Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tennant stepped into the bullpen and stopped in the middle of it. A tall woman was walking beside her, an illustration of perfect posture in white satin shirt and pencil skirt, long blond hair tucked neatly into a tight ponytail. Tennant eyes scanned the room, addressing everyone and no one in particular.

“Everyone, meet DIA officer Kate Whistler. She’s our new DIA liaison.”

Lucy stood up from her desk, eyeing the new woman curiously. She waited for her to turn around to shake her hand. She smiled at her politely, and Lucy returned with a smile of her own. Her business smile. There was no reason for her heart to beat slightly faster than usual, but it did.

The DIA officer made her round greeting everyone, then followed Tennant back into her office, heels clicking on the vinyl floor. Lucy’s eyes followed her as she walked away, up the stairs and disappearing out of sight.

She’s hot.

As if hearing her thought, Jesse was immediately on her case, shaking his head subtly. “Lucy, don’t!”

“I’m not doing anything!” Lucy tried, really tried to not sound too defensive.

“She’s DIA!” He warned.

“Jesse, I’m not doing anything!”

And really, Lucy wasn’t planning on doing anything. It wasn’t planned at all when she flashed her Lucy smile, eyes crinkling, holding Whistler’s gaze as she walked by her desk on her way out later that day. Whistler slowed down her pace just a tiny bit, cleared her throat and nodded at Lucy before striding out of the bullpen, her faint perfume lingered just a tad longer in Lucy’s mind.

—

The next time she saw Whistler, it was in close proximity. She came out of the elevator and marched straight to Lucy's seat, sliding a thick envelope on the desk surface with her long slender fingers. Lucy looked up, her breath quickened at the way those brown eyes were looking into hers.

“Special Agent Tara.”

“DIA officer Whistler. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Lucy might’ve batted her eyelashes for added effect. Whistler missed a beat, but she recovered quickly.

“Records of McLean's movements in the past two years, per your SAC’s request.”

Lucy delivered her thanks with an extra smile, trying to reign in the temptation to say something flirty. Whistler nodded stiffly at her, turning on her heels and strode out of the room as quickly as she came in.

Jesse raised an eyebrow when Lucy looked his way.

“Wow, case files hand delivered by DIA. I wish I had that kind of privilege!”

He dodged the balled up piece of paper Lucy chucked it at him, laughing. Lucy felt a tiny spark of hope nervously bubbled up in her chest.

—

The shrilling ringtone reserved for Tennant woke Lucy up instantly. She pushed herself up on one arm, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings and located her phone. This was definitely not her bed, not her apartment, and unless she had grown an extra limb overnight, the arm draping across her body definitely wasn’t hers. She traced her eyes up that arm to the face of the woman it belonged to, half hidden behind silky long blond hair. Hailey. From the bar last night.

Shit.

She gathered her clothes from the floor and stepped out of the bedroom quietly into an equally unfamiliar living room, still dimly lit from the pale morning light outside. She closed the bedroom door behind her. At least there’s a door this time.

“Yes, boss?”

Her groggy brain registered a few keywords from what Tennant said on the phone. Sailor, murdered, collecting evidence, text address right after.

In two minutes on the phone with Tennant, Lucy managed to put on her bra and her shirt. Then she put on the rest of her clothes and was out of the door after a quick trip to the bathroom, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. 6 am was early, especially when she and Hailey didn’t leave the bar until midnight last night.

It wasn’t until she stopped at the first traffic light that she realized she didn’t have Hailey’s phone number. A brief pang of guilt crossed her mind, but the light changed to green again and she hit the gas, her mind busied recalling the details of the case that Tennant told her.

—

It was Kai this time who casted a sideways glance at Lucy. Sometimes she hated that her friends and coworkers were so damn observant.

“Walk of shame straight into a crime scene. That’s a first!”

She ignored his snark, choosing to focus on the coffee Jesse offered her. She’d worry about today’s clothes later, right now yesterday’s clothes would do. She was a professional, and her extracurricular activities did not interfere with her work!

—

They closed the case two days later. It had been an easy one, with the main suspect confessing after two hours in the interrogation room with Jesse and Tennant.

Lucy picked up her backpack and crossed the two steps to perch on the edge of Jesse’s desk.

“Come on, be done with work already!” She made sure to be extra whiny, in the tone she usually reserved just for him.

Jesse held up a finger in her direction without looking at her. Lucy huffed and looked around, looking for something else to distract herself with. What would be better at that than… a serious looking DIA officer, walking across the bullpen as if a thousand unfriendly eyes had been watching. But it was just Lucy, and Lucy’s eyes were definitely not unfriendly, especially when they darted quickly over her figure before Lucy reigned them in to a more appropriate glance for the office setting.

“Whistler! You should come with us!”

Whistler halted and hesitated for a fraction of a second before turning to face Lucy, eyebrows raised with an unasked question.

“We’re going to a bar, to celebrate.” Lucy hastily supplied.

Whistler’s smile was apologetic.

“Thanks but… I can’t.”

Something in the way she replied stopped Lucy from pushing. She smiled politely at Whistler and then watched her retreat to the elevator, her elegant form a stark contrast to the awkward mannerism witnessed just a few seconds earlier.

“Don’t take it personal, Luce. She’s DIA, she’s not supposed to be our friend.” Jesse said over his shoulder, eyes still glued to his monitor.

Lucy didn’t say it, but she didn’t exactly want to be Whistler’s friend. And Lucy wasn’t one to give up without trying at least once. In the friend and non-friend categories, each.

—

“I promise I wasn’t stalking you.”

In immediate retrospect, it wasn’t the best opening. Lucy inwardly grimaced the moment the words flew out of her mouth and into the cacophony of the coffee shop. Whistler was also there, waiting in the same area, two orders ahead of hers. If she was amused, she was definitely showing it.

“It’s fine, free country and all that.”

“Double-shot cappuccino with vanilla sweet cream and extra milk foam. For Katherine.” The barista announced over the music, eyes scanning the small crowd in front of him.

“I'd bet it isn’t yours. Even though you might be Katherine.” Lucy said, enunciating the name just to get a raise out of Whistler.

“Oh, how so?”

It was the most non-work talk Lucy had heard from Whistler, and she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity.

“You don’t seem like the vanilla sweet cream type.” Lucy huffed at the additive for extra effect. “Soy latte, double shot is my guess.”

As if on cue, the barista’s voice boomed out again. “Double shot oat latte for Kate.”

“Close enough,” Whistler smiled at Lucy before stepping up to take her drink from the counter.

To Lucy’s surprise, she didn’t leave right away but waited for Lucy to get her order. As they walked out of the coffee shop and were about to turn in opposite directions, Lucy subtly took a deep breath.

“I’m going this way. Next time we meet outside of work, could it be over dinner? I know some good places.” Lucy rushed out, abruptly and not at all smooth as she’d like.

Her heart sank at the panicked look flashing across Whistler’s face. Maybe she had read her wrong. An apology was on the tip of her tongue, but Whistler stammered out an answer before she could say it.

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She cleared her throat, said goodbye and walked away. Lucy froze on the spot for a few seconds, the rejection stung while her mind dealt with the response. Why would that not be a good idea?

Chapter Text

Coming down the stairs from Tennant’s office and walking briskly past Lucy’s seat, Jesse knocked once on her desk without stopping.

“Suit up Luce, we’re moving in.”

Lucy bolted straight up from her slouching position, pushing the chair out of the way to catch up with Jesse’ long strides. They had been waiting all morning for the intel that would put their main suspect at the same location at their murder victim, a month ago, at a military complex in Nevada. Whistler must’ve come through with the information when she marched into Tennant’s office earlier.

It was smooth sailing from there, as smooth as an arrest could ever be. Lucy frog marched the guy, a six-foot tall block of muscles in handcuffs, into the interrogation room, Jesse trailing behind them. Whistler was already in there, hand on hip, slightly leaning down to read a file on the desk. She looked up as Lucy entered, nodding in acknowledgement before turning her gaze toward the perp. Straightening herself up to her full height, she stared at him for several seconds with a hard look in her eyes before dragging a chair to her side and sitting down next to Tennant.

Being a junior agent, Lucy’s part was done as she closed the interrogation room door behind her, wondering briefly how long the guy would last under Tennant and Whistler’s questioning.

Forty five minutes later, Tennant came into the bullpen with Whistler in tow.

“He confessed,” she said as she handed Lucy some forms. Turning to Whistler, she announced to the room while addressing her.

“Great work today, Whistler. Thank you!”

Whistler’s brief smile was smug but her words humble as she shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

—

Apparently Whistler’s job also included shutting down a different investigation of theirs, two weeks later. She didn’t bother asking to speak to Tennant in her office, choosing to announce it right in the bullpen.

“Special Agent In Charge Tennant, I’m here to ask you to halt your investigation of Baranov’s shell companies.”

This had been Lucy’s first case as lead, tracing drug smuggling operations under the guise of navy contract work. They had identified a handful of shell companies with connections to Belarus’ government officials, closing in on trading transactions on both sides of the Pacific and into Europe. The whole morning, Lucy had been on an adrenaline rush of finally connecting the pieces of a puzzle together. That rush came to an abrupt stop with Whistler’s words.

Tennant took a few breaths through her nose before she spoke.

“I trust you have the paperworks to justify what you just said?”

Whistler wordlessly handed her a manila folder. Tennant flipped it open and scanned the content for several long moments before slapping it close again. She looked at Lucy with an apologetic edge in her eyes.

“Sorry Lucy. We have to drop this case.”

Lucy stared at the folder in Tennant’s hand, not quite believing what was happening. Frustration flaring up into anger, she stood up from her desk and stepped in front of Whistler. She hated that Whistler was a whole head taller than her right now, but that didn’t stop her words from rushing out into the open space.

“So we’ll just let fentanyl flow freely into our ports because Whistler said so?”

This close of a distance, she could see Whistler’s jaws setting harshly. Her voice was calm and cold.

“There are matters of national security that are far more important than a couple of kilograms of fentanyl.”

“A couple of kilograms? Did you even bother checking how much they’re smuggling? Do you know how many people would die from that amount?”

Lucy was seething now, her breath was coming out hot and fast, her face warm with anger. Tennant placed her hand on Lucy’s arm, saying her name in warning but looking at Lucy with understanding.

Whistler wordlessly turned and walked away after acknowledging Tennant. Lucy hated the clickety clack of her heels.

—

Their work didn’t involve DIA again for a long while. Lucy worked a few other minor cases with Kai, the bitterness of being shut down on her first major case dissipated with the lull of routine work.

When there was no work emergency, Lucy tried to keep up some semblance of a rhythm for her week. Running on Tuesday and Saturday mornings, working out at the gym on Wednesday, the rest was up for spontaneity. Some Friday nights she went out, sometimes with the boys, sometimes by herself. On some of those Friday nights when she went out by herself, she didn’t come home until the wee hours in the morning, sneaking out the doors of unfamiliar apartments. She didn’t leave her phone number, she didn’t call them back. The girls knew what they were getting into.

She got up early this Saturday morning for a run, going on her usual route along a seaside hill. She liked this route. There was a lookout at the end of it, before the turn back point. The view from there was spectacular, straight down was the ocean, as far as the eye could see. She liked to take a brief break leaning against the railing of the lookout, catching her breath in front of the beautiful scenery.

There was a figure sitting on the bench at the lookout as she approached it. The moment her mind registered Whistler’s face, her foot slipped on a loose rock on the trail and her ankle twisted in an unnatural position. She halted abruptly, pain shooting through her ankle. Damn it.

It was too late to turn around now, she realized as Whistler turned to look in her direction and their eyes locked. She limped forward, cursing her luck silently.

Whistler was next to her in an instant. She hesitated as she got into Lucy’s personal space, looking unsure whether to get closer or remaining at a respectable distance.

“Lucy, are you ok?”

Lucy’s grimace betrayed her as she told her she was ok. She hobbled a few final steps to the bench and flopped down ungracefully, relieved from no longer having her weight on her feet.

Whistler sat down next to her. She must’ve been swimming before coming here, her hair wet and her skin radiating the coolness of having been in the water. This close, without makeup, in the pale morning sun, Whistler’s features looked softer and warmer, her eyes gentler without that DIA Officer determination, Lucy noticed in the brief moment she turned sideways to talk to her.

In the half hour where she gave her ankle and her body some rest on that bench, Lucy volunteered information about herself, holding up the smalltalk. In exchange, Whistler told her she often came here after surfing on Saturday. There was a shyness in her reply, when Lucy asked whether she was good at surfing (she was “decent” ). Taken aback by this version of Whistler, Lucy decided to hold back the tease that was right on the tip of her tongue. Something about being decent and surf clothing.

—

Whistler drove her home. Lucy had insisted on walking back to her place when she first offered, determined to not let her ego bruise more after having limped pathetically in front of Whisler. The protestation died quickly the moment she stood up and put weight on her ankles. There was no way she could walk three miles home.

In the car, Whistler stole a few glances at her, looking at if she wanted to say something. Lucy waited patiently until it came out.

“Are you still mad at me? About your case?”

Lucy tried for levity, putting on her long suffering voice. “I wasn't mad. I was disappointed.”

Whistler didn’t take the bait. She said after a beat, “I won’t apologize for doing my job.”

“It’s ok, I get it,” Lucy said. “I don’t have to like it though.”

Seeing Whistler casting a quick glance at her, Lucy smiled to soften the remark.

“It’s nice of you today, driving me home.”

Whistler’s eyes were on the road as she shrugged Lucy's appreciation away. Her fingers absently tapped the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing on the radio. Lucy sat still and listened as music filled up the space between them.

—

Whistler even walked her to her door, up five floors in the elevator. Lucy invited her inside, just because it seemed rude not to.

She plopped down on her couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table. Her ankle had swelled up now, hurting with each movement. Whistler got an ice pack from the fridge and knelt down in front of her, holding it to the side of her foot.

“There, 20 minutes on, 10 minutes off. You should get it checked out too, it looks bad.”

—

After Whistler left, Lucy took stock of the situation. There was an ice pack on her ankle, a fresh glass of water on the coffee table, next to a cushion to prop her foot up. There was a new number on her phone, which she saved under the name “DIA”. There was a post-it note with the name of a clinic that was open on Sunday, together with its opening hours (Whistler was quick with the Googling.) There also had been a Kate Whistler in her apartment, reading out loud from her phone in a gentle voice an article on how to care for a sprained ankle.

Her phone chimed with a message from “DIA”.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

—

Lucy’s ankle took a week to heal. She was on desk duty the whole time, trying her best to help the team from her computer. By the time the weekend came around, she eagerly set the alarm for an early Saturday morning run.

Whistler was sitting in the exact spot as last week when Lucy approached the viewpoint. She had two cups of coffee with her.

“Waiting for someone?” Lucy said as she sat down next to her.

“Uh… no? The coffee’s for you if you want it.” Whistler offered the cup, which Lucy took.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll show up!”

“I could drink both if you didn’t. In fact, I can take it back now!”

Lucy quickly moved the cup away from her and hastily took a sip. “Too late, it’s mine now.”

Whistler laughed, easily, and Lucy felt oddly proud of that achievement. It was less than three weeks ago that she was fuming at Whistler, right up in her face, while the other one clenching her jaws at her acidic words. This version of Whistler, in her white Converse and ripped jeans, sitting on a bench with her, sipping coffee, laughing with her, seemed like an entirely different person.

Lucy liked this version better.

—

Lucy went running every Saturday morning now. She had a recurring alarm set for 6:30am Saturday.

—

Lucy went out by herself on a Friday night. The boys all begged off tonight with their lame excuses. She was sitting at the bar when a cute blonde girl with a pixie haircut walked up to get her drink. Lucy smiled at her, and the girl shyly smiled back.

An hour later, Lucy left the bar with the girl.

—

Lucy got home late last night. Her alarm for Saturday morning run went off, and she smashed the button blindly, not quite hitting it.

Running on five hours of sleep was gross. She all but collapsed onto the bench when she got to the viewpoint, almost crashing into Whistler. She groaned, leaning forward to catch her breath with her hands on her knees. Whistler wordlessly gave her a water bottle, chuckling as Lucy took large gulps from it.

“Rough night?” Whistler asked.

“I wouldn’t call it rough exactly. She liked it gentle,” Lucy delivered with a wink.

Red rose up in Whistler’s cheeks but she laughed with Lucy, covering her eyes with her hand.

—

Lucy didn’t stay out late on Friday nights anymore. If she felt like going out by herself, she did it on Thursdays.

—

They met almost every Saturday. This early in the morning, when everything was quiet and calm, the sun was still gentle, most houses were still asleep. This early in the morning, Whistler’s eyes were carefree and her smiles came easy. Lucy could even see the faint freckles on her cheeks without any makeup covering them up.

This early in the morning, everything was simple, sitting on a bench with her looking over the city below and the ocean in the distance, two cups of coffee between them, their conversations ebbed and flowed as they breathed in the crisp air, still fresh from the night.

Lucy loved it, this early in the morning.

—

Their weekly meetups felt like a secret. Especially when she saw Whistler at work, tall and imposing in her pencil skirt and heels, walking in long strides across the bullpen, a stiff nod in Lucy’s direction as she passed.

They didn’t exchange anything more than work talk, folders and files at the army base. Whistler didn’t change her posture or her tone, addressing Agent Tara the same way she addressed Agent Holman and Agent Boone. Lucy didn’t tell anyone about her Saturday runs. 

—

Lucy snoozed her alarm twice today. The third time it went off, she turned it off and buried her head further into the pillow.

Whistler had shut down another investigation yesterday. Now there was a cold case in their records, not because of the lack of evidence, but because there was evidence that revealed far too much.

Lucy had slapped the folder down on her desk and stomped out of the bullpen, not even looking at Whistler as she went past her.

Lucy didn’t go for a run this week.

—

The week after, there was no Whistler at the viewpoint when Lucy got there. Lucy went home after the coffee got cold.

In the following week, they had a briefing with DIA. Officer Parker went in place of Whistler. He said Whistler had been out sick.

Lucy typed a message to “DIA” on her phone, changed the wording three times, then deleted the whole thing and started over. She settled with “heard you’re sick. Hope you’re feeling better.”

The response came an hour later. “Better now. See you on Saturday.”

On Saturday, Whistler looked paler, her hair dry and up in a loose ponytail. Lucy brought her a fresh orange juice from a cafe down the road. She asked about her surf, as usual.

“I didn’t surf today. Not in my best shape,” Whistler answered with a shrug of her shoulders. Then she added, when Lucy raised an eyebrow in questioning, “I wanted to see you. I felt like things were… not ok between us.”

Lucy was no longer angry. Two weeks was a long time.

“It’s ok. You were doing your job.”

“Our jobs will occasionally be in conflict, Lucy. I need… I need you to be ok with that.”

“I’ll deal. Lucky we’re just running buddies,” Lucy said, looking at the trail winding off to the side in front of her.

Whistler looked at her for a long while, her eyes searching for some truth they were not telling.

“Yeah,” she said quietly when she finally looked away.

—

Every week she learned something new about Whistler.

—

“I could imagine you as a cheerleader. I was Theta Rush chair in college. Much less fun I bet.”

—

“I went to their last show before they disbanded. Best concert in my life by a long shot.”

—

“I’m more of a wine person though. I like Pinot Grigio.”

—

“My girlfriend is a lawyer for Homeland Security in DC. Odd hours is a way of life.”

Disappointment crept up in Lucy’s chest, a sinking feeling that didn’t last long. She kept her voice light when she said, “Lucky girl.”

Lucy wondered about her own luck, sitting on a bench on a pleasant Hawaii’s morning, a body away from her personal definition of beautiful, soft blond hair framing a sharp jawline, elegant cheeks and gentle brown eyes, intelligent and unattainably beautiful in that DIA-officer, with-a-girlfriend-in-DC kind of way.

It was just her luck.

Chapter Text

Winter in Hawaii came around with a slight drop in temperature and rainier days. Lucy loved the cooler mornings and kept up her running.

Whistler switched to running as well. Something about the waves being too big this side of the island in the winter for a casual surfer. They ran together. They had a different routine now: Lucy ran her first leg from her place to the viewpoint, where she met Whistler, who drove there in her car, then they ran together, looping around the hill until they got back and sat on the bench talking for a while before parting ways. There was a coffee shop along the way that they sometimes stopped at for a break, sitting outside catching their breath and sipping coffee. On those coffee shop days, they walked back to the viewpoint together instead of running, strolling along the quiet trail under the trees.

Whistler talked to her easily. Her words were different, her mannerism was different, she was unintimidating and even a bit awkward. Lucy’s mind had a hard time reconciling the stiff and bossy DIA Officer with her long strides and her heels with this girl in running shoes and shorts, walking leisurely, talking with her hands in whatever topic came up between them.

Even without her heels, Whistler was still freakingly tall. She had tall people’s problems, such as bumping her head on a low hanging branch when Lucy just walked by right under it.

“Ow,” Whistler stopped on her track, rubbing her hand on her forehead.

Lucy turned around immediately and got closer to look at her face. She gently peeled Whistler’s hand away and touched the red spot on her forehead, soothingly rubbing it with her fingers out of instinct. Then her mind caught up. She’d do it with a girlfriend, or a date, but Whistler was neither. Whistler, who had a girlfriend. But Lucy could swear she was leaning into her palm. Her skin felt soft under Lucy’s fingers, and Lucy ran out of air for her lungs to breathe and words for her mouth to speak.

It was only a second before Whistler pulled away. “I’m ok,” she said with her head down, hiding her eyes.

They didn’t talk much the rest of the way.

—

On a different Hawaii winter morning, dark clouds suddenly came out of nowhere, covering up the clear sky. Heavy raindrops followed immediately after, pelting them just as they started their jog. In a matter of minutes, a curtain of water fell down around the canopy of the tree they took shelter under.

They ran for Whistler’s car, laughing as the rain relentlessly chased them. Lucy hastily opened the passenger door the moment it was unlocked and got in, her hair wet from the rain. Whistler drove them away with the wipers moving at top speed on the windshield.

When they got to Lucy’s building, Lucy asked, impulsively.

“Do you want to come up for breakfast?”

Whistler hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Who could say no to an offer like that from Lucy Tara?” she said as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

No one had ever said no, because Lucy had never offered it to anyone. Not many people had been to her apartment, Lucy realized as Whistler sat down at the kitchen island, a few steps from the couch, where she had sat a few months ago when she took care of Lucy’s sprained ankle.

Lucy busied herself with the baking supplies, getting the ingredients to make pancakes. Whistler looked at her curiously from her seat.

“Never thought I’d see domestic Lucy.”

“Consider yourself lucky, I don’t do this often,” Lucy said over her shoulder as she stooped down to get the mixer out of a drawer.

“Should I be worried?” Whistler teased as Lucy came back into view.

Whistler offered to help, so Lucy got her to cut the fruit she had. Bananas, mangos and dragon fruit. She took a mental note as Whistler went to work, skillfully slicing the tropical fruit without any questions.

They ate sitting at her kitchen island. Whistler scrunched up her nose as Lucy drenched her pancakes in maple syrup. She not so conspicuously scooped up a few pieces of fruit from the fruit bowl and put them on Lucy’s plate.

“Would you like some pancakes and fruit with your syrup?” She whipped as Lucy stuffed a forkful of sticky pancake into her mouth. She then went to arrange the fruit on top of the pancakes on her plate and lightly drizzled syrup over them.

Lucy stabbed a piece of mango with her fork, sighing dramatically.

“Fine, I’ll eat some fruit just for you.”

Whistler smiled approvingly over her mouthful of fruit and pancakes. When Lucy finished her fruit, she poured coffee from the French press into Whistler’s cup, finishing it with a dash of oatmilk. Just how Whistler wanted her coffee in the morning.

Better not get used to this, Lucy.

—

DIA 6:39am
“I’m not going to run today. Sorry.”

6:40am
“everything ok?”

DIA 6:42am
“Yeah. All good.”

DIA 6:45am
“It’s my girlfriend’s birthday today, so I’m gonna talk to her.”

DIA 6:46am
“I’ll see you next week?”

6:50am
“Yeah. See you”

Lucy ran three laps around the hill that week, not stopping at the viewpoint. She totally did not care.

—

It was not like they ran together every week. In the weeks where they clashed at work, Lucy skipped her Saturday run, opting for two extra hours of sleep. She didn’t know whether Whistler showed up on those days. She didn’t ask.

The week after, they were back on the trail.

They didn’t talk about the skipped weeks.

—

Lucy was positive that she had started experiencing runner’s high after hearing about it for so long but never had it. This must’ve been it, this deeply relaxed and calm feeling every Saturday morning, on this bench, after jogging miles and miles together with Whistler.

They had many riveting conversations on this bench, while the sun moved higher in the sky, emphasizing the breathtaking scenery in the distance.

“Shave ice is like my top favourite thing about Hawaii,” Lucy stated enthusiastically.

“Everything is your top favourite thing about Hawaii,” Whistler challenged.

Lucy contemplated it for a minute before conceding the point wordlessly. She did love a lot of things about Hawaii.

“What about you? What’s Kate Whistler’s most favourite thing about Hawaii?”

Whistler looked straight at her, biting her bottom lip and blinking slowly.

“This here is my most favourite thing about Hawaii,” she said quietly with a soft smile.

Lucy’s heart ached gently and fondly in her chest. She held Whistler’s gaze, searching for traces of a joke but only found truth in those brown eyes.

“It is my most favourite thing as well. Even more than shave ice,” Lucy said after a long moment.

They turned away from each other to look at the expanse of ocean and mountains in the distance. Whistler’s hand rested on the bench in the space between them, and Lucy wanted so much to reach out to hold it. But it was not for her to hold, so she put her elbows on top of the backrest and leaned back. She stole a glance at Whistler, who still had that soft smile on her face.

That evening, Lucy thought long and hard while lying awake in her bed, about wanting things she couldn’t have.

—

Lucy decided to go for things she could have. Things like flirting with cute girls at the coffee shops, like buying drinks for hot women in bars, like leaving the bar with the ones she found attractive enough, safe enough, detached enough. Like this girl tonight, tall, blond, easy to talk to and didn’t ask what Lucy did for a living.

—

The new barista at the coffee shop called out Lucy’s name for her order, smiling shyly at her. Lucy took the two coffee cups and brought them outside, where Whistler was sitting. They stood up and walked away together, crossing the street to get back to the trail.

Whistler took a sip of her coffee and made a face.

“Ah, too sweet!” She held up the cup to look at the name written on it. “This is yours. And looks like there’s a phone number on it.”

She traded her cup with Lucy, grinning. “I think coffee shop girl wanted to ask you out.”

Lucy studied the phone number under her name. She hadn’t gone on dates much lately.

“Do you think I should call her?” She asked Whistler without looking at her.

Whistler’s answer was uncharacteristically enthusiastic. “You totally should! The new barista, right? She’s cute.”

When Lucy finished her coffee, she saved the phone number before tossing the cup in the trash can.

—

Whistler asked her if she went out with Coffee Shop Girl from last week, and Lucy told her the truth. She hadn’t called her.

—

Lucy was surprised when her phone rang later that evening. She had changed Whistler’s name from “DIA” to “KW”, as it had gotten ridiculous to get texts from “DIA” about feral chicken or whether she had tried mushroom coffee.

Phone calls from “KW” were rare. Lucy yanked the charger cable off and clicked the Accept button.

Whistler’s voice was quiet, almost breathy. Lucy could tell she was lying in bed.

“Just wanted to talk to you.”

“We just saw each other this morning.”

“I just wanted to.”

Lucy figured that’d be all the explanations she was going to get from Whistler. So she did what she usually did, keeping the conversation going by supplying the topics. Which, between her and Whistler, had gotten very random recently.

They talked long into the night. Lucy thought she could fall asleep like this, with Whistler’s soft voice talking to her in almost a whisper, about things that absolutely did not matter anywhere else.

There was a pause in their conversation, and Lucy could tell Whistler was going to say something even though she was quiet.

“Why didn’t you call Coffee Shop Girl?”

Lucy kept her voice playful, like she didn’t care about the answer. “Do you want me to?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Lucy. You should do what makes you happy.”

Lucy wished the sincerity in her voice had been a lie. Lucy wished she could’ve told her what made her happy lately all happened on Saturday mornings, on a hill overlooking the ocean, on winding trails under the trees, at her breakfast counter over the smell of fresh coffee and jam on toast.

Lucy wished there hadn’t been a girl named Cara in DC whose name sometimes flashed on Whistler’s phone screen before she put her phone face down to focus on whatever Lucy was telling her.

—

Lucy called Coffee Shop Girl and went on a date with her.

Chapter Text

Coffee Shop Girl, Skylar, called and asked if Lucy wanted to go see a movie on Friday. That would've been their second date.

Lucy politely declined, telling Skylar that she needed to get up early on Saturday morning for her weekly run. “It's important to me to keep that up,” Lucy said, and Skylar hummed in understanding, telling her that she got it.

Lucy didn't think Skylar got it, but she didn't say anything further. She made plans with her to go out the week after.

When Lucy saw Whistler before their run on Saturday morning, she asked Lucy how her date went, and Lucy put in some effort to sound enthusiastic.

"She's fun. We're going bowling next week. Do you bowl? There's this place called Rock 'n Bowl, it's bowling, but with music. It's awesome!"

Whistler did her Kate-nose-scrunch that Lucy never saw at work and shook her head. "So not my thing!"

"What is your thing then, O sophisticated one?" Lucy challenged teasingly.

"Dinner and a walk. Not sophisticated, rather boring actually," Whistler said with an air of self deprecation.

Lucy didn't think it was boring. Lucy thought how much she’d give to have that with her, but she told Whistler, "Well Miss, how about breakfast and a run, and not in that order?"

“That sounds perfect. Just what I need right now,” Whistler replied as she stood up from the bench, bouncing on her feet to start her usual warm up routine for the run.

It didn't escape Lucy how it was all backward between them. But it was all Whistler wanted with her, so Lucy ran three miles next to her, then made her french toast and fruit salad and poured her coffee just the way she liked it. And Lucy thought that was enough for them, maybe.

—

The break room was empty when Lucy walked into it, limping to keep some weight off her right leg. She glanced at her reflection in the glass wall, inwardly grimacing at the bruises on her face, which had started to turn a sickly yellow. She remembered the punches from the guy earlier today, more in her aching muscles than her mind.

It had started with her and Pike approaching a perp and the girl he took, on a cliff perching dramatically high over the ocean. It ended with Pike beat up to a bloody heap on the ground and she and the perp entangled in a violent struggle. He got a hold of her torso and smashed it onto the rocks repeatedly until she managed to flip him over and pulled her gun on him. It was over when Tennant, Jesse and Kai caught up and she dropped the gun in relief.

Now the aftermath of the fight was showing in the yellowing bruises on her face, her busted lips and the butterfly stitches on her forehead. She got a can of sparkling lemonade from the fridge, already anticipating the burn on her broken lips as she pulled on the tab to open it.

She felt more than heard Whistler’s presence. She glanced around to look, gingerly taking the straw Whistler was offering to her in lieu of a greeting. Her mind, even with the pain clouding it, still registered how beautiful Whistler looked, in her dark blue blouse with her hair down. 

“You gonna tell me I look awful?” Lucy said, looking down to put the straw into the can’s opening

Whistler fidgeted with the cuffs of her sleeves. “No. I was going to ask how you’re feeling.”

Lucy looked up at her, bruised and broken. Whistler pressed her lips into a thin line as what looked like pain flashed across her face. She reached her hand out but dropped it immediately before it got to Lucy. She twisted her hands in front of her as Lucy told her that she had been checked out and nothing major was damaged.

“But you’re hurt,” Whistler said with desperation in her voice.

“I’ll live,” Lucy shrugged it off with a rise and fall of her shoulder.

“It looks worse than it is,” she amended after a beat, trying to give Whistler some comfort when she couldn’t give Lucy any.

Lucy briefly wondered what Kate would do while Whistler stood in front of her, unable to get closer and looking every bit like she wanted to. Always so professional, DIA Officer Whistler.

Lucy limped back to her desk, feeling Whistler’s eyes on her the whole time.

—

Lucy finished up her text to Skylar, telling her she had been hurt in the job and would have to cancel their date tonight. Their fifth date, just a low key dinner at a restaurant Skylar liked.

She pressed Send and threw the phone on the coffee table, sinking back into the couch cushions to relax her shoulders.

The phone chimed a few minutes later. She glanced at the message on the lock screen, expecting a response from Skylar. But it was Whistler, asking if she could come over and bring groceries for Lucy. Not wanting to pick up the phone to answer just yet, Lucy stayed rooted on the couch. But she couldn't avoid moving away from the cushions for too long, because a few minutes later, the phone rang with Skylar's name on it.

Lucy picked up the call and answered Skylar's questions about her injuries. When she asked her if she could drop by to see her, Lucy bit her lip and made a decision on the spot.

"This evening is probably not the best time. A friend from work is coming over with groceries."

After the phone call with Skylar ended, Lucy texted Whistler back and got up from the couch to head to the shower.

Whistler knocked on the door as Lucy was changing the bandage on her shoulder in the bathroom. She grimaced at the broken flesh underneath and decided to put the old bandage back on to deal with later.

When she unlocked the door, Whistler stepped into her apartment, for the first time ever in the evening. She put the grocery bag she was carrying on the kitchen island and started to take the content out.

“I got you some groceries. Figured you’d rather rest than go shopping,” she said, putting the mangosteen, bananas and avocados into the fruit bowl.

“You didn’t have to, but thank you!” Lucy said as she filled up a glass of water for Whistler.

She turned around to look at Lucy intently, scanning her face as if she was mapping each bruise and cut. She moved a strand of hair out of Lucy’s face and ghosted her fingers on the stitch on the cut on her eyebrow.

“Does it still hurt a lot?”

“Sometimes, if I move my face the wrong way. So don’t make me laugh, please,” Lucy answered, ignoring the tingling feeling on her skin where Whistler touched it. 

“I would never!” Whistler responded, her lips twitching upwards in a smile.

Then, with shining eyes, she took half a step closer and pressed her palm gently into Lucy’s cheek. Her voice was quiet when she said, “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

Lucy closed her eyes and allowed herself to forget everything that existed outside of this bubble between them for a few seconds. This close, she could feel Whistler’s breath, could smell the pleasant fragrance of her perfume. Whistler’s hand was soft and warm, soothing the skin over the bruise on her face.

Lucy opened her eyes to Whistler still looking at her with tender brown eyes. Her breath stalled in her lungs while affection swelled in her heart. She couldn’t stop her eyes from dropping to Whistler’s lips, wanting so much to kiss them, busted lips be damned.

When she averted her gaze back up to Whistler’s eyes, Lucy saw a pleading look in there that she never wanted to see. Lucy stepped back, and time seemed to move again from its frozen and still state between them.

“I’m gonna go change my bandages. Make yourself at home,” she said as she walked toward the bathroom.

When she came out, Whistler was standing at the kitchen island, in front of a salad bowl filled with leafy vegetables. She looked at Lucy sheepishly.

“I was going to make a salad. Then I remembered anything acidic is probably going to be painful for your broken lips.”

An hour later, they sat down for dinner, pesto pasta that Whistler whipped up from the groceries she brought. Lucy ate slowly, enjoying the rarity of the event, Whistler in her apartment in the evening, cooking for her, eating dinner with her, reminding her to take painkillers with her food like a dutiful wife.

When they finished, Whistler insisted on cleaning up over Lucy’s protest.

“Kate, I just have a couple of bruises, I can still move!” Lucy said as Whistler took her plate away.

“Excuse me, couple of bruises? Your face is being held together by stitches!” Whistler responded with mocked accusation.

“Butterfly stitches!” Lucy argued. It made a difference in her mind.

Whistler’s voice softened as she sat down in front of Lucy.

“I just want to take care of you, Lucy. Please let me, just this time."

When Lucy went to bed later, she thought of DIA Officer Whistler and overcompensation. Then she thought of Kate, and the sweetness of the earlier moments took over, better than all the painkillers she had. So good that it made her forget the look in Whistler’s eyes when Lucy wanted to kiss her.

—

There was something to be said about preferring the company of your “friend from work” over that of the girl you had been dating, or taking a rain check on a date to clean the bathroom. So Lucy went to see Skylar after her shift at the coffee shop.

They walked on the pier as the sun was disappearing into the horizon. Lucy stopped to look at Skylar, at her gentle gray eyes.

“I– um, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

Skylar looked like she already knew what was coming, but Lucy had to say it anyway.

“My head is not in the right place to date anyone right now.”

Lucy thought Skylar let her off easy when she said, “It’s ok Lucy, we went on four dates, it’s not like I was expecting you to declare your love for me.”

Skylar hugged her when they said goodbye. As she walked away, Lucy wished there had been a different universe where everything was simpler and she could just be with someone like Skylar.

—

Lucy flew to Texas three days before Christmas. She had booked her ticket on short notice, to stay there for a week before flying back to Hawaii.

Whistler called her from her parents’ house in Winnetka, Illinois. It was late, and her voice was low over the stillness of the night. 

“Why are you there this year?” Whistler asked. Lucy had told her that she hadn’t gone home for Christmas since college.

Lucy closed the door of her bedroom, upstairs from her grandma’s. She told her about the house that she spent most of her childhood in, the house that she was staying at now. She told her about her grandma.

“This is probably the last time I see her. The cancer is terminal,” Lucy's voice caught in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes.

Whistler spoke like her heart was breaking, "Oh Lucy… I wish I could be there with you, for you."

"I wish so too," Lucy matched the sincerity in Whistler's voice with her own. It was the most open and truthful they had been with each other since all those months, over some wireless waves across thousands of miles, with no hidden meaning, no pretense.

Lucy tried to break the heaviness of the moment by changing the topic. “I’m doing mental exercises every day to prepare for the Christmas dinner with my parents,” she said, only half joking.

Whistler knew that too, how Lucy hadn’t really talked to her parents in a long time, since she left for college, since she decided to live the way she wanted.

“When can I see you again?” Whistler asked later just before they hung up.

It turned out, with the way their travels were arranged, they wouldn’t see each other for another three weeks. Whistler only got back to Hawaii in January, after going to DC to see her girlfriend. Then she was going to the Philippines on some classified business for a week. Adding up the weeks before they each left for Hawaii, it would be at least six weeks they didn't see each other, the longest since Lucy twisted her ankle on that viewpoint.

—

Whistler called again a few days after Christmas while Lucy was packing her luggage for her flight back later that day. It was Saturday, and she picked up the call with a joke.

“Ready to go running with me?”

“I am, if you’re up for it. I’m in Dallas,” Whistler said, not at all as if she was joking.

Lucy listened, stunned in surprise as she explained that she changed her flight to return to Hawaii earlier, and would catch the same flight from Dallas as Lucy that evening.

When she pulled up to Lucy’s grandma’s house in an Uber, Enrique the gardener helped her carry her luggage into the foyer. She thanked him politely and warmly, and Lucy felt oddly proud. She liked people who treated service staff nicely.

They had lunch with Lucy's grandma in the dining room overlooking the garden, masterfully populated with winter flowering plants blooming along the walkway. Whistler was charming with impeccable manners, answering grandma’s questions about her life in Hawaii, her hobbies, her family, her job.

“Kate is very good at her job,” Lucy chimed in, smiling at the mental image of the logical, intimidating and bossy version of the woman who was sitting next to her at Nana’s dining table.

Whistler blushed at the praise while Nana nodded approvingly. Watching them, Lucy allowed herself a few moments of indulging in the fantasy of introducing Whistler as her girlfriend to her grandma.

It would’ve looked exactly like this.

—

Their flight was in the late afternoon. Grandma had to leave for her doctor appointment, so Lucy said goodbye to her in the sun room where she was tending to her indoor plants. Whistler hung back in the library to give them privacy, browsing books on the wide range of topics that her grandma had stocked her library with.

After Enrique helped grandma into the car and drove away, Lucy stepped back into the living room. She stood in front of the bookshelf, tracing her fingers over the photo of a ten year old Lucy and a younger version of her grandma, unable to stop the tears from falling.

She felt Whistler’s hand on her shoulder and hastily wiped her eyes. Whistler gently turned her around and engulfed her in a hug. Lucy let grief take over her, sobbing into Whistler’s chest as she rubbed tiny, comforting circles on her back.

It didn’t feel so alone in this feeling of loss, so strange in its devastation for something yet to come.

—

Lucy watched the city get smaller and smaller below the window as the plane gained altitude. Her chest hurt physically, knowing that the next time she saw this view, it would be under a much worse circumstance. She leaned back onto the seat and closed her eyes, trying to break away from the grief.

Whistler put her hand on top of Lucy’s and squeezed gently. She left her hand there for a few seconds then took it back, opening the book she just got out from her carry on bag. Lucy pulled up the music app on her phone and plugged her headphones in.

They didn’t talk until a flight attendant stopped her cart at their seats, offering them dinner. They ate the meager airline meal, chatting about the movie options in the airplane’s entertainment system. Lucy didn’t ask Whistler why she cut her trip short, why she was on a connecting flight from Dallas, what it must've cost her making those last minute changes.

After dinner, the cabin fell into a lull as the passengers settled into a night of fitful sleep in uncomfortable seats. Whistler’s pillow dropped to the side when she dozed off with the book opened in her lap. Lucy picked up the book and slid it into the seat pocket, then turned off the bright reading light that was shining above her. She grabbed the pillow and gently put it back behind her head. Whistler opened her eyes for a brief second and smiled at her sleepily before leaning into the pillow and closing her eyes again.

Lucy looked at her sleeping form for a long moment, affection glowing warmly in her heart for this person that she got to see.

—

Lucy was having dinner with Jesse’ family on New Year’s Eve when her phone chimed with a text message from Whistler.

“Got any plans tonight? Wanna come over and watch fireworks from my balcony?”

She politely declined Heather’s offer to stay for drinks and spend the night in their guest room. She googled liquor stores that were still open at that hour and bought an expensive bottle of champagne, adding a detour to the trip from Jesse’ house to Whistler’s apartment.

Whistler’s features looked soft in the warm light of her living room, her silky hair cascading down over the cream colored sweater. She had made a charcuterie board, and Lucy teased her about white people stereotypes.

They sat on the balcony, the ocean sparkling in the moonlight below. As Whistler nibbled on cheese, cold cuts and crackers, Lucy let the question that had been on her mind since she got here turn into actual words.

“Why aren’t you in DC with your girlfriend on New Year’s Eve?”

Whistler looked straight at her and answered with that DIA Officer finality. “I’m exactly where I want to be tonight.”

Whistler didn’t look like she wanted to say anything further, and Lucy wasn’t sure she wanted to probe. The ambiguous statement lingered on, flickering in and out of her mind like hope as fireworks erupted in the distance, marking the beginning of a new year.

Chapter Text

A notification popped up on Lucy’s phone from the dating app while she was browsing mindlessly over social media posts. She clicked on it out of reflex. The girl in the profile picture was pretty, cute dimples showing with her smile, the slight squint of her eyes giving her a playful look.

Lucy swiped the app away and returned to her browsing. There was always something missing in the women she came across, lately. They were either too boring or too wild, either too quiet or talked too much, either too driven or too clueless, either not fun enough or not mature enough.

Not Kate enough, not Whistler enough.

Lucy put her phone down at the sudden, unexpected thought. She exhaled loudly, questioning the realization in her mind before resigning to it.

—

Whistler was not very chatty this morning. They ran next to each other, with Lucy doing most of the talking. Whistler seemed absentminded, her responses usually came a beat too slow as if her brain had to catch up to the words she heard.

When they took a break under a big tree, she told Lucy.

“Cara's visiting.”

Lucy looked up at her, still panting from the exertion. She thought, “why aren’t you at home cuddling with her on a Saturday morning,” she thought, “why are you here” and she said, “That’s cool.”

They didn’t mention the topic again. At the end of the run, when they slowed down to a walk as they approached the viewpoint, Lucy said, “You can skip a week you know. I wouldn’t be sad or anything.”

“I know. I like my Saturday runs,” Whistler replied, looking at Lucy with that half smile that reached all the way to her eyes.

—

“You will get the autopsy report once I clear it,” Whistler said resolutely, flipping the folder closed and holding it away from Lucy.

The autopsy report was for Navy Lieutenant Commander Walters, who had been found dead in a plane crash. Army jets didn’t simply drop out of the sky, so Lucy’s first order of business was to look for clues in the cause of death, which Whistler intercepted right in the coroner’s office.

Lucy breathed through her nose, trying to contain the impulse to respond. She stared at Whistler, who was clenching her jaws, staring back at her with determined eyes.

After several seconds, Lucy stomped away, stepping around Whistler to get to the door without saying a word.

The report came a day later, heavily redacted but the cause of death was clear. Walters died from an overdose. It was entirely out of character for someone who seemed to lead a very clean lifestyle, as Jesse found out when he combed through his earthly possessions.

His virtual footprints and evidence found by Ernie and Kai later led them to a possible spy ring, targeting people with information on a top secret defense project, one that Walters was working on, and one that NCIS had very little information about, due to DIA blocking their access to its files.

Lucy drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, pondering the case as she drove home from work, late in the evening after an exhausting day of sifting through a mountain of information. Even then, they had zero clues on who were in the spy ring, or where to find them. Walters was dead, and so was his girlfriend, in what looked like a targeted assassination.

The car behind her on the right lane honked angrily when Lucy took an abrupt turn, crossing two lanes to take an earlier exit on the freeway. She just realized they could track down the spy ring if they could anticipate their next move, which would be possible if they knew who the next target could be. And that would be in the project personnel file that Whistler didn’t give to them.

Ten minutes later, she was outside of Whistler’s apartment. She straightened her shirt as she approached the door.

Behind that door was Kate. She was probably winding down after dinner, probably watching a show or reading a book, sipping on a glass of wine. Probably wearing shorts and a faded t-shirt, moving around with ease in her living room with her bare feet, relaxed and carefree. She might be browsing her phone, smiling at a gif and forwarding it to Lucy. She would probably smile when she opened the door and saw Lucy, that soft Kate smile that Lucy got in abundance on those Saturday mornings.

But this was not Saturday, and not morning. This was evening on a weeknight, and Lucy was here for work.

Lucy had learned in this job to think two steps ahead before she jumped, to draw the possible scenarios on an imaginary board before making a decision.

Scenario one: The door opened, Kate gave Lucy the information and Whistler got into trouble at work.

Scenario two: The door opened, Whistler refused to let NCIS in on the project and Lucy walked away from Kate, so upset that she’d skip the Saturday morning run two days later.

Lucy took scenario three. The door didn’t open. Lucy turned around and went home without knocking on it.

—

Lucy texted Jesse one evening after work, asking if he wanted to go out for a beer with her. He replied half an hour later, asking where.

Her glass was almost empty when Jesse got there. He slid into the booth and sat down in front of her with a beer he got from the bar.

“What are we drinking to?” He asked, taking a sip from his bottle.

Lucy shrugged, “Nothing. Just wanted to hang out,” she raised her glass and drained the rest of its content.

Jesse took a large sip of his beer and looked at her for a long moment before concluding, “Alright, then.” He took another gulp and sighed contently, licking the foam at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were smiling now and Lucy could just tell that a dad joke was coming.

“So one time I went to see the doctor. I told him, ‘Doc, it hurts when I do this.’” He twisted his arm to reach behind his back, reaching for a point low on his spine that was naturally out of reach. “Doc said, ‘Stop doing it then.’”

He laughed at his own joke while Lucy groaned, like how it usually went between them.

They only did this occasionally, going out with just the two of them. Usually it was with the whole crew, except for when they went out in the field as partners and did an impromptu recap at the end of the day at a bar on the way. Lucy had gotten used to his dad jokes by now, as he had to her rambling.

“You're awfully quiet tonight. What did you do to Lucy?" He asked.

Lucy looked down at her glass, trying to figure out where to start. Jesse waited for a minute and then, hearing no response from Lucy, he prompted.

"I saw you and Whistler on Prospect Point last weekend. You guys seemed… friendly." He stopped, then added as an explanation. "I took a scenic drive after surfing last Saturday, drove by there."

"We're just friends," she said, looking at him now.

He raised an eyebrow, silently challenging her, so Lucy added, "She has a girlfriend."

His features softened. There was a hint of concern in his voice when he asked, "You ok with that?"

"Yeah. We're just friends,” Lucy shrugged, tracing the condensation on the glass with her finger. “She's got a girlfriend, so nothing can happen. And to top it off, she’s DIA and I’m NCIS, to make extra sure it never happens. So we just run together every weekend, like friends do, you know. And she sometimes looks at me with those looks, I’m sure friends look at each other like that too, and sends me those messages that friends send to each other all the time."

She halted, not wanting to reveal more to Jesse, for Whistler's sake. A text message she got a couple of months ago echoed in her head.

“You were the best part of my day today. And any day.”

Later, Jesse walked her to her car, slowing his long strides next to her. As Lucy opened the door and got into the driver seat, he leaned down to catch her eyes.

"Luce, it's not my place, but… if it hurts, maybe don't do it anymore?” He stopped, eyes fixed on hers, and amended, ”Or do it differently, whatever."

Lucy gave him a slight nod and drove away. His words remained in her mind the whole way until she reached her apartment.

—

Lucy wasn’t sure how she ended up here, in a state suspended between hope and impossibilities, oscillating between them depending on the day of the week, depending on how she chose to interpret vague lines and coded conversations, on how much she wanted those looks to mean something, to say something.

The loneliness of an empty bed night after night didn’t feel much, next to the loneliness of not being able to say, “I want you, Kate.”

—

They were approaching the end of their run and Lucy was not ready.

They were approaching the bench and Lucy was not ready. The whole week she had been pondering this, the whole run she flipped an imaginary coin over and over, hoping the best possibility would reveal itself.

Whistler sat down and Lucy followed suit, her hand next to Whistler’s on the bench.

They were both quiet for a while. When Lucy spoke, Whistler did the same.

“I want to be with you.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Chapter Text

They both stared at each other with wide eyes, astounded by what they’d just heard from the other person.

Whistler was the quicker one to recover. “Ok. You go first,” she said, taking a deep breath at the end.

Lucy took a beat and started again. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be your friend.”

She swallowed and thought about the choice the imaginary coin had landed on over and over. ”I want more with you. If I can’t have that, I don’t think I can keep doing this with you, whatever it is that we’ve been doing."

Lucy kept her eyes fixed on Whistler’s, who was looking intently at her. She made sure her voice was void of anger when she explained, “It’s super confusing. I don’t know what we are, Kate. Maybe I read it all wrong, but this—” she gestured at the space between them, “this feels special. And then time and time again, you casually mention your girlfriend as if to remind me that it’s not.”

“It hurt,” Lucy added quietly, looking down, the residual pain of those moments still burned like acid in her chest.

Whistler reached out to touch Lucy’s arm. She left it lingering there, her palm warm on Lucy’s bare skin. “I am sorry that it hurt you, Lucy. I didn't know. I thought— I thought you could have anyone you want, why would you be hurt by me of all people?”

Lucy stared at her, incredulous at the obliviousness that had just been revealed to her, but Whistler acknowledged again, “I didn’t know it hurt you that much.” She closed her eyes at that, as if the thought was painful to her.

She took a few shallow breaths and opened her eyes. “I— I’ve always been truthful to you, Lucy. I never wanted to hurt you."

“I don’t know what your truth is, Kate.” Lucy stated flatly. Her words sounded harsh to her own ears, and Lucy offered an explanation, the image that had been haunting her was as clear in her mind as the day it happened. “You got close to me, you didn’t step away, but you pleaded with your eyes for me not to kiss you. What the hell was that, Kate?”

The silence stretched for several beats before Whistler replied quietly. ”Did you ever consider that I might not have had the willpower to step away from you?”

Lucy didn’t know what to say to Whistler’s admission, to the truthfulness in her eyes.

Whistler waited until it was clear that Lucy wasn’t going to say anything more before she spoke. ”I was trying to do right by everyone. You, Cara, me, our work obligations,” she said, looking ahead at the view in front of them. “I couldn’t just break up with my long distance girlfriend the moment a pretty girl looked at me and my heart skipped a beat.” She glanced at Lucy with a brief, tender smile. ”I had to figure out my feelings before I— before I messed up everything around me.”

She shook her head slightly in self-reproach. “I did a shitty thing to Cara in the end anyway. Last time she came here— she flew to Hawaii for a visit and I broke up with her.” She hung her head and took in a few steadying breaths.

Lucy was truly speechless now at the revelation.

“There’s another thing. Right before New Year, I applied for a position at the FBI field office here. I was waiting on that. And then I got a promotion at the DIA, for a manager position in DC.”

With a small smile on her lips, Whistler sat up straighter and her voice got brighter. “I didn’t take the DIA promotion. I will be an FBI agent, here in Hawaii. You will no longer be mad at me at work.” She looked up at Lucy and sheepishly amended, “I hope.”

“I am mad at you, now,” Lucy said, with no bite in her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Whistler released the lower lip that she was biting. “I’ve always got everything lined up before I do something important. Got my ducks in a row, like my dad would say.”

All her shyness seemed to disappear when she told Lucy, eyes shining with conviction, “This is important to me. I wanted everything to be right for you. I’m free and clear now. I want to be with you.”

And then she asked, cautiously. “Do I still have a chance with you?”

Lucy looked at her, at her soft, hopeful eyes, at the way she was biting her lip in anticipation. She took Whistler’s hand and held it, thumb gliding over the back of her fingers, reveling in the smooth skin she felt underneath.

“If we go into this, promise you will let me in on what you’re thinking, especially when it’s about us?” Lucy asked. ”No more keeping me in the dark. Let me help ‘em ducks?”

Whistler laughed lightly at that, and said, earnestly. “I promise.” She gave Lucy’s hand a light squeeze, “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Lucy didn’t tell her how close she came to walking away. That would be a conversation for a later time, with independent, determined Whistler. For now Kate was leaning into her palm as Lucy cupped her cheek, looking at her with adoring eyes and Lucy just wanted to kiss her.

So she did.

Kate’s lips felt familiar under hers, as if Lucy had been imagining all the right details all those lonely months. She sighed softly when they parted, resting her head against Lucy's with her eyes closed and a content smile on her lips.

"Go out with me, tomorrow night?" Lucy asked into the tiny space between their lips. “Dinner and a walk,” she added to sweeten the offer. “I was told that was your thing.”

“Will you pick me up?” Whistler asked shyly.

It was everything Lucy ever imagined.

—

It was the second time they sat together in a restaurant.

The first time had been at Dallas-Fort Worth airport, over some overpriced drinks to kill time before their flight back to Hawaii. Whistler had looked at Lucy the same way then as she was looking at her now, except that Lucy was holding her hand across the table this time. Her eyes were sparkling in the warm light of the restaurant, her palm soft under Lucy’s skin, her smile brightening up her whole face. Lucy felt drunk even before wine was served.

Afterwards, they strolled together in the pleasant evening air along the seawall. Whistler’s hand felt warm and sure, holding on to Lucy’s as they walked away from the crowd toward a quiet part of the path.

Lucy kissed her under the shadow of a tree. Whistler was pliant when Lucy deepened the kiss, yielding under her tongue and lips. When Lucy let go, Whistler whispered her name breathlessly, eyes dark and intense, her hands pressing into Lucy’s hips.

“Come home with me?” Lucy whispered into her ear before kissing her exposed neck, unable to resist the temptation.

“Yes. Anything you want,” Whistler promised, stirring up all the desires Lucy had not allowed to surface, deep inside her body. Lucy let her know, kissing her again harder and deeper until she was out of breath, until she pleaded with Lucy to take her home.

—

It was weekday and Lucy woke up in Whistler’s apartment. Whistler’s phone was blaring its alarm tone, flashing the time on the display. Lucy glanced at it and buried her face further into Whistler’s neck.

Lucy didn’t need a lot of time to get ready in the morning, especially when she was at Whistler’s place. So she got ready first and made coffee and breakfast while Whistler went through her morning routine.

That routine included asking Siri questions about the day, the weather, the traffic, while she did her makeup. She'd already picked out her outfit the night before and hung it on the closet handle on a hook.

It was a pantsuit day today, apparently.

Lucy drove her to Pearl, keeping the steering wheel steady with one hand while the other one reached across the center console to hold her hand. There was an inter-agency conference today, and Whistler was going to present her proposal on a new, easier process for information sharing across government and army departments. All in her second week at the FBI.

When Whistler stepped onto the podium, her slides were ready to go on the overhead display. She looked in the audience to where Lucy sat and smiled when she caught her eyes.

Applause broke out across the room when her presentation was over, before everyone stood up and dispersed for the meet and greet session.

Lucy found Tennant in the crowd near the coffee station. Tennant told her how she was proud to see another woman on the podium and how important that was. As if on cue, Whistler appeared next to them. But she only had time to greet Tennant before Pike came to whisk her away, rambling about how she had to meet his boss at CGIS. She touched Lucy's arm gently as she turned to walk away, nodding at Tennant.

“Great presentation, Whistler!” Tennant called after her. She then turned to Lucy and winked at her, smiling. “Way to go, Lucy!”

Lucy blushed at her boss’ approving remark on her personal life. She trailed her gaze on Whistler’s retreating form, lingering on her long legs in the form-fitting pants. When she looked up, she caught sight of Jesse giving Whistler a thumbs up as she went past him.

Lucy couldn't stop smiling. She was so proud of her.