S3 EP9

"Why are you in uniform?" Tim asked as she met Angela walking through the bullpen out of her usual plain wear since she was made detective. The woman grinned in response.

"Jackson is in need of a T.O.," Angela pointed out, "And who better than me for his last shift as a rookie?"

"That's nice." Tim smiled back, nodding fondly.

"I thought so." Angela then nudged the man with a growing smirk and lowered voice. "What are you going to do?"

Tim glanced at her. "For?"

"Come on, it's Ollie's last shift riding with you! Aren't you going to do something special?"

"Um, no."

Angela shook her head with a sigh. "Surely she has softened you up a bit by now," she murmured and cut him off before he could oppose, "You smile more now, Tim. And you seem more... bearable these past months."

"Bearable?" Tim cocked a brow at her, unintentionally taking offence at her words.

"You know what I mean." Angela rolled her eyes at him. "Do something. Just a small gesture will do. She deserves it."

Tim ended up nodding slowly, actually considering her words. But he soon furrowed his brows in thought. "Like what?"

➤

"Last day of training."

"Last day of Tim barking orders."

"Last day that they can fire us at a moment's notice."

"Last day of them recording every flaw for posterity."

"It's kind of bittersweet," Jackson put forward.

"Nope. Just sweet," Lucy grinned, glancing back to John abruptly, "Sorry. Sorry."

"Guys, stop apologising," John insisted earnestly as the rookies lingered in the middle of the bullpen, "You guys have finally made it, and I'll be right behind you."

"Look, the extra month will fly by," Jackson offered.

"You know it," John muttered back with a smile, then turned to the two women. "Now, is Avery or Tim gonna do anything special to memorialise your last shift together?"

"Tim? Definitely not." Ollie snorted, shaking her head before nodding at the rookie next to her. "But Lucy here has a list to work through with Avery."

"Yes," Lucy confirmed with a solid nod of her head, "You know, when you move on from an important relationship, there are steps you should take to ensure a healthy parting—" she produced a piece of paper from her back pocket, "—we are going to work through every single one of them."

Jackson stared at the no-longer-a-serviette-but-instead-a-printed-list paper with a concerned raised brow and slowly leaned behind Ollie. "Did you warn him?"

"I... forgot," Ollie replied nervously, already feeling sorry for the T.O. "Who are you riding with today, anyway?"

"No idea. Grey's busy, and Smitty's getting a back tattoo," Jackson shrugged defeatedly; all three of his fellow rookies were about to open their mouths in protest, but he cut them off with a sigh. "Yeah— So, we are out of T.O.s, and I'm guessing I'm finishing my rookie year at the front desk."

"That's actually sad," Ollie pointed out.

"It'll be fine," Jackson insisted, but his demeanour soon faltered. "Yeah... This sucks."

"Boot!" a voice joined them, and all four rookies turned to the voice at once, surprised to find Angela in her uniform walking up to them. "Where's our gear?"

Jackson blinked in surprise. "Wait, what?"

"We started this journey together. I think we should end it that way. Don't you?" Angela asked.

Jackson was beaming. "Yeah."

Angela smirked back at him. "Then let's go."

The radiant grin on Jackson's face was already permanent as they headed off.

Soon, another T.O. stalked over to the three, with an expression that was less cheerful and bright than the T.O. before. "I thought we were tight," Nyla's voice rang in their ears as she halted in front of John.

"You did?" John spun backwards but quickly amended his response, "Um, we are. That's— I mean, why? What?"

Nyla's face turned sour. "You told your ethics professor she should come for a ride along?"

"I think that's our cue to leave," Lucy whispered to Ollie, who nodded in strong agreement. The two of them slipped away from the pair of officers, making their way towards the armoury to retrieve their gears. "Oh— Remember that evil idea you had about calling Wesley to get my parents back together?" Lucy suddenly brought up, gaining Ollie's curiosity.

"Yeah?"

"I have an evil-genius idea, specifically for you, to play on Tim," Lucy spoke quickly, "Okay, so you've established that he isn't the biggest supporter when it comes to you doing U.C. work, right? So, I've found a way for you to prove to him that you're the right candidate for it."

Ollie cocked her head. "I'll hear you out."

Lucy lowered her voice. "My evil idea is for you to 'confess your feelings' to Tim," she put forward; Ollie's eye twitched. "Think about it. You get to lie to his face and then stab him in the back— that's double the kill to prove your killer instincts. Also, depending on your acting skills, you may get to see how he stutters his way out of it."

Ollie felt as though her brain had been forced to shut down, but Lucy's words bounced in the shell of her head.

Acting skills?

It is hard trying to act like I feel strictly professional towards him.

With a dry gulp, Ollie shook her head. "Uh, no. Forget it."

"Wait, what?" Lucy blinked back; she had been more than certain that her friend would agree. "But I'm sure it'll be hilarious, story-worthy."

"Well, I'm not doing it," Ollie stood firm with a huff, "You can get someone else to try that out."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Even if it's for pure entertainment purposes, it won't work on any other rookie and T.O. pair— you already know that," she deadpanned; Ollie had barely hummed a response and was already hauling her bags over her shoulders. "What is it?" her voice quietened, "You never turn down this type of joke..."

Ollie finally sighed heavily, feeling consumed by the other rookie's concerned look and softened voice. "Except, it won't be a joke."

Lucy gasped, her eyes widened. "Oh my god..."

"Yeah, I know," Ollie rolled her eyes, already motioning to leave, "I just need to get through this last shift without losing my head."

➤➤➤

The patrol car rides for the past couple of weeks had been both torturous and exciting for Ollie. While it had been increasingly difficult to shut her mind up when it came to a certain someone, she often found herself not wanting to fight the conflict every time they fell into a comfortable silence.

And he seemed to be the one who would strike up a conversation when the air got too quiet.

"You're awfully quiet for your last shift."

"Thinking," she mumbled back, still staring out the window with a now-poor attempt at surveying the area. With a deep inhale, followed by a sharp sigh, she glanced at him. "Tomorrow, you'll no longer be my T.O."

Tim eyed her briefly. "Isn't that what I just said?"

And somehow, it always felt so easy talking to him. Even easier to steer their convo into one that they signatured in.

"I can't believe it's our last shift together," Ollie muttered, "Isn't that crazy?"

"Not really," Tim responded evenly.

"Come on— we've been riding shoulder to shoulder for over a year now!"

"And soon, there'll be a new rookie sitting in that seat, annoying the crap out of me for twelve hours a day."

The careless persona and his constant pester.

"Oh, please— You enjoy my presence," Ollie mused, and he merely sighed; it tempted her to prod again. "Are you really not gonna miss riding with me at all?"

She had leaned over now, propping herself up with an elbow; that sole closeness was turning all the gears in his head in all the unwanted directions. How intoxicating, indeed.

But Tim rolled his eyes in response. "I'll just hope the next rookie's half as sharp as you are," he peered over, catching her smirk.

"That's still not a 'yes', though."

"And knows better than you when not to push it."

His deadpan caused the rookie to snicker, finally sitting back straight up in her seat, putting a much-needed gap between the two. "Be grateful you don't have a rookie with a list to go through to ensure a healthy parting."

Tim frowned in thought. "Chen?"

"Yep."

"Poor Avery," he snorted, feeling genuinely sorry for the young T.O. When the silence fell again, he felt a nudge that compelled him to speak. "For what it's worth, it is going to feel quiet without you annoying the crap out of me some days."

Ollie sucked in a dramatic breath. "So close... but not exactly the answer, is it?" she teased, and he returned her with a glare. "Also, I don't annoy you. I challenge you," she smirked, earning an unamused look from him. "What? We've been riding for over a year now. I know how to wind you up, how to push your buttons to a point that infuriates you— And sometimes, I do it on purpose."

Tim rolled his eyes at his rookie's proud look. Yeah, you do infuriate me, that's for sure.

Both pairs of eyes flickered to the computer in the shop when the amber alert blared.

It was also so quick for them to snap back into work mode.

"Child abduction. Suspect is driving a gold Tacoma truck," Ollie read out, "Plate number 2-Queen-Robert-Ida-4-4-5. Victim was kidnapped from City of Angels Hospital."

"How old?" Tim asked.

Ollie quickly scanned through the page, replying with a gulp, "Five hours."

➤➤➤

Nyla voice came through the comms. "Control, 7-Adam-15, we have eyes on the Amber Alert suspect vehicle. Heading west on Pico, passing Westlake."

Ollie picked up the radio to respond. "7-Adam-19, inbound on Olympic, passing Ardmore."

"7-Adam-07, coming west from Wilshire and Rimpau," Angela's voice joined in, "Moving to intercept from the front."

"Air Three responding. Heading west from Bell Gardens. E.T.A. to your location— approximately six minutes. Can you parallel suspect until I get eyes on?

"Affirmative."

Within a minute, Tim pulled the shop over by a curb, close to the junction, as Ollie picked up the comms again. "7-Adam-19, Maxwell and Pico. West of target. Waiting for him to pass," she declared, watching the junction closely— soon enough, a vehicle skidded past their view. "Suspect just went past. Speed is fifty miles an hour. We'll move to parallel on the north."

"Copy that," John responded.

Tim turned down the street at once, but both officers struggled to spot the gold truck. "Where the hell is that truck?" he questioned, but neither of them got an answer as they continued down the street with peeled eyes and their utmost focus.

"7-Adam-19, we've lost visual. You got eyes on him?"

"Negative. We haven't reacquired visual."

"Where the hell is that airship?" Nyla asked, sounding a little aggravated now.

"Air Three is overhead. Arriving on scene. What's the suspect's 20?"

"We lost visual. Pico, east of Maxwell. It's possible he turned off and headed either north or south."

"Copy that. We're gonna orbit," the pilot in the airship informed, "Contact. Suspect vehicle now heading north on Livingston. Repeat, north on Livingston."

"Copy. On our way."

"Speed is approximately sixty-five. Looks like he's heading for the freeway. Hold on— suspect just sideswiped another vehicle. He's lost control—"

They heard a loud crash through the comms, all officers were alarmed.

"Tell me that wasn't our guy," John pleaded.

"He just T.C.'d into a telephone pole," the pilot confirmed.

"Can you see inside the truck?"

"Negative."

Tim took a sharp turn down a street, noticing several dented vehicles that their gold truck had crashed into before smashing into the telephone pole in the middle of the street. They came to a stop and leapt out of their shop immediately. Nyla and John, too, had arrived with them.

"Police!"

"Show me your hands!" Nyla hollered at the driver, "Where is your daughter?"

"Wh-What?" the foggy-looking man slurred in confusion.

"Keep your hands where we can see them," John instructed as the two rookies approached the vehicle. They swung open the doors, frowning at their sight. He hurriedly flipped through the trash and clothes dumped at the back of the car, growing alarmed. "There's no kid in here!" he announced aloud, "There's no kid!"

Nyla, with her gun still pointed at the man, snapped. "Your baby— where is she?"

"At the hospital with her mom," the man muttered with a pant.

"Then why did you run?" John questioned.

"Gun and drugs," Ollie declared, pulling out a handgun from the floor of the passenger seat, along with packs of powders that had been hastily stuffed away in the glove box.

The cops grunted in frustration with their suspect pool now wide.

"If he doesn't have the baby, who does?"

➤➤➤

"Harper, can you 10-3 to a backup channel?"

"Sure, go to 11."

Ollie tuned her radio almost instantly, gaining a look from her T.O. "What are you doing?" Tim questioned.

"Listening in," the rookie simply replied. "Come on, you're interested, too."

"I need you to give me the reals on something," Angela spoke. "How difficult was it to go back to work after Lila was born?"

"Honestly, I barely remember. I almost died giving birth, so..."

Ollie mentally facepalmed. "Okay, now why would Nyla say that to her."

"Beats me," Tim snorted in response.

"But, aaah, that's— that's not gonna happen to you," Nyla quickly corrected herself, "G-Giving birth can be a wonderful experience... I've been told... Definitely get the epidural."

"Don't worry. I'm not a lunatic," Angela swore. "I'm thinking of scheduling a C, but I'm worried that the stitches and everything will keep me off work even longer."

"I worried about the same thing, but you know what? I got stitches anyway— just not in my stomach."

"Okay. Change us back to channel one," Tim blabbered out abruptly at the information, though his rookie insisted otherwise.

"No, wait, let me hear—"

Angela's voice came through again after a beat. "Tell me the truth— Am I gonna poop myself?"

And that was enough to force Tim to personally switch the channel back. Except, instead of the tuner, his hand met Ollie's, that was also trying to switch away from the current channel.

Both hands jolted back abruptly.

➤➤➤

They had been updated that the baby had been taken from the hospital by a woman that they could not capture the face of through the surveillance footage.

Ollie glimpsed at the computer again, still waiting for more information and still not getting any. They had been circling around the area for at least a solid hour now, but to no avail and barely any progress. "Hell's sake. Every minute we waste waiting for an I.D. on this woman is a minute she could be hurting this kid— or worse," she huffed.

Tim glanced at the worried frown on her face. "Look, you need to get your head right in case this goes bad," he advised.

"Don't worry about me. I'm squared away," Ollie murmured.

"The fact that you just said that means you're not," Tim sighed, causing the rookie to sigh instead. "Look, you've been lucky on the job so far—"

"Have I really now?" Ollie peered at him.

"No— Alright— I'm sorry. Th-That came out wrong," Tim corrected himself hastily. "You've been through hell, stuff that would've broken a lot of veteran cops. But a dead kid is different. A dead kid changes you forever."

Ollie had already sunk deep in her seat, feeling extra uneasy. "Well, I really hope our last shift together doesn't end with that."

"Yeah. Me too," Tim muttered, still feeling bothered by his poor choice of words. And the rookie by his side was also reflecting on his mistake; the folded arms, bouncing leg, clenching jaw. "Can I ask you something?"

Ollie sighed, turning back to him. "A Tim Test? Right now?"

"No, not a Ti— No," he assured, then hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Are you serious about being U.C.?"

Ollie smiled back faintly. "I thought I was," she admitted with a small sigh, "I mean, it sounded for me in my head, you know— drug busts, act under pressure, and I also have a killer instinct for it."

"You do," he confirmed shortly.

"Yeah, but..." she shook his head, "After that day, I realised I don't want to spend my life in a constant fight-or-flight mode. U.C.'s uncertainty kind of crept me out."

"Well, you function best with a clear structure in your head. And undercover has too many unpredictable factors. It stresses you out not being able to plan ahead." Tim glanced at her when she raised a brow at his words. "What? Like you said, we've been riding for over a year now. I know how your mind works, too."

A smile surfaced on her face. "Hm... Are you really, really not going to miss riding with me?"

Again, Tim rolled his eyes in response.

➤➤➤

They managed to find the woman who had taken the baby. It was a mother who had just lost her own baby that morning to SIDS and was still suffering from post-partum depression. The cops had managed to handle the situation, with John then Angela stepping in to talk the woman into passing the baby back to them and stepping off the bridge.

And that call marked the end of three rookies' final shifts as probationary officers.

Ollie agreed on Jackson's words from that morning— it was, in fact, bittersweet.

"Oh, Jacks just texted that John wants to buy us drinks." Ollie glanced at the other woman in the locker room, who grinned excitedly.

"I'm definitely in," Lucy responded, taking a box out of her locker with a sly smile. "But I'll meet you guys in the parking lot in a bit— I've just got one last thing to do."

"O—kay?" Ollie cocked a brow as her friend rushed out of the locker room with her bag barely slung on. "Huh."

➤

"What are you doing out here?" Angela asked, spotting Tim against the wall by the station's entrance, already in plain clothes.

"Uh, I thought I'd catch Ollie before she heads home," he replied, eyeing the group of officers, who had just walked out from the station post-shift.

Angela nodded, rounding over to lean against the wall next to him. "Ah. Well, end of shift, and she's no longer your rookie..."

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. "I'm not entertaining you anymore today."

"Oh, you would do that to a pregnant lady?" she challenged, and he shook his head defeatedly. "That's what I thought," Angela smirked, lowering her voice considerably as officers continued to swarm in and out of the station, "So, you did something special for her?"

"Yeah. Just have to hand it to her." Tim waved the envelope in his hand.

Angela looked rather amused. "Hm. Love letter?"

"We're not in high school," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Final evaluation."

"That's very Tim Bradford of you. But that's nice," she chuckled, leaning closer with a teasing voice, "And that's one step closer to getting the girl."

Tim rolled his eyes again, unamused.

Angela's jaw hung open as she eyed the cop striding out of the station. "Avery— what happened to you?"

The man glanced in their direction, coughing out a cloud of baby powder that had covered his face; Angela struggled to refrain from laughing at him. "Lucy's payback," Avery spoke with white mist still trailing his words as he glared at Tim's direction. "Remember I took a page off your book— about the bomb set up in the park? Yeah, so this is what I got, and I blame you for it."

Tim stared back at him, amused. "You're welcome?"

"I'm wel—" Avery let out a final scoff before trudging off in defeat.

Angela finally broke into laughter at her ex-rookie's misfortune; Tim, too, chuckled lightly at the prank. His eyes were quick to glimpse over at the cops walking out of the station, then quickly averted his gaze again when he did not spot the person he was waiting for.

Angela shook her head, letting out a soft exhale. "Tim..."

"Look, I can't just blast it onto her," he expressed, "Not only am I still her superior officer— if she doesn't feel the same way, every shift will be... weird. We work in the same station, for god's sake. That... That can't happen." He shook his head resignedly, staring at the envelope he was holding. "She is comforting to be around, and I like having her around. I'm just... I'm not ready to risk that between us."

Angela studied his face — the weary smile, the tired eyes, the look behind his eyes — finally nodding softly. "You are falling so bad," she noted.

Tim sighed heavily. "So, so bad."

"Well, there she comes," Angela spoke, watching as he perked up from the wall. She, too, pushed herself up with a grin. "Hey, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Good night," he nodded back at her before waving to the woman, who smiled back when she saw him.

"Hey, I thought you already went home," Ollie spoke as she approached him.

He met her halfway, shrugging lightly. "Here I am."

She nodded with a grin. "Well, this is officially the end of our last shift as T.O. and Boot," she pointed out, "We did it."

"No. You did it," Tim corrected firmly, then passed her the envelope in his hand.

Ollie took it from him with furrowed brows. "I hope you remember that I don't generally have the best past with envelopes addressed with only my name on it."

"Let this be your first positive one," Tim affirmed, though she was still staring at him oddly. "It's a copy of your final evaluation. I wrote it before our shift today."

Ollie blinked at him. "Like Plain Clothes Day."

He nodded with a smile. "Only this time, I didn't have to rewrite it."

Curiosity always got the best of her, and she ripped open the sealed envelope swiftly. She took out the paper inside and unfolded it, reading:

Officer Marshall was proactive and impressed me with every decision she made today. I will miss riding with her.

Tim savoured this moment.

Her frown, her smile, her.

She must have reread his final evaluation about a dozen times before she glanced back up at him. And he swore— he swore that he felt his breath catching.

"Just saying— I'm really, really gonna miss riding with you, too," she smirked, and he was at a loss on how to keep his 'cool and tough' persona.

But she knew him— he knew that she knew him. Whatever his attempt was, she already saw right through him.

"It's not like you won't see me tomorrow at the station," he tried shrugging instead.

She hummed lightly in response. "Yeah, but it won't be the same anymore."

Her gaze did not falter from him, and his stare lingered.

"It won't," he nodded faintly, "But you don't ever let anyone stop you from doing something. Listen to your head, trust your mind, believe in yourself. 'Cause you're going to make one hell of a cop."

Ollie hung back a beat, taking in his words— properly taking in his words.

Oh, how they've come a long way.

"Are you trying to make me cry?"

Tim rolled his eyes at her antics. "I know it isn't that easy to."

But when she broke into chortles, he could not help but chuckle, too.

The past year had been one of the best in her life. She had finally found something that made her want to truly live, and she will be eternally grateful for him to be right by her at the beginning of her career. He never doubted her, constantly pushed her for more, made her a much better cop and person she had thought she could possibly be.

"Tim," she held out her hand — a re-enactment of their first shift — now with a vastly different sentiment; he reached to grip hers, firm and tight. "Thank you."

"Yeah. For what, doing my job?" he smiled back softly, basking himself in her presence, and proximity, and all the fluttering feels when their grasps lingered.

Two hands hung between them a little longer in the chilly night air; the warmth of the grip was soothing.

When their arms returned to their sides, Ollie bit him goodbye before heading off. Tim took in the half-smile, half-smirk on her face, one that he already knew he would be missing. And when she gradually walked further away, he finally gathered himself and left, too.

To her, it felt as though she had just flipped to an end of chapter; to him, it felt as though a page was torn out of it.

━━━━━

Hehe caught the parallels? 👀

They are IN LOVE 😩😩