Chapter Text
Graphic by the talented romantashas
LAPD Elysian Park Academy, 2018
Lucy Chen knew she'd made a mistake the moment she stepped onto the grounds of Elysian Park Academy.
Not the whole police academy thing – she was certain about that, despite her mother's increasingly frigid disapproval and her father's quiet disappointment. No, the mistake was the shoes. Brand new boots that the sales associate swore would "break in by lunchtime." The three blisters already forming on her heel suggested otherwise.
"Chen! You're actually doing this!"
Lucy turned to find Jackson West jogging up the steps, his familiar face a welcome sight among the sea of strangers. They'd met during college at a criminal justice symposium when she was still a psych major pretending to consider her mother's career path. She felt her shoulders relax slightly at seeing someone she knew.
"Having second thoughts?" he asked, noting her hesitation.
"Just regretting my footwear choices." She gestured down at her boots with a grimace. "Pretty sure these things are instruments of torture disguised as regulation footwear."
"First lesson in policing – comfort over style."
"Says the man who spent forty minutes choosing between identical black t-shirts last time we went shopping."
"They were different weights of cotton blend, Lucy. There's a science to it."
Jackson's mock indignation made her laugh, easing the tight knot of anxiety that had been sitting in her stomach since she woke up that morning. The "what ifs" that had plagued her all week—what if this was a mistake, what if she wasn't cut out for this, what if her parents were right—momentarily faded.
They entered the main building, where nervous recruits clustered throughout the assembly area. Jackson leaned closer.
"You're the only one I know here," he admitted. "I mean, I recognize Nolan from that bank robbery news, but everyone else..."
Lucy nodded, understanding his anxiety. Jackson's father was LAPD royalty – that legacy weighed visibly on him. For all her own parental issues, at least she wasn't trying to live up to someone else's legend.
Her gaze swept across the room, immediately drawn to a pair near the far corner – identical men in their early thirties. Same height, same build, but instantly distinguishable. One wore his hair buzzed in a severe military cut, while the other kept his slightly longer, softening similar features.
Lucy found herself staring longer than she meant to. There was something magnetic about them—or at least about the serious one, whose posture screamed military even before she caught the hint of a tattoo peeking out from his sleeve.
"Twins," Jackson observed. "That's going to be confusing."
"Though you've got to admit," he added with a grin, "having those cheekbones in duplicate isn't exactly a hardship."
"Jackson!" Lucy elbowed him, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips.
Before she could respond further, a sharp whistle cut through the chatter. A uniformed officer stepped to the center of the room.
"Welcome to your first day. I'm Lieutenant Rivera. When I call your name, form into the groups I assign. These will be your primary training teams for the next six months."
Lucy listened as names were called, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Jackson was assigned to a group with Nolan and two women – Harper and Lopez.
"Chen, Bradford, and... another Bradford," Lieutenant Rivera called finally. "Group seven."
Lucy felt a flutter of nerves as she realized which Bradfords Rivera meant. Of course she'd be paired with the intimidating twins. She caught Jackson's sympathetic glance as he joined his own group.
She crossed toward her new team, wondering which Bradford was which, and why the serious one watched her approach with such careful assessment. His gaze was intense, like he was cataloging every detail about her before she'd even spoken. The scrutiny made her stand a little straighter.
"I promise it's not hard to tell us apart," the longer-haired twin said as she approached, extending his hand with an easy smile. "I'm Ian Bradford. The serious one with the buzzcut and the permanent scowl is Tim."
Tim Bradford didn't correct his brother's introduction, merely offering Lucy a curt nod. If he was offended by his brother's characterization, he didn't show it.
"Lucy Chen," she replied, shaking Ian's hand before turning to Tim, who finally extended his own after what seemed like deliberate hesitation. His grip was firm, confident, and brief.
"Psychology major, right?" Tim asked unexpectedly.
Lucy blinked in surprise, wondering if he'd somehow seen her file. "How did you—"
"The way you entered the room. Observed everyone before committing to a position. Analyzed group dynamics instead of jumping in."
She wasn't sure whether to be impressed or unnerved that he'd picked up on that so quickly. "Most people just assume I'm nervous."
"Most people don't pay attention."
The directness of his assessment caught her off guard. There was no judgment in it—just a statement of fact.
"Oh look, they're bonding," Ian stage-whispered, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Two observers observing each other."
Lucy felt her cheeks warm slightly. Was she that transparent?
Lieutenant Rivera directed them toward the main lecture hall. As they walked down the corridor, Ian naturally filled the silence.
"So what made you choose LAPD? Family tradition?"
"The opposite, actually," Lucy replied, grateful for the easy conversation. "Breaking family tradition. Both parents are research psychologists. They're still recovering from the shock I chose a badge instead of a lab coat."
"Let me guess—they wanted you to follow in their footsteps? Join the family business of analyzing other people's problems?"
Lucy nodded. "My mother's exact words were, 'Why be in danger when you could be studying it safely from behind a two-way mirror?'"
Ian smiled. "I can relate. Bradford family has a military lineage going back three generations."
"Which you conveniently sidestepped," Tim added, glancing at his brother.
Something flashed across Ian's face—a complexity that didn't match his easy demeanor. "Someone had to stay behind and keep an eye on Genny. Besides, not everyone needs to get shot at to prove something."
Lucy caught the subtle tension in the exchange. There was history there, something deeper than simple sibling rivalry. She filed it away, curious.
The brief tension dissolved as they entered the lecture hall, finding seats in the middle section. Captain Zoe Andersen introduced herself and activated the projector displaying their training schedule – 6 AM physical training, tactical exercises, firearms qualification, driving courses, academic requirements. Several recruits inhaled sharply.
Lucy's eyes widened at the comprehensive schedule. Her research hadn't prepared her for just how intense the next six months would be. This wasn't just difficult; it was designed to break you down and rebuild you.
"This is not college," Captain Andersen emphasized. "You will be tested physically, mentally, and emotionally beyond what most of you believe you can endure. Some of you won't make it through."
Lucy jotted down notes, wanting to capture every detail, aware of Tim shifting beside her.
"Still taking study notes?" he murmured. "This isn't a semester course with a curve."
"I process information better when I write it down," Lucy replied without looking up. "But please, continue critiquing my learning style after knowing me for all of fifteen minutes."
To her surprise, Tim's mouth quirked upward slightly. "Defensive. Interesting."
"Just perceptive," Lucy countered. "Not the same as defensive."
She couldn't decide if his comments were meant to test her or simply an observation. Either way, she refused to be intimidated.
Ian leaned over. "Are you two arguing already? That's got to be a record, even for Tim."
"We're having a professional difference of opinion," Lucy said primly, though she found herself fighting a smile.
"That's what we're calling it?" Tim raised an eyebrow.
When Captain Andersen opened the floor for questions, Tim's hand was among the first to rise.
"Ma'am, regarding tactical training – will there be accommodations for those with prior experience?"
Lucy noticed how he sat—back straight, shoulders squared, the epitome of military bearing even in civilian clothes.
"The LAPD isn't the Army, Recruit Bradford," Captain Andersen replied evenly. "Everyone begins at the same point regardless of background."
Was that disappointment that flickered across Tim's face? It was gone so quickly Lucy couldn't be sure.
As the captain continued, Lucy noticed Tim checking his watch, his sleeve riding up to reveal a tattoo on his inner forearm – a date in simple black numerals. He caught her looking and tugged his sleeve down. Lucy's fingers unconsciously drifted to her own neck tattoo. The movement drew Tim's attention, his eyes tracing the delicate lines before meeting hers.
For a moment, something unspoken passed between them—a mutual recognition that left Lucy feeling oddly exposed, as if he'd seen something in her that most people missed.
"Each group should exchange background information relevant to academy training," Captain Andersen instructed at the end of the briefing. "You'll be depending on each other for the next six months. Start building that foundation now."
"So," Ian began as they regrouped, "formal introductions. Army veteran meets psychology major. This should be interesting."
"Seven years with the Rangers," Tim said, offering the information with minimal elaboration. "Two tours in Afghanistan, one in Iraq."
Lucy tried to imagine what those experiences must have been like—what they must have done to shape the man sitting across from her.
"And before you ask, no – I didn't serve," Ian added. "Tried the pro baseball route instead."
"He had a decent swing," Tim acknowledged. "Until the shoulder thing."
"Double-A," Ian clarified. "Not that you ever came to watch."
"I was in Afghanistan."
"Right, my bad. Terrible scheduling on my part."
Lucy found herself smiling at their exchange. Despite the apparent differences, there was an ease between them that spoke of a deeper bond.
"So what made you switch to law enforcement?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"Bounced around for a while first," Ian said. "Sales, personal training – nothing really clicked." He glanced at his brother. "Then this one came back from his last tour talking about joining LAPD."
"You'd been thinking about it?" Lucy asked Tim, surprised by his influence over his brother's career choice.
"Since I was ten," Tim replied with a slight shrug. "Just took the long way to get here."
"For once, his idea actually made sense," Ian added. "Helping people, making a difference – felt right."
"Psychology with a criminal justice minor," Lucy offered in return. "I interned with a forensic psychology unit my senior year."
"Analyzing criminals instead of catching them," Tim commented.
The dismissive tone rankled, and Lucy felt a flash of defensiveness. "Understanding them helps catch them," she replied, meeting his gaze. "Behavior predicts patterns. Patterns lead to apprehension."
"Theory versus practice," Tim countered. "In the field, you don't have time for psychological profiles when someone's pointing a weapon."
"And yet hostage negotiators use psychological principles to defuse those exact situations," Lucy pointed out. "The academy obviously values both approaches, or they wouldn't accept psychology majors."
To her surprise, Tim didn't immediately brush off her argument. He seemed to actually consider it, which felt like a small victory.
Ian watched their exchange with poorly concealed amusement. "I can already tell you two are going to make the next six months entertaining."
"I'm not here for entertainment," Tim said. "Academy has a 30% washout rate. Success requires focus."
"And teamwork," Ian added. "Says right here, 'individual excellence within collective strength.' We need both your approaches."
Lucy studied the twins as they spoke. Despite sharing identical DNA, they couldn't be more different in how they carried themselves. Tim radiated intensity while Ian exuded charm, yet there was something similar in how direct they both were—just packaged differently.
"So what's your approach, Ian?" Lucy asked.
He smiled, and Lucy couldn't help noticing it reached his eyes in a way Tim's rarely seemed to. "I'm the translator. Tim speaks fluent tactical-military-direct, which most civilians find abrasive. I provide the social interface."
"I don't need a translator," Tim said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "People either understand or they don't."
"See what I mean?" Ian gestured at his brother. "That right there needs translation. What he actually meant was, 'I value clarity over comfort and expect others to do the same.'"
"Don't put words in my mouth," Tim said without conviction.
Lucy laughed, finding herself genuinely entertained by their dynamic. "Do you two always do this?"
"For about thirty-five years," Ian confirmed. "Starting approximately nine minutes after birth."
"Let me guess," Lucy said, looking between them. "Tim came out first, already assessing the tactical situation."
Tim's eyebrows rose slightly, and Lucy caught what might have been appreciation in his eyes. "Oldest by eleven minutes."
"And I've been trying to catch up ever since," Ian added with mock weariness.
Half an hour later, they got their first real challenge. The classroom now resembled a war room more than a lecture hall, with maps and diagrams covering the walls.
"Each team has thirty minutes," Lieutenant Rivera announced, distributing scenario packets. "These are based on actual LAPD incidents. Show me your approach."
Lucy leaned forward, her shoulder accidentally brushing Tim's as she examined the papers. She caught a hint of his scent—something clean and subtle that she couldn't quite place.
"Barricaded suspect," Tim summarized. "Possible hostages."
"Love a light morning read," Ian quipped, earning an eye roll from his brother.
Lucy studied the scenario details, her mind already breaking down the psychological elements. "These statements from the subject – he keeps mentioning 'them' watching him. Classic paranoid presentation."
"Meaning?" Tim prompted, less skeptical than earlier, which Lucy took as progress.
"Meaning if we surround the place with tactical teams, we're just confirming his worst fears. He'll see that as validation of his paranoia, and it could push him into a corner. Make him dangerous."
Tim exchanged a look with Ian that Lucy couldn't interpret. "What's your play?"
His question surprised her—he was actually asking for her input rather than dictating a strategy. "One negotiator. Keep tactical support hidden but ready. He needs to feel heard, not threatened."
"It's unorthodox," Tim said slowly.
"But it makes sense," Ian finished.
They worked through the scenario, Lucy outlining the psychological approach while Tim handled tactical positioning. To her surprise, Tim incorporated her suggestions without argument, even building on them with his practical experience. They fell into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural.
"Impressive work," Rivera commented when he reached their table. "Most teams defaulted to standard procedure. Who suggested this approach?"
"Chen did," Tim said simply.
Lucy glanced at him, startled by the acknowledgment. She'd expected him to take credit or at least minimize her contribution.
"See? Your degree is already paying off," Ian winked at Lucy. "Even if some people needed convincing."
During a brief water break, Ian sidled up to Lucy.
"So, Dr. Chen," he said with a deliberate smile. "Since we'll be spending so much time together, want to psychoanalyze me over coffee sometime?"
Lucy nearly choked on her water. Was he actually flirting with her on day one?
"Subtle, Boy Scout," Angela called as she passed by. "Real subtle."
Ian's ears reddened, but his grin didn't fade. "What? I'm genuinely interested in the psychological perspective. For academy purposes, of course."
"Boy Scout?" Lucy asked, amused by both the nickname and Ian's transparent attempt.
"Because he's always trying to help everyone," Angela explained with a smirk. "Plus, look at that face – he probably walked old ladies across the street for fun."
"That was one time," Ian protested, running a hand through his hair. "And she needed help with her groceries."
"Of course," Lucy replied, hiding her amusement. She caught Tim watching their interaction, his expression unreadable. Was that disapproval? Interest? Impossible to tell. "But maybe you should focus on surviving day one before planning extracurriculars."
The afternoon brought their first taste of physical training, and Lucy quickly realized that her regular gym routine hadn't prepared her for this level of intensity. She surprised herself by excelling at some stations, while others – like the wall traverse – proved more challenging.
"You're thinking too hard," Tim said during her third attempt, watching as she barely made it halfway up before sliding back down. "Just move."
"Helpful advice. Very specific," Lucy shot back, though she was smiling despite her frustration. "Any other pearls of wisdom? Maybe 'just don't fall' or 'try being taller'?"
Tim actually almost smiled at that. "Here." He demonstrated the technique again, slower this time. "Three steps, push, swing. Stop analyzing and just do it."
Lucy watched his fluid movements, noting how much more graceful he was than his military bearing would suggest. She took a deep breath and followed his movement pattern, finally clearing the wall with something almost resembling grace.
"See? Sometimes the direct approach works," Tim said.
"Was that an actual teaching moment?" Lucy pressed a hand to her chest in mock shock. "I'm honored, Officer Bradford."
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late," Ian called from where he was helping another recruit. "She's already witnessed your softer side. No going back now."
By the final obstacle course, they'd developed an easy rhythm – Tim offering technical advice without his earlier skepticism, Ian keeping morale up with well-timed jokes, Lucy holding her own between them. Despite the physical exhaustion setting in, Lucy found herself enjoying the challenge more than she'd expected.
"Not bad," Tim acknowledged after her run, as she bent over trying to catch her breath. "For anyone," he added.
"Your approval means so much," Lucy said with playful sarcasm, though secretly she was pleased by his validation.
"He saves his real criticism for me," Ian said, dropping down beside them and passing out water bottles. "Perks of brotherhood."
"Perks of setting higher standards," Tim corrected, but without heat.
"We might actually survive this," Ian mused as they caught their breath, sprawled on the grass near the finish line.
"Speak for yourself," Lucy groaned, every muscle protesting. "I'm pretty sure I died somewhere around station four. What you're talking to now is just my ghost."
"Zombie academy," Tim deadpanned. "That's the next six months."
Lucy and Ian stared at him for a moment before breaking into surprised laughter.
"Did Tim Bradford just make a joke?" Lucy asked Ian, delighted by this unexpected development.
"I think he did. Alert the media. The ice man has feelings after all."
"I take it back," Tim said, but Lucy caught the slight upturn of his mouth.
"Too late. It's officially documented," Lucy said.
And sitting there, the three of them trading easy banter as the academy quieted around them, Lucy realized something had shifted. This morning they'd been strangers thrown together by chance. Now, somehow, they were something else entirely.
Whatever lay ahead—and Lucy had no illusions about how challenging the academy would be—at least they'd face it together. That thought was surprisingly comforting.