12

🚓🤍

The weekend has passed in a blur of hospital vigils and paperwork. Marissa's condition remains critical, but she's holding on. Each day brings a mix of hope and dread, the line between life and death a precarious tightrope that none of them want to contemplate.As Lauren walks into the precinct on Monday morning, Grey's voice cuts through the bustle. "Clark, my office." The words are a command, but there's a gentle note of concern beneath the usual gruffness. Lauren's stomach drops, but she nods, following the Sergeant's brisk pace into the precinct's sanctum.Inside, Grey's desk is a mess of files and coffee cups. He motions for her to sit, his eyes serious. "I sent in your application," he says, his voice low. "For the FBI."Lauren's heart skips a beat. "What did they say?" she asks, shocked. She'd forgotten about the conversation they'd had weeks ago, about her potential transfer.Grey sighs heavily, leaning back in his chair. "It was rejected," he says, his eyes meeting hers with an expression of regret. "I'm sorry, Clark."Lauren feels like the wind has been knocked out of her. "Do you know why?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She'd pinned her hopes on this, a chance to make a real difference in a way that mattered to her."They said you weren't a match for the profile they're looking for," Grey says, his voice gruff. "They want someone with more experience, more... polish."Lauren nods, her throat tight. It's a blow, but not entirely unexpected. She's aware of her reputation, her tumultuous history with the force. "Thanks for trying," she murmurs, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice."Don't thank me yet," Grey says, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not giving up that easily." He pulls out a folder from his drawer, tossing it onto the desk. "I've got a few calls to make, see if I can't shake something loose."Lauren nods, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She stands up, her legs feeling wobbly. "Thank you," she says, the words feeling inadequate. She turns to leave, her heart feeling like it's being squeezed in a vice.The locker room is a blur of blue and black as she moves through the rows of lockers, the sound of her boots echoing off the tiles. She finds her locker, her nameplate a stark contrast to the chaos of her thoughts. Opening it, she pulls out her freshly pressed uniform, the fabric whispering against the metal. It feels like a second skin, a armor to face the world.Her hands tremble slightly as she puts on the shirt, the badge feeling heavier than usual. Each button is a promise she's made to serve and protect, a promise that weighs on her today more than ever. She tugs on her utility belt, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. She checks her gun, the weight of it a comforting presence against her hip.The locker door slams shut with a finality that echoes in her heart. She takes a deep breath, trying to push down the doubt that's bubbling up like a toxic brew. "You're okay," she murmurs to her reflection. "You can do this."With her gear in hand, Lauren makes her way to the garage, the scent of exhaust and oil a familiar comfort. The patrol cars are lined up like soldiers awaiting orders, their silent engines a stark contrast to the chaos of her emotions. She slides into the driver's seat of her assigned car, the leather cool against her skin. The car is her sanctuary, a place where she can focus solely on the job at hand.The engine roars to life, the vibration a reassuring pulse beneath her. She checks her equipment, her hands moving on autopilot as she prepares for the shift ahead. The radio crackles with the mundane chatter of dispatch, a stark contrast to the turmoil in her chest. She takes a deep breath, letting the rhythm of the engine steady her racing thoughts."7-Adam-12," the dispatcher's voice crackles through the radio, jolting her back to the present. "Code two, disturbance in progress, 325 Elm Street."Lauren nods, her hand automatically reaching for the radio. "10-4, en route." The words come out with more confidence than she feels, but she knows that the job doesn't stop for personal turmoil.As she pulls out of the garage and into the bustling streets of LA, the reality of the situation starts to sink in. Her dreams of the FBI seem so distant now, tainted by the harshness of reality. Yet, she can't help but feel a strange sense of relief. This is her home, her team, her family. The LAPD is where she truly belongs.When she arrives on scene, she calls it in, her voice steady and professional despite the turmoil in her chest. "7-Adam-12, arrived on scene at 325 Elm." Lauren puts her radio back in her belt and gets out of her car.As she walks up the driveway, she notices a figure on the porch of the neighboring house, a woman in a faded pink bathrobe, clutching a steaming mug of tea. Her eyes are wide with fear, her body tense as she watches the unfolding situation. Lauren nods in acknowledgment, the sight of the neighbor grounding her in the reality of the situation."Morning, officer," the woman says, her smile genuine despite the chaos. There's a warmth in her eyes that pierces the cold armor of doubt that had been wrapping around Lauren's heart. It's a small gesture, but it's a reminder of the humanity behind the badge, the community she's sworn to protect.Lauren nods, taking in the scene before her. The house at 325 Elm Street is a quaint two-story, the kind that's often featured in movies about perfect suburban lives. But she knows that the walls can hide a multitude of sins. She takes a deep breath, the scent of blooming flowers from the neatly trimmed bushes a stark contrast to the acrid scent of fear that hangs in the air. "I got a call about a disturbance from this address," she says into her radio, her eyes scanning the windows for any signs of movement.The woman's grip on her mug tightens. "It's the house across the street," she whispers, her voice shaking. "It's been abandoned for years. But recently, I've heard screams from inside."Lauren nods, her eyes sharp as she assesses the situation. "Thank you, ma'am," she says, her voice calm. "Please stay here and keep an eye on things. I'll check it out."The neighbor nods, her eyes never leaving the house across the street. "Be careful," she whispers.Lauren pulls out her radio, her thumb hovering over the button. "7-Adam-12, requesting backup to my location, code 2-HIGH in progress." The words come out calmly, her training kicking in.She's aware of the eyes on her, the weight of the neighbor's fear and the gravity of the situation. The radio crackles back with affirmatives, the sound a comforting reminder that she's not alone.Her hand tightens on the grip of her gun as she approaches the house, the adrenaline a familiar rush in her veins. The quiet of the early morning is shattered by the sound of shattering glass from within, sending a jolt of terror through her. She takes a deep breath, her eyes scanning the windows, looking for any sign of danger. The house is a fortress of shadows, a silent sentinel hiding secrets within its walls.The door is unlocked, swinging open with a low groan. She steps inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The smell of dust and decay fills the air, a stark contrast to the pristine neighborhood outside. Her flashlight darts across the room, illuminating the wreckage of furniture overturned, glass shattered on the floor. She moves with a cat's grace, her heart pounding in her chest.A muffled cry echoes from upstairs, urgency spiking through her like an electric shock. She takes the stairs two at a time, her boots echoing through the empty hallway. The sound of shuffling and muted whispers lead her to a closed door at the end of the corridor. She leans against the wall, listening intently.Her heart thunders in her chest as she whispers into her radio, "7-Adam-12, I've got noises coming from behind a closed door upstairs." The static crackles in her ear before the dispatcher's calm voice responds, "Backup is en route, Officer Clark. Proceed with caution." She nods, though there's no one to see it, and takes a deep breath.The doorknob turns with surprising ease, the door creaking open to reveal a scene of horror. In the dim light, she sees a young girl, no more than fifteen, bound and gagged, her eyes wide with terror. Across the room, a shadowy figure looms, his back to Lauren, busy rummaging through a dresser. She doesn't hesitate, her training and instincts taking over. "LAPD! Freeze!" she shouts, her voice echoing through the empty house.The figure spins around, a wild look in his eyes, a knife glinting in his hand. He's disheveled and desperate, the stench of alcohol and sweat rolling off him in waves. His eyes dart from Lauren to the girl and back again, and she sees the calculation in his gaze, the split-second decision to attack or flee. "Drop the knife and get on the ground!" she commands, her gun trained on him.Her voice is firm, unyielding, a stark contrast to the tremble in her hands. The man's eyes narrow, his grip on the knife tightening. "You ain't gonna shoot me," he sneers."I will," Lauren replies, her tone unwavering. "Drop it. Now."

The man's grin is chilling, a blend of arrogance and malice. "You first," he challenges, waving the knife in Lauren's direction. The girl's eyes dart between them, her fear palpable.Lauren's heart races, but she doesn't flinch. Instead, she takes a step forward, her gun still pointed. "Last warning," she says, her voice a calm before the storm. "Drop the knife and get on the floor." The man laughs, a sound that sends a shiver down Lauren's spine. But she stands firm, her eyes never leaving his. The girl's whimpers are a constant reminder of what's at stake.Suddenly, the thunder of boots on the stairs sends a jolt of relief through her. Her backup has arrived, and she can almost feel the tension in the room shift. The man's eyes widen, his grin faltering. He knows he's outmatched, and it shows in the way his knuckles whiten around the knife."Drop it!" the officers behind her echo, their own guns drawn. The man's gaze darts around the room, searching for an escape that isn't there. With a snarl of frustration, he flings the knife at Lauren, his arm a blur. Time seems to slow as she watches it arc through the air, the silver glinting in the flash of her flashlight.Her instincts take over, and she sidesteps, the blade embedding itself in the wall with a thud. Before the man can react, Lauren's training kicks in. She takes him down with a swift tackle, her body slamming into his with enough force to knock the wind out of him. They hit the ground hard, the impact sending pain shooting through her side.The officers rush in, cuffing the suspect as Lauren quickly moves to the girl, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern. She gently unties the ropes, her voice soothing despite the ragged edge of fear still lingering. "It's okay, sweetheart," she whispers, her eyes never leaving the tear-stained face of the traumatized girl. "You're safe now."The girl's eyes lock onto hers, searching for truth in her words. Slowly, the tension in her body starts to ease, her breathing evening out as Lauren carefully removes the gag. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely, her voice cracking with emotion.The room is suddenly alive with the sound of officers checking the perimeter, confirming the scene is secure. Lauren ignores the commotion, her focus solely on the girl. She pulls out her phone and calls for an ambulance, her voice steady as she reports the situation. "We need RA to 325 Elm Street," she says, her eyes never leaving the girl's. "Female victim, approximately fifteen, signs of assault."The girl nods slightly, her eyes never leaving Lauren's. The trust in her gaze is profound, a silent acknowledgment of the bond formed in this terrifying moment. Lauren wraps a blanket around her, whispering reassurances as the sirens grow louder in the distance. The girl's tremors slow, the warmth of the blanket and Lauren's presence offering a semblance of comfort.The cavalry arrives in the form of flashing lights and the wail of an approaching ambulance. The EMTs rush in, their movements efficient and practiced as they assess the situation. One of them, a young woman named Tina, kneels beside the girl, her voice calm and gentle. "Hey there, sweetie, can you tell me your name?"The girl's eyes dart from Lauren to Tina, seeking permission. Lauren nods, her hand still firm on the girl's shoulder. "It's okay," she says softly. "Tell her your name.""J-Jenna," the girl manages to croak out. Her voice is barely above a whisper, a stark reminder of the ordeal she's just endured.Tina nods, her eyes kind as she starts her assessment. "Okay, Jenna," she says, her tone soothing. "Can you tell me what happened?"Jenna's gaze drifts back to Lauren, seeking reassurance. Lauren gives her a gentle nod, her eyes filled with empathy. "It's okay," she repeats. "Tell them."The girl's voice is barely audible as she recounts the horror she's suffered. "I thought he loved me," she says, her voice cracking. "He said he'd protect me, take care of me." The words are a stark contrast to the bruises marring her skin, a testament to the darkness that can lurk behind the mask of love.Tim arrives on the scene, his eyes locking onto Lauren's. She gives him a quick nod, silently acknowledging his presence, but doesn't break eye contact with Jenna. Tim's gaze softens as he takes in the scene, understanding the unspoken communication between them. He steps aside, giving her space to handle the situation, his trust in her unwavering.After the EMTs have taken Jenna's statement and started their preliminary care, Lauren gently squeezes the girl's hand. "You're safe now," she repeats, her voice filled with conviction. Jenna nods, a small, fragile smile ghosting her bruised face. Lauren stands, her knees popping slightly as she rises. She turns to Tim, the weight of the past few minutes heavy in the air between them.Tim's eyes are dark with worry, his jaw set. "You okay?" he asks, his voice gruff but filled with genuine concern.Lauren nods, trying to shake off the adrenaline. "Yeah," she says, her voice a little shaky. "Just... a lot to process."Tim nods, his hand resting on her shoulder. "You did good," he says, his voice a gentle rumble. "Really good."The weight of the day's events seems to lift slightly at his words. Lauren manages a small smile, her eyes finding Tim's. "Want to grab something to eat after shift?" she asks, the question a silent plea for normalcy amidst the chaos.Tim scratches the back of his head, his eyes searching hers. "Uh, raincheck?" he says, his voice laced with regret. "I got something to do tonight."Lauren nods, trying to hide her disappointment. "No problem," she says, her voice a little too bright.Tim squeezes her shoulder before turning to join the huddle of officers discussing the case. Lauren watches him go, feeling a strange sense of disconnect. The adrenaline of the rescue is wearing off, leaving her feeling raw and exposed. She takes a deep breath, trying to center herself.That's when Lucy walks over, her eyes filled with concern. "Is he alright?" Lauren asks, her voice a low murmur."He didn't tell you?" Lucy says, her voice tight. "They brought in a drug bust today. It was Isabel."The words hit Lauren like a punch to the gut. "What?""Yeah," Lucy says, her eyes on Tim as he speaks with the other officers. "He talked to her in the cell. Said she's in pretty deep. They are going to search her apartment tomorrow."It takes a moment for the implication to hit Lauren. Then it finally clicks. She knows exactly what Tim's "plans" are for tonight. He's going to go to Isabel's apartment and take away all the drugs before it's searched. It's a risky move, one that could cost him his badge if he's caught, but it's also one that could save a life.

...

Night has fallen over the city, casting the streets in a cloak of shadows and neon lights. The quiet hum of LA's nocturnal life is a stark contrast to the cacophony of sirens that had filled Lauren's day. She sits in her car, parked in front of Tim's. She's torn between admiration for his loyalty and fear for what he's about to do.Finally, she watches as he unlocks his car and swiftly walks over to it. The air between them is charged with unspoken words, a tension that seems to crackle like electricity. Lauren gets out of her car, her legs feeling like lead as she moves towards him. The streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, the only witnesses to their silent standoff.Tim spots her and slams his car door shut with a resounding thud. "What the hell are you doing here?" he barks, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else she can't quite place."What the hell are you doing, Tim?" Lauren retorts, her voice tight with tension. She steps closer, her hand on her hip. "This isn't you Tim. You're not the type of person to throw away your career for someone who's already made their choices. You are the right side of the law."Tim's jaw clenches, his eyes flashing. "Look, if you just came all the way here to profile me," he says, his voice low and intense. "Then your wasting your time."But Lauren doesn't back down. "I came here," she says firmly, her voice steady. "To tell you that doing this, risking everything for Isabel, isn't going to change her. It will change you."Tim's eyes bore into hers, the anger in them flickering with something else. Pain, perhaps? Regret? She can't tell. He turns around and opens his car door, without saying a word he turns on the engine and drives away.

🚓...🤍

KATE SPEAKS!

so.......angst soon or no?