Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Everything clear?” Angela asked as she took one last look at Lucy's transformation into Adriana.

“Yes, yes, I got this Angela.”

“And you trust your CI?”

“Yes, yes, I do. She’s only in this mess because of her boyfriend, and she knows that helping us out will help him. She has everything to lose if this goes south.”

“You remember that you just need to get eyes on him, and then Metro will come in and do the rest. Do not try to extract him yourself, understood?”

“I know, I know.”

“And stay safe – you know that we already have one officer missing.”

“And you still won’t tell me who they are.”

“I don’t know myself. Brass won’t say anything, but all they’ve told me is their safe phrase. You remember it, yes?”

“I do, Angela. Don’t worry. I know you’ve got my back, and I know Tim’s here. This is just me going in, and me going out. Setting a future meet.”

“Good.”

*

“Are you good?” Angela asked, noticing Tim practically glued to the passenger seat, binoculars in hand.

“Yeah, I’m good Angela.”

“Yeah, try that one again, Timothy.”

“Okay, I’m worried. I know Lucy’s solid, but these guys – they’re no small fish. They’re suspected of the abduction of an officer that was embedded with them, and the Feds think they have something to do with last month’s failed bombing. And now, all of a sudden, Lucy’s CI pops up and gives us an in?”

“CI’s been vetted, Tim. And you’re right, Lucy is solid. This is no long-time op either. Hell, she was more worried about how you’d take it than her actually going in.”

Damn, was he that bad at hiding his anxiety, even as she hugged him goodbye and walked inside, no longer Lucy Chen, but Adriana.

“Yeah, that’s probably the face she saw.”

“I can’t just sit here.”

“Tim, this is the closest we could get without raising suspicion. Worse comes to worse, you’ll be inside in 60 seconds. But don’t think about it that way, just think of it as an hour where you get your hazard pay for sitting around and catching up with your best friend.”

Tim couldn’t help but smile – Angela knew exactly what to say, and he did have faith in their plan; after all, it was a plan that both he and Angela had contributed too extensively.

“Hey, we set?” Nyla asked, hopping in, coffee in hand.

“Yeah, she’s ten seconds out. Right – eyes on the prize.”

*

“You’re late.” Lucy walked in with her CI, Mariana, keeping a straight face.

“Sorry, Aaron. You know, getting Adriana here wasn’t no small feat.”

“You bring someone new with you, Mar?” Aaron brandished a gun, “You want Mateo to have all our heads?”

“Mateo needs someone who can deal with the, um, problem we have right? Well, I have a solution.”

“How do you know about the problem?”

“Maybe, Aaron, it’s because Mateo knows who’s here for muscle, and who’s here for brains. Now, where is he?”

“Not here, Mar. So, I guess your solution can come back tomorrow.”

“You wasting my time, Mar, is that it?” Lucy asked, “Is this Mateo a joke or something?”

“Mateo’s no joke, sweetheart.”

“It’s Adriana. Next time you call me sweetheart, you’re gonna say goodbye to one of your boys.”

“Ooh, spunky. Mm, maybe Mateo will like you. Say, how’d you know Mar?”

“Mar’s man helped me out of a tough one, and I respect my debts. So, I’m here as a favour to her, but that’s it – if this Mateo don’t want my help, I’m gone, and when I tell everyone else, he just wastes time…”

“Why so rash, Adriana? You want to meet Mateo? Fine. Lucas can bring you to him.”

This Lucas appeared out of thin air, and for a second a chill ran down Lucy’s spine. Something was… off.

“Mar, nice to see you back. Come, say hi.” Lucy saw Mariana hesitantly step forward and give him a hug, but when she stepped back, Mar’s hand was shaking. The Lucy Chen in her wanted to reach for her hand, grab it tight and comfort her, but that was not Adriana.

Lucy opened her mouth to speak, but Lucas whispered something in Aaron’s ear, and he just smiled. Not a good smile.

“So, Mar, Lucas tells me Tyler’s in some trouble.”

“No, no trouble. He went back to look after his mother. He’ll be back if Mateo needs him.”

“Oh ok. Well, I think Mateo’s going to be needed soon, Mar. You see, we have a rat.”

“A rat?”

“Yes, Mar, do I need to repeat myself?” Aaron asks.

“No, no, Aaron.”

“Do you know anything about this?”

“Of course not, Mateo knows me and Tyler are tight with him. You have some nerve blaming me after what your sister…”

“You don’t talk about my sister. She’s dead to me.” Aaron said.

“Look, I’m here to do business. So, either take me to Mateo, or I am leaving.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Lucas told her, and Aaron looked as if he was going to witness Lucy’s threat being exerted on Lucas for the nickname, “because Mateo would love to meet. In fact, he’s excited to meet someone of your calibre, Lucy Chen.”

*

Fuck. “We need to pull her out, Angela,” Tim said as he grabbed his weapon and rushed out, hearing nothing else but Lucas saying Lucy Chen over and over.

How did he know who she was?

“Tim, you need to stand down. She hasn’t asked for an assist.” Angela climbed out, Nyla following, leaning against the side of their surveillance van.

“Angela, for god’s sake, he knows who she is. Do you think she’s just gonna waltz out with the two of them in hand? She’s in trouble.” He went to push past them, but the two detectives grabbed him and more or less slammed him into the side of the van.

“You go in, you get Lucy killed, you get yourself killed, you get other officers killed. Get it together Bradford,” Nyla scolded him in her TO voice.

“Both of you, I swear, if something happens whilst you’re here stopping me from doing my job…”

“Your job is to go in when I say you go in. Metro was here in case Mateo was here, or we found the missing officer. None of those apply here, so you better sit your ass back down in the van or so help me I will cuff you and get them to drive you back to the station.” Angela raised her voice, and he noticed the eyes of other officers in nearby vehicles staring at the trio.

Tim pulled himself out of their grip and leaned against the van, clenching his teeth, annoyed that Angela was right. Lucy knew the distress signal, and he knew she would not hesitate to use it. If she hadn’t yet, there was a good reason why. He couldn’t risk not being here; he conceded on the matter, for now.

Nyla tapped into the audio feed on her phone, and the three of them stayed outside, listening in, Tim reaching into the van once again for the binoculars, not blinking lest he missed something at the main exit.

“She’s got him talking, Tim. They’re just talking.”

Until they weren’t.

Tim’s panic had just subsided down to what he called his baseline ‘UC Lucy’ stress level (so still higher normal, but definitely much lower than just a minute ago) when two shots rang out.

Screw orders – he needed to go in.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Harper pushed him back against the side of the van, and two other officers rushed forward at Angela’s request, barely keeping him from joining the group of officers that Angela had ordered to go and extract Lucy.

“You need to stop, Sergeant,” one of the officers told him, the three of them struggling to keep him at bay.

“Angela, she could be shot.”

“We don’t know that Tim, and that’s why we have a medic in that group, just in case. Stand down.” She knew exactly what was going through his mind; this is exactly why she was against him even being in the van in the first place instead of getting only the necessary updates with the rest of Metro.

Another shot rang out, and Tim seemed to have gotten a surge of energy, pushing the two officers off him, the only thing keeping him at bay being Nyla’s painful grip on his arm, now twisted behind his back.

“Nyla, let me go.”

“No,” she tackled the former TO to the ground, and Angela made well on her promise to cuff him.

“Are you kidding me?” He yelled as the two detectives rolled him up, his back now up against the van’s bumper, only able to watch from a distance as a group of officers stormed the building.

“No, Tim. This is for everyone’s benefit – I cannot have you jeopardising this?”

“So, you handcuff a Sergeant.”

“I would cuff the Commissioner if he was here and acting like you were. An officer’s going to take you back to the station, and then me and you are going to have a chat with Pine and Grey.” Angela was not playing games, especially when it came to any officer under her care. Hell, it was worse that it was Tim, but Angela knew he’d understand… eventually.

“Angela, I’m not going anywhere until I see her.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

The sunset then found its rival in a glorious yellow fireball, the warehouse where Lucy and Mar had walked in now shrouded in smoke.

Lucy.

“Lucy.” Tim managed to utter out a guttural sob as the radio was flooded for requests for RAs. Angela looked at Tim, trying to shake off the ringing from the explosion, unable to hear what Tim was saying, but his face betrayed the fact that he had just lost his mind, and not in the good way that Lucy had told her about…

She gripped him tightly as she hugged him, not daring to free him just yet. She’d seen what worried TO Tim would do – worried boyfriend Metro Sergeant Tim was something she just couldn’t afford to deal with…

Chapter Text

For the next seven minutes, his radio did not shut up.

Officers Down...

Angela and Nyla left him, rushing towards the site, a first aid bag in Harper's hand.

We need an RA...

So there were survivors. Lucy was alive... she had to be...

Requesting a supervisor...

Oh great, Grey was going to turn up and no doubt he was going to get a bollocking of sorts from either him, or Pine eventually, or most certainly both.

Everyone was flooding towards the site, except for him. More cars pulled up and he spotted a familiar face. Excellent.

"Thorsen," he yelled. Aaron stopped in his tracks, trying to work out where he was wanted,

"Aaron!" he yelled again, and their eyes met. Officer Thorsen jogged over, a perplexed look on his face.

"Um, Sir..." he began, noticing that the Sergeant was cuffed.

"No time to explain, just get me out of these. NOW." 

Tim could see the cogs turning in Aaron's mind; there was no time for such thoughts.

"Aaron, get me out of these or the next time I'm needed back as a Patrol Sergeant, I will make you my gofer, and you will not find it enjoyable." Such a threat was evidently more than enough as Aaron reached for his cuff key and sprung the Sergeant free, watching Tim rush away without so much as a thank you.

What was that about? Aaron thought, but then he saw Grey pull up to the scene, and he quickly followed Tim's path, realising he'd much rather deal with Tim and his sour temper than Grey spotting him dawdling.

Tim, meanwhile, had come to the entrance of what was their surveilled building, smoke still flooding out, less injured officers helping those more injured, and Tim could spot the Metro officers who'd been on standby assist moving the officers towards the half a dozen RAs who'd now set up triage in the distance.

"Lucy!" he yelled, not caring anymore about sticking to her UC name - she'd be much more likely to respond to her own name.

"Lucy!" He yelled once again, shuffling into the smoke and past the debris and officers still hobbling out.

Dispatch, this is Detective Lopez. Requesting a coroner.

No. No. For whom? 

Tim quickened his pace and he was hit with the stench of scorched flesh before he saw Angela and Nyla leaning over two bodies. They were charred beyond recognition, clothes melted into their skin, and Tim forced himself to not throw up his meagre breakfast.

Was one of those charred bodies Lucy?

He noticed Angela crouch down and lift something up with her gloved hand, and even through the smoke still wafting through he could tell what it was - a bullet casing.

"Tim, what are you doing here?" Harper asked as soon as she noticed him.

"Is one of them Lucy?" he asked, ignoring the question.

"We can't tell," he heard Angela say, and then, "Tim, you shouldn't be here."

"No. No, I shouldn't, Angela, because this shouldn't have happened," he yelled.

"I am not going to hash this out with you, Tim, not right now. Sergeant Grey." Angela acknowledged the presence of the Watch Commander.

"Lopez. Harper. Bradford. Thorsen," Grey acknowledged the officers, "I suggest we all discuss this in less smoky circumstances?" 

The officers shuffled out, and Tim's eyes couldn't help but linger back at the scene of the crime.

Only two bodies. But there were at least four people who were there. Had the other two escaped? Or were the other two buried further and deeper?

Lucy was alive. She had to be.

He'd feel it if she weren't, right. Right?

"Tim, how'd you get out?" Angela asked, and Tim had to hold down a laugh. That was her concern?

"It doesn't matter, Angela, what matters now is getting down to the bottom of this. They knew who Lucy was - this was a set-up."

"We don't know that it was. Lucy's CI checked out, the information she gave was correct, and she had everything to lose - she knew that if this didn't pan out then both she and her boyfriend Tyler would be in trouble, and that Tyler would be doing serious time." 

"There's obviously something else going on between you, but I suggest you put that to rest. We have two unidentified bodies, two deceased officers, and a dozen on their way with various injuries. The coroner is on their way, so we shall hopefully have answers shortly. There's going to be an investigation into this, and I'd much rather you all get through the IA investigations sooner rather than later."

"Of course, Sergeant," Nyla said, both she and Lopez making their way back to the surveillance van, Tim was about to leave too but Grey stopped him.

"Tim, I think it's best if after you fill out the required paperwork you take some time off."

"Sir..."

"As much as I wish it not to be true, Officer Chen might be one of the two deceased. I cannot have your name anywhere in this investigation - it would be improper."

"Yes, Sir, however..."

"Sergeant Bradford, Lopez and Harper will keep you in the loop. You can go."

Tim walked back towards the van, but realised he did not want to be in the same van as Angela or Nyla, not yet. Rationally, he knew that the explosion was not their fault, but he couldn't help but think that if he had moved in as soon as the words Lucy Chen came over the wire, none of this would have been happening.

There wouldn't have been an explosion.

There wouldn't have been dead officers.

There wouldn't have been confusion as to whether or not Lucy was dead or alive.

"Sir, would you like me to drive you to the station?" Tim turned around to see Thorsen half in, half out of his shop, looking at him.

Well, there were worse options.

"Sure." Tim climbed into the passenger seat, staring at his dust-covered pants, not speaking for a while.

"I'm sorry... for snapping at you," Tim told the young officer - he'd gone a little overboard with his tone and threat, had he not?

Aaron looked at Tim in the passenger seat, eyes widening. Had Sergeant Tim Bradford apologised... to him?

"It's... it's alright, Sir. Can I ask, though, why were you..."

"Cuffed? I wanted to go in as soon as it was clear Lucy's cover was broken. Angela and Nyla put me off it and, well, it seems they thought the situation warranted me out of the way."

"Oh, Detective Lopez or Harper isn't going to find out I was the one, right? Because as much as you scared me, Harper and Lopez..."

"Don't worry about that. We've got bigger things to worry about."

"Is there anything you'd like me to get you?" Aaron asked, noticing how tense Tim was. He had worked with the Sergeant quite a lot recently and could tell when something was wrong.

Of course, something was wrong. Lucy was in the throes of an undercover operation when it had all gone to shit.

"No, just, just get me to the station so I can fill out the goddamn paperwork."

Chapter Text

"So, Sergeant Bradford, start at the beginning."

"On Tuesday, Officer Juarez and Nolan arrested Tyler Flynn after witnessing a drug deal whilst on patrol. Upon both Officers completing the requisite paperwork, Tyler proceeded to get violent, resulting in Officer Juarez requiring a trip to the hospital. Detective Lopez was nearby, and so helped to restrain Tyler Flynn and take him to an Interrogation room."

*

"Detective Harper had a family emergency," Angela began, "and so I'd spent the day combing through paperwork and getting ready for a deposition on Wednesday. I was walking by and I heard a commotion, noticing the suspect, Tyler Flynn, break free from Officer Juarez's grip. I jumped in to help, and then proceeded with Officer Nolan to drag him to an Interrogation room."

"You questioned Tyler Flynn alone?"

"No. Detective Harper may have been gone, but Sergeant Bradford and Officer Chen had just arrived back with their own collar, so I'd asked Bradford if he'd accompany me. He agreed, and so there were two of us in interrogation, with Officer Chen looking in from observation. Officer Nolan had asked to escort his rookie officer to the hospital."

"No lawyer?"

"Tyler Flynn had waived his right to counsel, but told us he wouldn't 'say shit', and that 'as soon as you put my name in the system, his lawyer was already on the way'."

*

"He seemed... confident..." Bradford carried on, speaking to the very familiar Commander West on the opposite side of the table, "Detective Lopez was trying to ascertain what had gotten the suspect so agitated, but all of her questions were met with silence. Twenty minutes, Tyler's lawyer arrived."

"You don't seem too impressed by that."

"Tyler's lawyer is very familiar to everyone at Mid-Wilshire."

*

"Monica Stevens arrived and conversed with her client in private. We had told her that Tyler would be processed for possession of a controlled substance and assaulting a police officer. She went back, conferred with her client for another couple of minutes, and then left."

"You finished processing Tyler Flynn, Detective?"

"Yes. I filed the paperwork whilst Sergeant Bradford and Officer Chen took him to lockup."

"Alright, and how did the arrest of Tyler Flynn lead to this evening's incident?"

*

"On Wednesday, Mariana Walsh walked into the front desk and asked about her boyfriend. She was told Detective Lopez was the one to talk to, however, Lopez was at a deposition. Officer Chen was riding with Officer Thorsen that day, and I was in the station, running a tactical briefing."

"You spoke to Mariana?"

"Yes, after the briefing I talked to Mariana and explained to her that her boyfriend had been arrested and she would have to wait until the hearing next week to talk about bail. She had mentioned that she was worried about her boyfriend's safety in jail, and had mentioned that she was worried he would not last until his hearing. She said that she was willing to give information to the LAPD in exchange for her boyfriend's safety."

"You asked her about it?"

"Yes, I asked Mariana what information she had, but she seemed spooked, and asked if she could talk to someone with whom she could get assurances in writing. I called ADA Wesley."

*

"ADA Wesley, sorry to force you to make this trip."

"That's quite alright. My wife, Detective Lopez, had already called to inform me she'd be late home, and to put the kids down without waiting up."

"Detective Lopez had spoken to you?"

"No details were exchanged between us. This is neither mine nor my wife's, first rodeo. But she seemed worried on the phone, and so I was on my way to Mid-Wilshire regardless."

"You're already familiar with the case, Counsellor?"

"Yes, I received a call from Sergeant Bradford on Wednesday, asking me to come to Mid-Wilshire to talk to Miss Walsh."

"And so, did you come to an agreement of sorts with Miss Walsh?"

"Yes. Miss Walsh had disclosed to Sergeant Bradford and me that she was willing to provide the LAPD with information on 'something big' happening in exchange for the safety of her boyfriend. When asked to elaborate, she said that she didn't know much, that she'd only 'hung around' when her boyfriend dragged her along, but she'd overheard between Tyler Flynn and other individuals about a 'Mateo' being in town, and that 'a reckoning of sorts' was coming."

"That all seems very vague, ADA Wesley. A 'reckoning', a first name dropped?"

"Yes, I too seemed sceptical, but Miss Walsh agreed to work with a sketch artist to describe this Mateo, and I've picked up this, call it intuition - Miss Walsh did not look like she was wasting our time."

"And so, did your intuition pull through?"

"Yes, yes it did. And in a huge way." 

*

"You recognised the sketch, Sergeant?"

"Not at first, but something was troubling me. We digitalized the sketch and ran it through the system, along with the name. Nothing came back with the two in combination, but separately. Mariana had information, alright..."

*

"I came back from my deposition to find Sergeant Bradford waiting for me, asking to see a previous case file of mine."

"And why was that?"

"He thought the sketch had similarities to that of one in a case from last month - the failed bombing on the joint FBI/LAPD event?"

"Yes, I'm aware of that one, Sergeant. I was there too."

Silence filled the interrogation room.

"Let's continue, shall we?" He probed, waiting for Angela to continue.

"Yes. One individual was spotted on camera, but another was angled away and we weren't able to get a hit of facial recognition. Witnesses were interviewed and a composite sketch was created."

"Was the sketch from Mariana the same as the sketch from that bombing?"

"Yes. There were of course minute differences, but Sergeant Bradford and I chalked it up to the fact that Mariana had been in close proximity with this individual that she'd referred to as Mateo."

"You say referred - you were unaware of any personal details for this individual?"

"No. The only thing we knew about this man was what he looked like and that he was wanted as a person of interest in last month's failed bombing."

*

"Mariana referred to him as Mateo, yes?"

"Yes. She said she'd seen him, albeit rarely, during the last two years or so, since she started dating her boyfriend Tyler.  Searching up 'Mateo' in the police database was fruitless, of course, but the name had popped up in a case dating half a year ago - a shipment of parts was hijacked on its way to LA, and we had eventually recovered most of them in a coordinated raid by Metro and ATF - one of those arrested had said that they just knew a name - Mateo."

"You remembered that, Sergeant?"

"Yes, I did. It was our first coordinated effort with the ATF, and one of my men was injured. It also didn't help that, soon after, the man who did speak, was found dead in his cell."

"Not by accident, I presume?"

"No, not unless he wrote 'rat' in blood after his death..."

*

"Miss Walsh's information checked out, and after conferring with others in my office, I gave Mariana a deal - she'd assist in helping an officer of ours get an in with Mateo, and we would both reduce her boyfriend's charges and help the two of them leave LA."

"How did she take the deal?"

"She was nervous about having to make the introduction, said Mateo and his crew, especially his second in command, Lucas, were weary of outsiders. She said she'd heard talk from Tyler that Mateo was looking for a snitch in his crew."

"Did Miss Walsh know about the death of..." The IA detective shuffled the paperwork to ensure he'd get the name right, "Darren Sorokin?"

"We believe not. We asked Miss Walsh if she could give us insight into any others, but she only had first names or descriptions that were not of help. Well, other than this Lucas individual."

"This would be Mateo's second in command, yes?"

"Yes. Miss Walsh seemed nervous talking about him, and when I asked her about it, she kindly asked if she could speak to a female officer, if possible. I obliged in her request."

"And who did you bring in?"

"My wife had gone to pick up our children, and Detective Harper was out on a case. I grabbed Officer Chen and they had a private conversation."

"Did Officer Chen disclose to you what Miss Walsh had said?"

"Some. Officer Chen assured me that nothing Miss Walsh had said would impact the agreement we'd had in place, but she did express a desire to assist further in this matter, especially once it came to light that Miss Walsh would need to provide an introduction for the agreement to be upheld."

*

"Detective Lopez, when did you find out about this agreement?"

"My husband had arrived in the evening, and had told me the details of this case, and of Officer Chen's interest in being the UC slated for an introduction."

"Did you act upon it then and there?"

"No. Everyone was tired, so I waited until shift the next morning when I knew Detective Harper should have been back to involve my partner in it."

"So, how many officers were involved?"

"I could not give you an exact number - if we wanted to make sure this went smoothly and we had a chance of stopping whatever 'reckoning' Mariana had overheard, we needed to be efficient, but safe. Detective Harper and I had pulled Officer Chen from roll call, confirming her decision to engage in this operation."

"Do you think Officer Chen was the best choice?"

"Certainly. Officer Chen is one of the only ones in this division to have gone through a rigorous program on covert operations. She and Mariana had already established a connection, and we thought it would be ideal for that to continue."

"So, this was Thursday, yesterday, wait, apologies," the Detective said, looking at his watch, "two days ago now?"

"Yes. This was Thursday. We spent Thursday preparing, ensuring Officer Chen's backstory was perfect, and moving Tyler outside the city, into protective custody. Mariana was able to set up a meeting with Mateo, or, so she thought, through someone she knew as Aaron, at the warehouse."

*

"Other than preparing Metro to assist in case you were needed, did you do anything else?"

"Yes. Once we'd established that there was a probable nexus between this Mateo, and the failed bombing earlier, we sought to identify whether or not we would be interfering with any other ongoing investigations. As a ranking officer, I could access LA Clear."

"Yes, you called in on Thursday at 16:53."

"That sounds about right. I called in, passed the necessary security measures, provided the address, and waited to get the callback."

"What was the response?"

"That particular address was not involved in any other investigations. In other words, we had the green light."

*

"When did you set up shop on Friday?"

"The meeting was scheduled for six, so officers had already started to slowly set up from two in the afternoon onwards. Myself, Detective Harper, Officer Chen, and Sergeant Bradford, along with Mariana, had arrived at half-five, and we'd fitted Mariana with a listening device."

"Officer Chen had a clean phone that we doubled as a listening device, one that she could, at her discretion, switch on and off."

"So, both Mariana and Officer Chen -"

"Adriana, that was her cover identity."

"So, the two of them walked into the warehouse. When did the problems start?"

"Well, Detective, calling them problems makes it seem like there was something wrong on our end. Everything we could do could anticipate, we had. There was always a chance that this Mateo would not show up."

"He did not?"

"No. He did not. But Aaron, Mateo's muscle, whom Mariana had contacted, was present, as well as Lucas."

"The four of them, yes."

*

"You were privy to the wire, Sergeant?"

"Yes. Harper and Lopez had set up shop in a surveillance van, and I was there too."

"As Metro Sergeant, or as a boyfriend?"

"I do not let my personal life mix with my profession, Commander. Metro was on site in the instance that Mateo was there, and we'd be able to apprehend him if the situation so warranted."

"Except, your squad was situated a couple of hundred metres further back from the surveillance van you were in with Detectives Harper and Lopez. And, from reports of the other officers on site, you were not doing a good job separating the two. You had to be restrained by the Detectives."

"Lu... Officer Chen's identity had been compromised. Lucas had called her Lucy Chen - that was crystal clear on the recording."

"Detective Lopez was running point on this operation, correct?"

"Yes."

"And she had decided not to act, correct?"

"Yes. Detective Lopez had stated that Officer Chen had not asked for assistance and that we should trust her judgment."

"What was your next move?"

"I remained in place, continuing to listen into the wire."

"And then?"

"Two shots rang out. Officers were deployed, but Detective Lopez and Harper ordered me to stay. Another shot ran out, and, well, an officer cannot stand by when they hear shots. It's an instinct. I could not stand idly and watch as the officers and my team swarmed but I was sidelined. An officer was potentially in danger."

"Not just any officer, though, Sergeant Bradford?"

"Substitute Officer Chen for any other officer in the LAPD, I would have rushed in the moment those shots rang out."

"I do not discount that, Sergeant, but from what I understand, your desire to run in was... 'overeager'".

"I will not apologise for attempting to do my job."

"Alright, let's put that fact aside - my investigators and I will conclude whether or not further action will be taken on that. After you were freed by another officer, you made your way into the building?"

"Yes. And I came across the Detectives standing over two bodies."

"At this time, do you know the identities of the remains?"

"No."

"Sergeant, you are aware there is therefore a chance that one of those bodies is Officer Chen."

"Yes," Tim breathed out, trying to keep a stoic expression. He'd not cry, no, not over a body he had no assurance was Lucy.

He would not cry before he had concrete proof that it was Lucy.

But it wouldn't be, right?

Commander West forcing him to go through how they got to that stage got him thinking - if Mateo wanted to meet Lucy so badly, he wouldn't have killed her, right, not before he got to meet someone of her calibre.

"Penny for your thoughts, Sergeant?"

Chapter Text

“Mateo made it clear he knew Officer Chen. And he used the phrase ‘someone of your calibre’.”

“Yes, that’s been established in the recording.”

“Yes, so, to what aim was the shooting and subsequent explosion? If Mateo had wanted her dead, surely he’d just done so, but instead, they carried on talking?”

“Sergeant, he might have done so – we have no ID on the two bodies in the morgue yet.”

“I don’t believe Officer Chen is one of them, Sir.”

“With all due respect, Sergeant, what tangible evidence could you base this assumption on?”

“None, at the moment. Call it an officer’s intuition.”

“No disrespect to your intuition, Bradford…”

“Look, Commander,” Tim butted in, “I think by now it is clear that the meet at the warehouse was a set-up of sorts, and if it was, seems like an awfully large amount of work to get to Lucy just to kill her.”

“You think Mateo took Lucy?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

West looked at the Sergeant; he couldn’t begin to understand how the Sergeant was feeling, but there was one thing he knew for certain – he couldn’t have Bradford’s feelings tank the investigation into the explosion nor the search for the two others who’d been in the warehouse, whether or not one of those was Officer Chen.

“Interview concluded at 4:49 am, Saturday…” West dictated, Bradford not listening past that, his mind now circled on the fact that Lucy had a high chance of being alive, at least, per his logic.

Whether that was good or bad, Tim wasn’t too sure. He knew well how sometimes, living could be the greater of two sufferings.

“Bradford, I know you’ve heard this a lot, but you’re going to hear this again – you cannot work this case.”

“I know,” Tim stood up, knowing that he was going to do everything to technically not work it but still do so.

“Am I free to leave?” He asked, getting up.

“Yes. But you might be called later – there’s still going to be scrutiny over your conduct.”

West walked up, putting a hand on the Sergeant’s shoulder, surprising him with such a personal gesture.

“If Officer Chen is one of the fallen, then I extend my sincerest condolences, Sergeant. My son was fond of Officer Chen. But if she is not, and you are right that she is alive, then I wish you godspeed,” Percy West said, heading out of the room first, file in hand.

*

Tim walked out, noticing Angela hovering around, Wesley on the phone to his right.

“Tim,” Angela said, stepping forward, placing a hand on her best friend's shoulder.

“Angela,” Tim said, not really knowing what else to say.

“What… what did West say?”

“The usual ‘you can’t be involved in the investigation’ and so on speech. So I’m going home.”

“Tim, don’t do anything rash, please. But if you’re going to do anything, you call me, you understand?”

“What do you think I’m going to do, Angela? Half of the force thinks Lucy’s as good as dead, and then those that don’t have all but told me to stay away from this.”

“I know you, Bradford. You’re not staying away, not with Lucy involved. And I know you don’t think she’s dead.”

“She’s not, Angela, she’s not dead.”

“I’m not saying she is. I’m saying don’t do anything that might lead to you getting hurt, or worse…”

“If that’s what it takes…” he mumbled under his breath, before realising that maybe that wouldn’t be the best thing to say to Angela right now.

“Angela, it’s nearly 5 am. I’m not going to be doing anything tonight, but go home, go to bed, and come into the station tomorrow. Go to your kids, Angela, I’ll be fine.”

“Hmm, maybe you should stay with me Tim,” Angela said. At least then she could keep an eye on him.

“Thank you, but no. I… I need to be alone, Angela,” he told her, turning and walking towards the elevator, watching the numbers flicker.

*

Tim makes it down to the parking garage on autopilot, climbing into his truck, starting his engine, and pulling out, trying to come up with a plan.

Hell, anything, didn’t even need to be a plan.

He drove back in silence, the emptiness of the passenger seat screaming at him. Lucy should have been by his side, her hand resting on his thigh, the two of them having the briefest of personal debriefs before putting that aside, grateful that the day ended with the both of them safe and sound and in each other’s embrace.

Guilt rose up in him, and he couldn’t help but think that somewhere, somehow, this was his fault, despite everyone telling him otherwise. He was sure if Lucy was here, she’d also tell him to get his head straight and realise that none of this was his doing.

UC was dangerous and sometimes, things did go wrong. That was the luck of the draw, a statistical probability in her line of work.

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

Someone honked at him, and he could feel his anger threatening to spill out, even going as far as opening his car door, but then he stopped himself – he’d do no one good if he ended up in trouble, just as he’d promised Angela that he wouldn’t.

Instead, he turned at the next opportunity, pulling over, closing his eyes and trying to even out his breathing. Except, closing his eyes only put her countenance in front of him, the last look she gave him before she walked in.

And hadn’t walked out.

And now Mateo had her – that was the only plausible explanation, right?

Okay, so maybe the lines were getting blurred a little – Lucy herself had proven that with her Lucy Lesson. And yes, maybe he did overreact, now that he thought about it.

But who wouldn’t at the sight of a building exploding with the one person who was such a large part of their life, that their absence felt like they too were lost?

He looked at the time – 5:38 am. He’d used up enough time already; every second mattered.

Not if you’re too tired you miss something.

He looked around, realising he was close to his house, a house that had slowly begun to bring to order, ready for it to be put on the market. He knew that it was a matter of time before he and Lucy would hit that stage, and as much as he loved her apartment and everything in it (who was he kidding, it was her presence; he’d live out of a cardboard box if she was there), they’d need space. Much more space.

It would make sense to go to his, rather than spend another twenty or so minutes navigating to her, especially since he knew Tamara would be at home.

Snap.

She didn’t know – nobody had told her.

The matter was settled. He’d go home, catch Tamara as she woke up, and make sure she’d find out from him, rather than anyone else.

And maybe, just maybe, sleep could take hold of him if he let himself succumb to it in their bed, surrounded by her.

When he woke up, he’d decide just to what degree he’d screw protocol.

Chapter Text

Tim drove to his house, unlocking the door and not even bothering with the lights, scrambling up to his bedroom, a bedroom that was now foreign to him.

He forced himself to lie down, but almost instantly realised that going to bed was going to be a futile activity – how could he sleep when Lucy was out there?

Lucy Chen’s life could not have such a sudden end, no, not before…

He shook his head as though it could expel such dark thoughts, and hopped into a cold shower, letting the cold water shock him, grounding him.

Lucy needs you to keep a straight head. Straight.

He cycled back through the events all the way up until he pulled up outside his house, furiously wracking his brains, trying to pick at something, anything, that could unravel the mystery of what had happened. Nothing.

The only thing his brain was focused on was her.

Specifically, the last thing she’d told him before Angela did her final check – “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Falser words had not been spoken.

Hell, the only thing he had been able to notice was her absence.

Tim tried to keep himself busy with tasks around the house, waiting for it to be an appropriate hour to saddle himself back into his truck and head over to Lucy’s, but gave up at around 6:17 am, grabbing his keys, tightly gripping around Lucy’s apartment key as he took a bite out of his half-finished, half-burnt disaster of a breakfast (why he thought it was a smart idea to even begin to cook out of edible leftovers he did have was a whole other question) and started the engine.

He spent the entire journey to the apartment thinking of how to break it to Tamara, ensuring she heard the truth from him and not the news or, god forbid, the internet, but it turns out he needn’t have put in much effort.

He turned the key and entered Lucy’s apartment sometime just before seven, his eyes instantly jumping on the cluttered counters in the kitchen.

Dinner.

He’d totally forgotten that he’d placed everything out, ready for when they’d come back that evening. As quietly as he could, he put everything back in its rightful place, making himself a cup of coffee as Tamara walked in, rubbing her eyes, a yawn escaping her.

“Good morning,” Tamara said, before quickly changing pace – “Not a good morning. What happened? Is it Lucy?”

“Wait, you know something?” He asked, and Tamara just shook her head.

“I know nothing, but your face is saying everything. Have you not slept?”“

God, was he so easy to read?

“No. I couldn’t. I think you should sit down,” he told her, but she just firmly crossed her arms, suddenly awake.

“Just… just say it.”

“You know Lucy went undercover, yes?”

“Yeah, in not so many words. She said she might come back late Friday, except you’re here… alone… Is Lucy okay?”

“I… I don’t know…” he got out, annoyed that was the only truthful answer he could give her, an answer marred with ambiguity and one that was as far from clarity as humanly possible.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Is she in hospital? Is she…?”

“She’s not dead. No. I don’t believe it.”

“Wait, believe it? Someone thinks she’s dead?”

Tim was certain he could see the gears in her brain turn, and he mentally kicked himself for answering with such short sentences.

“Yesterday, the building Lucy was in exploded. They found two bodies, charred. They’re running tests to identify them, but right now.”

“Lucy could be one of them.”

“She isn’t,” Tim snapped, before taking a deep breath, “she can’t be. I… I better get going.”

“Going where – Tim, you look like a train ran over you. You shouldn’t be driving anywhere.”

“I need to be out there looking for Lucy,” he said, leaving the full coffee mug on the counter and leaving the apartment before Tamara could point out the flaws in his not-so-much plan as a general vague sense of purpose.

He wasn’t going to listen to her, though, was he?

Who would he listen to?

Lucy, yes duh, but in her absence?

Hmm, she could call Tim’s boss, but she didn’t want to get him in trouble, no. What about Sergeant Grey? Maybe he could help her out? Hmm, maybe not – if Lucy was indeed in trouble, he was most likely working on that.

Ah!

Tamara reached for her phone, scrolling through her notes.

Lucy had told her once that if something ever happened to her, and Tim was not there, she should reach out to Detective Lopez, that she would know what to do.

Please, know what to do.

“This is Wesley Evers,” came a response after four rings.

“Um,” Tamara pulled her phone away from her ear before her mind computed that it did make sense that Wesley would be answering Detective Lopez’s phone, “is Detective Lopez around?”

“Not at this moment. Who is this?”

“Tamara Colins. I need to speak to Detective Lopez. It’s about Tim.”

“Give me a second.” Tamara could hear rustling over the line, and then a sleepy voice – “This is Angela Lopez speaking.”

“Hi, Lucy told me if something ever happened, I could call you?”

“Tamara?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay Tamara?”

“Yes. I’m okay. It’s not me I’m calling about. I’m worried about Tim.”

“Oh god, what’s he done?” Tamara could hear the detective’s exasperation.

“Nothing, yet. But he said he hadn’t slept and that he was going to look for Lucy. I told him I don’t think he should be driving, but…”

“Oh, let me deal with Bradford. Is there anything you need?” Angela asked, and Tamara was taken a little aback by such a question.

“Um… I think I’ll be alright, but if it’s okay, can I call you later?”

“You can call anytime, or come down to the station.”

“Thank you.”

Tamara made her own way out of the apartment, heart a little more comforted by the fact that someone would keep an eye on Tim. Lucy would be happy.

Lucy.

She hoped that she would be alright, that Tim was right, and that Lucy was alive. If she was to lose someone else…

*

Am I blind?

Lucy was certain she’d opened her eyes, but moving them resulted in nothing new, everything was pitch black.

She was thrown up with a jolt, and winced out in pain, before realising she also couldn’t hear her own wince clearly either.

Had the explosion messed with her hearing too?

Breathe. Breathe. Just Breathe.

She tried to calm her racing heart, but the bits and pieces she was computing through her awful headache were adding up to a whole lot of trouble.

Alive. Alive, but judging by everything, not for too long, not if she stayed in this state no.

Someone wanted her alive.

That was never good, not in her line of work.

She rolled onto her back, wincing at the pressure she put on her hands, before quickly turning back onto her side, a somewhat less painful position if she ignored the burning pain in her hands.

Ignore the pain. Ignore it.

Easier said than fucking done.

A sudden braking, and she found herself thrown against whatever was with her, her lungs screaming for air, her head worse for wear.

Air.

Water.

Air.

Water.

SHUT UP!

She wouldn’t get anywhere if all her body was screaming out for was more air or water, none of which she was going to get soon, no, not with whatever rag was thrust into her mouth so deep she was worried that any deeper breath, and she’d certainly die of asphyxiation.

Not that she could take a deep breath either – every shallow breath was a battle in itself, and Lucy found herself unable to focus on both that and trying to free herself, the pain receptors firing all over, giving her no reprieve.

As for her sight, well, she was now more than certain that the blindfold that was tight around her head was not helping her headache nor her breathing, the bottom of it painfully sitting over the bridge of her nose.

Mariana. Where was Mariana?

She felt the movement stop, and she braced herself for whatever came next, but the darkness remained just as dark, no sounds reaching her ears.

Why was it so quiet?

And then she heard the shot.

Well, shots.

Three in rapid succession.

And then nothing again.

Chapter Text

“Coffee?” Nyla handed her partner a cup, and Angela more or less gulped it down in one go as she frustratingly read through all the reports that had been collected from last night, hoping that maybe the clues as to what went wrong were vested there.

“Do I need to send someone out for more, or?”

“He never listens,” Angela muttered under her breath.

“What?”

“Tim Bradford never listens,” Angela said, leaving the papers on her desk and wheeling her chair to Nyla’s desk, where her partner had just settled.

“What’s he done now?”

“Nothing, yet. Tamara called me this morning at half six, telling me that Tim was going off to look for Lucy and saying that she was worried.”

“What did you do?”

“Only sent half a dozen texts to him this morning, and tried to call him but I’ve just been sent to voicemail every time. Tamara popped into the station, hoping he’d be here.”

“He didn’t come in this morning?”

“No. But Grey said he got a message in the morning telling him that he’ll come in later.” Angela seemed like she was going to add something else, but her phone dinged and she jumped up, finishing the last of her coffee drops.

“They’re bringing in Tyler Flynn. Maybe he has some answers.”

“You mean other than ‘Lawyer’?”

“He doesn’t know Mariana came to us and offered to help to get him out. Maybe that knowledge might help.”

“But he also doesn’t know that Mariana could be dead, Angela.”

“No, that he doesn’t. He doesn’t have to know, right? Not yet.”

“Well, I guess you better go in before Monica gets wind of this.”

“Oh I’m certain she caught wind as soon as they transported him over, but lawyer or no lawyer, maybe Tyler cares as much for Mariana as she did for him.”

*

“Great. You again,” Tyler got out as he caught sight of Angela, “and who are you?”

“Detective Harper.”

“Good, guess I’ll know what names to tell my lawyer when she gets here. I want my lawyer.”

“And so you’ll get her. But, Tyler, if you’re not planning on talking, you should listen,” Nyla told him.

“Are you charging me with something new?”

“Do we need to?”

Tyler stayed silent, and so Angela took over – “Tyler, Mariana…”

“Don’t you get my girl involved, Detective, or trust me, that tussle I had with that officer will look like a warm-up.”

“Is that a threat, Tyler? I can arrange for additional charges if you so wish, but then we won’t get to talk about how Mariana came into the station asking to protect you.”

“Fuck,” Tyler mumbled under his breath.

“Yeah, she came into the station, worried for you, and now you won’t extend her the same courtesy?”

“I extended her every courtesy, Detective,” Tyler spat out, trying to keep a straight face, but the Detectives were certain they could see his bravado slipping, “I told her talking to the cops was going to put a target on us.”

“Evidently, she loved you enough to risk that.”

“What did she offer?”

“Excuse me?”

“What did she say she wanted for me, and what did she promise?”

“Mariana wanted you safe, in exchange for information.”

“What information?”

“Does that matter?”

“Was it about Mateo?”

“Tyler,” Nyla begun.

“Was it about Mateo?” Tyler asked again, borderline shouting.

“Yes,” Angela got out, and Tyler threw his face into his hands.

“Where is Mariana?” Tyler asked, and the Detectives looked at each other.

“You need to find her, now. If Mateo gets wind –”

“Tyler, what did I say about talking without me being present?” Monica stormed in, briefcase on the table, glaring at Angela and Nyla.

“And you two should know better than to talk to my client without a lawyer present. Maybe I haven’t taken the both of you to court enough.”

“One, your client was discussing matters freely with us, and two, try, Monica, and I will gladly take a day off to see Wesley smear the courtroom floor with you.”

“Let’s not get too personal, then, Detective Lopez. Give me a minute with my client, will you.”

Lopez and Harper stepped up.

“Tyler, I am not going to repeat this again – under no circumstances do you talk to the cops without me being in the room.”

“They were not talking about the charges, Monica, alright. They asked about Mariana.”

“Mariana?”

“My girlfriend.”

“What does she have to do with your case?”

“Nothing, not with the drugs charges or assaulting an officer. You said you’d get me out of it.”

“And I said I’m working on it. And you’re going to make my life harder if you don’t tell me everything. Why were they asking you about your girlfriend?”

“They told me she came here, told the cops I needed protecting.”

“Protection from what?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler told her, not exactly being truthful, but also not lying. The detectives had told him that Mariana had said something about Mateo, but they hadn’t said anything else. Mateo was the one paying for this swanky lawyer, and he was certain that lawyer-client privilege would not save him if she told Mateo that his girl had name-dropped him to the LAPD.

He knew all too well what Mateo did with rats, and there was no way he was going to end up like that. Not him, not Mariana. No.

“Look, Monica, I am alright, okay. I’m fine. Now, can you please get me out before I end up racking more charges of assaulting an officer?”

“Are you going to talk to them?”

“No. I won’t.”

Monica seemed satisfied and left, glaring at the detectives as she made her leave.

Lopez and Angela filed back in, taking their places once again.

“Tyler, an officer is going to be back to take you into custody –“

“Wait. Mariana. Where is she?”

“We don’t know, Tyler.”

“No, no. You said Mariana came to you and said she could help. And if she said she could help with Mateo, there is no way you just let her go. Not when I was leverage. Shit, she never listens.”

“Mariana came to help you Tyler, so let us help you. Tell us what you know about Mateo.”

“No. Not until Mariana is safe. And even then, maybe no.”

“We can protect you.”

“No, no you can’t. You don’t even know where Mariana is. And if you don’t know, and Mateo knows she talked to you, she’s dead. Fuck, take me back. Take me to prison, whatever. I ain’t talking.”

“Tyler –”

“You find Mariana, I’ll talk.”

Lopez and Harper gave up, walking out of interrogation and waving to the officer, letting Tyler be someone else’s headache, at least until they work out Mariana’s fate.

“You know she could be dead, Angela. And once we do…”

“He’ll eventually find out too. And then he’s definitely not going to talk to us.”

“Doubt he was going to talk to us anyway.”

“What’s he doing back here?” Nyla and Angela turned around to see Tim, in his uniform, striding towards them.

“Did he say something? Does he know if Mariana tipped him off?”

“Tim. Tim,” Angela said, hand on his arm, as though trying to tame a wild animal, “let us deal with Tyler. Now, where the fuck were you? I called you a dozen times, and I was this close to pinging your cell phone.”

“Angela, I’m alright.”

“Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately, Bradford? We’re all worried and you decide to go AWOL for hours? After I told you not to do anything stupid?”

“I didn’t do anything stupid, Angela,” he said, and looked up, noticing lingering glances from officers in the bullpen, and then mumbled, “Not here. My office.”

He briskly walked there, letting Angela and Nyla in before shutting the door.

“I went back, alright. I went back to the scene. That’s where I’ve been all day.”

“You know a text or call back wouldn’t hurt.”

“I left my phone in my trunk, and then when I saw that you’d more or less drained my phone battery, I came here, to see if you’d had any luck.”

“Tim, until we know the identities of the bodies…”

“Officially, yes, you can’t search for Lucy, but Angela, listen, she’s not dead, and I can’t just sit around when all of you are investigating.”

“So you went to the site. What did you find?”

“Nyla,” Angela looked at her partner, ”you’re not supposed to encourage him. He’s supposed to sit tight and not have me woken up with worried phone calls from Tamara.”

Shit.

“I told her I was alright,” Tim said.

“What you say and what you actually feel and do are two different things, Tim. And evidently, that was enough to warrant Tamara calling me.”

“I’m sorry, Angela, that she woke you up.”

“Can we tally up apologies later? Look, not encouraging, but you did spend hours at the scene, anything?”

“Techs were just collecting more evidence, one of them said it seemed that it wasn’t a single explosion, but rather multiple smaller ones that were designed to go off simultaneously.”

“Any reason for that?”

“Something about targeting the building’s weak spots – but the tech seems to think something went wrong.”

“Why’s that?”

“Says that the explosives were set to remotely detonate, but had a timer as a backup.”

“So what’s the mistake?”

“The timer on one of the devices was less damaged than others. It wasn’t designed to go off when it did – it was set for later.”

“So the detonation wasn’t planned for when Lucy was in the building?”

“No. It wasn’t. This proves my point – they knew who Lucy was. She wasn’t intended to be killed.”

“Either way, Lucy is either one of the two dead, or she is missing – anyway they could have bypassed our perimeter?”

“Nothing yet, but there is a lot of debris, techs told me at least one more day, but closer to two.”

*

Lucy had stilled when the gunshots rang out, forcing herself to relax despite everything telling her to fight, and get away as far as she could.

Ha, on what energy? There’d be enough time later for pitiful escape attempts.

She heard the trunk open, a thud beside her.

“Won’t make the same mistake again, will you?” Lucy could hear Lucas’ voice and her breath stilled – what was Lucas waiting for?

“At least even in his stupidity he didn’t kill you,” he carried on, and she could feel Lucas’ hand on her cheek.

Get your grubby hands off me.

“Hmm, guess Mateo might have to take it slow with you, Lucy Chen.”

The trunk shut, and Lucy went back to focusing on her breathing, now acutely aware that she was sharing the already small space with a dead body.

At least we won’t have to share the air.

Lucy had tried to keep track of time, and at least a general sense of direction, but she had no way of knowing how long she was out.

I could be in Mexico for all I know.

She rolled again, onto her stomach. Wetness seeped through her shirt, branding her skin.

Blood.

She rolled back onto her numb arm, trying to ignore the feeling of the unknown blood causing her shirt to stick to her, the headache that was making it difficult to think, the way her body felt like it was going to shut down every time she shifted; every time she moved position slightly to ease her pain, another screamed out in replacement.

Was that Mariana lying beside her?

Did Mateo know she spoke to the cops?

What the fuck had happened?

She wasn’t going to get any of the answers tied up in the back of a vehicle, no, but if this Mateo was so intent on meeting her, she was going to give him Lucy Chen, alright.

Just like another UC, Lucy – you’re not showing him pain.

No.

Chapter Text

“You’re coming with me Bradford,” Angela barged into Tim’s office, arms crossed, startling Tim who was quite literally hidden by the stack of paperwork on his desk.

“What’s all this?” she asked, gesturing at the paperwork before taking a peek at the notepad in front of him, some of the names familiar – “Lucy’s cases?”

“Yes. I’ve been going through every single case Lucy’s been involved in.”

“Hmm, should have guessed that as soon as I walked in. You know you could have asked for help – it must be hundreds of cases.”

“Angela, in no uncertain terms I’ve been told to stay away from this case – I can’t have you helping me with my investigation if it means you might get pulled off the actual one.”

“Tim, let me worry about that. And if you think you’re being stealthy about still investigating, you’re not.”

“Only you and Lucy barge into my office, Angela.”

“Relying on your door is not stealth. Found anything?” Angela asked, flipping the pages in his notebook.

“None of the names are right, Angela. Some are dead, most in custody, and the ones that are out, well, that pile there –” he pointed at a smaller pile at the edge of the pile, “but none of those names have any links to any of our players. All of these cases, and none are pointing us to who took Lucy.”

Took Lucy – Angela took note of Tim’s phrasing, his continued belief that Lucy was out there, alive.

She hoped her best friend was right, because if one of those bodies was Lucy…

“Angela, you barged in here telling me to come with you. Where were we going?” Tim asked the Detective.

“Oh, that. Leave everything, go get changed, and meet me outside. Don’t you dare leave without me!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tim was not going to argue with Angela, not after he had technically ignored her all day. She left him, and he squared all the files on his desk, debating whether to take his notebook or not before deciding that the last thing he wanted today was to be scolded by her, again.

He had questions, too many questions  - Who were the two bodies? Who was this Mateo? How did this all link back to the failed bombing? Why did the building explode earlier?

Why did Mateo want to meet Lucy? More importantly, how did he know who she was?

Questions, but no answers. Answers he didn’t think he was going to get today, no. He took one last look at his desk, eyes settling on the photo that was strategically placed just off-centre.

Wherever you are, I’m going to find you, Luce.

*

“Thought I was going to need to barge into the men’s locker room. Anyway, you can leave your truck here, and hop in with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Mine, Tim. We’re having dinner, and then you’re sleeping, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Alright, not arguing, but can I get my go-bag?”

“Sure, but chuck your truck keys,” Angela commanded, and he did so without a fight.

*

“Thanks for dinner, Angela,” Tim told her as he helped her clear the table despite her protests. A cry arose in the room next door and Angela dashed out, replaced by Wesley.

“Hey, Wesley, anything new on Tyler Flynn?”

“Ah, despite Monica’s protest, both charges are sticking – hearing is on Tuesday, and I’m going to ask for remand, you know, considering the circumstances.”

“Good, good.”

“Thank you for coming, by the way.”

“I think I should be the one thanking you for the dinner, Wesley.”

“Ah, it’s not the dinner – thank you for easing Angela’s mind, just a little. She was on edge all day after Tamara called and, she’s worried. She’s been trying to hide it all day but… I could tell.”

“I don’t think I’m easing her mind.”

“You did by turning up tonight.”

“Remember, you’re staying as well!” Angela said, coming back empty-handed – “Jack’s asleep, which means now we can go and get some rest too. And that includes you, Tim. Sleep. Grey texted – briefing tomorrow.”

Fifteen minutes later the last light in the house had dimmed, but Tim still lay, restless, mindlessly scrolling on his phone until he too fell asleep, the glare of his lock screen the only sporadic light.

*

The engine stalled, the sudden stop rolling her back into the other body, another flare of pain travelling up her back.

Silence, until she heard the trunk open, and felt the body she was forced to share the trunk with disappear, an unceremonious thud echoing somewhere.

A pair, wait two pairs of hands on her. She tried to shuffle out, but the iron grip strengthened around her arm, the pain threatening to take her consciousness too. Her back hit something hard, and a muffled whimper escaped.

More hands roamed around her ankles, and now she was certain that there were three pairs of hands prodding her, but she stopped focusing on that when she realised her wrists were free. She brought them to her front, fast, aiming downwards towards where she was certain someone was based on the still lingering grip, and heard a yelp of pain.

Her satisfaction didn’t last long – the other two pairs of hands left her momentarily, before she felt them around her wrists, the all too familiar sound of cuffs locking, her face slammed into something, dazing her.

Then, she felt the fabric brush roughly across her face, and then someone’s grip twisting her hair painfully, forcing her to look up, a man standing in front of her, arms crossed, grin across his face.

“Lucy Chen, what an honour.” The man paced forward, planting his hands on the other side of the table, towering over Lucy. She tried to shuffle but had realised what all the hands were doing beforehand – getting herself out of these new bonds was going to take a lot of patience, and a lot of time.

The grip on her hair loosened, and she felt cold fingers pulling the gag from behind her teeth. Everything ached, and she decided she wouldn’t interrupt whom she assumed was Mateo.

“You know, it took me years to put a face to your name. I mean, your true name,” he carried on, pulling out the chair opposite her, eyes staring into hers.

Nothing. Nothing was coming to mind. If this was Mateo, she had no idea what his vendetta was.

“You see, first I saw your photo, one of the men floated around the name Sava Wu. Looks uncannily like you, but, you know, following her around for a week was enough to prove that she was not the person I was looking for… no.”

He took a breath, continuing, “Then the name Nova Lin floated in, but apparently Nova Lin is serving time. Dead end, right? Wrong. Nova Lin is serving time on paper, but nobody’s heard of her in the joint. I spent months with no answers, until two more names stuck with your face – Jamie Hall and Lisa Thompson.”

“Except Jamie Hall and Lisa Thompson don’t exist either. Not really,” another voice joined in behind her, a voice that she didn’t recognise.

“Thank you for that, Oliver. So many names, so many aliases, who was the true you?”

Mateo stopped, noting Lucy’s eyes betraying the fact her mind was still trying to work out how she had crossed paths with him.

“You didn’t meet me as either, no. In fact, you probably don’t remember me, but I remember you, Rachel. I remember you well.”

Rachel? When had she been – oh. No, nobody knew about Rachel, that was buried, that was supposed to be buried under miles of red tape, the true identity of Rachel Lowe a bureaucratic nightmare to unwrap.

“You forgot to mention Amber, boss,” Lucy turned her head to see the familiar face of Lucas, loitering to the side.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget the first spark that brought me closer to you? You see, Lucy Chen, I am a huge admirer. I’m so glad you’re here. You have so much to pay for.”

“What did I do?” Lucy managed to get out, voice hoarse. No, seriously, who the fuck was Mateo and what was his grudge against her?

“Think, Rachel, back to what you did.”

“Why don’t you just spit it out instead of playing games?”

“You don’t like games? Well, neither did Jorge and yet you played him down to the final heartstring, Rachel. This…” Mateo gestured, “This is all for Jorge.”

Lucy’s eyes widened as the information sunk in.

This is all for Jorge.

Oh, her death was going to take a while.

Chapter Text

“Think about it, Lucy Chen. Rest on it. We can talk more in the morning,” Mateo told her, his footsteps echoing until there was nothing to hear but her own ragged breathing.

One. Two. Three. Four. Slow down, right down.

This is all for Jorge.

The only Jorge who knew her as Rachel Lowe was Jorge Molina, and he was allegedly dead. Allegedly dead and buried in some pine box in some unmarked grave.

Good riddance.

She placed her head on the table in front of her between her hands, testing the cuffs once again, but all she managed to do was dig them deep into her wrists, barely a millimetre between her wrists and the table they were strapped to.

Rest on it Mateo had told her. Was he really going to let her sleep through the night?

It was not safe to let down her guard, no, but she knew that if she didn’t steal these minutes for some semblance of sleep, she might not get another opportunity.

She closed her eyes, but it was not a peaceful dream that haunted her, no, but rather her subconscious flooding her with that time, an informational overload on the life of Rachel Lowe and Jorge Molina, and everyone else she’d crossed paths during that month and a bit.

A month that nobody in the LAPD truly knew about, a month that she was bound under penalty of prison to never talk about, a month that uncovered a group that if the public – hell, even seasoned law enforcement professionals – would have known about, would have set in motion events that could have devastated the country.

And how did she get involved? By the sheer dumb luck of being enrolled at the DEA Covert Operations Training Academy when Special Agent in Charge Helen Knight of the DEA was seeking fresh faces to help her with her investigation.

*

“Good work today. You impressed many,” the instructor approached Lucy as everyone filed out at the end of the day.

“Thank you, Instructor Powell. Your tricks came in handy.”

“Well, they don’t keep me around for my good looks,” he chuckled, before adding, “10 PM, back here. SAC Knight wants to see you.”

Lucy had left a little confused, but heeded the request, returning back at 9:50 PM to see SAC Knight with a handful of other agents, as well as another classmate

“So nice of you to join us, please…”

“Hmm, you got the callback too?” Lucy turned her head to see the familiar face of the Detective behind her, arms crossed.

“Maybe I’m in the wrong room, Noah,” she quipped, “because after yesterday, I think Knight be here to see you crash and burn again.”

“Oh, is that how we’re going to play it, hot pants?” Noah gripped his chest, feigning a look of shock.

Before Lucy could quip back, Knight had begun, roping her and seven others into the most dangerous op she probably would ever complete, before she even graduated the program.

Knight had given them the choice to join - after all, taking part in an actual op was not in the curriculum - but neither had backed down.

When everything was set in motion, Knight had told them four pairs of UCs had been sent in, none aware of each other, keeping everything compartmentalised.

Everything, it seemed, was on a need-to-know.

Even to those going in.

*

The op had started off well, extremely well.

Lucy (well, Rachel, as she was known) had a steady stream of intel going back to Helen, who had decided to be her and Foster’s personal handler.

“Helen doesn’t just take anyone,” Powell had told her, “she sees promise in you.”

An incident was staged during what should have been a routine gun run, and Lucy ended up gaining the trust of Eduardo Molina, Jorge’s youngest brother. With such trust came better intel – and access to Jorge.

Five weeks under, Lucy was able to acquire crucial intel that glued the dots of the vast Molina empire, dots that highlighted a plot to systematically target the alphabet agencies, taking out the heads of such organisations during a rare occurrence when they’d all be in the same room, before going down the agency food chain.

Then came the takedown.

One hundred and seventeen initial arrests, including Eduardo and Jorge Molina, with the number up to one hundred and ninety-one by the time Lucy had finished her training and put the mission behind her.

Tonnes of drugs and ammo funding them were confiscated and destroyed.

Dozens of agency heads saved from a fatal fate.

The win was, and probably still is, immeasurable. Somewhere in the halls of the training school lay a medal inscribed with her name, an award that was also a secret except to a select few.

But such a victory came at a cost - the takedown was much bloodier than expected, with thirty-eight members of various agencies dying instantly, and another four from injuries afterwards.

Worse, one of the UC pairs gave their life, and Lucy was ashamed to say that she never found out who the two were, or if they were even two from her own UC class. She knew a lot, but the sum total of her knowledge was just a fraction, the rest ‘above her pay grade’.

Perhaps there were more, but after Lucy was debriefed and attended a closed hearing, the events were firmly in her past.

Or so she thought.

*

The rumours – what if they were true?

After the op, things had gone back to more or less normal, and she finished up her training, albeit separately with her UC partner Detective Noah Foster, but she crossed paths with some of her old classmates, and with some of the new recruits, a handful of which she’d found out were tapped to stay on the case. Talks of a splinter movement that had survived trickled throughout the school, with some whispers even talking about an inside man.

She’d reached out to Knight, who assured her that the allegations were being looked into, but that Lucy need not concern herself with the case – she’d done her part, and she could safely and confidently go back to the LAPD, Rachel Lowe a cover now buried under red tape and authorisation requests.

And so she’d done that, bid farewell to everyone and made her way back to the LAPD, not thinking much of anything, the case only coming back to her when Noah had called for an assist and she’d rushed out of bed, Tim at her six, getting him out of his predicament.

Tim.

What was he doing right now?

Do you know I’m alive?

Do you know how deep this all goes?

Are you in the dark?

*

“Up, Bradford! Up!” Tim awoke to rapid rapping on the door, and for a second was confused at the foreign surroundings, a voice that was not Lucy’s waking him up.

“Tim, we’re gonna be late for the briefing.”

“I’m up, Angela, I’m up!” he responded, quickly changing and graciously accepting a cup of coffee from her.

“Any more info about the briefing?”

“Nothing yet – Grey wants to get everyone involved in the initial case, and having some Feds over because of Mateo.”

“Any news on the bodies?”

“No. Sorry, Tim.” Angela placed her hand on her best friend’s shoulder, wishing she could do more than just offer her apologies for the events that had transpired.

*

“Okay, everyone, settle down. There’s a lot of acronyms here today, a lot of new faces, and you’ll get a chance to network after the briefing,” Grey called out, the conversations dying down.

“The techs have finished combing through the scene and have now released it. The lab is working on everything found, but there is a very high probability that the signature of the explosion matches that of last month’s failed bombing. Special Agents from the FBI are here to give you all a rundown of their investigation so far…

*

Mateo sat down beside Oliver, watching as he cleaned his weapon.

“Did you get rid of him?” Mateo asked, and Oliver nodded.

“Yes. He’s not going to be a problem anymore.”

“Good. I have a meeting tomorrow to discuss this. I fear this was no accident.”

“You think they wanted to take you out? After keeping them afloat?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that we still have a rat somewhere. Perhaps Officer Chen can help us with this.”

“You know, you never did say why you hate her so much.”

“I hate them all. They killed my brother, they tore down our operation. I’m doing this for him.”

“I know. But why her? I looked at the list of things you want – we didn’t put this much effort into the last two.”

“No, because she was the one who got close. You know Eduardo told me that she saved him and that afterwards Jorge kept a close eye on her – he thought Rachel Lowe showed promise, and a lot of it.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. She shot Eduardo during the takedown, and then she put Jorge in cuffs. And you know what happened when Jorge went to the joint?”

“Elena and the kids,” Oliver said, knowing full well what happened – he’d managed to avoid getting pinched during the raid, sheer luck that he was halfway across the country for a while, meeting Rachel Lowe just once. Not many others were that lucky – when news of the takedown spread by those few who’d escaped, Oliver had returned to find almost everyone dead or jailed. Elena had called him as a last resort, but when he got to them...

Well, Oliver had seen violence and dispensed some of his own, but this was something that would never leave his mind.

“Yeah. We’re going to get rid of them all, but not before dispensing some justice. We were not the only ones wronged by them.”

“They’re going to pay. All of them. Right, you going to keep an eye on her?”

“Yes. Lucas is going to take over in a couple of hours anyway.”

“Good. I might need you for Clarisse; she looks like she’s not going to make it until tomorrow morning after all.”

*

“Sergeant Grey,” an officer popped their head into the room, interrupting the special agent’s spiel that frankly was not answering any of the questions Tim still had, “you asked for this to be delivered to you personally.”

The officer stepped in, handing him an envelope. He opened it, the entire room silent as they waited for Sergeant Grey to share.

“Lab managed to get some samples to test and ran it against the system. We don’t know the identities of the body because one isn’t in the system, and the other identification is restricted.”

“Lucy’s alive?” Tim asked – Lucy’s DNA would be in the system, it would have pinged straight away.

“Yes. Officer Chen is not one of the two bodies.”

Tim excused himself, heading to his office, relieved that his optimism was vindicated, but by the time he sat down in his chair, it had turned to fear.

Lucy may not have been one of the bodies, but if she was alive, there was no telling what she was going through.

*

“Rise and shine, Officer Chen,” Mateo slapped his palms on the table, and Lucy jolted upright, jerking out of her restless sleep.

If anything, she felt worse for wear.

“Remember Jorge now?” Mateo asked, and Lucy nodded.

“Yes. But who is Jorge to you, Mateo?” Lucy asked; she’d wracked her brains but had come up empty in terms of a connection.

Mateo just smiled – hmm, so if she didn’t know…

“Mateo, Mateo!” she heard someone beckon, and Mateo left her alone, once again without an answer.

“This better be serious,” Mateo warned Lucas.

“It is.”

“Lucky reprieve, Officer Chen," she heard somewhere behind her, "Next time you see me, you won’t be so unscathed.”

Chapter Text

“Tim,” Angela opened the door to his office, her best friend sat at his desk, all of his attention focused on his screen.

“Who are the two?”

“What?” Angela asked, a little confused.

“If the two bodies aren’t Lucy, who are they? Is one Mariana? Is one Lucas? Or is it Aaron? Is it someone else?”

“Tim…”

“And restricted? Why would one of the IDs be restricted?”

“Tim!” Angela raised her voice, snapping Tim out of his vocalised stream of thoughts, “You missed the latter half of the briefing.”

“I know, I just needed space, Angela. Lucy is alive, Angela, Lucy is alive.”

“I know.”

“She’s been alive this entire time, and we could have been looking for her, but instead half of the department was ready to hold a funeral procession for her,” Tim stood up, eyes level with Angela’s, “He has her, Angela, he has her.”

“That’s the working theory,” Angela said, grabbing a seat opposite him as Tim too sat down, “Lucy’s now officially missing, Tim. Every agency is doing everything to find her. And we will find her, Tim, we will.”

“How, Angela? How can we do everything if we don’t know anything?” he asked, “we know nothing about Mateo, except for his name, for the fact that he is planning something, and he had something to do with the failed bombing last month, oh, and he has his fingers in a lot of pies. None of this, none of it, explains why he wanted Lucy, how he knew who she was, and what he’s doing now. I’m telling you, he has her, and we know nothing that could get her back.”

“Not yet, no,” Angela agreed with Tim’s assessment, “but we will. Like I said, every agency is going to work on us with this – like you said, Mateo has his fingers in many pies, and so everyone wants to get their hands on him.”

“Not as much as I do, Angela. Not as much as I do. Angela, if we get to Lucy and he…”

“Tim, we can deal with what to do with him once we get him.”

“Fine. The restricted ID on the body, what’s that about?”

“Not sure yet. When you walked out, I asked, but there were a lot of shaking heads, a lot of promises to see if it was their agency who put the restriction.”

“What about the one not in our system?”

“Probabilities-wise, I think the ID is going to come back as Mariana’s. Sent officers to go over to her address, and see if they can get us something with her DNA. Should know by end of day.”

“So what do we do? Because I’m not going to sit around here and wait for other agencies. I am not going to sit here and wait until we follow threads that might not lead anywhere. I went through the rest of those files, and I’m at a loss here, Angela. I don’t think any of these past cases are going to help us.”

“So let’s put them to the side. Focus on this case. We don’t know who Mateo is, no, so what is there that we can work out, right here, right now?”

“How they got away. Lucy and whoever else is alive, how did they get away unscathed?”

“Good, good question. So let’s go and see if we can work it out. Come.” Angela extended her hand, beckoning for him. He got up, grabbed his jacket and left the office, following her.

“Tim, Angela. Was going to see if I could catch you. Listen, I know the briefing gave us more questions than answers. We’ve had a long weekend already – you two should clock off early, and come back tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you for the offer, Sir, but there’s work to be done. Lucy is alive, but she’s not safe.”

“I know. We’ve got everyone on it.”

“Respectfully, everyone is not me.”

“And that is exactly why I think you should take the rest of this weekend off, Tim. You know you technically can’t work this case.”

“I will not change my answer, and I’m not going to let everyone search for Lucy whilst I’m cooped out at home. Angela and I are going to return back to the site, and see if we can work out how someone could have made it out alive.”

Tim left, leaving Angela alone with Grey.

“He’s not going to listen, is he?”

“Grey, you know what happened on the scene – he’s not going to listen to anyone. So I’m going to keep him in my sights – if he’s not at the station, or at home, I will be keeping an eye on him.”

“Good. Thank you, Detective. What do you hope to find at the scene?”

“I don’t know. Whilst techs know that the explosives link to last month, there’s still no idea how anyone could have made it out. But then, nobody has been able to make it down to the lower levels – perhaps something is down there.”

“I hope you’re not going to try and go down there yourself?” Grey asked.

“No. Going to have an engineer and LAFD down there, see if they could help out.”

“Good. Keep an eye on him.”

Angela nodded.

*

Lucy had been left alone, again.

Nothing to do but try to take in every centimetre of her surroundings, spending hours pointlessly trying to pull her hands out of the cuffs, watching the blood on her scratched wrists slowly dry.

Or the sound of water dripping somewhere in the distance, echoing across the vast space, a space that she could not compute the extent of, not when it was so purposefully dark.

What was his endgame?

Sometime later, she heard something new.

A whimper? Or was it a cry?

She stilled, and when she didn’t hear it again, she convinced herself her mind was playing tricks on her.

She couldn’t afford that, no. She had to keep her mind clear, unfazed.

But then she heard it again.

No. Someone else was here. Someone else was here with her.

Was that where he was? Busy hurting someone else before it was her turn?

The cries died down, and a couple of minutes later Mateo came back into her line of sight, once again towering across the table, the unmistakeable blood stains on his shirt a stark contrast to the sharp suit he was wearing.

“Now, where were we?”

Chapter Text

“You were going to tell me who Jorge was to you, Mateo,” Lucy responded, aiming to be unfazed by the blood spatter on Mateo’s shirt.

“Do you seriously not know?” Mateo asked, amused.

“No, so I suggest you skip the games and answer the question.”

“I think you’re forgetting your place, Lucy Chen. I’m the one asking the questions, I am the one who holds your fate in your hands. You answer my questions – you owe me that and so much more. I owe you nothing.”

“I owe you nothing. I do not know you, Mateo.”

“You do not know me, not yet. But you will. And you do owe me, Lucy, you owe me for every single death when you took down Eduardo and Jorge. You owe me for the fact that Eduardo is in prison, and Jorge is dead…”

“Dead?” Lucy asked – the last she knew, Jorge was in jail, serving time alongside his brother, destined to never be a free man. Some rumours had spiralled that he was dead, in a pine box six feet under, but that was never confirmed. Well, more like she hadn't cared at the time - dead or in prison for life, Lucy was never going to see Jorge Molina ever again.

“Dead, Lucy, dead.”

“Who is Jorge to you?” Lucy asked, “You keep talking about him, I know about him, I knew everything there was to know about him. Him and Eduardo. You never cropped up, Mateo, so who are you?”

Mateo chuckled – “Evidently not everything, Lucy, because if you did, you’d know who I am.”

“I’m sorry, is it some big secret? You’re avoiding the question.”

“You really want to know? Jorge and Eduardo were my brothers, Lucy, my flesh and blood.”

Lucy froze at that. Mateo was lying, Eduardo and Jorge were the only sons of Alicia and Nicholas Molina. There was no third brother. But why would Mateo be lying about that? She looked at him, trying to read him, but the residual pain she was still in was affecting her judgment.

“You don’t believe me. Well, it doesn’t matter, but I am going to tell you this, Lucy, I will not lie to you. I have no need to lie to you. I will not lie, and I hope that you will not lie either.”

Lucy scoffed at that – “I will not lie, Mateo, but that’s because I will not tell you anything.”

“Trust me, you’ll talk. They always do. I’ve just been a little preoccupied with some others, but you’ll get your turn. You’ll talk.”

Mateo walked around, standing behind her, hands on her shoulders, unable to hold back a whimper of pain when Mateo pushed down, as though trying to push her through the chair. She felt his breath on her ear as he spoke; “And then you’ll beg me to end your life. But until you give me every last name, I won’t let you off that easy.”

“Every last name? What names do you want?” Lucy asked, worried she already knew the answer.

“You’re going to give me the names of your fellow officers, Lucy Chen, a list of every single person who was involved in taking down my brothers, and my men.”

“Your men?” Lucy questioned.

“My men. Oh, I’m sorry. You thought Jorge was in charge?” Lucy was sure Mateo was grinning ear to ear.

The rumoured splinter movement. It was him, wasn’t it? The splinter movement was his.

Worse. Not a splinter movement.

If Mateo had been the true head of the original Molina enterprise, then the splinter movement was not that, no. Mateo was rebuilding everything that she had contributed to tearing down.

They barely stopped the Molinas last time. And if Mateo found out the names he sought to force out of her, well, once he got through everyone, there would be nobody stopping him in finishing the job.

No.

That was not going to happen.

Over her dead body.

*

“Sergeant,” Harper knocked on Grey’s door, folder in hand.

“Come in, Detective.”

“We got a DNA hit on one of the victims. It’s Mariana.”

Grey sat down in his chair – “Anything on the other victim?”

“Still nothing. Identification is restricted. I’ve reached out to my contacts, but all I’m getting back is shaking heads. Maybe you can go higher with this?”

“I will. Officer Chen is missing, and the identity of our second victim could be key. Back to Mariana, next of kin?”

“None in LA. The only person she knew in town was Tyler; I don’t know how wise it is to break the news that his girlfriend is dead. I have some officers tracking down her mother in Chicago.”

“Good. Keep me updated.”

*

“DNA came back for one of the bodies. It’s Mariana,” Angela told Tim as they waited for the LAFD and engineers to give them the all-clear.

“How about the second?”

“Nothing yet. Working on it.”

They went back to standing in silence.

Later, Tim wasn’t sure whether it was mere minutes or just hours that passed when they were called back into the building.

“Sergeant, Detective, you need to see this.”

An LAFD Captain handed them helmets and walked them through the warehouse, now mostly free of debris, towards the back, ladders fixed in place.

Angela climbed down first, Tim followed, the LAFD Captain last.

“The explosion caused this floor to collapse down and seal this area. As you can see, there’s an exit here. I sent my men through, it goes underground for some time, and then someone’s tunnelled into the storm drains.”

“This was not on the blueprints,” Tim announced, arms crossed.

“No?” The LAFD Captain asked, pulling a paper copy of the blueprint, and handing it to the two.

“This doesn’t make any sense. This was not in the blueprints when we conducted recon. If we’d seen it, we’d have covered this base.”

“Tim,” Angela grabbed her best friend by the arm, showing him her phone, “it’s there now.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, no it doesn’t,” the LAFD Captain chimed in.

That only left one possibility – “someone tampered with the blueprints.”

“And then tried to cover it up.”

*

Lucy felt Mateo’s hands leave her shoulders, hushed whisperings behind her. She tried to turn her head but could see nothing of interest, nothing that would help her whatsoever.

Soon after, she felt his hands return, Lucas’ unwelcome face in front of her. He undid the first cuff, swiftly cuffing it again with a pair of cuffs reminiscent of those she used on duty, doing the same to the second. Lucas and Mateo gripped her, pulling her out of the chair and half-walking, half-dragging her somewhere behind her, a new side of her prison open to her.

Mateo fumbled around in his pocket, a set of keys emerging, a door swinging open. Hands pushed her forward, and she barely managed to stop herself from bashing her head against the cement.

She heard the door close, and she turned around, pushing her face against the small window in her even smaller prison. Mateo and Lucas walked past, dragging someone else, someone putting up no fight. Mateo turned, spotting her curious glance.

“You know, Lucy, perhaps your friend here might be more… vocal… You’re welcome to tune in.”

Chapter Text

Lucy stayed plastered against the small window, trying to see if she could spot something else, but Mateo, Lucas, and the third unknown were out of her sight – they’d gone towards where she’d been dragged from.

Mateo had someone else.

Someone else from her class? Why else would Mateo call them a ‘friend?’

Was that who she heard last time?

Lucy pushed herself off the door, barely standing on her own two feet. She pressed her back against the door, surveying the small room she was in, trying to take stock of something, anything, that could help her.

Unlike the warehouse which was dark and grim, the room was much too bright.

On purpose. Everything here was meticulously planned.

The room was more or less empty – the only thing in between the cramped four walls was a tattered mattress to her left, and a bucket and a plastic bottle to her right. She moved towards the mattress, crashing onto it despite all her better instincts telling her to stay on her feet, and stay alert.

She turned onto her back, pain flaring up as she tried to make herself comfortable, giving up on such a conquest and turning to her right, face up against the wall.

A wall that was not empty.

Lucy reached up with her cuffed hands, fingers tracing the indentations on the wall. She followed along as the lines became less prominent, more shallow, nothing more than haphazard squiggles by the end.

A sudden scream tore her out of her thoughts, it ending just as fast as it began.

This is all by design.

She lay back down, closing her eyes in spite of knowing that it was not going to keep the harsh light out.

She couldn’t win. It was either harsh, clinically white lighting in here, or murkiness out there.

Another whimper echoed, and then she swore she could hear a voice, not Mateo, not Lucas, not Oliver. Another voice.

Hoarse, barely there, but another voice.

The voice of whomever Mateo was busy entertaining right now. The voice of her supposed friend.

Who was said friend?

Did she really know them, or was Mateo messing with her?

She turned to face the other way, her fingers absent-mindedly dancing along the length of the mattress that was on its last legs.

Wait, what was that?

Lucy dipped her fingers into the gap in the mattress, fingers wrapping around something that shouldn’t be there. She pulled, sitting up, a pendant now in her lap.

Pendant?

An oversight surely. Nothing here would be left if there was no purpose for it. It must have belonged to the previous occupant, maybe even the one that had scratched into the wall. They must have been trying to leave a piece of themselves, a clue to follow if anyone ever found them.

She flipped the pendant in her hand, an inscription on the back.

To Clarisse. Love, Tom.

A bang against the door made her jolt up, cramming the pendant back into the gap. Oliver peeked in, lobbing something at her. She caught, instinctively.

An apple?

Lucy bit in, just now realising how hungry she was.

Veggie Burger and Fries. Extra Pickles. Her stomach pleaded, refusing to make do with the measly apple that was her sustenance until… well, who knew at this point?

She scarfed down the apple, and despite all of her senses being on overdrive, the sporadic screams from beyond the walls and the unforgiving battering from the lights, Lucy became a prisoner of her own body, shutting down and losing touch with everything.

I can’t sleep, no…

Matter had beaten her mind.

*

“Nolan, Juarez, what do you have for us?” Lopez asked as she and Harper rocked up to the crime scene.

“Um, thought you were off?” Nolan asked, but Harper just threw him a look.

“Until Lucy’s found, no one’s off, Nolan. Now, what did you call us out for?”

“Um, fair warning, it's not pretty. Juarez is still puking in that dumpster,” Nolan pointed behind him where Celina, indeed, was hunched over a dumpster, hurling.

“Hope you didn’t have dinner,” Nolan tacked on, the two of them walking down into the alley.

Nolan lifted up the tarp covering the body, and Lopez could feel her stomach do summersaults within her. He had not exaggerated.

Harper knelt on the other side, pulling the tarp off entirely.

“She was in a lot of pain,” Harper said, eyes meeting with her partner, “she was tortured.”

Lopez knelt by her partner, rolling gloves on as she reached for the hand of their victim.

“Fingerprints are burnt off. Someone wanted to make our life difficult.”

“Okay, get her to the ME. We’ll take it from here, Nolan, you go check on Juarez.”

“Harper, Lopez,” the two turned around to see Detective Calderon pace towards them.

“Rita, you were called?”

“No, I just heard the call on the radio. I just wanted to offer my help. I know that Officer Chen is extremely close and… I’m happy to help with the case to free up your time.”

“Thank you for the offer, Rita, but I think I need a case to keep busy. That being said, an extra pair of hands is always helpful,” Lopez responded.

“Yeah, this is going to be a head-scratcher. No fingerprints, clear signs of torture.”

*

“Bradford, you’re still here?”

“Just wanted to check in, before you sent out a search party for me,” Bradford quipped, knowing that it was not beyond Grey to do so.

“Anything new at the site?”

“The blueprints used were flawed. There was an exit we hadn’t covered because it wasn’t on the blueprints we used. I’ve asked Cyber to work out how the blueprints could have been altered.”

“So, this was meticulously planned. And the target was Officer Chen.”

“It seems to be. Sir, I’d like permission to talk to Tyler again.”

“For what purpose, Sergeant? You know…”

“I know. I know full well I’m too close. But I am the most committed to finding Lucy. I am going to exhaust every single lead.”

“And you think Tyler has a lead?”

“Look, if he was going to meet Mateo, Tyler is no small fish. He must know things, things he isn’t telling us. I think if we tell him about Mariana…”

“What’s to say knowing his girlfriend is dead won’t make him decide prison is a better option.”

“Grey, it’s lose-lose either way. But if I don’t ask, I’ll never know.”

“Talk to Lopez. If she approves, she’ll interrogate. You can watch. Now, go and get some rest.”

“Okay, thank you, Sir.”

“Bradford,” Grey called out to the younger Sergeant.

“Yes?”

“We’ll find her. Officer Chen is resilient. This unfortunately isn’t the first time the odds are stacked against her. We’ll find her.”

“We will, Sir. I accept no other result.”

Tim left Grey’s office, meandering through the bullpen, once again making a beeline for his office.

There was no point going home, none. Sleep wasn’t going to come to him anyway, and he’d only make himself less reachable if a break happened in the case.

He entered his office, taking off his duty belt and locking it in his drawer, before settling for the sofa that he’d managed to score for his office.

It had been helpful for those nights where he’d been much too exhausted to head home, and it had proven quite comfortable for other activities, more often than not the fault of one Lucy Chen. Now, he was prepared to make it his bed for the foreseeable future.

He changed into his civvies, locking the office door, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim him.

*

Lucy awoke to a harsh slap across her face, arms interlinked with hers, dragging her out of the harsh brightness and back into the gloomy darkness.

“You surprise me, Lucy Chen,” she heard Mateo’s voice to her left as she was dragged back towards the table, “you actually got some sleep it seems. Perhaps your friend wasn’t loud enough, shame. An error on my part.”

Lucy thought about that as Mateo and… Oliver it seemed to her… shoved her back into the chair, hands once again cuffed on the table, easily accessible. Lucy shuddered to think what Mateo would actually do to them if he focused on them.

Her fingertips brushed against something sticky, a texture all too familiar.

More blood.

“Your friend kept his lips sealed, despite all the blood spilled. I wonder if you’ll have as much resolve as they did…”

Chapter Text

“Angela, morning,” Wesley shook his wife awake, the alarm a continuous blare for the last ten minutes.

“Hmm, give me one more minute, honey, one more minute.”

“Angela, Nyla is downstairs entertaining Jack.” That got Angela upright quickly.

“Nyla’s here? Did she say why? Is it an emergency?” Angela frantically kicked off the sheets, yelling the last path from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth.

“Babe, no, nothing like that. Nyla just said that you’d asked her to come and pick you up this morning so you two could go and, I quote, ‘annoy the fuck out the Feds?’”

Wesley could hear the water turn off, but no answer from his wife.

“Angela?”

“And why are we annoying the fuck out of the Feds?”

“She didn’t say; I didn’t ask.”

*

“Angela, good, you good to go in ten?” Nyla asked, keeping an eye on Jack.

“Um, sure I will be, but, um, why are we going to go to the Feds?”

“Because Rita, bless her, went back to the station to go and catch up on some paperwork, and when she went down to the ME to ask about our Jane Doe, she was gone. Want to guess who took her?”

“The Feds, great. We must be their favourite detectives, they’ve been yanking our cases. But, hang on, we couldn’t identify the body, right, so why…”

“Well, ME used dental records, put it through the system. The system came back with nothing, but an hour later, Jane Doe was out of LAPD custody and into the FBI’s.”

“Our Jane Doe is one of theirs?”

“I think that’s safe to assume. But I think we should go and have an in-person meeting.”

“I agree. Wesley!” Angela yelled up the stairs, his footsteps echoing just a second later.

“Yes, Ange?”

“I’m hitching that ride with Angela, and hopefully I will meet you at dinner tonight,” she told him, leaving with a goodbye.

“Bye Jack!” she waved, and her son waved back, before turning his attention back to the minefield of toys in front of him.

*

Tim was startled by a knocking on his office door. Sighing, he pushed himself off the chair, unlocking the door, face to face with his Sergeant.

“Grey?” He rubbed his eyes open, holding the door open, letting the Sergeant in, graciously accepting the cup of coffee from him.

“When did you last go home, son?” Grey asked, concerned, sitting down on the sofa beside Tim.

“After the IA interview,” Tim admitted, knowing it would be pointless to lie to Grey. Knowing the Watch Commander, he already knew the answer to that question anyway.

“What about back to Chen’s apartment?”

“Also after the IA interview. Did Lopez ask you to check on me? I told her I’m alright.”

“Except you’re not, Tim, and it’s okay not to be. Tell me, did you sleep at all, or did you stay up all night chasing down leads?”

“I slept…” he said, but the look of Are you sure on Grey’s face forced him to alter his answer slightly, “a little. Sergeant, I can’t sleep, alright. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what you need to take me off the case?” He questioned, voice raised, forgetting about the coffee in his hand and spilling it over his hand, cursing at the burning sensation.

Fuck, that stung.

“Sergeant, you’re wasting time worrying about me,” Bradford was now yelling, whether from the pain of his burnt hand, his lack of sleep, the fact that Lucy was still missing, or maybe all three to some extent.

“Stop worrying about me, and help me find out where Lucy is,” he carried on, noticing Grey call for a medic to his office, “help me find out who took her, help me find out who the other missing officer is, help me work out why the ID is restricted… help me so I can help her.”

Tim broke down, and Grey moved closer, slowly, calmly, not wanting to do anything that could cause Tim to get hurt any further.

“Son, everyone is out there helping you so we can help her. But we can’t help you if you’re not helping yourself. Do you hear me? You aren’t going to be good for anyone if you don’t look after yourself. So this is what we’re going to do, and you’re going to do this, because it’s an order, and it’s coming from your superior,” Grey began, knowing that right now, he had to pull the superior card, he had to make sure that Tim wasn’t setting himself up to spiral.

“You’re going to let the medic take a look at that hand and if you need to go to hospital, you go to hospital. Then, I want you to get six hours of sleep, in a bed. Go to yours, go to Chens, just get some sleep on a bed. Then, you’re going to come to the evening briefing today, fresh, awake, and ready to work. Do you understand?” Grey asked, and Tim looked up, face red, puffy, angry.

Good, if he needed to be angry at him, so be it.

“Understood,” he got out just as a medic walked through, tending to his hand.

“And Tim,” Grey turned as he was at the door and added a little more softly, “talk to me. Okay. Yell at me, shout at me, cry out at me, but talk to me. Don’t make me have to force you to take time off.”

*

Lucy turned her attention away from Mateo as she saw movement to her right. Lucas. Armed with a mop, his enemy the literal pool of blood that had ensured the table and chair she was strapped to was quite literally an island in. He moved almost silently by her side and disappeared to somewhere behind her.

“Ignore him, Lucy, focus on me. I’ll be the one you’ll be talking to today.”

“Really, you’ll be talking to me today? Because it’s been days since you’ve had me, but you haven’t done anything yet except bore me,” she stated, holding her voice steady.

“Well, Lucy, I’m so sorry for the wait. You see, I needed to tune up your friend a little, and then there was that pesky issue of disposing of a body, you know how it is?”

“I don’t.”

“Ah, well, you’ll get to see, hopefully without the disposing of the body part. You know, I don’t know how much time I’ve got with you – you’re a hot commodity – but I hope we can get to know each other better without me having to kill you. It’s less fun when you’re dead. Oliver!”

Oliver appeared, a bag in hand.

“It’s time,” Mateo told him, and Oliver opened the bag, a syringe in hand. Lucy was ready to laugh – that was supposed to freak her out and get her to spill everything Mateo wanted? – but the look on Mateo’s face told her that he was not kidding.

“Oliver here is an artist, Lucy. And artists unfortunately are seldom appreciated truly.”

“What did he inject me with?” she asked, “And what is he injecting me with now?”

“Ah, you just can’t get the cop out of you, can you? How many times do I have to say that I asked the questions? Ah, but this might just be more interesting. You know, nobody else knew what they had coursing through their veins. Maybe if you know, I can get to see that look on your face… yes… Do you want to know what is in it? Honestly, I don’t know. But Oliver and Jorge perfected whatever it is you’ve got now.”

Mateo paced, sitting down on the table, and she looked up, “First, you’re going to stop feeling pain. You’ll be grateful, confused maybe, but mostly grateful. That pain you’re feeling from the explosion, the headache no doubt clouding you, it’ll be gone. Then, I’ll take away your movement, and let you become an immovable canvas to mark, mould, and tear into. I could shoot you, and you wouldn’t feel anything; I could stab you, and you’d feel nothing. Hell, I could slowly lop off your fingers and gift wrap them to your fellow officers, and you wouldn’t feel anything, just like you’re not feeling my hand around yours.”

Lucy’s eyes darted down, and with horror, she realised that she didn’t feel Mateo’s hand squeezing her own, her fingers contorted in his palm. She could see that something was wrong, and she knew she should be feeling something, but there was nothing but the realisation that Mateo had her, that her hopes for an easy escape were just that – hopes.

“We’re going to start slow, Lucy, going to start with the easy questions. You know, the ones that you definitely know the answers to. You give me the answers I need, and the pain you’ll feel in an hour or so slowly seeping back in as the injection wears off will be your one and only taste of this medicine, you don’t…”

“I can’t give you what you want, Mateo. I don’t have the answers you want.”

“Yes, yes you do. You see, one of your compatriots, they were weak. It's so pathetic really. Sure, they didn’t tell me much, but, well, it turns out they really didn’t know much. Just a name, well, two names. One, Rachel Lowe, and the other, well, it’s no fun if I tell you that. I want you to spill your secrets.”

“You put all this effort into not getting me killed. You’re not going to kill me, Mateo.”

“Don’t get so cocky, Officer Chen. That’s what Clarisse thought too, and now she looks like this,” he took out his phone, showing Lucy a photo of a mangled, tortured body, tossed out in the street without a shred of dignity. His hand was still on hers, and she tried to jolt away to some degree, but it was like her body was not her own - Mateo was not exaggerating.

Clarisse.

The name from the pendant on the mattress, the woman she must have heard when she first awoke.

Clarisse.

So familiar, and now that Mateo mentioned that she’d known about Rachel Lowe, Lucy was fairly certain she knew her.

Clarisse, as in FBI Special Agent Clarisse Mann, is one of many agents involved in the case, and Helen Knight’s wife.

“This is Clarisse’s blood?”

“Yeah. She, unfortunately, wanted to spill blood, not secrets, and well, I was out of the game for a while, my methods a little rusty. Luckily for you, I know exactly where to hurt you now.”

“And so, I ask, my first question, Rachel Lowe, who else went undercover with you?”

Lucy didn’t dignify his question with a response.

“So, spilling a little blood it is…”

Chapter Text

"The Feds know that we have phones, right?" Angela quipped to her partner, the two of them making their way to the FBI’s LA field office.

“They do, they just don’t like playing ball. Any luck reaching Garza?” Nyla asked, hoping that of the only agents that seemed to have some semblance of respect for the LAPD might have helped them solve the mystery behind their tortured Jane Doe.

“Voicemail. His niece sent a text saying he’s out of LA for the next three days, something to do with an old case of his.”

“What about the other members of his team? Brendon? Laura? Carter?”

“Laura’s on leave, and no offence to Special Agent Acres, but I highly doubt he’ll help us - he’s a rookie, Nyla. As for Carter, well, no luck with him either. Guess we’ll have to hope we get someone with a collaborative spirit.”

They drove around in silence for a little, tuned into the radio, hearing the familiar voices of Nolan and Juarez and Thorsen, the three back on patrol duty.

“Have you heard from Tim?” Nyla asked, knowing how tight her partner was to the Sergeant.

“No, nothing. Last I saw, he was hunkered over his desk in his office.”

“I’m worried, Angela, and I know you are too.”

“So is Grey. I mean, I think I can try and understand what he’s going through, but he doesn’t want to talk about it - all he wants to do is work.”

“I mean, if something happened to James, I think you’d have to force me out of the station. I wouldn’t stop working.”

“Me too, for Wesley. Hell, everything you did for me when La Fiera took me… Mind you, you were all my colleagues and friends, Tim my best friend, no matter how many times he tries to tell me that ‘grown men don’t have best friends’, and you did everything to get me home. Lucy is so much for to Tim - I’m worried he’s going to kill himself trying to find Lucy. Oh, and that’s him;” Angela picked up her phone.

“Tim, speak of the devil, how are you?… Wait, what?… Um, I would but Nyla and I are on our way to the Feds… do you want us to swing by after?…. Alright, I’ll keep you updated…”

“So, what is Bradford up to?”

“He’s at the hospital - spilt coffee over his hand, and said Grey told him he needs to go home and get some sleep before coming back for the evening brief.”

“Good. I mean, the sleep part… Did he want us to swing by later?”

“He said he’d get home somehow, but asked if we could grab him before the evening brief. I think we’ll be done by then.”

“Hopefully - I’m supposed to be having Lila over for the next three days - Donovan’s out of town for work.”

“When’s he dropping her off?”

“Nine - I asked Donovan to leave her at the station, just in case the briefing runs over.”

“Great. Oh, speaking of the briefing, Grey wanted an update on Tyler - said that Tim wanted to have a talk with him, but I don’t think that’ll be wise, not right now.”

“Well, in that case, both of us don’t need to be in the briefing, right? Mind if I talk to Tyler and then that gives me ample time to make sure I’ve got Lila home before my youngest goes to bed?”

“Sure, of course, whatever you need.”

Twenty seven minutes later, the detective duo arrived at the Fed’s field office, and walked into reception.

“Detective Lopez and Harper, LAPD. We need to speak to someone about the Jane Doe you took from our custody,” Harper announced, brandishing her badge.

*

“Who else went undercover with you, Officer?” Mateo asked for the seventh time, once again to no response from Lucy.

He raised his hand, roughly backhanding her across the face, waiting for her head to whip back.

“What agency spearheaded this operation?” Lucy stayed silent, a punch to the gut. She still could feel no pain, but the cut surface of her skin leading down to her hands, the ugly welt just above her left wrist a clear indicator that she’d be reacquainted with that feeling whenever the drugs wore off.

“Is there a fed in my operation right now?” Lucy gritted her teeth together, closing her eyes, trying to at least mentally get her anywhere, anywhere but here. They shot open in a panic when she felt Mateo’s arm around her throat, her body screaming out for oxygen.

She couldn’t move - her eyes jerked up, meeting her sadistic torturer. He just smiled, enjoying the view. Hell, she was pretty sure he squeezed tighter. Surely he wasn’t going to kill her that quickly, no?

At the eleventh hour, she felt his grip loosen, the only sounds echoing that of her hyperventilating, glad for air, no matter how stale it was.

“Do you have my wife and child?” Again, Lucy said nothing. At least for this one, she truly didn’t know the answer. She saw Mateo sigh with disappointment, reaching into the bag that he kept at the end of the table, grabbing the tiny knife still coated in her blood, cutting another thin line above the other six on her right arm, satisfied when her blood began to trickle down it.

Seven lines - seven rounds of questioning.

“Lucy, dearest, I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. We could do this around the clock - I know that Oliver and Lucas would be delighted to have a try, but trust me, you wouldn’t want either of them. You’re better off having me.”

“You?” Lucy asked, “better off having you?”

“Well, Lucas is a bit fresh to all of this, you see, his hand might slip, he might punch a little too high, a little to the left, and what would you know, all of a sudden you’re dead, oh, or you’re actually paralysed. I mean, it would free up Oliver, but I think pain is what you need.”

“And yet, you’ve taken the pain away from me,”

“Temporarily. You see, how much pain you feel and how often is all down to me. You tell me what I need, and I will make sure you are in no pain. But if you keep it up this way, well, your little trip should be ending anytime soon. Maybe that’s what you need, you need a reminder of the pain.”

A yell interrupted Mateo, his grin widening.

“Hear that? Your friend’s feeling that pain again. I don’t think a fractured finger’s very pleasant. Excuse me for just a moment.”

*

“Sergeant, you’re all cleared,” a nurse popped in, Tim nodding in response, putting back his shirt and staring at his bandaged hand - the burn wasn’t that bad, nowhere near enough to warrant the hovering he’d received from the staff, but it was better than being further berated by Grey, who he was annoyed was correct after the hour or two he’d spent in the room, waiting to be discharged.

Waiting. That seemed to be all anyone was doing. Waiting wasn’t going to help them find Lucy, as is hoping for the tip line to give them a solid lead - if it did, well, he’d buy a lottery ticket.

The BOLO was of no help either, and Tim couldn’t help but feel like everyone was keeping him at an arm’s length during the investigation. Sure, it made sense from a procedural point of view - everyone knew about him and Lucy, but Tim wasn’t interested in building a goddamn case right now - having the bastard behind bars would be of no solace if all he had to do for the rest of his life was talk to Lucy at a graveyard, hoping that there was an afterlife that she was listening from.

“Sergeant Bradford?” He looked up to see Officer Nolan standing at the door.

“Nolan, what are you doing here?”

“Suspect suffered anaphylaxis upon arrest. We heard there was another officer in the hospital, wanted to check it out. Are you alright, Sir?”

“I’m fine, Nolan. You left your rookie with the suspect?”

“That’s correct. Listen, do you need anything? Docs said they’ll be discharging soon and we’ll be heading back anyway.”

Tim contemplated the former Rookie’s question, and before he overthought it, answered in the affirmative - “Sure, could you drop me off at Lucy’s?”

“You got it.”

*

Nolan and Juarez dropped him off at Lucy’s apartment just before noon, and he headed back up, making a beeline straight for the bedroom. Whether it was the exhaustion or just the fact that he was back at Lucy’s, in their bed, the smell of lavender in the air, sleep took over the Sergeant, and he closed his eyes, trusting that Angela would come and grab him before the evening briefing that he knew Grey would expect to see him at.

*

Tamara came back at half three, surprised to see a pair of Tim’s shoes neatly placed in the corner. He was back?

Quietly, she tiptoed across the living room, pushing the ajar door of Lucy’s room, spotting Lucy’s boyfriend fast asleep, swaddled in the covers, arms enveloping a pillow.

Good. Sleep was good.

Just as quietly as she tiptoed towards the door, she shut it and walked to the kitchen, fixing herself to eat, deciding to do so for the Sergeant too.

Looks like Detective Lopez was able to get through to him - she hadn’t seen him since he’d gotten frustrated at her pointing out how he shouldn’t be driving.

Maybe she should follow suit - she’d been sleeping, sure, and college and work had kept her busy, but she knew that her sleep quality was horrible. She went to bed every night worried that she’d wake up to the news that Lucy was dead, the one person who’d shown her kindness and helped her get back on her feet, to a place that was beyond her wildest dreams and hopes, robbed of her life.

*

Lucy was certain that Mateo was still somewhere behind her, the unfortunately all too familiar sounds of pain now louder and closer. She could suddenly hear his voice in her right ear - “Remember that friend I keep mentioning Lucy. He’s in the position you’ll be in very very soon. Have you guessed who it is yet?”

No. Maybe? So many people were involved in the operation, so much was compartmentalised, the chance of this so called friend actually being one was infinitesimally slim - Lucy kept in contact with a small handful, and most of that contact were quick check-ins. After all, these were colleagues and friends whom she’d met at a Covert Operations School - most of her class were no doubt undercover at any given time; responding to her messages was not a acceptable risk.

“Hmm, evidently not,” Mateo took her silence to mean no, and waved his hand in a beckoning motion, the yelps and cries now back and louder than ever. Lucas and Oliver burst into her periphery, and she could see them drag a figure between the two around the table, towards the other chair that she hadn’t realised was now positioned to face her. The two blocked her view, and she still couldn’t move, trapped in her own body, a body she was worried would in only a matter of time bend to Mateo’s will. The two blocked her friend from her view for a little while longer, and she noticed Mateo keep his eyes on her.

“Lucy Chen,” he said, grabbing her chin, forcing her face to the side, both Lucas and Oliver now no longer even in her periphery, “you’re going to see a mirror in a minute; your friend is you if you decide to believe that integrity and keeping your secrets is worth your life.”

He turned her head back, and Lucy squinted, the dragged figure now in clear view across from her.

Blood down their face, a black eye, busted lip, clothes sliced and torn, the same marks on their arm too, except they had more - double, maybe even triple hers.

How long had Mateo kept this person?

She forced herself to keep her eyes open, carrying on soaking in the image of him, trying to work out who he is.

He stared at her, eyes widening in recognition, looking like he was going to say something, but then thinking better of it. Oliver and Lucas scurried away, and Mateo walked behind the man, placing his hands squarely on his shoulders, eliciting a screech of pain. Lucy’s eyes darted up to Mateo but then back into the strangers eyes, trying to work out what words he was forming with his lips silently, blocking out whatever crap Mateo was spewing.

Got? Wait, no, jot? Nope, wait, hot? Hot, okay, first word. Now second… something with a ‘p’ or a ‘b’… hmm… she squinted further - whatever this person wanted to say, it must have been important enough… she looked into his eyes, and he looked down, as though to tell her to keep her focus on his lips… hmm, what did he want to say?… she noticed his fingers twitch in his restraints against the chair’s arms, gesturing towards… his pants? Wait, pants? She looked up, horrified at the implication.

‘Hot pants’.

Only one person called her that.

Mateo had Noah Foster.

Chapter Text

Lucy looked away from Noah and up to Mateo, watching his smirk grow, before looking back at Noah, broken, bruised, bloodied.

What had Mateo put him through?

And then Noah is the missing officer. The officer that had gone dark and then off the grid entirely. What was Noah working on that forced the brass to not divulge his name?

If she’d known he was the missing officer… well, maybe some things would have made that much more sense.

“Want us to move her?” Lucy heard Oliver ask to the side, but Mateo just shook his head.

“Keep her here. Let her see just how bad it can get, that I’m not afraid of causing some permanent damage. Isn’t that right, Detective Foster?”

Lucy could do nothing but stare as Mateo stepped to the side, and began to batter Noah with the same questions he’d asked her, each unanswered question followed swiftly with a cut, stab, or punch. She tried to avert her eyes, close them even, but Mateo just let out a promise – “You close them, you look away, he has another round to sit through.”

She didn’t dare look away after that; Noah already looked like he was on borrowed time, and she would not be contributing to his quicker demise.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but all of a sudden he stopped, stepping away, whispering something in Noah’s ear. Noah tensed up, and she could hear him try to get some words out, shaking his head, his eyes switching between her and Mateo.

Did Mateo say something about me? What is it? What?

“You can tell her, Detective; I’ll be back soon.”

Mateo left, and Lucy heard another pair of footsteps follow, echoing faintly until they no longer did.

“Noah, Noah!” Lucy called out, waiting for him to lift his head and stare back into her eyes.

“Lucy,” he managed to get out, voice hoarse, “did… did you see Clarisse?”

Clarisse.

“Noah, Clarisse is… Mateo killed her. Clarisse is gone. What… what did Mateo say?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” Lucy said, but she wasn’t sure.

“He’s going to use you as leverage for me to talk, and then vice-versa. Whatever Mateo does, whatever he threatens to do, do not say anything. Please. I can take it.”

Lucy was going to respond that she didn’t have any plans to – she knew that if she spoke, more lives that just hers and those that were on the mission were on the line – but Mateo’s reappearance caused her to stay quiet, not wanting to give Mateo any information, any leverage, anything that could tell him that he’d gotten the one person of the UC mission that she was willing to put her life on the line for.

“So, ready for some more?” Mateo asked, turning his attention back to Noah.

*

“Detectives? Please follow me.” A young brunette beckoned at Angela and Nyla, leading them into the escalator and into her office.

“I’m Special Agent Hadley. Please, sit,” she gestured, but both remained standing.

“Okay, I assume you’re here about the Jane Doe we took custody of. Yes, she is one of ours.”

“Who is she?” Nyla asked.

“Supervisory Special Agent Clarisse Mann, my boss… sorry, former boss.”

“What’s her poison?”

“Organised crime. We have reason to believe that her death is linked to her work, Detectives. And like the LAPD, we like to investigate the deaths of our own.”

“Understandable, but usually we get a heads up, a courtesy note, not a body stolen in the middle of the night, leaving the Detectives assigned the case scratching their heads. There’s something more going on, isn’t there? What was Clarisse Mann working on?” Angela queried.

Hadley’s eyes widened, and Angela knew that she was onto something.

“Someone didn’t want her to be easily identifiable. She was tortured, her fingerprints burnt off, her entire body bruised and battered. This happened in our backyard, Special Agent. If you want to investigate her death, fine by the LAPD – we’ve got enough on our plate at the moment with our missing officer. But we deserve to know what is going on.” Angela continued, the room silent for a while.

“Look, Mann was my superior. I don’t know what she was working on, but she wasn’t in the office for the last couple of weeks. I can try and see if there’s anything on the system,” she relented, typing away, sighing about a minute later.

“Whatever she was working on – above my paygrade. You’re going to have to wait for our SAC to come back tomorrow. I can ask her to swing by your station?”

“Yes, please do. Make sure she asks for Detective Lopez and Harper,” Nyla said, and the two left the office, albeit still with more questions than answers.”

“Detectives!” Both turned around at Hadley’s voice, “I hope you find your missing officer soon.”

*

“I’ll ask again, Officer, is there someone embedded in my operation?” Lucy did nothing but breathe in response, forcing down a gasp as Mateo jabbed at Noah, her breath stilling when he didn’t bring his head back up.

“Detective!” Mateo said, a little louder, pulling his head back up by the hair, but Noah didn’t respond to that harsh jerk, nor the slapping in triplicate.

Noah.

“Oliver!” Mateo called, Oliver appearing almost instantaneously, “this one’s out.”

Oliver stepped towards Noah, the two of them flipping the chair onto the ground. Lucy strained around to try and take a peek, but Mateo decided that it was now time to play around with her, and he perched on the chair, taking note of the cuts he’d given her. He traced the last one, the freshest one, and it took Lucy a second to register that she could feel pain coursing through her. The drugs were wearing off.

After seeing what Mateo did to Noah, she didn’t think she wanted to feel, not if she was the next punching bag.

A loud gasp brought her out of her head, and Mateo shifted, looking behind him. Oliver had brought Noah back upright, the blood on his face cleared, the bruises now visible.

“You got to take it easy, Mateo, or you’re going to dislocate his jaw, and then he won’t be able to tell you anything.”

“I got it, Oliver, I got it,” Mateo waved him off, and moved behind Lucy, staring no doubt at Noah.

“Now, Detective, it’s Officer Chen’s turn. And it seems, ah yes,” he said, tugging her hair back to see her face, noticing the bad attempt at hiding her wince, “the drugs have worn off. Good. Let’s see how open Detective Foster’ll get.”

*

“Angela, did you see this?” Nyla asked, showing her partner the report that had been left on her desk during their absence.

“Nope, what is it?” Angela asked, getting off the phone with corrections, trying to organise Tyler being moved back to the station for another interview.

“Second body’s been identified – an Aaron Whorl. No priors, no rap sheet, nothing. Nothing prior to 2015 related to him. Angela, I think this is a crafted identity. We need to work out who Aaron Whorl was before he became Aaron Whorl.”

“That we do. But right now, I better go and pick up Tim – briefing’s in an hour, and Tyler’ll be brought into the station during it; are you sure you’re good to interrogate solo?”

“Oh, Tyler’s nothing compared to some of my other collars. I got this, partner. You go make sure Bradford gets here in one piece.”

*

“Mateo, you… won’t… get… anything…” Lucy got out in between the punches, her spat-out blood marking the already bloodied table.

“I don’t know, Detective here looks ready to strangle me, well, that’s if he can get out. Spoiler, he won’t. And neither will you, Lucy. Trust me, these hands of yours are going to get all of my attention, soon,” he said, grabbing each finger and pulling them back, testing how far he could go before her eyes watered.

Pain. Pain and suffering.

She almost begged for some more of whatever she was drugged with, but Mateo was interrupted by Lucas walking in. He mumbled something, and she couldn’t catch most of it, but her ears perked up by a name, a name that Mateo had repeated back to Lucas.

Dara.

Chapter Text

Lucy’s and Noah’s reprieve was short-lived – Mateo came back seemingly much more violent, and less restrained. Oliver ended up bringing Noah back to consciousness twice more, and Lucy was sure he’d brought her back at least twice too.

Blood.

She couldn’t taste anything but the metallic tang of it in her blood, even when Oliver coaxed an entire bottle into her.

At this point she was sure there were blood molecules in the air – she could only smell blood, or dampness, or occasionally, the cologne that Mateo insisted on wearing.

Mateo either stopped caring or purposefully let the blood build up and dry all over the table that both her and Noah’s hands were strapped down to, fingertips mere millimetres apart, tantalisingly close to the point that Lucy was certain Mateo had planned that.

His fist collided with Noah’s stomach again, and then he walked off, seemingly leaving the two alone.

For how long?

“Noah, Noah,” Lucy called out, voice hoarse, and the Detective pushed his head up, staring at Lucy.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he tried to reassure her, but the blood that dribbled out his mouth spoke otherwise.

“No, you’re not. Nothing we can do about that now. Can… can you tell me how you ended up here? How did Mateo find you?”

“I was deep undercover, very deep – I’d only come up if I had intel, and I’d only met with my handler face to face twice in the last six months.” Noah talked in almost a whisper, and Lucy was grateful she could read lips.

Twice in six months. What was so serious that it warranted such measures?

“What, what were you after?”

“The splinter group.”

“I thought that was just a rumour,”  she said, quietly, after a beat.

“It was… until it wasn’t. I had a CI, he told me there was a power shift, and that his boss was no longer calling the shots. He met with me once a week, but I didn’t learn anything that could explain the shift. I wanted to send one of ours into the fold, but then my CI disappeared, and the brass wanted me to help take over the casework of a fallen colleague. I was only too happy to oblige until Knight turned up to my office.”

“Knight came to you?”

“Yeah. Knight said they’d noticed a pattern of groups in the region having a sudden power shift, with no one able to put a finger on who was now heading up mid-sized organisations up and down the coast. She’d noticed my name on a report, and thought that I might have gleaned something.”

“Knight got you to go undercover?”

“I didn’t want to, at first. I’d just come off that undercover you gave me an assist with, and frankly, I was more than happy to take over some cases for the deceased Detective Crawdell, maybe work my way up the ranks. But then my CI turned up, half-dead. They begged me for help pulling them out, and I did. Someone found them anyway. I called Knight up that evening and told her I was in.”

“So the DEA knew about this splinter group, knew how dangerous it was, and all they did was send you?”

“Not just me. Lucy, this group turned from some mid-sized operation that was getting shipments confiscated for running black-market pharmaceuticals every other month to being practically impenetrable and running more than just drugs. Knight leveraged two individuals within the group, but one killed himself, and the other was missing, off the grid, presumed dead too. I got in, barely, and spent fifteen months under, with more questions than answers. I asked Knight the first time I met her face to face, and she said she did have others, under, deeper than I was, not just in the group I was with, but in at least five others up and down the coast.

“Knight never reached out to me,” Lucy said, a little hurt, interrupting  – everyone knew that Knight only went with the people that she saw potential in, so why didn’t she reach out to her again? Why Noah, and not her?

“I asked her, once, my second meet with her, if you were also in. She didn’t say, of course, what was I expecting, but part of me really hoped that you were as far away from all of this as possible. There was so much death, destruction, backstabbing, everyone was suspicious of everyone.”

“So, you were deep under. But, so how did Mateo find you?”

“I was still deep under when the former big-shot summoned me. I didn’t think much into it – I’d worked with his lackeys and thought that I might finally be climbing up and I could actually give Knight some more intel… it was a set-up. I was knocked out, and the next thing I knew, I saw Mateo. Turns out, the brother of one of my CIs recognised me and blew my cover. Thought I was dead for sure when they knocked me out, but then I woke up to Mateo and he’s been questioning me about our Molina UC since.”

He took a deep breath, before silently adding, “he killed Clarisse in front of me, Lucy.”

Knight. UC. Pharmaceuticals. CIs. Interrogations. So much information now flooded her system, but she was powerless to do anything with it. What use was knowing all of this if all that was certain was that Mateo was going to interrogate until he got answers? For a second, Lucy even regretted asking Noah anything.

All she did was torture herself further by getting information that was never going to end up seeing the light of day.

“He’s going to try again, Lucy,” Noah said, pulling her out of her zoned-out state, “and if he really has leveraged his competition into working under him, if he really has the vast reach that Knight said, he’s going to succeed.”

Mateo’s success would set the intelligence and law enforcement agencies back decades, and Lucy would not be surprised if he didn’t stop there and start killing the civilians in the crossfire.

“How long has he had you?” Lucy asked, deciding to go against every molecule in her body that told her that further questions would cause more sorrow, more hurt, and more pain in the long run.

“I lost count somewhere at 63 days.”

*

Angela used the keys she kept in her glovebox and opened the door to Lucy’s apartment, careful not to disturb the silence that had permeated the space.

She knocked gently at the bedroom door, letting herself in when she heard no response.  Her best friend was fast asleep.

Some small mercies. He needed it.

His bandaged hand was sticking out of the covers, and when Angela stepped closer to him, extending a hand to shake him awake, she could have sworn she noticed a wet patch on the cushion.

“Tim,” she shook his shoulders, and Tim opened his eyes, confused when he saw Angela in front of him. Sleep’s spell quickly faded, and he remembered what was going on.

“Briefings in 90 minutes. Thought you might want to grab some food,” Angela told him, and Tim’s stomach grumbled in response.

“I’ll, I’ll go wait in the kitchen,” she excused herself, meandering past the counter, noticing a note on the countertop.

Dinner’s in the fridge. I’m staying at a friend’s tonight. Please call me if you hear anything. Tamara.

By the time Angela had rummaged through the fridge and heated up the pasta dish that Tamara had left, Tim had walked out.

“Um, your shirt,” Angela gestured, pointing out the uneven buttoning.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, “you cooked?”

“Tamara did. Here,” she put the plate in front of him, watching him take a mouthful.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Angela asked, looking at his hand, but Tim just shook his head.

“Nothing to talk about Angela. Burnt my hand, got it treated, and now I’m going back to work.”

“Tim, nobody is going to fault you if you take a day to yourself.”

“I will. I will fault myself if I do.”

Angela responded with a sigh – she walked right into that response.

“Besides, I have a feeling there’s a reason Grey hasn’t forced me to take vacation days, and that’s because he wants me on the clock, where he has rank.”

Smart. Very smart, Angela thought as she continued to watch Tim eat.

“You and Nyla find anything?” he asked as he finished up.

Angela knew he’d get this info at the briefing, but gave him the long answer anyway, starting with the identity of Jane Doe, the identity of the second burnt body, the fact that they were waiting on the SAC to return and respond to their other query, and that Nyla was spending the evening questioning Tyler.

“Thank you, for deciding to question Tyler, I mean,” he said, before adding, “Feds. Never did play with local LE. You really think this SAC is going to give you answers?”

Angela shrugged, “Any answer we get is better than nothing. Now, let’s get going.”

Chapter Text

“And that concludes this evening’s briefing.” Grey dismissed the alphabet soup before him and in less than a minute the room was clear; officers and agents flooded back into the bullpen, resuming their duties. Scratch that, the room was almost clear – Lopez was still at the back of the room, talking to Bradford.

“Sergeant, good to see you,” Grey offered, “How’s the hand?”

“Better, Sir. But that’s about it – from what I gathered, we’re no closer to finding Lucy.”

“It seems no, we’re not,” Grey said solemnly.

Frankly, he had half a mind to get rid of the daily briefings – all it seemed to do is pull morale down. Three days, and Lucy Chen was still missing. Not LAPD, not FBI, not any one of the dozen agencies who’d offered to help with locating Officer Chen, as well as deal with the investigation into the initial bombing that jumpstarted all of this, had any idea where she was.

For all they knew, she could be out of the state, out of the country.

For all they knew Officer Lucy Chen could already be dead.

No, he thought – he’d never lost an officer on duty, and Chen certainly wasn’t going to be the first. If Bradford still had hope (some would argue misplaced, some would argue subjective), then he’d not float the idea, not until he saw Officer Chen in autopsy.

“Anything from the tipline?” Tim asked, bringing Grey back to the conversation.

“Nothing credible, sorry,” he apologised again as Angela’s phone buzzed.

“Some good news, I think. Special Agent Hadley, the fed we talked to earlier today, said the SAC arrived early and is on her way to the station from the airport.”

“Now?” Tim asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I’m pleasantly surprised too. Listen, I’m going to try and catch some sleep before she gets here; Nyla’s either still in interrogation, or she’s home with Lila – if she’s done, feel free to go through the tape because I won’t get to it until tomorrow. I’m sorry I’m splitting my attention, Tim,” she said, feeling a little guilty inside that she had to split her time between working on Lucy’s case and trying to get some concluding answers about Clarisse Mann.

“It’s alright, Angela. Crime hasn’t stopped in LA. I know you’re doing all you can…” he got out, trying to be as neutral as possible without giving away the fact that he did indeed wish that she could focus solely on working on finding the woman that he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with.

If there was a rest of her life.

He forced the negative thought out of his mind.

“Sergeant, you’re needed.” An officer walked into the room, and Grey excused himself.

“I’ll go too, Tim. You need anything, call me.”

“Thanks.”

He followed Angela out and headed to her desk, noticing that Nyla had indeed filed a report on the interrogation of Tyler.

Good – he had something to keep him up.

He headed back to his office and bought up the interrogation tape, settling in.

*

“Is that confirmed?” Mateo asked, answering his phone as he casually watched Detective Foster doubled down in pain.

“Thank you,” he ended the call, his full attention now back on his two prisoners. He looked straight into Lucy’s eyes, and she could see frustration in them. Whatever news he just got, it was not good, and it was definitely going to reflect on the two of them.

“So, ATF just put their nose in my business. Tonnes of weapons and ammo, poof. I mean, it won’t link back to me, of course not, but it’s going to hurt me. Funny thing, there’s no way they’d know, not unless they had someone in my organisation, a plant.”

He continued walking around the two of them, both tensed in case he decided to make them the outlet of his hurt.

“You two were in my brother’s organisation, and so was Clarisse. I need to know who else was there.”

Neither officer nor detective answered, and Lucy had the misfortune of being the closest to Mateo when he gripped her hair, his cologne overpowering her sense of smell. For the second time, she wished he’d drug her again so she couldn’t feel how hard he’d latched onto her – even blinking was sending up pain signals left and right.

“Mateo, you’re wasting your time,” she spat out, and received a backhand in return.

“She’s right. You don’t think we knew everything, did you? We knew just enough, and that’s it,” Noah defended her.

“And yet the both of you are here, after also lodging yourself in our prior dealings. I can’t believe neither of my brothers saw you for the rats you are. And you,” Mateo added, letting go of Lucy and lowering himself down to her level, “I can’t believe Eduardo had eyes for you, puta. At least that bullet is a reminder of your betrayal.”

Reminder of your betrayal.

No. She was doing her job.

“Ready for another run, Officer?” Mateo asked as he gestured behind her and she felt another needle prick in her arm.

Drugs. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

He repeated the same battering of questions a handful of times, before focusing back on Noah, giving up after an hour or so.

“Why… why do you keep asking about your wife and child?” Lucy asked as Mateo prepared to head away.

His other questions made sense – he was paranoid, and from what Noah had told Lucy, he had every right to be. There were multiple people in his dealings that weren’t on his side, no. But why ask about his wife and kid?

“I’m sorry, did I not go hard enough, Lucy? You really want to play dumb? Why am I asking about my wife and kid?”

“Yes, why are you asking about them?”

Mateo seemed more amused than angry this time.

Was she playing, or did she really not know what this was about? He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Eduardo was looking after them whilst I was out of the country. When I came back, they were gone. Nobody knew where they were. Some of my men tell me to give up, that they’re dead. I refuse to believe that. She was there when the both of you destroyed everything. So, Officer, that’s why I ask.”

Mateo pulled away, and Lucy thought back to that day – there weren’t that many women swept up in the operation, even less children.

“Did you consider that maybe they’d left you?” Lucy got out, knowing it would no doubt anger Mateo, “Did you think that maybe the incarceration of your brothers gave her the push to leave?”

“Leave me? Officer, my wife is descended from a family of what you here would call criminals in the United States. She was the one who encouraged me to spend some time outside America, and her ideas are what have kept me out of prison, and outside a pine box. No, Officer, not my wife.”

*

“You’re not planning on sleeping here again, are you?” Angela barged into Tim’s office as he finished up watching the interrogation tape.

“Angela, didn’t you say you were going to take a nap?”

"Don’t dodge the question, Bradford," she said, heading towards him, noticing that he'd watched the interrogation tapes.

"Nyla get anywhere with him?"

"Not really. She told him Mariana was dead, and he was upset, but then told Nyla that he didn't plan on going down like she did. He said he'd rather die in jail, Angela. We've got nothing. And to answer your question, yes, I actually was planning to grab some sleep here so I didn't have to worry about the commute tomorrow. Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" She asked, knowing full well the look she was throwing at him. Her phone buzzed.

"The FBI SAC just arrived. Come. I need someone with a fresh set of eyes, and I don’t want to drag Nyla away from Lila tonight."

She didn’t even wait to see if he followed, but he hurried after her. Maybe the time thinking about another case, if even just for a couple of minutes, would be beneficial.

Maybe.

He caught up to Angela just as she reached Grey’s office, both stopping in their tracks when the blonde in the office turned around, recognising her.

“Ah, Sergeant, we meet again. Detective Lopez,” she nodded.

“Sarah Whittler. Did I mention last time how I’d hoped that was the last time we’d crossed paths?”

“You might have mentioned that a couple of times, Sergeant. I promise I’m not here to arrest anyone,” she held her hands up in a disarming fashion.

“You’re the SAC?” Angela asked.

“Yeah. Actually have you to thank for that, Sergeant. After the whole incident with your arrest and the eventual successful end to that case, I started to slowly climb up the ladder. But I’m not here to discuss that. I heard that you were on the case before we took custody of the body of Agent Mann, Detective?”

“Yes. But Agent Hadley couldn’t divulge details. We wanted to know what Mann worked on – we think it has something to do with her death.”

“I am afraid it most certainly does. Detective, I want to apologise again for my agents taking custody of the body from under you, especially since I have reason to believe that Mann's help is linked to an active LAPD case."

"Whittler, it's almost midnight, please, enough with the intrigue. It was obviously important enough that it couldn't wait until morning."

"It is that important. Special Agent Clarisse Mann was working Organised Crime, as I am sure SA Hadley told you. She was working in conjunction with the ATF focusing on a group that was up and coming in the explosions division - it's their explosives that were used in last month's failed bombing - and a couple of her subordinates pinpointed an individual they thought they could flip. That person is Lucas Scholl - the same Lucas I suspect had a hand in the disappearance of Officer Chen."

Tim had a million questions in his head as Whittler carried on.

"Mann had a tail on him, but all evidence pointed to him being nothing more than a freelancer for the group, and so most of her group deemed him a lost cause for intel. Not Mann - she came to me asking to more recourses. I'd just become SAC and couldn't spare the resources on a source that wouldn't give us any returns. I told Mann to pass the surveillance detail on Lucas down the chain and to focus on finding out who was in charge. She did so, but I could tell she wasn't convinced that Lucas was a lost cause, intel-wise."

"You think she flew solo?" Angela asked, and Sarah nodded.

"Not solo, but I know she accepted a secondment from the ATF to join her wife. Except, last I heard, she herself went under with the group, and then four months ago, was deemed missing, possibly killed. ATF classified her operation, and I've been fighting ever since to get clearance not just to that, but also to her service history."

"Service history?" Tim asked, confused how that had any role.

"There's a couple of months redacted in her record. My point being, this is big. An FBI agent dead, an LAPD officer missing. Lucas involved in both. And with all the recent intel, Mateo must also involved in both."

Tim sat down, news sinking in. Involved in both.

"I'm sorry - that's probably the opposite of the news you wanted to hear," Whittler ended, looking at the Sergeant. She knew exactly how close he and Officer Chen were - she remembered the two of them locked in a staring contest as Lucy strived to prove her boyfriend's innocence not too long ago, the begrudging acceptance that she was doing her job when they crossed paths in the courtroom.

Hell, she'd even offered the officer a job under her in the Bureau.

"I don't think the LAPD would appreciate you trying to recruit me," Lucy had laughed when Whittler suggested it, "but I am flattered."

"Is that the LAPD, or just the Sergeant?" Whittler asked for clarification, the officers smile answering for her.

She'd had a love like that...

No, stop, don't think about him, not now.

He's dead. There's nothing you can do, Sarah.

"So, is the FBI here to ask for a joint investigation?"

"Yes. I think it's time we investigate everything together - Mann's original investigation, her disappearance and death, the failed bombing, and now Lucy Chen's disappearance. Something in there is going to get us our answers, and is going to help us bring Officer Chen home."

Chapter Text

“Mateo.” Lucas beckoned at him, trying to hide his nervousness.

“Lucas, tell me now, is this bad news?” Well, no skirting around it now.

“Yeah, boss. Feds were busy – they’ve gone over all your old addresses, and um, some of mine too…” Lucas held his tongue, not knowing how to also explain that they managed to locate their newest property, one where they had begun to plan out their future successful attack.

“Lucas, spit it out. I am not in the mood today, and I will not hesitate to put you beside the officer and detective.”

That was no idle threat – Lucas had seen Mateo punish his security man, Aaron, that way twice.

“They found the warehouse we’d just moved into.”

“How much inventory did we lose?”

“Actually, not as much as expected – most of it is still stuck, logistics had an issue.”

“Reroute it, Lucas.”

“Now? Is it not too…” The end of the sentence stuck in his throat as Mateo held his hand up, commanding silence.

“Timetable’s changed. Reroute it. I don’t care where, as long as it's no more than four hours away from downtown LA.”

“Closer?” Lucas asked – they were about seven hours away right now, a distance that they’d both agreed upon was ideal.

“Yes. It’ll save us time when we make our final move, and maybe this rat, whoever they are, might show themselves. I trust you won’t mess this up Lucas, will you?”

“No, Mateo, I won’t. But…”

“Lucas, what?”

“I said we didn’t lose much inventory, but we lost a lot of our explosives. Explosives from last month, Mateo…”

Fuck.

“You reroute everything else, I will get us some more. Go.”

Lucas scurried out, and Mateo brought his attention back to his two captives.

“You don’t look so happy, Mateo,” Officer Chen dared to say to him.

Maybe yesterday her snarky comment would have brought him into a good mood, but not today. Today, he was seeing red.

“No, I’m not happy, Lucy Chen. I think I need a punching bag…”

*

“How many agents did you say you had assigned?” Tim asked Whittler as he skimmed through another file, handing it off to Angela, and finishing off his coffee.

They’d been up for hours, and all he’d managed to do was remember how much he hated reams of text and paperwork.

His mind strayed to the fact that Lucy would usually help him out and give him the CliffsNotes version. She made him a better Sergeant, a better man.

She won’t be doing much of anything if you don’t find her.

“For the bombing investigation? A lot. But we have so many active investigations, I was forced to reassign most agents when I became SAC. A lot of the information was just incomplete, or we couldn’t follow up on it. ATF picked up most of the investigation, but either they haven’t gotten anywhere, or they’re keeping everything hush-hush. I don’t blame them.”

“Why not?”

Whittler looked around, beckoning Tim and Angela closer towards her.

“For the bombing to have been planned so meticulously, they must have had insider knowledge. The FBI/LAPD event was a cover.”

“A cover?” Tim asked, looking to see Angela just as confused.

“A cover for what?”

Whittler debated whether or not to divulge such information but decided in the affirmative.

“Not out here. Let’s use your office, Sergeant.”

The trio meandered out of the bullpen and into Tim’s office.

“Every four years, the head of every single federal agency get together over the course of a weekend location somewhere on the mainland. They spend the weekend exchanging intel in a casual setting, setting up joint operations at the highest level. The way my ASAC described it – ‘it’s a working holiday’.

“Right, okay, how does this link to last month?”

“It’s a red herring. Before the real meeting, we stage one. For security, the real meeting happens during a pre-existing law enforcement event. This year, the red herring was our joint event.”

“So, they tried to set off explosives because they were targeting agency heads?”

“Yes, they thought they were. This is not to be repeated outside this room, do you understand?”

“This knowledge would change the course the course of the investigation, Whittler,” Angela stated, getting to her feet, “because they weren’t targeting law enforcement in general, were they? They were targeting agency heads. You were keeping this information to yourself?”

“Yes, Detective, this is classified information. You knowing about the existence of these meetings, let alone the fact that this year’s meeting is to be held here, in LA, was me exercising extreme trust in the two of you. This is far beyond either of your paygrades.”

“So why tell us?” Tim asked, knowing SAC Whittler was taking a tremendous risk.

“Because I think last month was a test run for the real event. They wanted to see what we’d do, how we’d react, so they could perfect the actual attack.”

“Okay, I get that, but how is this helping us find Lucy?” Tim made his priorities evident.

“I don’t know yet, but this all links together Sergeant – Officer Chen’s abduction, Mann’s death, the failed bombing, and the upcoming meeting. I think Mateo has plans for this meeting, and for whatever reason, he needed Lucy and Clarisse.”

“Nothing links them, Sarah. Lucy wasn’t working last month’s event, and as far as I know, she’s never met Special Agent Mann. What would she have that would make her valuable to Mateo?” Tim asked, wracking his brains.

You know when you can feel that there’s a puzzle piece missing? That’s precisely how he was feeling. Someone wasn’t divulging the whole truth.

He stared at Sarah Whittler, wondering if she was holding back. She could be, but then why tell him and Angela about the future agency head meet and risk either of them being a security issue?

No, Whittler wasn’t the one holding back.

“You said Mann was working on Lucas, correct?”

“Yes. She had hopes she could flip him, but I couldn’t have her assigned to someone who wasn’t showing promise – you know why now.”

“Do you have her notes?”

“Yes, yes I do. It’s all in those boxes out there. Why’d you ask?”

“Say your SA was onto something? If I thought I had something and I was told to drop it, I’d carry on investigating. Seems Mann did that when she joined her wife. What had her so convinced that she could get to Lucas, to flip him?”

“I think I can answer that – before she asked for the secondment, she said she was fairly certain she could get to Lucas through someone else, someone she could leverage because of her family’s criminal ties, someone who themselves weren’t in the business.”

“Did she give you a name?”

“I couldn’t remember it even if I tried. But it is in her notes, somewhere.”

“So let’s look at these notes. If we could flip Lucas, like Mann thought she could, we could get to Mateo, and get to Lucy.”

“Tim, are you sure?”

“Clarisse never got a chance, did she? If this gets us closer to Lucy, we’re doing it.”

*

“Mateo, you’re going to kill her. STOP!” Noah yelled, knowing that interrupting him would mean that he would be the next punching bag.

So be it. He’d already suffered so much; his body was ready to give out any day now. He’d been ready to die for an assignment before.

He was ready to die for Lucy Chen; she had someone waiting for her on the other side. He, not so much.

“Are you begging for her life, Detective?” Mateo asked, letting go of his iron grip on Lucy, walking away from her doubled-over form, and making his way to him.

Lucy forced her head up, staring at the new lines marking her arm, now reaching her elbow.

How did Noah take this for over 60 days? I’m only here for four, I think, days, and I already feel my body betraying me.

“Did you hear me beg?” Noah retorted, Mateo landing a loud slap, forcing his head to the side.

“No… stop,” Lucy tried to get out, but her plea was drowned out by the ear-shattering scream Noah let out as Mateo yanked back the Detective’s thumb.

“You don’t make the rules here, Detective. Besides, Officer Chen here is a tough cookie. If I wanted her dead, she would be - as would you. Don’t mistake your staying alive for my incompetence. I need answers that you still won’t tell me.”

Mateo returned back to Lucy, lowering himself down to her eye level.

“I am asking simple questions. I want simple answers. That’s it. And then I’ll let you go.”

“Like how you let Clarisse go?” Noah asked, and Mateo just smirked.

“She chose that path herself. We’re going to go one more time, Officer, alright,” Mateo told her, beckoning behind her, no doubt to Oliver, who was constantly topping up her drug supply.

“And if you give me anything, something, I’ll give the two of you a reprieve, for a day. Okay?”

A day reprieve?

Lucy kept her mouth shut as Mateo went behind her back and snaked his hands back around her neck.

*

“Anything?” Tim asked the group of detectives and officers that had been combing through the stacks of paperwork looking for any indication of whom Mann had meant to use as leverage against Lucas.

“No Sir!” came the flurry of responses, and he grabbed another file from the pile, deciding to retreat to his office.

“Tim!” Angela beckoned her best friend, and he pivoted towards her, the two of them talking in hushed tones in the corner.

“You found a name?” he asked, eyes lighting up in optimism, an optimism that was quickly dulled by Angela’s head shaking.

“Not a name for that, but another all too familiar name,” Angela said, handing him what looked like phone records.

“The purple highlights,” she pointed out, letting Tim’s eyes scan the paper and then turn the page.

“What is she doing back in LA?” he asked, handing Angela back the folder, “she was supposed to leave. Lucy told me that she’d left.”

“Looks like she came back. And she knows Lucas. They’ve been calling every couple of weeks or so.”

“Not to eavesdrop, Detective, Sergeant, but who came back?” Tim turned around to see Whittler behind him, a manila folder in hand too.

“Someone who shouldn’t be back in LA. Someone I think we should talk to. I think it’s time we pay Dara Teska a visit.”

Chapter Text

“Sir, can I ask you a question?” Celina asked, breaking the silence in the shop.

“Sure, Officer Juarez, what would you like to ask?” Nolan asked, thinking Celina was going to ask about their morning arrest.

“Do you think Officer Chen is dead?”

Now that question he wasn’t expecting, and he wasn’t sure it was one he could answer whilst behind the wheel. He looked at his watch, realising it wouldn’t be too bad to take a break.

He reached for his radio: “Dispatch, this 7-Adam-15. We’re Code 7.”

*

“I don’t think she is,” Nolan told his rookie as he gripped the cup of water in his hand, downing it all in one go.

“That’s what I’m getting from everyone – Sergeant Grey, Sergeant Bradford, Detective Lopez, Detective Harper, they’re all working with the assumption she’s alive. But, Sir, she’s been gone for four days, and we have no leads, no proof she’s alive. How can you be certain?” Celina questioned.

She, too, didn’t think Lucy was dead, no – she was certain she’d be able to feel it (not that she was going to tell any of the officers about that again), but she wanted to know why, despite all the odds, they had the utmost faith that Lucy was alive.

“You remember Rosalind Dyer?”

“How could I forget her?”

“She did leave an impression. Anyway, you saw Rosalind’s final acolyte, Eli Reynolds. Before that, before she escaped prison, she had another by the name of Caleb Wright.”

“Wright. Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Perhaps for the best. What he did, tried to do to Lucy, it’s best he’s forgotten.”

“Wait, tried to do to Lucy?” Celina asked. She’d heard bits and pieces of a story, about how Officer Chen had been kidnapped and had a brush with death, but she’d never plucked up the courage to ask further.

“It’s not really my story to tell, Officer Juarez, but I’m going to tell you because you’ll realise that that is why we all have faith in Lucy Chen. She is a survivor, and if anyone can make it through a life or death ordeal, it’s her.”

Nolan poured himself another glass of water and began to relay the harrowing events of Lucy’s abduction at the hands of Caleb, and how despite all odds, they found her, and she made it through alive, unlike all of Wright’s other victims.

“I never knew. But I understand now, I think. Both why you all think she’ll pull through, and also why Sergeant Bradford’s been acting the way he is. He’s been through this before.”

Astute, Nolan thought. Sergeant Bradford indeed had had to deal with Lucy missing, not knowing whether she was dead or alive, or if they’d make it on time to save her.

At least then they’d worked out pretty quickly that it was Caleb Wright who they needed to find. Now? Who knew what threads they needed to follow to locate Lucy? He’d attended some of the briefings on Lucy’s disappearance, but regular patrol couldn’t stop, especially when Celina was still a rookie and needed exposure to the job.

“What about the Sergeant then?” Celina carried on her inquisition.

“What about him?”

“You have faith in Lucy pulling through, that she will survive whatever she’s going through. But Sergeant Bradford, is he going to get through this and see Lucy survive?”

That was yet another good question from his rookie.

“Now that I don’t know. When Caleb took Lucy, well, I wasn’t riding with Tim, but my friend Jackson was with him in the shop that day as they looked for her, and he told me and Lucy later that he’d never seen the Sergeant acting the way he did. Jackson said that if he’d had just a fraction less resolve, he himself would be squirming from the rage, anger, and determination that was radiating off Tim back then. Apparently, Jackson had quietly mentioned, Tim had put hands on a suspect, threatening to ‘pull him inside out’.”

“He did all of that before they were… together?” Celina asked, and Nolan knew where the question was leading.

“Yes. Do you know that it was Tim who found her still trapped in the barrel?”

“No. I can’t even imagine.”

“He pulled her out, and she wasn’t breathing. Tim bought her back to us, and as soon as he did, he dismissed us all, leaving just the two of them in the desert, waiting for medical. None of us know what happened, but we all clearly saw him carry her to the EMTs when they finally arrived, and he drove with her, staying by her side at the hospital.”

“And now they’re together, and no offence to the Sergeant, but…” her voice trailed off, not knowing how to characterise Tim.

Nolan just nodded, knowing what Celina meant – the Sergeant was struggling with every day that Lucy was gone, more so than anyone else, understandably so. He shivered to think what Tim would do if he ever got his hands on whoever was involved.

“7-Adam-15…” the radio burst into life, forcing them back onto the streets.

*

“Do you see her?” Tim asked over the comms, annoyed that he’d been overruled by essentially everyone and forced to stay in the van, twiddling his thumbs.

“Not yet, but based on her phone location, she should be coming up any second now. Everyone, eyes peeled.” Angela commanded as she took an empty seat at the coffee shop that Dara’s phone had pinged at repeatedly, enjoying the americano.

True to her prediction, Dara Teska turned onto the street, going up to the counter and placing an order, grabbing it a minute later and heading off in the opposite direction, Angela and Aaron tailing her at a distance.

“Okay, now or never,” she pointed out as she witnessed Dara take out her car keys from her bag and unlock her car.

“Ms Teska?” Harper appeared in front of the young woman, flashing her badge, “You need to come with me.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Detective Harper, LAPD. Ms Teska, please, you need to come with me.”

She turned around, but Angela and Aaron were now within touching distance of her, encircling her.

“Am I under arrest?” She questioned, and Lopez shook her head.

“No, not yet at least. But you are a person of interest in our investigation, and it would be less painful if you voluntarily come with us?”

Dara put her car keys back in her bag, crossing her arms, “Okay.”

Unexpected.

“Follow me,” Aaron said, putting her in the back of his shop before heading back to the surveillance van where Lopez and Harper were waiting with the Sergeant.

“That was easy,” Aaron mentioned, the three looking at him.

“I don’t know. Maybe too easy.”

“Maybe, but she volunteered to come with us, so let’s go and question her. Maybe she could shed light on… well, anything at this point.”

*

“Thank you once again for coming voluntarily, Ms Teska,” Angela told Dara as she shuffled through the papers in her manila folder.

“Well, it didn’t look like you were going to give me much choice, and I have plans, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask me what it is you need to know, and I can go back.”

Straight and to the point. Maybe they would get something of note with Dara, Tim thought as he watched the interrogation behind the glass.

“Your phone number came up in our investigation. Tell us, Dara, how do you know Lucas Scholl?”

“You’re looking into Lucas?” she asked, arms still folded.

“Yes. Now, how do you know him?” Harper carried on the questioning.

“Lucas is a friend. He’s helped me get back on my feet in LA,” she answered. A little too quickly¸ Tim thought – what was she hiding?

“Detectives, Lucas is a good person. He helped me find somewhere to stay, get me my job, and even let me borrow a car. What do you think he’s done?”

“Dara, Lucas is a person of interest in a terrorism investigation.”

“Terrorism?” she questioned, “No, you’re wrong, this is wrong. Lucas is not a terrorist. Look, let me call him, we can sort this all out right now. Can I have my phone?”

“Sure,” Nyla said as she walked out of interrogation to grab Dara’s personal belongings, Tim stopping her before she walked in.

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

“I think she truly is confused about the whole terrorism investigation, yes. But I think she’s holding something back.”

“I agree. So, are you just going to give her her phone?”

“Yes. Because if Lucas picks up, we could get a lead on him. His phone’s been shut off for days, and Whittler’s raid hasn’t turned up anything fruitful – she said she has people on his address, but he hasn’t been back. This could be our in, Tim.”

She wasn’t wrong; he stepped aside, letting Harper back into interrogation.

“Here you go.”

Dara took the phone, dialling the number. She knew Lucas wouldn’t pick up – this was the number she called once the business was taken care of, and Lucas knew that she had none this week, especially after the ATF’s raid. She’d managed to slip out just in time to see everything go to shit and dial Lucas’ personal number, telling him that their warehouse was a bust. He’d instructed her to go back to LA, to stay low, and wait for him to reach out to her.

Lucas would realise that something was up with this phone call.

“It’s voicemail, I’ll leave one,” Dara said innocently as she left a message for Lucas, telling him that she was in LA and hoped he could meet her at Dusty’s Diner soon.

“He’ll call back, he always does,” she said to the Detectives as she handed her own phone back, hiding her smile.

Dara didn’t think she’d be involved in crime, not unlike her family. After she found out that Nikki was LAPD and not Nikki, and her family were all essentially gone, she was happy for a fresh start. She had money, a lot of it, stowed away (well, something good for her came out of her family’s dealings) and had left LA, travelled a while, settling over on the west coast, as far as she could from her old life.

And yet, somehow, it pulled her in. Someone all the way in New York had recognised her, someone that her family had evidently wronged, and she was forced to flee back to LA, hoping that such distance would stop anyone from following her.

Her first stop at LA had been Dusty’s Diner, and it could have ended in tragedy – she’d invertedly walked into some sort of turf war and had quite literally been a gunshot away from death before Mateo walked in and dispensed swift judgment to all with his own shots.

She’d cowered in her booth, fearful for her own life, but Lucas had approached, helping her out of the bloodbath. Mateo had taken her under his wing, giving her a roof over her head.

Weeks passed, and Mateo had taken a liking to her – she was no-nonsense and could stand her own ground. Even better, he could see his second-in-command, Lucas, taking a liking to her.

Good. Perhaps he could find out more about the mysterious girl.

And more he did find out, most importantly the girl’s full name – Dara Teska. Turns out, his brother Eduardo knew the Teska’s, had actually purchased some of their guns for their first attempt. Quite unfortunate what happened to their empire, he thought, but their loss was his gain.

Dara Teska may not have been involved in her family’s enterprise, but now she was family, and she was sure as hell going to get involved now.

Mateo didn’t fool her – she knew full well that Mateo was planning to rope her into whatever shady shit he was involved in. Lucas didn’t shy away from the fact that he wasn’t on the right side of the law either. She knew Mateo was well connected, and that her now measly amount of money wouldn’t do her good, and with the man who noticed her in New York no doubt looking for her, she’d be stupid to try and stay on her own.

She needed to survive and survive she would. Then, and now, it meant being loyal to Mateo. In more ways than one, Mateo had for all intents and purposes become her father, a father she never had.

She’d lost one family, and she wasn’t prepared to lose her new one.

A family that would fight for her.

Chapter Text

Mateo loosened his grip and stepped away from the Detective. He needed to let both of his fellow officers take a break, lest they broke permanently prematurely.

Besides, he wanted to keep the Detective alive longer – there was something between him and the officer, more than just their shared time infiltrating his family’s business – Foster certainly hadn’t done this much begging over Clarisse’s life, and he enjoyed watching the fire that somehow still wasn’t extinguished behind his eyes every time he toyed with the officer.

He’d chosen the order of his victims well.

“You need to feed them, Mateo,” Oliver said as he prepared the drugs.

“Lucas has gone to get something. He’ll be back soon. Do you need any more supplies, Doctor?” He asked Oliver, who just shook his head.

“All good here. And I’m not a doctor yet, Mateo.”

“You’ve saved my life and the lives of my men more times than I can count. And you better get used to hearing that title; it’ll be yours next month, won’t it?”

“It will, yes.”

Further conversation was interrupted by Lucas bursting in, pale-faced and empty-handed.

“Lucas, I send you out for one thing. Where is the food?”

“Boss, Mateo, this is more urgent than food. And I did buy it – it’s in the car. But first, listen to this!” He whipped out his phone, playing a voicemail to him and Oliver.

Mateo only needed to hear half the message to understand what Lucas had meant by urgent.

“We move. Now.”

“The cabin isn’t ready yet, Mateo,” Lucas told his boss.

“We can worry about that later. The warehouse for rerouting – we’ll move there.”  

“Closer to LA? When you have one of their own?”

“Why not? I’ve operated under their noses this long, might as well do so literally. Besides, there are so many players in LA, some of which I’m yet to meet. Would do us all good. Get everything ready.”

Lucas and Oliver nodded wordlessly before Mateo pulled Lucas aside.

“She knows what to do?” He asked.

“Yes. She knows. Are you… are you going to get her out?” Lucas asked.

“In time. I’ll ask my lawyer to look into it – she’s got one more potential imminent problem to handle first. You said she knows what to do, she will be alright. Trust me, Lucas.” He put his hands on Lucas’ shoulders, looking his second-in-command in the eyes.

“Of course,” he responded, before heading back to help Oliver deal with their two prisoners.

Mateo stayed where he was, pulling out his phone, his conversation with Lucas reminding him that he should check up on someone else in his employ.

“Afternoon, Councillor.”

“Hmm, it’s been a while since you called Mateo. What do you need my services for now?”

“I’m not calling about me. Besides, Monica, I told you, I will never need your services.”

“Still cocky. Your brothers knew better, Mateo, they let me help.”

“And yet one is dead, and one is in prison. We can discuss my brothers another time, Monica. I need to know what’s going on with Tyler Flynn.”

“Judge remanded him, no surprise. I assume you knew that already.”

“I did. Has he said anything?”

“No. He has not said anything, but he might – he mentioned at the hearing today that officers talked to him again, and told him that Mariana was dead.”

“He spoke to the officers without you there?”

“He told me he waived council, and I told him it's not for him to decide. Let’s just say he won’t make that mistake again.”

“Good. I trust you can keep an eye on him until I can get around to him?”

“That I can do. Is there anything else you need?”

“Nothing, yet. But I will be in town soon. I’d like us to meet in person again, Monica.”

“I’ll have to check my calendar. Now, I have another case on my docket, Mateo, so unless you need my legal assistance.”

“Goodbye, Monica.”

Mateo ended the call, returning back to see that everything was packed up. Well, almost everything – the Detective and Officer were now the only two things in the middle of nothing but the layered pond of blood underneath them.

“You want us to get them ready too?” Lucas asked, and Mateo just nodded, watching as Lucas grabbed the syringe and jabbed it into the Officer’s arm, enjoying the wince of pain escaping her lips as the point was stuck directly into one of the dozens of cuts now adorning her arms.

*

Lucy felt the sharp pin prick in her arm and once again cursed at herself for feeling relief at the fact that she was going to feel no pain for the next couple of hours.

Weak. Feeble and weak. You won’t get anywhere if you keep this up.

She was too busy enjoying the refuge from the pain to care what her inner voice said, as right as she knew it was.

That refuge lasted much shorter than she’d expected, and she felt her body tense up, her lungs screaming for air just as Lucas freed her from her restraints and unceremoniously put her on her own dried flood.

Something was wrong. It only took one look at Mateo’s face to see that something was wrong.

She gasped, but all that did was make her writhe in pain, each wheeze bringing darkness to her vision for longer.

He said he wouldn’t kill her, and that much she believed Mateo would do; she hadn’t answered his questions yet, after all.

Her vision blacked.

*

“Oliver!” Mateo yelled as he noticed the officer grow blue, a weak attempt at grabbing at her chest.

Oliver ran in, assessing the situation, before grabbing a hold of the empty syringe, cursing under his breath.

“You gave her his dose, Lucas,” Oliver mumbled to him, “and now she’s not breathing. Fuck. CPR, now.”

“What’s going on doc?” Mateo asked as Oliver got back up to his feet, smirking as he saw the panic in the Detective’s eyes.

“She got too much of it – she got his dose.”

“What do we do? Is she going to die because of this recklessness?” He asked, more than ready to dish out some punishment even to his second-in-command if Officer Chen died because he couldn’t spend five seconds doing his job right.

“As long as we keep her heart beating, we should be fine. I can whip something out, but it will take time, and I can’t keep her alive and work on it.”

“I have just the man for it. Go, start working on what you need. You travel with me and them, understood?” Oliver nodded and hopped in the back of the van, rummaging through the supplies he kept in his go bag.

“You,” Mateo said, bending down to Noah’s eye level, “You are responsible for keeping her alive. If she dies… well, your months will feel like foreplay, Detective. Keep. Her. Alive.”

He freed him, watching as the Detective didn’t even try to fight back or flee, but just as expected ran to the officer who was now sprawled in the back of the van, pushing away at her chest with all the force he could muster as a broken man.

“If she dies when we arrive, you’ll be begging for me to do to you what I did to Clarisse.”

The doors slammed shut and the engine hummed, no doubt moving them from one hell to another.

Despite his own pain, his shaking hands pumped away at Lucy's chest, breathing into her the little breaths he could produce himself.

She had to stay alive, and not because his life depended on it.

No, her living would save so many more...

Chapter Text

“Still nothing?” Tim asked as Angela walked back into his office, empty-handed bar the sandwich that she counted as lunch.

“Nothing. Lucas hasn’t even attempted to make contact with Dara.”

“I’m starting to think he won’t. What if she tipped him off?”

“You think Dara knows about Lucas and everything else?”

“Yes. I think she’s involved. There’s just something I didn’t like about how easily she let us take us here, how casually she offered to call Lucas. She knows something Angela – maybe not about Lucy specifically, but there’s stuff she’s not telling us.”

Angela was going to respond, but Whittler stuck her head into his office, knocking.

“Lucas’ phone went live; we have a location.” Whittler didn’t even wait to see if the two of them followed her into the bullpen.

“Well, even if she did tip him off, Tim, looks like we’ll get a location on Lucas at least,” she said, letting Tim past her and following at his heels as they walked into the roll call room, which for the fourth day was filled with officers working tirelessly to locate Lucy.

“Where is it?” Tim asked, ready to leave the station for what seemed like their first solid lead in days.

“You’re not going to like this,” Sarah said, bringing a map up on the TV, “he’s nowhere near LA.”

Fuck.

“Okay, are we sure he hasn’t ditched his mobile? Maybe you were right,” Angela said, looking at Tim, “maybe Dara did let him know the fact we’re looking for him?”

“That’s what I thought too,” Harper walked in, looking like she herself hadn’t slept in days, “but Lucas’ phone had pinged in that area several times, and I took the liberty of looking up young Ms Teska’s location data too – her phone’s only pinged around her apartment for the last week or so; before that, her phone’s been pinging in the same area as were Lucas’ just has. Last week, both her and Lucas’ phone pinged off the same cell tower for over a day just south of Lucas’ current location.”

A young agent approached Whittler, and whispered something in her ear, everyone else waiting in silence.

“What is it?” Tim asked, arms crossed.

“This area, when we investigated last month’s bombing, a couple of addresses came across our radar not just from LA but from all over the state. Most came up empty, and I assume that was on purpose – Mateo wanted us of his trail, and it worked. That investigation is still open. But back to Officer Chen – some of these addresses are warehouses, and quite secluded too. If Mateo needed a place to keep Lucy, there would be no better place. Paired with the fact that it is out of the LAPD’s reach…”

“You think that Lucy was transported hundreds of miles and she’s currently there? You think Lucas would risk getting pulled over transporting Lucy?” Tim asked.

“I think that that was a risk they weighed over being close to LA, close to the LAPD who they knew would be searching for her. Look, we don’t have any better ideas, do we?” Whittler looked around, but nobody was saying anything.

It was true, they didn’t have any better ideas or leads, not yet.

And this might be something, the thread they needed to find Lucy.

“Lost signal, boss,” the young agent that Whittler had talked to said, and they all looked up to see that the phone, indeed, was now off the map, Lucas now once again in the wind.

“I’m going to call up the local field office, they’ll send over some agents to check out the two warehouses in the area and report back to us.”

“I’m going to go,” Tim said, challenging anyone to tell him that he couldn’t, that it was not LAPD jurisdiction.

“Sergeant, LAPD’s jurisdictional boundaries end hundreds of miles south of the location. FBI’s don’t. We can handle it.”

Of course, it would be Whittler who’d challenge him.

“With all due respect, Agent Whittler, jurisdictional boundaries are the last thing I’m thinking about right now. And either way, you need to send a SWAT team to the address, right? How long is it going to take you to assemble an FBI one, this far away from a major field office?” He challenged, knowing the answer.

“Ah, I see Sergeant, are you offering up your own team to go in instead?”

“Yes, yes I am. Whittler, if you can get us air transportation, we can be there and back by nightfall. Besides, I’m sick and tired of sitting here doing nothing but looking at past evidence.”

“You’re going to go even if I say no, aren’t you?”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out if you do say no. What’s it going to be?”

Tim and Sarah locked eyes, the humdrum of the dozens of other officers just background noise.

“Alright, Sergeant. Get your team ready to go in thirty minutes. Are you happy to join us as well, Detectives?”

“I’ll stay – I need to look after my daughter tonight,” Nyla said, and they all nodded.

“Of course. Detective Lopez?”

“I’m in. Let’s go get him.”

*

“You’re reading?” Bradford questioned over the headset in the helicopter, his fingers nervously strumming against his leg.

“Yes, Sergeant. Got an updated report from the lab on both the bombings, as well as got a report from our techs – they worked out how the blueprints were tampered with.”

“Great, I’ve been waiting for answers to that for a while,” Angela chimed in beside Tim.

“Well, how did they?” Tim asked.

“Techs say that it was not done remotely – someone was physically in the server room and uploaded the wrong schematics. The wrong schematics were uploaded Thursday afternoon, and then there was no trace of them on the system by Saturday morning.”

“Thursday afternoon – what time?” Tim asked.

“Um, let me just see. Techs say just after three in the afternoon. Why? Is that significant?”

“Yes, yes, it is – Thursday afternoon around three, Mariana was setting up the Friday meeting that ended up with the warehouse exploding, Whittler. Lucy was tailing Mariana to the meeting.”

What if she was identified before she ended up going under as Adriana? What if someone had spotted her before she and Mariana walked into the building on Friday?

“Sergeant, you with us?” Sarah asked, and he looked up, not realising he’d zoned out.

“Yes, sorry, go ahead.”

“Was just saying we’re five minutes out from the first address. Lucas’ phone is still offline, and there are no cameras we can tap into. We are quite literally flying blind.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. We’re ready,” Tim said, looking out the helicopter and down at the sparsely populated area underneath – Sarah was not kidding when she said that this place was rural.

*

The first warehouse was a bust.

They’d cut through the locks and bust in, only to find an empty space, nothing but dust kicked up from the dozens of feet that trampled through the area.

Tim had ordered them to check every centimetre of the building, but thirty minutes of scrutinising the walls and floors had led to nothing.

Great.

They walked out of the warehouse to a torrential downpour, the sky grey and their uniforms now clinging onto them all.

“The second warehouse isn’t far!” Sarah explained, zooming out of the map on her phone, “Ten minutes on foot due west.”

*

The second warehouse was a bust. At first.

Once again they cut the locks and busted in to see nothing but emptiness again, the sound of their soaked boots squeaking as they made their way indoors, away from the attack the clouds were mounting on them.

There was not just a single room, like last time, but multiple areas that had been haphazardly walled off, architecture that definitely was not part of the original build.

“Sergeant!” Tim heard Whittler’s voice over the squeaks and tapped Lopez on the shoulder to warn her that he would no longer be at her six.

“What do you…” he began his question, but the question quickly died out when he noticed what Sarah was looking at.

“Sergeant, if that’s from one person,” she began, but he held a hand up to stop her.

He didn’t need her to finish that sentence, because he knew how it ended.

“No speculation, Agent. None. How fast can you get techs out here?”

“Actually, they’re on their way already, albeit by land. I kind of already called them as soon as we flew off.”

“That confident we’d find something?” He asked. Whittler was still a mystery to him.

“Let’s just say that and keep looking, shall we?” she said, turning her back on the bloodied floor and heading towards the Charlie side of the warehouse, aware of Tim tailing her as they followed the wall, finding nothing of note.

He circled back to the entrance, where most of his team had huddled, still indoors.

“Tim, west side. You need to see this.”

Tim stood his team down as he and Whittler covered the vast warehouse and headed towards Angela’s location.

“Angela?” he questioned, his torch barely illuminating the space.

“Yeah, here!” She shouted, and Tim followed her voice to see her standing at the doorway of a room, tiny, windowless, with nothing inside but some empty plastic bottles, a tattered mattress, and a bucket in the corner.

Someone was here.

There was no mistaking what this room was – Tim had seen something like this in his army days.

“Someone was marking something,” one of the Metro officers that had tagged along with Angela pointed out, and Tim entered the room, crouching down and running his fingers over the indentations, obvious and straight at the beginning, before they descended into shallow scratches.

There were too many lines for it to have been Lucy if someone was marking days – Tim counted at least thirty scratches.

His gaze fell on the mattress that was on its last legs, fit for nothing but to be burnt.

And yet someone had slept on it, and someone had bled on it.

“Find anything else?” Whittler asked.

“Nothing, no. Called it as soon as we saw the room. You want to search the room yourself?” Angela asked the Agent.

“Just a cursory look. Techs should be here within two hours, but if there’s anything that can help us now…” she said, her sentence cut short when Tim and the other metro officer tilted the mattress, revealing the floor underneath, a floor that looked a lot like the bloodied floor they left behind them.

They went to place the mattress against the wall when Angela noticed something reflect the light of her torch.

“Hey, hold it there,” she said, crouching down, using her pen to lift at the item.

A pendant.

“There’s an inscription: To Clarisse. Love, Tom.”

A sharp inhale of air, and everyone turned to Whittler, who held out a gloved hand to grab the pendant.

“This is Clarisse’s. Special Agent Mann’s. She was here.”

“Where did that come from?” Tim asked, placing the mattress down on the floor and running his hand across the side of it, stopping when he felt a gap in the already tattered material, reaching his hand inside, not expecting to find anything else but freezing when his hand brushed over something that did not feel like a spring.

“Tim, what is it?” Angela asked, crouching beside him as he pulled out his hand, and closed around something.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to open it, to see what he’d managed to fish out.

“Tim,” Angela said, grabbing his wrist, and silently asking him to unclench his hand.

He did, slowly, revealing to the four of them what other secrets were hidden in the mattress.

There was now proof that Mann was not the only one that had been trapped in these four walls.

Lucy had been here.

She’d left a piece of herself for him.

“Tim, it’s evidence. Hand it over,” Angela gently said, but when he didn’t move, she snatched it out of his hand before he could clench his hand over the small dainty piece of jewellery.

She left it for him to find her once before, and now she’d done it again.

Except he came too late, and now the only piece of Lucy Chen in the vicinity was evidence, not the solace he’d hoped but rather a cruel taunt at his failure.

Chapter Text

It was 2:32 am by the time the LAPD officers touched back down in the city, filing into the four SUVs that were waiting for them at the helipad.

Tim and Angela filed into the rear one, Whittler sliding into the front passenger seat, waving for the junior agent to drive.

Whilst Whittler and the agent driving conversed in hushed tones, Angela and Tim sat in silence in the back, exhausted physically and mentally. The FBI techs had arrived two hours after they’d cleared both warehouses, securing the scene and freeing the Metro squad, along with Angela and Whittler, to make their way back to LA.

Tim had initially refused, wanting to stay on-site and view every piece of evidence collected, but Angela had coaxed him into letting the techs do their jobs.

Tim, you’re scaring some of the techs. They can’t do their jobs if you keep following them and asking them questions that they won’t have answers to. We’re leaving now, so we can make it back to LA in time for us all to get some rest, do you hear me? Tim, we’re leaving now.

“Sergeant,” Whittler’s voice broke through the silence as she turned around to face him, “we’re here.”

Tim looked out the window to see that here was not Mid-Wilshire; the agent had driven him to his house. He’d opened his mouth to protest, but Angela had clocked that instantly and instead had ushered him out of the SUV, asking Whittler to give her five minutes.

“Tim, before you start telling me you need to be back at the station, that you can’t sleep, listen to me,” she placed a hand on his arm, and his attention snapped to her.

“There is nothing that either of us can do right now, alright? Nothing until we get back something from the techs. So, you’re going to sleep, so that I and everyone else in Mid-Wilshire can also get a night’s rest without worrying, and then tomorrow, we take stock of what we have, what we know, and go from there.”

“Okay,” Tim said, a little too quickly for Angela’s liking.

“Oh, and just so you don’t end up doing something stupid like sneaking out at night, say hello to your babysitter,” Angela said, pointing at the car in his driveway.

Tim squinted, spotting a familiar face, no, two faces at the front.

“You’ve assigned Aaron and Celina to make sure I don’t leave? Angela, I could fly out of the country without them noticing.”

“Would you rather they stay in your house? Because I can arrange that, and Grey is more than happy to give the green light.”

He didn’t need anyone else in his house; the one person he did want was out there, and he was no closer to finding her than he was five days ago.

Five days now, and nothing to show for it.

“I would rather they not. Angela, send them home – we’ll need all the hands we can get tomorrow. I assure you, I will not do anything, alright. Trust me. Isn’t that what best friends do?” He quipped at the end, his attempt at humour despite exhaustion threatening to envelop him.

“I thought grown men didn’t have best friends, Bradford,” she quipped back, patting him on the shoulder, “Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll send them home but if you’re not at the station tomorrow at 9, you’ll be sleeping at mine until we find Lucy. Clear?”

Tim nodded, and Angela walked him closer to his door, waving at both Celina and Aaron, dismissing them.

Tim watched Angela hop back into the SUV, Celina and Aaron’s unmarked car following and decided not to go back on his assurances.

He slipped upstairs and dove straight into his bed, sleep taking mercy on him and grabbing him in its clutches rapidly, leaving him no time to dwell on anything else.

*

“Lucy, Lucy… Lucy, wake up, please.”

Noah had barely managed to keep Lucy alive; every time he pushed against her chest, he felt the pain from his mangled hands reverberate back up and nearly blackout from the pain, and every time he forced air into her, he barely had enough strength to push himself back up to keep going.

He wasn’t even sure Lucy was still alright when Oliver had pushed him off her, rummaging through his supplies and stabbing a needle into her, emptying its contents.

All he remembered was how tired he was, how much he hurt.

He knew he had to stay awake, he had to make sure Lucy was alright, alive, that Oliver wouldn’t do something to her, but he was no match for Oliver, who ended up pricking the next needle into him.

The next time he opened his eyes, he just managed to spot Lucas dragging Lucy out of the back of the van they were in and dumping her at his side, the door shutting them into a room somehow even smaller than the one he’d spent days at a time in before.

“Lucy, Lucy…” he carried on trying to rouse her, leaning against the wall despite his screaming back and pulling her closer to him, hoping his meagre attempts at bringing her comfort would work.

The door opened again; a paper bag was thrown at him followed by a single bottle of water. His eyes met Lucas’, and he could have sworn he could see amusement in his eyes.

I might not be able to wipe that off your face, but Lucy will.

*

Lucy opened her eyes to spot a figure hovering above her, and for one second hoped that it was Tim staring down at her, that it was his arms resting gently on her stomach, his voice that she could hear repeat her name like a mantra.

“Lucy, thank goodness, you’re alive.” It was Noah.

She forced down the wave of disappointment and forced away the thought of Tim, just for a little bit.

“Noah,” she pushed herself up, leaning against the wall with him, gently taking hold of his left arm, taking a look closer at the damage. Even in the dimmest light, she could see the shades of purple and orange scattered across his hand. She gently brushed her fingers over his palm, but even that small actions caused him to wince in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Don’t apologise,” he told her, moving his to gesture towards the paper bag he’d pushed to the side.

“You should eat, and drink. You’ll need your strength,” he told her, pulling his hand back into his lap, struggling to keep his head upright.

“Not just me,” she said, pulling the bag closer only to see a single sandwich, an apple, and a melted chocolate bar in it. She took out the sandwich, pulling it apart into smaller pieces, holding it up to Noah’s lips.

“Eat, please. You’ve survived this long already; I’m not going to let you die now.”

“Lucy, this isn’t living. I don’t think I can hold out much longer, but you – you can. You need all the energy you can get so you can free yourself. Forget about me, Lucy. I’m all but dead-”

“Shh!” she said a little louder, “Don’t waste your energy arguing with me. Now, eat, please. Unless you want me to waste my energy forcing this sandwich into you.”

Noah acquiesced, letting Lucy slowly feed him the sandwich, watching her hesitate as she grabbed the water, answering her silent question.

“It is. It always is. But we need water anyway.”

She nodded, and he let her hold the bottle to his lips, slowly sipping half of its contents.

Lucy grabbed the apple, scoffing it down and then instantly regretted it when her stomach complained at the speed the apple was eaten. But she pushed that pain down - it was negligible compared to what Mateo had put her through, and, judging by what Noah had been through, it was just an introduction to what he would do to her.

She gulped down the rest of the water, scooting closer to Noah who was now out cold, trying to find some comfort in his presence, resting her head against his shoulder, selfishly seeking her own serenity when she knew that even a light bristle against the Detective could be the reason he crossed the line between life and death.

She closed her eyes, knowing that the next time she opened them, it would most certainly not be in this room, nor beside Noah.

*

“You're early, Sergeant,” Grey said as he walked into the room to see just Tim sitting on the desk, staring at the evidence that was now stuck all around the room, at eye level for all that walked in and out of the room.

They needed everyone’s eyes and everyone’s eyes they were using.

“I couldn’t really sleep, Sergeant. And before you ask, I had about five hours in me, and this is my third cup of coffee. I will be alright.”

“I will tentatively take you at your word Sergeant. Tell me, what’s bothering you?”

“A lot of things just aren’t… aren’t adding up. We aren’t any closer to establishing who Mateo is, we have no idea where Lucy is, Lucas is in the wind, Angela and Nyla think Aaron Whorl’s identity needs to be further scrutinised, techs are still combing through all the evidence from the warehouse, and now Dara Teska.”

“That’s a lot of things. What’s on your mind right now?”

“Other than what Lucy’s going through? Dara Teska.”

“What about her?”

“I think it’s no coincidence that when we finally got a hit on Lucy’s location, she’s no longer there. I think Dara’s involved, somehow. Everything about her, I don’t know Sergeant, something’s just… off.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?” he asked, looking at the Sergeant.

“Dara Teska’s still here, correct?”

“Yes, but unless she’s charged, we need to let her go this afternoon.”

“I know. Is Lopez here yet?”

“No, not yet. But I saw Harper as I was walking in.”

“Thanks,” Tim responded, heading out to the bullpen, hoping to spot Nyla.

“Tim, you’re here early.”

“Is there some sort of new directive you’re all following, mentioning my comings and goings?”

“Just an observation. Now, you looked like you were searching for someone.”

“You, actually. Grey said Lopez wasn’t in yet, but spotted you coming in. We need to go and talk to Dara Teska. I think everyone would feel better if, well, I wasn’t the only one talking to her.”

“What do you think she will tell us that she hasn’t yet?”

“I don’t know, Nyla, but she’s holding back something. And I have just one question I want her to answer.”

*

“Why did you come back to LA, Dara?” Tim asked, sitting across from her in Interrogation, Harper leaning against the wall to the side.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant, was that a question you wanted me to answer? How is this relevant?”

“I would not be wasting time asking you irrelevant questions, Dara, not when-” Tim cut himself off – she hadn’t been told about Lucy’s disappearance, and he wanted to see if she’d slip and mention something about it, proving him right.

“Dara, please, just answer the question. Why did you come back to LA? What are you doing back in the city? Last time we saw you, you wanted a clean break, you wanted away from the city, away from any memories of your family.”

“You want the answers, Sergeant, Detective?” Dara said, crossing her arms, “I will say why I am back. But not to you. No. I want to talk to the two officers who were with me last time – the blonde I knew as Nikki, and the other one.”

The other one – Lucy.

“Officers – you say?” Tim asked, leaning forward.

“Yes, and before you try and tell me they weren’t, I know they were. Nikki, or sorry, was it Isabel, told me what she could – that she was a cop, and she was sorry she couldn’t tell me.”

“And the other officer?” Nyla asked, trying to discern what Dara knew – if anything – about Lucy.

“Detective, I want to speak to those officers, and no others.”

“Dara, you want something, and I want something too. Let’s trade. I will get you either of those officers to speak to if you answer one other question for me.”

Dara leaned forward, evidently interested in what Tim had offered; “Go on, Sergeant.”

“Those two officers that you want us to introduce you to, did you ever tell anyone about them?”

Ah, so that’s what the Sergeant wanted to know. Interesting. Well, it wouldn’t harm anyone to tell him, would it?

“Yes, one person knows.”

“Let me hazard a guess, you told Lucas about them?”

“Yes. Yes, I told Lucas. He knows that I know two officers in the LAPD, their first names, but that’s it. He needed information, and I shared it. That was the least I could do for him.”

Dara barely finished her sentence before Tim walked out of interrogation, Nyla at her heels.

“Tim…” Nyla began, but he launched into his sentence, talking over her.

“He knows. Nyla, if Dara told Lucas about both Isabel and Lucy, he definitely shared that information-”

“Tim, Tim. Okay, so Dara shared that information with Lucas. Logically, it means he passed it along. But I don’t think that’s the main reason behind Lucy being taken. Tim, there’s something else going on here, and as much as Dara might think otherwise, she’s not exactly a big fish.”

Tim took pause – Nyla was right, he agreed with her on that. There was something bigger, some other reason, he could feel it.

Either way, Dara had told Lucas about the identity of his ex-wife, and the woman he was holding out to be his future wife, identities that were no doubt passed along, putting them both at risk.

“She wants to talk to one of the two officers, let’s give her that. I’m going to call Isabel and get her to come in. Maybe she could get Dara to give up something, anything, to her…”

*

“Oh, well, good morning to you Officer, how kind of you to join us,” Mateo stepped in front of her, bending down to her eye level, blocking her view of Oliver no doubt drugging Noah again.

“I think I might have to ask Oliver to adjust your regiment – you were out cold despite Detective Foster’s pleas and begs.”

“I… did not… plea…” Noah managed to get out, coughing more blood onto his lap.

“Whatever you say,” Mateo smirked, planting his hands over Lucy’s – hands that she realised were strapped down to the chair, no table between her and Noah any longer.

“Oh, missing the table, are we? Don’t worry, that will be returned soon. First, though, I was rummaging around some of my other tools, and look at what I found here,” Mateo sidestepped and grabbed something from just outside her peripheral vision, holding it up for her to see.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked her, but she shook her head.

“What about you Detective, any idea?” he asked Noah, but Noah didn’t even lift his head up.

“I asked, Detective if you knew what this was?” he was louder this time as he tipped Noah’s head up, and Lucy caught wind of a black eye.

“Well, let me enlighten you. This, my friends, is used in skin grafting. It’s a blade that’s so fine, you barely bleed. I’ve actually never used it, but I hear my brother loved it. Time to pull out his bag of tricks.”

Mateo beckoned to someone behind her, and the machine in his hands whirred to life. For a terrifying second, Lucy thought that Mateo was going to make her his guinea pig, relief flooding her when he stepped away from her, towards Noah, placing the device over his chest, running it down just a couple of centimetres.

Lucy closed her eyes as soon as Noah let out a bloodcurdling scream, guilt flooding through her at the fact that she was relieved that it was not her skin that was being subjected to such a cruel fate.

“Oh Officer, did you miss that? Well, let’s do that again shall we, for your benefit. I’ll keep doing it until you watch.”

Lucy once again forced herself to keep her eyes open as Mateo did the same just below the patch he’d sliced off. Their eyes met for the longest second.

Mateo stopped, gripping the patch of Noah’s skin in between his index and middle finger, bringing it closer to Lucy. She barely had enough time to twist her head to the side, her stomach twisting in on itself and the apple she’d gulped down making an appearance on the floor, besides the newly formed puddle of blood.

When had she bled again?

“Oh, don’t worry Officer Chen, this is going to be just for your friend here. I like the cuts my knife leaves behind on your skin, and you’re taking it much better than Clarisse did. I think I’ll just stick to the knife for you.”

Lucy wasn’t sure that was the better option.

Chapter Text

If she kept gritting her teeth, she’d be left with none long before she was found. But better that than giving Mateo the pleasure of hearing her scream in pain every time he ran the blade over now scarred skin – no amount of healing, no amount of time would remove those marks from her arms.

He’d run the blunt side of the blade over her face too, each time wondering if he was just teasing her for what was to come next – would he mark her face too?

Stupid thing to be thinking about when dying was always on the table, no matter how much Mateo convinced her that killing her was not her goal.

“You’re boring me, Lucy Chen,” Mateo said somewhere in between leaving another gash in her upper left arm and moving back to hurting Noah, who unlike her was making no attempts at keeping his pain a secret from Mateo.

He can’t, Lucy thought – every iota of strength he somehow had left was probably trying to keep him from dying.

“Still no answers for me?” Mateo had asked her again, and she didn’t respond.

“Who else went undercover with you, Officer?” – well, Noah did, Clarisse was involved, so was Helen Knight, and so many others she didn’t know, some of which had given their life to the operation. She couldn’t give him all the answers, and the ones she knew, she wouldn’t give.

That was the nature of her job, and she knew it from the moment she agreed to take part in the op years ago. Clarisse had already died for it at Mateo’s hand, and there was no way she would negate the young Special Agent’s sacrifice by divulging any information she had. Nor would she negate Noah’s sixty-plus days under Mateo’s sadistic hand just to free herself from potential death.

As if Mateo would let you go.

“What agency spearheaded this operation?” What use was that question? Didn’t Mateo already assume the DEA was on him? What did he want – revenge?

“Is there a fed in my operation right now?” Lucy didn’t know, truly didn’t know. She thought the op was squarely in her rearview. She hoped there was one (well, one that wasn’t currently suffering the same fate as she was), selfishly, embedded in Molina’s current operation, someone who knew what was happening to them, who would rescue them before Mateo had enough of their non-answers.

If there was one, wouldn’t they have rescued Noah ages ago? The thought nagged at her, and she shut it down before she could spiral.

Either way, fed in the operation or not, she knew that there was one person out there who would find her or die trying. She just hoped she could hold on long enough for him to find her.

“Do you have my wife and child?” Lucy didn’t know about Mateo, let alone his family. She’d told him as much.

He was going insane, wasn’t he, doing the same thing over and over and yet expecting a different result.

“Officer,” a slap brought her back to reality, once again the smell of his cologne causing her to gag, “you must tell me what keeps taking your attention away from your reality. Who do you think of? Could it be your Sergeant boyfriend by any chance?”

Lucy’s ears perked up – what did Mateo know about Tim?

“Oh, don’t worry about him, for now. I have my hands full with you two stubborn officers. Hmm, who knows, maybe he’s how I’d get you to talk?”

“You touch him, you will regret it, Mateo.”

Mateo chuckled – “That threat would have had merit if you didn’t look like… well, like what you do right now. Hang on, let me show you.”

Mateo took his phone out and snapped a photo, turning it to face her.

Lucy had to contain a gasp – if she thought she felt horrible, she looked even worse. She didn’t recognise the woman in the photo, the woman that was her.

“Hmm, do you think he would appreciate this photo?” Mateo mused, deliberating out loud, before shaking his head, “hmm, I find imagination is much better than an image. Let him think of all those things I could be doing to you, how he can’t find you because he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Mateo hid his phone in his pocket, hands around her neck again.

“You didn’t want to talk, so you don’t get to…” he told her as she felt herself slip out of consciousness, eyes meeting Noah’s just before everything went dark.

*

Tim stepped outside the station, dialling a number he hadn’t in years.

“Tim?” Isabel asked, confused at the fact that her ex-husband was calling, “Are you alright?”

“Um… I’m physically okay if that’s what you’re asking. But this call isn’t about me. Isabel, are you in LA?” Tim asked, pacing in front of the entrance of the precinct.

“Actually, yes. I just touched down at LAX.”

“Okay, um, listen, I’m going to get an officer to pick you up -”

“Tim, what is it?” Isabel interjected, confused and now worried.

“Lucy’s been taken, Isabel. We have a person of interest and, well, they will only talk to you.”

“To me? Tim…” her voice trailed off, trying to think who would demand to only speak to her.

“Isabel, whatever reasons you had for being in LA, I’m sorry, but you’re going to need to cancel them. I’ll see you at Mid-Wilshire,” he said, ending the call before heading back inside, making a beeline for the first uniform he could find, somewhat pleased it was the familiar face of Thorsen.

“Thorsen, need you,” he beckoned, following the Sergeant to a somewhat quieter area of the station.

“Anything I can do for you, Sergeant?”

“Yes, actually. I need you to pick up my ex-wife from LAX and get her here as soon as possible. Sirens and lights will help.”

“Yes, Sergeant. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it. Give me a call over the radio once you pick her up, alright?”

“Copy.”

“Tim!” Someone shouted his name across the bullpen and he swivelled his head to see Nyla standing up, waving her hand. He weaved past all the officers, walking into the roll call room, pausing for the smallest second before perching on the table.

He hated coming into the room, seeing Lucy’s face plastered on the board, her person broken down into short bullet points, a web of evidence stuck all around the walls to the point where you could no longer see into the room.

The room was a reminder that he was failing, that despite all the facts they had, all the evidence they did have, they still were seemingly no closer to finding Lucy.

5 days now. And what did they have to show for it? A dead CI, a dead bad guy whose identity was crafted, a person of interest in last month’s bombing and Lucy’s abduction, Dara Teska, and Mateo, last name still unknown, a man with fingers in many pies, and the mastermind behind Lucy’s abduction.

Why? Still unknown. Days of searching, hundreds if not thousands of manhours, he could still not find a nexus between the two.

“Earth to Sergeant Bradford,” Lopez quipped, and Tim snapped back.

“Sorry, please, carry on,” he said.

“Blood work came back from the warehouse. Three distinct profiles.”

“One of them Lucy’s?” he asked, and the detective duo nodded.

“Yes. Second, matched back to Clarisse Mann. Third’s restricted.”

Restricted. Never had a restricted come back on a case once in his many years of service and now twice in the space of less than a week?

“Well, we know it’s not Aaron Whorl, right? Because we got that ID lifted. Why was that ever restricted?”

“All we managed to get was that it was the DEA who’d restricted the ID, and they lifted it once we looped them in on the case. They said that once the officer who restricted it was available, they’d brief us.”

“Name on that officer?”

“Evidently that was too much to ask for. No, it’s another restricted ID. Reached out once again to all the agencies, waiting to hear back to see what that’s about.”

“Did you manage to reach Isabel?” Angela asked, and Tim nodded.

“Yes, I asked Thorsen to drive her here.”

“Will he get here in the next hour? We need to charge her or let her go.”

“I might be able to help with that,” Whittler walked in, a young agent flanking her.

“You’ve got less than an hour before you have to let her go, but just before, we’re planning to hold her for aiding and abetting an act of attempted domestic terrorism.”

“You can hold her for attempted terrorism?” Tim asked, and Sarah nodded.

“You know that Mann was working on last month’s attack, and she identified Lucas Scholl as someone she thought she could flip in exchange for an immunity deal. Evidently, now that Lucas is involved in Officer Chen’s abduction, that offer is off the table, and we’re planning to charge Lucas for his involvement in procuring the explosives. He used Dara Teska’s vehicle during said procurement, so we’re charging her for aiding and abetting. Think that might give you all the time you need?”

“That’s perfect, thank you, Sarah,” Tim said, a small smile on his face.

“All the thanks goes to Special Agent Mallory here. She’s been working on a way to keep Ms Teska in custody since she first came here.”

“Thank you, Special Agent Mallory,” Angela said, and the young brunette nodded.

“Call me Grace, Detectives, Sergeant. I’m just glad I could help.”

Grace exited the room, leaving the four of them alone.

“I’ve got agents scouring cameras in a circular fashion from the warehouses, seeing if we can spot anything that might help. It’s a long shot, but…”

“It’s something,” Tim said, grateful to have Special Agent Whittler on the case with them.

“Briefings in fifteen. We might as well stay,” Harper piped up, and they all murmured in agreement.

*

“Wade,” Luna walked into her husband’s office, food in hand.

“Luna, hey,” he answered, embracing his wife in a hug, “is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes. One of my colleagues fell ill so I’m covering their shift tonight at St. Vincent’s. I wanted to swing by to check in on you and everyone.”

Wade smiled at that, “I’m doing well, honestly. Sure, more sleep would be great but I’m already clocking in more hours than some officers have in the past five days. I’m keeping an eye on my officers, but I guess I’m concerned mostly about Bradford. It’s been five days, and he’s all but living out of the station…”

“Understandable, I guess. These five days must feel like a lifetime to him. You remember how it felt when Dominique…” her voice trailed off, but Grey knew exactly what she meant – when Dominique had been taken, every hour felt like a lifetime, not knowing if she was alive and dead, what she was going through. They’d gotten her back, but the fear he felt stuck with him longer.

“I do remember, yes. It’s five days now, though, Luna, and I can see he’s trying hard to stay positive, to keep working, but I am worried, honey.”

“He needs to talk to someone,” Luna said, and Wade nodded. If only it were that easy.

“Listen, I’ll swing by after my shift tomorrow and see if I can talk to him, if only for a little while.”

“Thank you, Luna, truly. I think that would be helpful. And thank you for the food. Have a smooth shift.”

“Thank you,” she said, exchanging a kiss before she hurried off to work.

*

“Lucas, listen here,” Mateo said, talking to him as he cleaned his knife.

“Yes, boss?” Lucas said, focusing. After the fuck up with the medication, he knew that any further problems would result in him being on the receiving end of Mateo’s knife, or worse.

“Oliver is out getting some more supplies but should be back by midnight. I will be out of town until tomorrow morning, so you are responsible for those two. You can have your fun with them, but they are to be alive when I get back.”

“Understood sir.”

“So take it easy with the Detective there. Only I get to decide when he dies.”

Lucas nodded quietly, watching Mateo hop into a vehicle and drive away, saddling him with the joys and the responsibilities of dealing with their two prisoners.

He decided not to waste time, and freed the young officer out of the chair, dragging her to the room, cuffing her to the pipes, slapping her a couple of times across the face for good measure, waiting for her to stir – after Mateo had choked her out, Oliver had given both her and the Detective a sedative, leaving Lucas with spare whilst the two of them were out on business.

Mateo might have liked to be sophisticated with his sadism, but Lucas, well, pain was pain. And he had a couple of things he wanted to tell the young officer Chen.

He backhanded her again, and she stirred, her movements sluggish.

“Lucas?” she questioned, voice hoarse

“Why, were you expecting Mateo? I’m sorry to disappoint.”

Lucy looked around, not seeing Mateo or Noah.

“Where’s Noah?” she asked, panicked.

“The detective’s alright for now. I wouldn’t be worried about him, though, but rather, about what’s going to happen to you.”

If Lucy could laugh she would have – Mateo already put her through her paces, and she was certain that Mateo would have left orders to keep her alive. Nothing that Lucas would put her through would be as bad as what Mateo had already done or had planned, surely.

“Lucas, listen. Whatever you think you have to do, you don’t have to do it. You can still save yourself.”

“Save myself? Lucy Chen, there is no saving me. And I know I don’t have to do it – I want to. You see, I didn’t have much interest in the Detective there, and only some interest in Clarisse – she too thought she could flip me, thought she could catch me out on something. But you… you deserve this, Lucy.”

“What have I ever done to you?” Lucy asked, bewildered at Lucas’ anger towards her.

“What have you done to me? Me specifically, nothing. In fact, we hadn’t crossed paths until Mariana brought you to me. But you’re the reason my father is dead, and you’re the reason why Dara’s in the situation she’s in.”

“Dara? Are you… together?” she asked, suspecting as much from the first time she heard him utter her name and every time she caught wind of him talking about her, whether to Oliver or Mateo.

“Yes, yes we are. She told me all about how your officer friend lied to her all that time, how she had to leave LA, how after that her life fell apart.”

“And you blame me for that?” Lucy got out, and that got her a slap from Lucas in response.

“Yes. I blame you and the other officer. Mateo has promised me the other officer once he’s done with, well, you’ll find out soon enough. I’m sure Mateo’s going to want to keep you around for that.”

“Your father. Why am I to blame for his death?”

“My father, well, he wasn’t actually my father. But when my dad died and my mum kicked me out, he looked after me, gave me a roof over my head, and gave me a job. My father worked for Eduardo Molina, Lucy Chen.”

Eduardo.

“Your dad died during the arrests?” Lucy asked, and Lucas nodded.

“No. He was arrested – you put the cuffs on him – and he died in jail a year ago, stupid prison fight. I would have died too, had I not had the sheer luck of getting caught in a fender-bender. So I blame you, Lucy Chen. I blame you for them both.”

There was no convincing him that the fault for either of their lives didn’t lie in her actions, was there?

“So what are we going to do, Lucas?” Lucy asked, realising that right now, Lucas might actually be more terrifying than Mateo. And with Mateo nowhere in sight…

“I think it’s better you don’t know,” he told her, checking to see that Noah was still out, before locking the door and lighting a cigarette.

*

Noah stirred awake, bewildered to see the chair opposite him empty, no Lucy, no Lucas, no Oliver, no Mateo in sight.

Was he dead?

The pain he felt when he tried to shift in his chair proved he wasn’t, and he was about to attempt to call out, but then he heard a yelp of pain – Lucy – and he decided to keep his mouth shut, trying to work out what was going on.

Another yelp or two, but this time muffled, before he couldn’t hear anything at all.

He heard the sound of the door open, and quickly spotted movement, shutting his eyes and feigning that he was still out cold, something that didn’t require much effort if he was honest.

He felt his restraints loosen, a pair of arms slid him off the chair and began to drag him across the concrete floor. He couldn't help but let out a whimper at a particularly hard tug, and he felt the arms let go of him.

“Well hello there, Detective. Need a hand?” Lucas laughed as if he’d discovered a new joke.

Bastard, when I get my hands on you…

“You’ll do what?” Lucas asked, and Noah realised that he hadn’t been talking in his head, but had spoken it.

“You couldn’t even sit up without toppling back down,” Lucas taunted, kneeling over the Detective until their faces were inches apart.

Mistake on his part.

Noah might not have been able to sit up without immense effort, but it took almost no effort, and a hell of a lot of satisfaction, when he lifted his right hand up and jabbed his fingers into Lucas’ eye, broken fingers be damned.

Lucas howled in pain, rolling off the Detective as he clenched at his face, and Noah took the opportunity to lift himself to his feet and scan his surroundings for something, anything, he could use as a weapon. Nothing.

His own hands would have to make do. He made his way back to Lucas, still writhing in pain, and slammed the young man’s head against the concrete floor with as much force as he could muster. It took him four tries before than man stopped moving, and for a hot second, Noah thought he’d succeeded in killing the bastard.

He tried to lean over Lucas but ended up collapsing on top of him, disappointed when he could still feel his chest rise and fall.

Well, the fact you knocked him out is a miracle already.

He saw something glint in Lucas’ pocket and fished out a pair of cuffs – perfect. Taking a deep breath in, he pulled Lucas back towards the chair, cuffing his right hand to the drain.

He could feel his vision blur, his arms and legs ache, and so forced himself to put as much distance as he could between himself and Lucas, trying to get closer and closer to the room, and hence closer to Lucy.

“Lucy?” he got out, trying to shout, but his voice was hoarse. He tried to push himself to his feet, but when he splayed his hand on the concrete he managed to bend a finger or two at an even worse angle, pain flooding through his system.

No, not now, no I’m not safe, she’s not safe, he thought, trying to hold onto this consciousness but his body gave up – he had just enough time to get to his knees before he blacked out, just a couple of metres away from Lucy…

*

Noah’s eyes fluttered open, eyes adjusting to the low light in the warehouse. He looked to his left and right, seeing Lucas still out cold where he left them.

Lucy.

He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling to the room, a shocked cry escaping his parched lips.

What had Lucas been doing to her?

He pushed the black cloth covering her eyes upwards, leaving it to lie over her tousled hair, before trying to pull the gag out of her mouth, giving up when he realised that it was tied much too tight and with the state of his hands, he was not going to be able to loosen it.

“Lucy, Lucy,” he murmured, shaking her shoulders, ignoring the pain darting up his arms, squinting to try and see Lucy through his less-than-perfect vision. His eye caught a trail of nasty circular burns across her collarbone, and he forced himself to stop scanning Lucy for any further injuries that he could, in his current state, do nothing about.

He tried to feel for a pulse, but he could honestly feel nothing but his own pain.

Had Lucas killed her?

“Lucy,” he tried to rouse her awake again but then heard an expletive echo through the warehouse.

Lucas. Fuck. He’d wasted too much time, hadn’t he?

He pulled himself up to his feet, stumbling out of the room, leaning against the wall to see Lucas now awake, pulling at the cuffs that restrained his right hand to the drain.

“You think this is going to hold me?” Lucas asked, noticing Noah when he launched into a coughing fit, a small puddle of blood at the Detective’s feet.

He was wasting time. And yet…

“What did you do to Lucy?” Noah asked, the next question stumbling out faster, “Did you kill her?”

Lucas just laughed, amused.

“Detective, detective, so concerned about young Lucy. When it’s yourself you should be concerned about,” Lucas said, and before Noah could even compute that sentence, a shot rang out, inches from his head. He dropped, ears ringing, shuffling as fast as he could.

He didn’t check Lucas after he’d knocked him out. Fuck. And that mistake could actually spell his demise.

“You better run, Detective,” Lucas quipped again, “Next time you cuff someone, make sure they don’t have the cuff keys on their person.”

Double fuck.

He pushed himself up to his feet, forcing himself to stumble further away from Lucas.

And further away from Lucy.

Another shot rang out, and he felt the bullet skim his emaciated leg, pinging off something metallic.

Lucas was a shit shot – small mercies there.

Noah kept putting distance between him and Lucas, making his way for what he knew was an exit somewhere on this side of the warehouse, pushing down all the emotions that were screaming at him to go back and grab Lucy too.

He could barely move himself. If he tried to get Lucy too, well, they were both guaranteed to be caught again.

At least by himself, he had a small sliver of a chance of getting help, both for himself and for her too.

I’ll send help, or I’ll die trying, he silently promised Lucy as he pushed open the door and left, truly not knowing if the young officer was dead or alive.

Not knowing if he was too late already.

Not knowing if, even if by some small mercies he managed to make it, he could pinpoint where they were.

But he had to try.

For Lucy.

For himself.

For the hundreds of law enforcement officers whose lives would be in danger if Mateo wasn’t stopped.

He stepped outside, rolling down the steps…