Chapter Text
Tim was not a man that rattled easy; he would never admit it to his fellow officers and friends, but for a long time in the army, his nickname was ‘the Reaper’. An informal title that he once wore on his sleeve with as much pride as he did his sergeant stripes today.
But Tim had evolved, and it was testament to how much that he did not call it ‘gotten soft.’
Without doubt, Tim could have done with more sensitivity in his general interactions, especially in his younger years. He had had his fair share of people trying to change him; his guarded nature taken as a challenge to be overcome, rather than understood.
Looking back, even with Isabel - as much as he loved her- they were unable to unable to extend each other grace when sh*t hit the fan - and in their line of work, it did, repeatedly.
They were also excellent at avoiding uncomfortable situations; Tim had his walls and Isabel had her unhealthy coping mechanisms. Over time, they just stopped finding value in vulnerability, and well, that was the beginning of the end.
Tim had forgotten a wall even existed, until Lucy walked right into it when she yelled at him for his his enabling behavior, and blatant disregard for her safety. It was the first time in a long time that someone had called him out on his bullsh*t. After he was outraged at her audacity, he admired her for her bravery; she was right.
Lucy was right *a lot* when it came to Tim, and it aggravated him to no end. She had been in his life for a little over two years, and had wormed her way past his barriers with her empathy, wit and determination. They weren’t even together!
Not that Tim hadn’t been tempted; Lucy was a beautiful and fearless woman, an outstanding police officer and the kindest friend he could remember having. How could he not be?
But, he was her T.O and he cared too much about her to put her career in jeopardy before it even started. He knew how other cops would respond to the news, and shook his head involuntarily at the phrases running through his head - none of them tasteful.
The problem was, despite their (he was not oblivious either) best efforts, they were ending up in situations that tested his resolve; tension coiling around them like a winding spring, still building.
That was the only thing to explain his momentary loss of logic - ‘Why else would I ask her to save me a dance?’
Having Lucy in his arms, in a dress that would only encourage him to slide his hands down her beautiful curves, was an intoxicating proposition.
Seeing the same dress lying in the gravel at a distance roused Tim from his thoughts. He walked over to pick it up, and brought it back to the shop. The dance would have to wait, Angela needed his focus.
His heart then stuttered painfully at the idea of his best friend - he would even admit it to her when he saw her again- in the hands of La Fiera. He served with several competent, and deadly women in the army and he was under no illusions with regards to the danger level of the upcoming mission, they were going to have to be well f*cking prepared to rescue Angela.
“Harper, let’s go! Nell is helping me track Chen’s phone.” Tim called out to Harper, who was walking towards him and Nolan, carrying extra ammunition and safety gear.
Despite the circ*mstances, Harper had the time to roll her eyes “Then come and give me a damn hand, Bradford. These guns aren’t walking themselves to the car.”
Tim’s spirits lifted just a little; Harper was cool and that made her all the more dangerous - he knew Harper cared for Angela, and she was a true hunter. Not that he would ever admit it to *anyone*, but Nyla Harper scared the crap out of him.
“Nolan, you drive. I’m going to keep an eye on Chen and Jackson. Harper and Officer Han are loading the weapons into their shop. Reinforcements are on route.” Tim instructed.
Nolan slid into the driver seat, securing the straps of his vest as he did so. They were going to get Angela back.
