Chapter Text
The clock had long since passed midnight. The entire apartment was now shrouded in silence and darkness. Her neighbors were asleep in their beds, and even the tenants in the apartment below had finally turned off their loud music.
Not a single sentence, not even a single word from the textbook lying open in front of her, had managed to stick in her mind over the past few hours. She had reread the same chapter over and over, repeated key concepts aloud multiple times, and made her third set of notes on the same material. Yet everything she tried so hard to memorize seemed to slip from her mind the moment she absorbed it.
She wanted to slam the textbook shut and hurl it against the wall with all her strength. The notebook filled with her notes deserved to go straight into the trash. And tomorrow, instead of attempting the test, she wanted to submit a withdrawal application. But no matter how proud Lucy was of standing up to her parents, she knew she didn’t have the courage to quit school — at least not right now.
She couldn’t figure out why she clung to university so desperately. Lucy respected psychology, both as a science and as a tool to help those in need. She was happy to assist her friends whenever they required support or encouragement. She would gladly continue advising anyone who needed professional help to seek it. Yet she simply couldn’t envision herself sitting in the chair of a psychologist.
Lucy wondered if she had been struck by the infamous quarter-life crisis — a time when those barely out of their teenage years are consumed by doubt about their futures. When every decision feels uncertain, and the looming consequences are terrifying. Then she thought maybe she just needed to keep moving toward her goal — after all, a diploma wouldn’t demand anything from her if it simply gathered dust on a shelf. But that thought was quickly followed by the realization that, if she did become a psychologist, there would be no escaping the responsibilities of the job.
University had become her constant, a stable force in her life. Studying was an integral part of her routine. She would see an assignment and know it needed to be completed, encounter a topic and understand it required an essay. School was the one guide keeping her afloat amidst the turbulent currents of life. Lucy understood that university was an anchor, preventing her from drifting into complete chaos. But at that moment, sitting at her desk in the dark, she felt it: that anchor had grown unbearably heavy.
The words on the textbook’s pages blurred together into an incomprehensible mass. Each sentence seemed utterly devoid of meaning. Lucy ran a hand through her hair, trying to stave off the mounting panic. She glanced at the clock — 2:14 a.m.
“Why am I doing this to myself?” she whispered into the emptiness of the room.
Leaning back in her chair, she gazed up at the ceiling. Her thoughts darted between the fear of failure and a vague but persistent desire to prove to herself that she could endure this.
“Still studying?”
Tim’s voice was hoarse and drowsy, though he hadn’t been able to sleep for even a minute. His head was filled with everything and nothing at once — his brain fueling the fire of pointless thoughts with memory after memory: firefights, bloody massacres, shellings, explosions. In moments like these, Bradford missed the army more than ever — there had been no time for reflection under the weight of daily demands. Now, though the police academy kept him busy, his mind had taken full advantage of its newfound freedom, forcing him to relive events from years past.
“I’d prefer the word ‘suffering,’” Lucy replied in a dull voice, watching as her neighbor walked over to the kitchen counter, filled a glass with water, and downed it in a few gulps. She didn’t mind his company since her brain refused to function, but she wasn’t sure if Tim would want to talk to her. Recently, she’d formed a solid impression of him as a recluse — disappearing for days, then returning only to lock himself in his room, spending full days at the academy and evenings at his part-time job in a club. But to her surprise, Tim didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned against the smooth kitchen counter and let out a sigh.
“You’ve overstudied. You need to reboot your brain and rest,” he said in a tone that implied he had already graduated from university and was some sort of expert on academics.
“There’s no such thing as ‘overstudying.’ That’s just something lazy people say to justify their lack of effort,” Lucy retorted, echoing the words her parents had drilled into her a hundred times. The similarity in tone startled her for a moment.
“No, trust me, I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen so many people push themselves the way you’re doing right now, only to mess up at critical moments because of sheer exhaustion.”
“Did you have to take tests in the army too?”
“And you wouldn’t believe how many,” Tim replied confidently, because it was true. The tests in the army weren’t always written questions and multiple-choice answers. More often, they were things like, “Can you save your friend during a firefight?” or “Apply a tourniquet to your leg before you lose half your blood.”
“That’s terrible. I was hoping that if university doesn’t work out, I could join the army and avoid studying altogether,” Lucy said in such a serious tone that Tim’s eyes widened in shock. He didn’t know Chen well — he neither had the time nor much interest to — but from his first impression, she hardly seemed like the type of person who’d actually join the military.
He couldn’t think of a response, but the silence was broken by Lucy’s quiet laughter.
“God, I’m kidding. I’m terrified of even looking at a gun. And don’t tell me you have something like a pistol in your room. The less I know, the better I’ll sleep,” she said, unable to stop laughing at Tim’s shocked expression. It was probably the first time she’d seen him show any real emotion.
“I knew you were joking,” Tim tried to defend himself, but the truth was, he hadn’t known — and yes, he’d believed her, which only made him feel even more awkward.
Lucy laughed softly again, and for a moment, silence filled the room. Not the kind of silence that feels uncomfortable or awkward due to a lack of words or topics, but the kind where silence is pleasant. For some reason, being quiet with Tim felt comfortable.
“Thanks for the company. I think going to bed is the best decision I can make right now,” she finally said, snapping her book shut and setting aside her notebook and pen. Even though Lucy still didn’t believe in “overstudying,” she’d come to accept that she wasn’t going to learn anything tonight — her brain simply refused to cooperate. Maybe she’d have time to review in the morning. Or maybe the professor would let her cheat. Or, if she were lucky, divine intervention might bless her with wisdom during the test.
“Goodnight, Lucy,” Tim said. For a moment, she thought she caught a fleeting smile on his face, but she couldn’t be sure — he quickly disappeared into the hallway and then his room.
Morning left her no time to review anything — Chen had slept through every alarm she’d set the night before, only waking when Lopez banged on her door and yelled that if Lucy didn’t turn off her ten alarms, she’d smash her phone. Lucy quickly realized her mistake, as well as the fact that she was irredeemably late for university. Thank God for Wesley, his breakfasts, and the fact that he owned a car — Lucy dashed into campus five minutes before the test began, only to discover she’d left her notebook and textbook at home in her rush.
Her only hope now was divine intervention, but even that seemed to have abandoned her — no miraculous enlightenment came, nor did the answers. She felt ashamed to resort to random guesses, copying from her classmates’ sheets, and any desperate measure she could think of to salvage her situation. And though her neighbors weren’t unwilling to help, Lucy already knew the outcome.
“Miss Chen, I’m deeply disappointed. Sixty points, and that’s with a generous curve accounting for your past performance and evident academic talent,” the professor announced the grades that very day during the next lecture. His tone was dripping with disapproval, as was the glare he shot her over the rim of his glasses, perched low on his nose.
Usually, Lucy would’ve been embarrassed.
But now, she felt nothing.
Nothing at all.
No pang of guilt for disappointing her professor, no shame for forcing him to inflate her score just to let her pass, no regret for once again giving her parents another reason to be disappointed in her.
Just… nothing.
She shrugged indifferently at the professor’s remark, somehow managing to stay in her seat until the end of class. Lucy didn’t even bother asking if she could retake the test or make up for the grade with extra credit — at that moment, she simply didn’t care. All she wanted was to go home and sleep. Instead, she had to head to the Rogers’ house to watch their kids until evening. Surprisingly, even babysitting their spoiled brats seemed more appealing than being on campus that day.
“State your name,” barked the lieutenant, his voice cutting through the classroom. Tim shot to his feet immediately. The day was slowly nearing its end. Physical training was over, and now they were locked in a room — sweaty, tired, and not smelling particularly great — for a meeting with a lieutenant from one of the city departments. Tim would have much rather spent this time in his room, the sleepless night weighing on him all day, but it hit especially hard during the droning lecture of a cop who was clearly just here to clock his required hours.
“Sergeant Tim Bradford, sir,” Tim said automatically, only to bite his tongue the next moment, cursing himself for such a stupid mistake. He wasn’t a sergeant. He wasn’t even an officer. Here in the academy, Tim was just a student like everyone else.
The room filled with a ripple of chuckles, quickly silenced when the lieutenant slammed his hand against the table.
“Sergeant?” His tone turned mocking. “And how long have you been in law enforcement, Sergeant Bradford?” The unpleasant smirk on the man’s face made it clear where this was going — Tim was about to be made an example of, a fool in front of the whole course, and every idiot would milk this slip-up for jokes until graduation.
“Apologies, sir. I’m Student Bradford. The habit of calling myself sergeant followed me back from Afghanistan,” Tim replied, trying to maintain his pride. The mention of his military service barely fazed the lieutenant, but Tim caught a subtle nod of approval from the officer standing behind him.
“If you see a driver speeding, how do you approach the stop?” The challenge in the lieutenant’s voice was evident, but Tim was ready to meet it.
“First, I activate the emergency lights to signal the driver to pull over. I choose a safe location to minimize risk to other road users. Once the vehicle is stopped, I approach from the passenger side to reduce the threat. I introduce myself, state my position, and explain the reason for the stop. Then, I request documentation and keep an eye on the driver’s hands and the interior for any suspicious objects,” Tim answered in one breath, bracing himself for the next barrage of questions.
“You respond to a domestic violence call. The man is aggressive, the woman hysterical. What’s your course of action?”
“Sir, I would assess the situation for safety, isolate the aggressive individual, and ensure the victim’s protection. If necessary, I would detain the man. I would also try to calm the woman, take her statement, and call in additional support, such as a social worker. Afterward, I would file a detailed report.”
“During a high-speed chase on a busy street, the suspect drives onto the sidewalk. What do you do?”
“I would terminate the pursuit if it endangered civilians. I’d immediately report the situation to dispatch to block the suspect’s escape routes. Public safety comes first, and I would use alternative methods to apprehend the suspect.”
“You arrest someone for robbing a store, but during questioning, you learn they did it to feed their children. What do you do?” The room, which had been filled with murmurs as students recited their memorized protocols earlier, now fell completely silent. Even the lieutenant and the officer seemed curious about Tim’s answer, while the gears in his mind turned rapidly.
“I would do my job according to the law: detain the suspect and turn the case over to investigators. However, I would note the mitigating circumstances in my report and provide information about local social services that could assist the family. Justice must be fair, but compassion is also an essential part of our work,” Tim finally said.
The lieutenant, realizing he was dealing with a student who wouldn’t be easily rattled, backed down. But for the remainder of the session, Tim felt the other officer’s gaze fixed on him.
And he wasn’t imagining it, because as soon as the class was dismissed, the officer asked him to stay behind.
“Officer Brown. I train rookies in the Mid-Wilshire division,” the man introduced himself as Tim nodded politely, glancing toward the exit and wishing he could leave.
“I’m a veteran too. I remember being your age, son,” Brown said unexpectedly, clapping Tim on the shoulder and forcing him to pay attention. “It’s not going to be easy. You’ll want to go back. You’ll carry your military habits into this job. But you have potential, Bradford. If you make it through this course, it would be an honor to train you. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you because you’re a veteran. You’ll have to work three times harder than regular officers.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tim replied, trying not to let his flustered emotions show.
Brown nodded, gave his shoulder one last squeeze, and left the room.
Tim didn’t need to say how much those words had actually inspired him. He didn’t know this Officer Brown, but he was already dreaming of the days when he’d have the chance to work with him. And to make that happen, Tim was ready to do whatever it took. He was absolutely certain of it now.
“Chris, I’ve already told you, leave me alone! I’m fine,” came a shout from the entrance to the building.
The voice sounded painfully familiar, but Tim’s mind, cluttered with the events of the day, couldn’t immediately place it.
“Lucy, wait. We haven’t even talked properly,” came the reply, and it was only when her name was mentioned that Tim recognized the voice of his neighbor.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Just go, please.”
Tim stopped at the corner of the building, waiting for the scene to end. He had no intention of getting involved in someone else’s drama, especially not Lucy’s — his own was more than enough. But when the unfamiliar guy grabbed her arm, and then tightened his grip as she tried to pull away, Tim couldn’t just stand by.
“Any problems here?” Tim called out from a distance, and he would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t see the relief in Lucy’s eyes.
“And who the hell are you?” Sanford snapped irritably, still gripping Chen’s elbow.
“Lucy, is there a problem?” Bradford stubbornly ignored the source of the commotion, focusing on the girl instead, waiting for either a signal to back off or permission to intervene.
“No, everything’s fine,” Lucy replied uncertainly, though her eyes told a different story. She tried to smile, but it came out forced. “Tim, thanks, but… really, don’t get involved.”
“You heard her? She said, ‘Don’t get involved,’” Sanford sneered, his grip on her arm unwavering. “So, move along, hero”
“She said everything’s fine, but you’re still holding her arm,” Tim responded calmly, though there was a distinct edge to his voice. He took a step closer, his posture relaxed, but his gaze sharp and serious. “That doesn’t look like ‘everything’s fine’ to me”
Sanford squinted in irritation and then glanced at Lucy.
“Lucy, tell him to mind his own business.”
She stayed silent. Seconds dragged on like hours. Tim used the pause to step even closer, forcing Sanford to instinctively take half a step back.
“I asked a simple question. Is there a problem or not?” Tim repeated, as if Sanford hadn’t spoken at all.
Finally, Sanford released Lucy, acting as though it was entirely his own decision.
“Sure, take her, hero,” he scoffed with sarcasm, straightening up. “I’m done with this nonsense.”
He turned and walked off, shoving his hands into his pockets. Lucy exhaled loudly, rubbing her now-free elbow.
“Thanks,” she whispered, still stunned by what had just happened. Sanford was one of those guys Lucy’s parents had tried to push on her, labeling him as a “decent catch.” She’d declined his offer for a walk the first time, but apparently, he didn’t take rejection well and had come back to try persuading her again.
“No problem,” Tim replied, unwilling to pry further. He had stepped in and helped, but everyone’s personal dramas were none of his business. He opened the door to the building and held it for Lucy, letting her enter first and step into the elevator.
“How’d the test go?” he asked, more to fill the silence in the cramped space than out of genuine curiosity. Instead of an answer, he heard a quiet laugh.
“Terribly. I failed everything I could. The professor humiliated me in front of the entire class, a kid threw up on me, and then some guy I turned down decided I was too stupid to appreciate him. Great day,” Lucy replied, trying to fend off an approaching meltdown that was escaping in the form of laughter.
“No, that’s a terrible day. And there’ll be more of those. But every bad result is proof you’re a living, breathing human. We all mess up sometimes. We all fall. The important thing is not to stay down.”
She snorted softly but without much enthusiasm.
“And you think it’s that easy? To get up and keep going?”
“No, it’s hard,” he admitted. “Sometimes, it’s very hard. But if you failed a test, it means there’s something to learn. If someone decided you’re “stupid,” that’s their problem, not yours. And as for the kid…” – he smiled faintly. “Well, kids are unpredictable, to say the least.”
Lucy finally exhaled, narrowing her eyes slightly.
“Is this your version of ‘life’s tough, but hang in there’?”
Tim smirked.
“No. This is my version of ‘you’re stronger than you think.’”
She looked at him a moment longer than expected and finally allowed herself a small, albeit still melancholy, smile.
“Oh, so you do know how to be supportive.”
“Always happy to help,” he replied briefly, starting to walk again. “For now, though, avoid kids. And professors. At least until tomorrow.”
Lucy chuckled softly and seemed to straighten her shoulders a bit.