twenty four •

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The tension between Tim and me had reached a breaking point. After our undercover assignment, something had shifted, and the comfortable camaraderie we once shared seemed elusive. The station, once a place of familiarity and teamwork, now felt like a battlefield of avoidance.

Every time I walked into a room, it seemed like Tim had just left or vice versa. Our exchanges, once filled with shared jokes and easy banter, had become stiff and formal. It was as if an invisible wall had erected itself between us, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find a way to tear it down.

I caught Tim looking my way, his eyes holding a mix of emotions - confusion, frustration, and perhaps a hint of longing. But the moment our eyes met, he would quickly divert his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in whatever task was at hand.

I found myself avoiding places where I knew he'd be, steering clear of the break room during his lunch hour and taking different routes to my desk just to evade a chance encounter. It wasn't that I wanted to avoid him; it was more like self-preservation. Being around him only intensified the turmoil in my heart.

The worst part was the silence between us. Conversations that used to flow effortlessly were now reduced to curt greetings and obligatory work-related exchanges. The easy rapport we had once shared felt like a distant memory, and the void left in its absence weighed heavily on both of us.

I could see the strain in Tim's eyes whenever we were forced to collaborate on a case. The way he avoided my gaze, the stiffness in his posture - all signs of his struggle to maintain professionalism while grappling with whatever emotions churned beneath the surface.

Yet, despite the distance, there were moments when our eyes would meet, and I would catch a glimpse of the Tim I used to know - the partner who had stood by my side through countless challenges. But those moments were fleeting, replaced by the guarded facade he now wore.

It hurt, this unspoken rift between us. I missed our easy camaraderie, the way we could read each other without words. But something had changed, and I couldn't pinpoint exactly when or why. All I knew was that our partnership, once unbreakable, now seemed fragile, hanging by a thread that threatened to snap with every passing day.

I longed for the days when I could confide in him, share my thoughts and fears, and trust that he would understand. But now, I felt like a stranger in his presence, a sentiment I was sure he reciprocated.

As I navigated the station, I couldn't help but wonder if we would ever find our way back to each other. The uncertainty hung in the air, a constant reminder of the distance that had grown between us, leaving both of our hearts in turmoil.Officer West, keenly observant, approached me one day after noticing the undeniable tension between Officer Bradford and me. His concerned expression mirrored my own internal struggle, and I appreciated his willingness to address the situation.

I was sitting at my desk, trying to focus on my paperwork but finding it hard to shake off the events of the past few weeks. Officer West pulled up a chair beside me, his tone gentle but filled with genuine concern.

"Hey, Hale," he began, his eyes meeting mine with sincerity. "I've noticed things have been a bit off between you and Bradford lately. Is everything okay?"

I sighed, my shoulders slumping under the weight of my emotions. I appreciated Officer West's straightforwardness. It was a relief to talk about it, even if it meant confronting the complexities of my feelings for Bradford.

"It's complicated, West," I admitted, my voice soft but laced with uncertainty. "We...we were undercover as a couple for a while, and now that we're back, it's been hard to find our footing again."

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