S3 EP10

It took rapid knocks on the door followed by a chorus of ear-piercing doorbell rings for Ollie to lift her head up from her pillow. She took a glance at her phone— it was definitely past midnight.

When she finally dragged her feet over to answer the door, she was met with Jackson, carrying a duffel bag that still had a sleeve or two poking out of it. She stared back at him, confused; he looked like he had not even gotten a shut-eye.

"Hi... Sorry... There are some pipe issues at my apartment, and water is dripping directly on my face," Jackson explained exhaustedly, "I cannot sleep in my bed any longer. Can I please crash here until Lucy gets the ceiling fixed?"

Ollie, still rubbing her eyes, took a step back and let the man in, shutting and locking her front door after him. Jackson had already beelined to the couch and collapsed onto it. "If you need anything, please hesitate to knock on my door."

"Wait," Jackson called out before the woman disappeared into her bedroom, "Do you have an extra blanket?"

"No."

➤➤➤

In exchange for loaning him her couch, Ollie got free rides to the station. Though, they had to stop by the Lucy/Jackson apartment to pick Lucy up; Jackson had also picked up a few more of his things, then almost ended up in an argument with their landlord.

"I didn't get enough sleep," was his excuse when the two women pointed out his crankiness.

It was their first day as P2 officers, no longer on probation, no longer under strict evaluation. The newfound freedom excited them. The three of them now walked out of the break room, holding four cups of coffee among them— Jackson had two in each hand, already halfway through the first.

"There's got to be a ceremony or something to mark the rite of passage into P2, right?" Lucy asked in deep thought.

"When my dad moved up, he said the watch commander called him up to the front of roll call and gave him a bottle of thirty-year-old scotch," Jackson inputted, but Ollie peered at him sceptically.

"Ah. I'm not really a whiskey girl," Lucy muttered. "Oh, god— I hope Sergeant Grey hasn't heard the stories about me and tequila. Honestly, I hope they give us something besides alcohol. Wait, they're gonna give us separate things, right? 'Cause I—"

"Whoa, slow down, slow down," Ollie interrupted with a raised brow, "You two don't actually think we'll be given... gifts for making P2, right?"

The two other officers stared at her with a deadpan. "Why so pessimistic on your first day?" Lucy questioned.

"Not pessimistic, just—"

"—realistic," Lucy and Jackson chimed in unison; Ollie rolled her eyes. "Alright, don't ruin it by overthinking everything, okay?" Jackson turned back to Lucy, "Just relax. Go with the flow."

She nodded shortly. "Right. Go with the flow," she recited. "Because we are P2s now."

Ollie took a sip of her coffee, still doubtful, as they headed into the briefing room. Jackson scanned the many empty chairs with a grin. "Ooh— And we get to sit with the cool kids."

"Oh, hell no," Nyla snapped at them as they passed by her seat right in the back row. "Keep moving."

"Okay..."

"Man, that hurt in high school, and it still hurts now," Lucy whispered.

"Well, we can't sit in the front row 'cause the front row's for rookies," Ollie pointed out.

"So, boom— Second row, baby," Jackson sang as he pulled out a chair and sat between Ollie and Lucy. John stepped in, eyeing the empty front row, then smiled at his friends in the second row before his phone rang.

Ollie glanced over curiously when Jackson's phone chimed, and he tapped into the messages with a proud grin. "West family chat?"

"Oh, yup," Jackson replied. "The texts had been overflowing since last night."

"Must be nice," Lucy commented, peeking at his phone as well, while Ollie hummed in agreement.

"Officer Nolan," Grey's voice rang as he walked in, eyeing the remaining rookie in the room unamusingly. "You better be taking a 911 overflow call from Dispatch. Do you want to add another week to your thirty-day extension? You're already the oldest rookie. Wanna become the longest-serving one?"

John shook his head sincerely. "No, sir. It won't happen again."

"Good. Now, to the business of the day. Officer Chen, Officer West, Officer Marshall, you'll—" The watch commander frowned when two of the officers he mentioned stood up from their seats, along with one who tried to hide her face in embarrassment. "Where the hell are y'all going?"

Jackson stammered. "Oh. Uh, sir, we thought that maybe—"

"Sir, it's our first day as P2s," Lucy pointed out.

"So, what? You want me to throw you a party, huh? Give you a gift? Give you flowers? What?" Grey deadpanned while the room erupted into laughter; the remaining P2 officer behind the table sighed and sipped on her coffee. "What is the reward for moving up, Office Chen?"

Lucy blinked. "Getting to do the job another day, sir?"

"Are you asking me, or are you telling me?"

"Doing the job, sir," she repeated firmer.

"That's right. Now, sit down."

The two immediately did as told.

Ollie leaned towards them with a lowered voice. "I told you so." Jackson and Lucy scowled back at her.

"The three of you will take turns pairing up. I don't usually pair new P2s, but I thought you three could handle it," Grey resumed, "The remaining pairing up with Officer Morrison for the time being. Officer West, Officer Marshall, you'll be riding together today," he declared, "Don't make me regret it."

The two cops perked up at once. "Yes, sir."

Lucy took a glimpse at the officer at the back, who smiled unamusingly back at her; she slumped back into her chair. "Oh, crap... I'm back riding with Avery..."

"It's just for the time being," Jackson consoled her.

But Ollie noticed what the other woman was trying to imply. "No, I think she means that she had blasted his face with powder just last night, and knowing Avery, he's gonna get back at her for that."

Jackson came to a realisation, blinking at the woman on his right. "Oh... Well, you're screwed."

➤➤➤

They settled on who was going to be behind the steering wheel with a simple game of rock, paper, scissors. Ollie delightedly grabbed the keys while Jackson was left loading up their patrol car. He had been bitter about it at first, but after the bombarding notifications on his phone, he was rather grateful to be sitting in the passenger seat.

"Another congratulations text?" Ollie asked when she heard his phone ding-ing for the fifth time in the past hour.

"Uh, from my cousin— cop family, you know," Jackson replied.

"I, in fact, don't know." Ollie quirked a brow at him.

Jackson set his phone down and glanced over to her. "They're all taking me to dinner at Pacific Dining Car for baseball steaks tonight. Family tradition," he shared. "Wanna come? My treat."

"Ah, thank you, Jacks, but I'll pass."

"Officer Marshall turning down a free meal?" Jackson let out a dramatic gasp, "What happened to you?"

Ollie grimaced. "It's going to be awkward..."

"Yeah, you know what? Understandable." Jackson nodded, shifting in his seat. "I'm hot— I'm sorry, are you not hot?"

"Yeah, but we can't turn on the A/C until after lunch, so..."

"Why not?"

Ollie snapped her head to him, feeling ridiculous. "Hell's sake— that's a Tim rule. And we call the shots, now," she mused, turning up the air-conditioning and rolling up the windows. "Woo! This feels awesome."

"Yeah! Ooh— you know something Lopez never let me do?"

"What?"

Jackson reached over and turned up the radio, beaming when the beats came on with a hyped song. Ollie, too, was nodding her head to the music. "Yes! Bumping that bass of freedom, baby!"

➤➤➤

Ollie and Jackson pulled over at a street that had been sealed off by police tape, getting out of their shop eagerly. "Hey, first call as P2s," Jackson smirked, giving Ollie a fist bump before they walked up to meet the detective on the scene.

"We got a triple homicide on the second floor," Detective Caradine informed.

Jackson nodded solemnly. "Sir, what do you need us to do?" he asked, "Canvass the area? Track down potential witnesses?"

"No, I got a special job for you two," Caradine replied, "Guarding evidence. Follow me."

Excitedly, they followed the detective to the back of the apartment building, stopping abruptly by the sidewalk. The detective nodded on the ground, and both cops peered downwards, feeling their enthusiasm washing off.

"This is the evidence?" Ollie begged for confirmation.

"Our suspect may have helped himself to some snacks before taking off. We think this chocolate bar might be one of them," Caradine shared, "T.I.D.'s stuck in traffic. Just keep it safe 'til they get here, Boots."

"Um, with all due respect, sir, we're no longer Boots," Jackson interjected, "We're P2s."

But Caradine did not seem to hear him. "Don't let it melt," he warned before walking off in a hurry.

Ollie and Jackson shared a look. "Don't let it melt? It's literally noon," the former huffed. Jackson failed to find words to respond, merely stepping over to his position to guard the bar of chocolate on the ground.

➤➤➤

"To the left... No, no. Too much, too much. Back to the right... Just a hair to your left..."

Ollie inched over to her left, trying to block the sunlight from directly hitting the already-liquifying chocolate bar on the sidewalk. Jackson had grabbed a portable fan and cold pack from their shop and was trying to cool down the bar's temperature.

"I'm serious. It's turning into chocolate sauce," Ollie deadpanned.

"Yeah, look, we can't have our first day as full-fledged cops end in failure because we could not preserve crucial evidence," Jackson insisted, still dedicated to preventing the chocolate from melting any more.

"What the hell are you doing?" Caradine strolled over to them in puzzlement, glancing at the officer crouched down by the sidewalk.

"Oh, sir, uh, these are the cooling aids to help protect the evidence," Jackson explained.

Caradine nodded slowly. "I like the dedication, but we just found our suspect walking down La Brea, covered in the victims' blood," he informed, "He immediately confessed."

Ollie blinked back at him. "You're saying, this is just..."

"Garbage," Caradine confirmed. "Uh, do the city a favour and clean it up before you go."

The two officers let out a dry chuckle as the detective trekked off again.

"7-Adam-07, disturbance at 25616 Wilshire. Are you free to respond?"

Ollie sighed, picking out her radio from her duty belt. "Control, that's an affirmative." She peered back at Jackson, still looking bitter.

"Alright. Let's just, uh," Jackson cleared his throat, "shake this off and rock the rest of the day. Can you grab the chocolate?"

"Only if you want to sleep on your bed tonight," Ollie shot back instantly, "with your leaking ceiling."

Jackson stammered at her quick response, then huffed and crouched down once more to pick up the soft and squishy chocolate bar, his face crumpling in disgust.

➤

Tim sat in the changing suite of the wedding dress shop with one leg over the other's knee. "You doing okay in there?"

"You ever tried zipping up a dress with a bowling ball on your belly?" Angela scoffed out behind one of the fitting room curtains. "It takes time, so quit rushing me."

"I am not rushing you," Tim assured. "I'm prepared to stay here until you've tried on every single dress."

It took Angela a while more before she drew back the curtain and stepped out with a mixed expression. Tim's eyes widened at once, getting up from his chair with a growing smile. "Whoa."

"Really?" Angela muttered anticipatingly.

Tim nodded solemnly. "Oh, yeah."

"I know. It's perfect," the woman beamed, feeling utterly confident and thrilled with her choice. "Thank you so much for doing this with me."

Tim smiled back. "Of course."

A commotion outside the changing suite drew their attention, with growls and shouts breaking the relaxing silence. The two of them went out to observe at once, finding two women — one in a white veil and the other in a rainbow one — playing tug-of-war over a wedding dress that was gradually getting torn apart.

"Get your claws off my dress!"
"You put it back on the rack!"

"It's okay. Everything's gonna be fine," the shopkeeper tried reassuring them with a nervous chuckle, "The police are on their way."

Tim and Angela took a step further from them to observe the situation. "We're not getting involved unless someone loses a limb," Tim declared, pulling out his phone, "Though I should probably film it for evidence..."

The sirens blared outside the shop soon enough, with the bell above the shop's door ringing as the door swung open.

"Hey— police!"

Both Tim and Angela recognised the voice at once, glancing over to find none other than Ollie and Jackson, who were responding to the call.

"Lopez?" Jackson exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

Angela grinned back at him. "I'll give you three guesses."

Ollie stared at the woman, then over to the man with a smirk. "Hey, are you helping her find a wedding dress?"

"Well, right now, I'm watching you not do your job," Tim simply replied. Ollie rolled her eyes before returning to the two veiled women, still snatching the wedding dress between them.

"Look, ladies, you just need to settle down," Jackson stated.

"Ma'am, can you please let go of the dress right now?" Ollie tried, but the two cops were instead met with a glass of champagne splashed over them.

At the side, Tim and Angela were thoroughly entertained. "They grow up so fast, don't they?" she chimed, and he hummed back in response.

"I'm not leaving without this dress!" the rainbow-veiled woman yelled, and their tugs finally ripped the dress into two pieces, sending feathers all over the floor. "Aah—!"

Ollie lunged for the woman, who was about to bolt for the exit. Tim, still filming on his phone, got in an assist by extending his foot to trip over the woman. He watched amusedly through his screen as the officer ruffled her way back up through the thick, colourful veil while pressing the woman against the floor to cuff her.

"Ooh, looking good, Officer Marshall. Looking good."

➤➤➤

Ollie picked up her phone when a notification came through.

3 new messages from Tim bradford

Curiously, she tapped into it, rolling her eyes heavily when she saw what he had sent her.

It was a screenshot of the video he had taken in the wedding dress shop: her in a champagne-drenched uniform with a feather stuck on her head. And she still had a rather dismayed scrunch on her face.

Tim bradford

[08:23 pm] (image)
[08:23 pm] Payback
[08:23 pm] That's now your contact picture

i'm blocking you [08:24 pm]

∘∘∘

Even though that was, indeed, a horrible picture of her, Ollie found herself smiling on her couch while the TV ran in the background.

Freddie meowed at her before she heard raps of knocks on her door. Ollie remembered passing Jackson her house keys before he took off to head to dinner with his family; she picked her cat up in her arms before approaching her front door.

"Lucy?" Ollie sounded surprised, "What are you doing here? I thought you had dinner with your parents?"

Lucy drew in a sharp breath before exhaling heavily. "Dad didn't show. Mom called me a 'paid bully for the city'."

Ollie blinked back at her, stunned. "Holy crap. Come right in."

Lucy strode in and curled herself up on the couch, still feeling downbeat. Ollie set Freddie down by his bed before sitting next to the woman on the couch with a listening ear.

"They are still not supportive of me being a cop," Lucy let out, "I-I finally thought they had come around, but— She basically implied that she isn't proud of me being — well — me, and..." she shook her head wearily, "She said it's time for me to 'do something meaningful' with my life."

"This job is meaningful," Ollie offered.

"I know that, but they don't," Lucy murmured, "Th-They see me as a disappointment."

Ollie frowned at her friend's hurt look. While she had not had a similar experience of having unsupportive parents, she knew a thing or two about being a disappointment, being someone who was repulsing to others.

"Well, screw them," Ollie scoffed aloud, and Lucy glanced at her with furrowed brows. "Sorry to put it this way, Lucy, but— screw them. It's your life, and you're an amazing cop. So what if they don't support you—"

"Ollie, I can't just drop them," Lucy interjected quietly, catching Ollie in her words.

After a beat, Ollie finally found her words again. "Your passion, your fight trumps them," she concluded. "I guess... you just have to see if that matters more than their support."

"It does," Lucy nodded lightly. "I've been adrift since college, trying on different hats and different personalities, and nothing's felt right— until this. Everything I've done so far, the profound and the foolish, has prepared me to become who I am today, so that I can protect those who need it the most and from those who would do them harm."

Ollie smiled at her. "And that is what you hold onto."

Lucy nodded back gratefully. "Thank you."

"So, how was it with Avery today?" Ollie asked next as Freddie hopped on the couch without a sound, snuggling itself into her lap.

"We actually had a rant-off about our parents," Lucy mused.

"A rant-off?" Ollie snorted, pointing at her TV, "Like a bake-off?"

Lucy glanced at the screen, then at the chips on the coffee table in front of their legs. "Oh, was that what you were doing before I barged in?"

"Yup. Thrash eating and watching The Great British Bake Off," Ollie grazed the back of Freddie's head with a gentle smile, "with my son."

Lucy chuckled back lightly. "Sounds like a night."

"A perfect night, really."

Her phone dinged again shortly after. Ollie reached for her phone, which had slid between the cushions, pulled it out with some effort and narrowed her eyes at the texts.

Tim bradford

[08:24 pm] I've also sent a copy to the T.O. group chat
[08:25 pm] Avery wants the full video
[08:31 pm] You're now our profile picture

of the group chat???? [08:31 pm]
DO NOT send it to him [08:31 pm]

[08:31 pm] Yes
[08:31 pm] Too late

now i'm blocking you [08:32 pm]

"What an ass," Ollie huffed under her breath.

Lucy peered at her curiously. "Who are you texting?"

"Tim," Ollie replied, still tapping frantically on her keyboard. "Apparently, my champagne-and-feather-covered picture is circulating among the T.O.s," she snapped her head up alarmingly, "Surely Avery won't get the idea of making it into shirts, right...?"

"Uhm," Lucy offered her a weak chuckle, "That's a great concern. Which... we will find out tomorrow."

Ollie groaned. "Ugh, for hell's sake..."

Lucy cocked her head at the other woman interestedly while the latter continued texting on her phone. "So, you're texting Tim, huh?"

"Yeah, he's—" Ollie glimpsed up from her phone, suddenly noticing the suggestive smirk on her friend's face, "—no. Lucy, no."

"What? I didn't say anything," Lucy raised her hands in surrender.

"You were implying it!"

"Ooh, what was I implying?"

"You—" Ollie scoffed at the other woman's taunt.

Tim bradford sent an image

Ollie tapped in again, with Lucy peeking over with much interest.

This time, it was an image of the four of them — Tim, Avery, Angela, Nyla — at their go-to bar, each with a drink in their hand. Avery had been the one who took the selfie; Tim looked unamused; Angela was caught between sipping her soda; Nyla was grinning into the shot.

Lucy raised a brow at her friend when the latter turned on her camera. "What are you doing?"

"Replying."

"With a middle finger?"

Ollie spared her a glance. "You want in?"

"Oh, absolutely."

➤

Tim took a swig of his beer while the three others squeezed close together in front of his phone's screen, with the device still in Avery's hand. When all three of them broke into chortles, he seized his phone back curiously.

Ollie had replied with a selfie of herself and Lucy, both holding up middle fingers at them. Tim could not help but chuckle at the response.

"We're acting like a bunch of school kids right now," Nyla commented.

"Who cares," Avery mused, peering back at the picture sent back. "Where are they anyways?"

"Ollie's place," Tim answered easily.

"How do you know?" Angela cocked a brow at him.

"I recognise her couch," Tim then pointed at his screen, "And that's her cat in the background."

"Wait, the one we saved?" Avery grabbed the phone again, zooming in at the slightly blurry background. "Yeah, that's the one— with the missing ear!"

Nyla turned to him curiously. "What's the story behind that one?"

Avery cleared his throat. "So, we busted a drug lab that was in the basement of a pet store, and the store exploded before the scene was cleared," he recalled to the out-of-the-loop Nyla, "Somehow — we don't know how — this cat managed to escape, hiding under an ambulance. Ollie had adopted it since. I think it should be a little over a year now."

"Huh," Nyla turned to the other man now, "And how do you recognise her couch?"

"Uh, well," Tim's mouth moved, but no words came out; he cleared his throat hastily, "I've been there once, when, um, after the virus thing. After she was put on leave. I, well, went over to check on her."

Angela slurped loudly through her straw, visibly amused at his attempt to piece together a string of words.

Tim nodded slowly, finding his escape by patting on Avery's back. "Hey, go get us another round, huh? Put it on my tab."

"Sure!" Avery shot up from his seat, returning Tim's phone. The latter resumed texting when the two women conversed about childbirth and motherhood as a cop.

Ollie

[20:32] now i'm blocking you

(image) [20:33]

[20:33] (image)
[20:34] drinking so early?
[20:34] avery already looks drunk
[20:34] at this hour

Avery says drink early, sleep early [20:37]

[20:38] so he is definitely drunk

More or less [20:38]
He's a lightweight [20:38]

[20:38] trust me i know
[20:40] speaking of

Avery returned to the table with three bottles of beer and a glass of lemon soda. Tim glanced up from his screen briefly to thank him, then returned to type his message.

Speaking of? [20:42]

∘∘∘

Tim watched as the three dots appeared— and disappeared— then appeared— and disappeared once more. He finished his current bottle, then reached to grab a new one, his gaze still fixed on his phone.

[20:44] when are you buying me a drink?

His eyes widened a bit as he read, still staring at the text, not knowing how to respond.

Ollie

Speaking of? [20:42]

[20:44] Ollie unsent a message
[20:44] ignore
[20:44] that
[20:44] that was lucy

Alright.. [20:45]

His thumb hovered above the screen... but he ultimately typed another message and hit send.

Technically, I do owe you a drink [20:46]

∘∘∘

The three dots seemed to be testing his patience, but more truthfully— testing his luck.

Ollie

Technically, I do owe you a drink [20:46]

[20:47] you do
[20:47] a debt is due
[20:47] and you're buying for the whole night

If you can catch up, sure [20:47]

[20:47] is that a challenge?

Is it? [20:47]

[20:48] oh
[20:48] you're on
[20:48] (image)
[20:48] freddie is on my side

Bad cat [20:48]

[20:48] hey
[20:48] take that back
[20:49] TAKE THAT BACK

Tim felt someone kicking him under the table, and he glanced up to meet Angela's stare. She mimicked a grin, and he instantly knew what she was referring to.

Butit was so hard to press down the smile on his face.

━━━━━

Smiling at messages like a teen in love? YES.

This chapter is so domestic I love it 😭😭 And I honestly adore the text snippets lmfao

Also question: How do you imagine Ollie as? i'm talking physical features, traits, stuff like that,, or maybe even a specific faceclaim in mind? 🤔 Lmk >>