make detective."

Tim chuckled loudly. "You mean you still thought you had a shot?"

"Hey, that's just mean," Ollie glared at the man behind her.

John sighed defeatedly. "In my heart, I just— I hoped."

"Hey!" someone shouted hastily by the entrance, gaining all their attention, "Some chick's trying to steal a car in your parking lot!"

All three officers raced out of the station at once. Heading into the parking lot, they were just in time to see none other than Frida smashing a brick into a car window, shattering its window.

"Hell's sake— Are you kidding me?! That's my car!"

"You're under arrest— again," Tim announced loudly as his maddened rookie stormed up to the woman.

"Freegan rights!"

"My ass— Hands behind your back," Ollie snapped, very ungently hauling the woman away from her vehicle, eyeing her smashed passenger window sorely. "At least your mugshot and your prints are still good..."

"Excuse me! Officer?" another voice called out as the three cops were walking back to the station.

"I'll take care of this," John informed, already jogging up to the worn-out-looking van.

"Alright, thanks, John," Ollie called out, turning back to Frida with a glare, "You. Go."

➤➤➤

Tim glanced over Ollie's shoulder, narrowing his eyes at her hasty scrawl of charges she was writing down. "Criminal vandalism, disorderly conduct, reckless endangerment— attempted theft?" he read out with a growing frown, "Harassment?"

"She was going to steal my car," Ollie deadpanned, "I feel harassed."

"Right," Tim nodded back, taking another look at her paperwork with yet another frown. "Littering? Really?"

The rookie shot him a glare, and he ultimately nodded in surrender.

"All units be advised, we are going into tactical alert at Mid-Wilshire Station. All civilians and non-essential personnel report to Level D of the underground garage."

Ollie groaned at the radio on her belt, setting down her pen. "Seriously?!"

"Alright, you go round everyone up at the lobby. I'll help out at the holdings," Tim instructed, already heading off.

Ollie stalked over to the lobby, her voice loud to address everyone there. "Everyone, listen up! I need everyone to get up and come with me."

"Why? What's going on?" a woman asked.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Someone will explain everything shortly," the rookie responded, "Right now, I need you to follow me."

Though confused, the civilians all got up from their seats and followed after the officer.

➤➤➤

Ollie swore that John had a unique magnet for attracting misfortunes, because why else would they now be packed in the station's underground garage after a man had 'kidnapped' him with threats of setting off a bomb?

"I'm sorry. I cannot be in here," an evidence room employee screeched, "I get claustrophobic!"

"I understand, but this is the safest place for you to be," Nyla tried calming her down.

"Yeah, until the bomb goes off and the whole structure collapses on us," a blonde woman muttered aloud displeasingly, typing away on her phone.

Nyla sent that woman a glare. "Okay. That is not gonna happen." But the garage of people was started to break into anxious chatters.

"This place was designed to be a bomb and earthquake shelter, alright?" Ollie spoke up, "Everyone, just take a breath."

"Ugh— of this stale-ass air?" Frida shot back. "Do you have any idea the long-term health effects of breathing carbon monoxide?"

"You— I swear to god—"

"No, but I bet it's a hell of a lot better than getting blown up," Tim interrupted curtly, grabbing his rookie again. "Come on. Let's get back up."

Frida eyed them as they started stalking off. "And where are you going?"

"Back to work."

Ollie flashed her one last look before walking away. As they made their way towards the stairs, an urgent thought popped into her head. "Tim, Jackson is out there with Stanton with no backup," she voiced out worriedly.

Tim glanced at her intently. "Did something happen?"

"Well, not yet," she shook her head jadedly, "Jacks feels like he sold his apology to Stanton, but I don't..."

Tim nodded lightly. "I don't trust it, either" he affirmed. "Alright. Tell Jackson to keep his head down today since we can't be there for him."

➤➤➤

Together, the officers had concluded that their suicide bomber, Graham Porter, was in desperate need of money. Since the area around them had already been evacuated, Grey had assigned the cops to make a list of every high-value target around the area. Tim noted a check-cashing place nearby and had the Stanton/West pair check it out.

"Huh. This is weird," Tim uttered behind a computer, "Kelsey Adams' Social Security number's a fake."

"What?" Ollie rolled over to him on the officer chair, watching the screen as he ran the numbers again. No match. No license. No picture. The rookie frowned in thought. "So, what, she's using an assumed identity?"

"Seems like it," Tim agreed.

"Well, we need to tell Sergeant Grey about this," Ollie stated, shooting up from her chair.

The pair of officers stalked down the station and found Grey in a discussion with Nyla, Avery and Lucy.

"Jackson says everything is Code 4 at the check-cashing place. There's no sign of trouble," Nyla announced, returning to the bullpen after taking her call.

"Not at any of the other high-value targets, either," Grey informed.

"Maybe we're going down the wrong path," Nyla suggested, "Maybe this is not about money at all."

"What the hell is it about?"

"Sir, we did some digging into Graham," Ollie joined them with Tim trailing behind, "His YouFundMe was set up by his girlfriend, Kelsey Adams."

"Have Lopez run her down," Grey nodded.

"We did, but there's no one home at her apartment," Tim informed. "But there's something weird."

"Everything about this is weird," Avery remarked drily.

"Kelsey is using an assumed identity," Tim shared solemnly. "We ran her through the system. Social Security number's a fake. We can't find a driver's license for her."

"So we don't have a picture," Grey concluded.

"No, sir. But according to Lopez, Kelsey and Graham have been inseparable since they first met," Ollie chipped in.

"So, it's likely she's involved in this somehow," Grey noted, glancing at his officers.

"Yeah, but how, if it's not about money or Feltt?" Nyla questioned.

The group suddenly fell silent, racking their brains for an answer.

"What if this is all a distraction meant to pull our focus outside the station when we should be focused inside?" Lucy perked up suddenly.

Avery eyed his rookie bemusedly. "What kind of woman would be crazy enough to be in a building with her boyfriend parked outside in a truck full of explosives?"

Ollie's eyes widened as something clicked inside her head. "The kind that would get herself arrested twice in one hour," she glanced at her T.O. with a sigh.

Tim turned to her intently. "Freegan Frida."

➤➤➤

Ollie made a beeline towards the woman they had arrested twice, meeting the latter's bored look.

"Dude, please tell me you brought snacks. I'm starving," Frida groaned out.

"It's over, Kelsey," Tim stated firmly.

Frida stared back at them, confused. "Who's Kelsey?"

"You got yourself arrested this morning, but we let you go too quickly, haven't we?" Ollie challenged, "That's why you had to break that window to get yourself back in."

"So you'd be in the station when Graham made his demands," Tim added, "Only we put you down here and you can't get back in the station without a key card."

"The only question left is why?" Ollie interjected, "What's so important to you here in the station?"

Yet Frida appeared to be more fascinated than guilty. "Dude, I have no idea what you're talking about," she mused, "But I'm super intrigued."

The pair of cops studied the woman's expression a bit more, quickly realising that Frida was looking at them like they had grown horns on their heads. Eventually, Tim turned away from the curious-looking woman with a sigh. "She really has no idea what we're talking about," he noted.

Ollie turned to him with a sigh. "Yeah, but let me try something," she stated, eyeing the crowd of people, "Kelsey Adams!"

The blonde woman from before snapped her head towards them alarmingly, then realised her mistake and quickly sprinted, snatching an employee's key card in the process. The garage of officers chased after her at once.

"Stop her!"

➤➤➤

After a tense afternoon, their bomb situation was finally resolved. The SWAT team stationed outside were also relieved without action.

The bullpen broke into a series of applause as John in; the rookie managed back a grin at the cheers that was welcoming him back into the station. Lucy and Ollie were beaming at him, though appearing more amused than proud.

Grey walked up to him, and John chuckled weakly. "It'd be nice to be applauded for something other than almost dying."

"Pfft, welcome to the club," Ollie called out cheekily, causing more laughter in the bullpen.

Grey shook his head at her antics, turning back to the older rookie. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh, a little wobbly, sir," John confessed, "but ready to hit the streets."

"I appreciate your eagerness, but you are end-of-shift," Grey told him before turning back to address the others, "As for everyone else, back to work, people. We're Code 4. Pending calls are piled up."

Lucy tapped on the other rookie's arm, glancing at her phone. "Hey, Ollie, Jackson texted," she informed, and the other woman fished out her phone instantly. Their two T.O.s gathered around anticipatingly.

"Huh. Looks like things came to a head with Officer S.O.B.," Ollie noted, lifting her head from her phone. "Jacks pulled the dad card. Got him to back off."

Avery sighed out in relief, but Tim's expression faltered. "Damn it. We got to get out there," he voiced out abruptly, already on the move, "Guys like Doug don't like being backed into a corner— Come on."

The other pair of officers followed after hurriedly.

➤➤➤

"Dispatch, 7-Adam-07. Show us Code 6 at the Manor Apartments. Premise check."

Tim was immediately alarmed. "Manor Apartments? That's 6H— why aren't they calling for backup?"

Ollie was growing anxious at his worried look. "Why? What's that place?"

"You don't step foot in that place without hats and bats," Tim informed shortly, already turning on their sirens and stamping on the gas pedal.

➤➤➤

"Up there. That's their shop," Ollie pointed out, unclicking her seatbelt just as their vehicle reduced its speed. Both officers hopped out immediately after stopping. Behind them, another patrol car came to a halt, with both the officers coming out, too.

"Where do you think they are?" Avery called out, already drawing his gun along with the rest.

"Someplace they shouldn't be," Tim replied curtly.

Ollie pulled out her radio fixedly. "7-Adam-07, what's your 20?" she asked but received no response from the other end.

"That's not good..." Lucy gulped.

"Control, 7-Adam-19, requesting additional units, Manor Apartments, Code 3."

Just as Ollie put away her radio and raised her handgun, a familiar face burst out from behind one of the apartments.

"I lost Jackson," Stanton panted out, "We got separated."

Four cops dashed past him at once, rounding the corner of the building. They had barely taken more steps when they saw there, barely a distance away, at the basketball court— a man in navy uniform was unmoving on the floor.

Ollie sprinted.

She felt like her blood was flushed out of her body as her legs took her towards her friend. She hastily turned his body to face upwards — that bloodied face, bruised cheeks, swollen eye — would creep her for a long time.

Jackson's chest raised a little when he saw them.

"H-He's still breathing!" Lucy clocked.

"7-Adam-19, we need an ambulance to our location. Officer down, 24-year-old male, full body trauma," Tim urgently requested; Avery was next to him, running a hand through his hair troubledly.

"Jacks, Jacks... Y-You'll be okay," Ollie hushed to him, though her own breath was hitching at her friend's damaged appearance.

Jackson was gasping — For air? For words? — when Stanton sank down next to him, appearing in distress. "Hey, partner, what happened?" he gasped out, "What happened, partner? Who did this to you?"

The rookie attempted to mutter something, leading his T.O. to get closer in order to hear him.

"Camera," was the word Jackson managed out, reaching for the other man.

And the beep of Stanton's body-cam flushed all colours from his face.

➤➤➤

"I've seen enough. On me," Grey scoffed, passing the phone back to Tim; the body-cam footage was disgusting, to say the very least. Together, they stalked over to the cop, who was giving his statement of the situation. "Officer Doug Stanton—"

Jackson was just being wheeled towards the ambulance close to them, with Ollie and Lucy following him. "Hold on. Hold on. I want to see this," he managed to croak out.

"—I am hereby placing you under administrative leave effective immediately," Grey declared firmly. "Gun and badge."

Stanton scoffed at the watch commander, his snarling and egoistical expression ticking off the rookie by the gurney. "That bastard—"

Lucy tried — and failed — to hold Ollie back before the latter trudged towards the group of senior officers. Jackson watched, fairly supportive.

"You fucking son of a bitch—"

"Back off, lady," Stanton spat when he saw the rookie approaching.

"Give her a reason," Tim snapped instead.

"Marshall," Grey cut in sharply when the rookie's T.O. would not intervene; the fire behind Ollie's eyes made Stanton look small. "He's not worth it."

Grudgingly, the rookie backed down, though still cursing under her breath as she coursed off. Tim followed after her. The watch commander sternly turned back to the fired cop, who reluctantly handed over his gun and badge.

"You will not leave town. You will not act as a police officer in any capacity, including court. You will make yourself available to the Chief of Police within thirty minutes notice. Pending review, you will be brought up before a board of rights."

"This isn't over," Stanton snarled.

"No," Grey stared at him dead, "But you are."

➤➤➤

Ollie was out of the station just five minutes after her shift ended — stealing Jackson's car since her window was smashed — and headed over to the hospital. She walked down the quiet hallways, an eerie feeling bringing up her own memories here; but she shoved all those down and focused on her friend.

She knocked softly on the door with a grimace when she caught sight of the man on the hospital bed. It ached her to see him like this. "Hell's sake, you look..."

"...horrible?" Jackson smiled back at her gently.

"Uh, nah— drop-dead gorgeous," Ollie chuckled instead, before quickly realising her poor choice of words. "Oh— um, too soon for a joke like that?"

"From you? Never," Jackson snorted, his chest heaving, but his face quickly crumpled up again. "Ow, ow... Don't make me laugh. My stitches are gonna pop."

Ollie snickered, walking into the room with a small sigh. "How are you, Jacks?"

"Uh, let's see," he cleared his throat drily, "Cracked rib, couple loose teeth. C.T. was clean, though. Doctor said that I'll recover soon enough."

"That's good," she smiled back weakly, nodding at the news. "Yeah, that's good... Uh, your parents here yet?"

"They're on their way," he replied. "You're actually the first."

"Oh— I'm such a good friend."

Jackson chuckled weakly. "Yeah, you are," he grinned back at her, "Thanks for finding me."

Ollie shook her head with a sad smile. "It wasn't soon enough."

"But it wasn't too late either," he reminded her of a worse scenario, and she finally nodded in response. "Thank you, and Tim, for having my back this past week," Jackson spoke again, "I have a question, though. What were you going to say to Stanton before Sergeant Grey stopped you?"

"Something so vulgar, my mom would turn in her grave," Ollie enlightened him, causing him to snort.

"I thought your mom was cremated?"

"Oh, yeah... Shiver in her ashes, then?"

Jackson broke into a laugh, then winced, while still trying to laugh — or rather, not to laugh — and ultimately hissed at her.

"I'm really gonna pop a stitch now— Ow!" He sucked in a breath as his friend offered her sincerest apology. He turned back to her with a sigh, staring at the gift in her hand. "So, you gonna hand me that chocolate bouquet, or no?"

Ollie shot up at once. "Oh, right."

Jackson eyed the bouquet with a grateful grin. "You better have not stolen a piece."

"Uh, I make no guarantees."

━━━━━

Their chocolate bouquets 🥹🫶

This was originally 2 chapters but I combined them so it's quite a big one 🤔 But that means lesser wp ads so 🤷

Anyways—
Ollie is a badass.