Illusive | Tim Bradford

nineteen •

The weight of my recent encounter hung heavy in my mind as I stepped back into the familiar surroundings of the precinct. The incident, the almost gunshot, the rush of adrenaline - it all replayed in my thoughts like a relentless nightmare. But there was something more pressing awaiting me: the conversation I knew I needed to have with Officer Bradford.

As I made my way through the station, I caught sight of Bradford from across the room. His eyes, usually sharp and observant, were clouded with concern and, if I dared to interpret it correctly, a tinge of hurt. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation I knew was imminent.

"Tim," I said softly, approaching him cautiously. His eyes flicked toward my bandaged arm, then back to my face, a storm of emotions in his gaze. "Can we talk?"

He nodded tersely, and we moved to a quieter corner of the room, away from prying ears. I could feel his eyes on me, questioning, demanding an explanation.

"I heard you were shot," he said, his voice rough with a mix of anger and worry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

His question hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. I met his gaze, my own eyes reflecting a mix of regret and determination. "I didn't think you needed to know," I replied, my voice steady, but laced with regret.

His brows furrowed, his frustration palpable. "Maddy, we're friends. We're supposed to look out for each other. Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me?"

I took a moment before responding, my gaze never leaving his. "It's not that I don't trust you, Tim. It's just... I didn't want you to worry. We deal with dangerous situations all the time, and I didn't want you to carry that burden on your shoulders too."

His expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You don't get to decide what I can handle, Maddy," he said, his tone gentler now. "We're a team. We share the good and the bad. Keeping this from me - it feels like you don't trust our friendship."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn't meant to undermine our partnership, but I had inadvertently done just that. Guilt gnawed at me, realizing that I had let my fear dictate my actions.

"I'm sorry, Tim," I said, my voice catching. "You're right. I should have told you. I should have trusted you enough to share this burden."

He sighed, his anger dissipating, replaced by a mix of understanding and concern. "Just promise me, Maddy. Promise me you won't shut me out, especially when it comes to something like this. We're in this together."

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. "I promise, Tim. No more secrets, no more shutting you out."

Officer Nolan's perspective.

The tension in the air was palpable as Officer Bradford confronted me about not informing him that Officer Hale had been shot. His eyes bore into mine, a mix of anger and concern flashing in their depths. I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure under his scrutiny.

"I get that you're upset, Bradford," I began, my voice steady but laced with the weight of the situation. "But everyone who needed to know was informed. Sergeant Grey, Hale, and even the paramedics were aware. We were focused on getting her the help she needed."

Bradford's jaw clenched, his frustration evident. "She's my partner, Nolan. I should have been told immediately. I deserve to know if she's in danger."

I nodded, understanding his perspective but also realizing the decisions made in the heat of the moment. "I understand how you feel, but we were in the middle of a chaotic situation. Our priority was ensuring Hale received medical attention. We didn't want to distract you or anyone else from handling the ongoing threat."

His expression softened slightly, the anger giving way to a flicker of understanding. "I just want to make sure she's okay," he admitted, his voice softer now, the concern for Hale overshadowing his anger.

"I do too, Bradford," I replied earnestly. "She's a tough officer, and she'll pull through this. We're a team, and we've got each other's backs."

Bradford's shoulders relaxed a fraction, his features softening as he absorbed my words. "I know," he said, his voice tired but sincere. "I just wish I had been there for her."

I placed a hand on his shoulder, offering what comfort I could. "We all do, Bradford. But Hale is strong, and she knows we're here for her. Let's focus on supporting her now and making sure she recovers."

Bradford nodded, the weight of his concern for Hale evident in his eyes. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for the challenges ahead. "You're right, Nolan. We need to support her now. Whatever she needs, I'll be there."

His determination resonated with me, and I gripped his shoulder in solidarity. "That's the spirit, Bradford. We're a team, and together, we'll help her through this."

As we stood there, the gravity of the situation hung between us, a shared understanding of the risks and sacrifices that came with our profession. We both knew the toll it took, not just on us as officers, but on our families, friends, and everyone connected to the thin blue line.

In the days that followed, as Officer Hale began her recovery, the station buzzed with a mix of determination and concern. We rallied around her, offering words of encouragement, bringing her favorite snacks, and ensuring she knew that she wasn't alone in this fight. The camaraderie within the team grew stronger, bound together by our shared experiences and the unwavering commitment to protect one another.

As for Bradford and me, our bond deepened through this shared ordeal. We spent long hours on duty, working together seamlessly, our unspoken understanding guiding our actions. The incident became a reminder of the unpredictable nature of our job and the importance of looking out for one another.

In the quiet moments between patrols and investigations, Bradford and I found solace in our friendship, a connection forged in the crucible of duty. We talked about our fears, our hopes, and the challenges we faced, finding comfort in the knowledge that we could rely on each other when it mattered most.

Officer Hale's recovery was gradual, marked by moments of progress and setbacks. But through it all, her determination shone brightly, inspiring all of us in the station. She returned to work, her resilience serving as a testament to the strength of the human spirit.