Buried in the Dark
Pairing: Tim Bradford × Reader (Y/N)
Based on Episode 2x11 of The Rookie
Summary:
In the shadows of an operation spiraling out of control, the unexpected happens. Amid growing tension, risky decisions, and a bond that stretches far beyond protocol, the ending of this story holds an emotional weight you might not be ready to carry...
Warnings:
Contains psychological tension, abduction triggers, emotionally intense language, and scenes that may cause discomfort. Recommended for ages 16+.
Author’s Note:
It wasn’t supposed to be this long… but it came out exactly the way my heart wrote it. I hope you like it, even if I’m still unsure about it. 💭
*Gif is not mine*
I never imagined my day would begin like this.
I mean… sure, being a cop is anything but predictable. You learn to expect the unexpected — chases, shootouts, violent arrests. But getting kidnapped by the accomplice of a serial killer? Not even my worst nightmares could’ve come up with that.
It all started when Rosalind Dyer — yes, that Rosalind — agreed to reveal where her victims’ bodies were buried. But she didn’t want to just point to a spot on the map. No... She wanted to guide the police herself. She wanted to see the reactions. See the pain written on every face.
She feeds on that.
So, a major operation was put together. No one trusted her, obviously — but the DA saw it as an opportunity: bring peace to families, close cold cases, bury the dead. Hard to swallow... but understandable.
Tim walked beside me as we headed to Sergeant Grey’s office. The air was heavy, like it knew something was about to go wrong.
“This doesn’t feel right,” I muttered, mostly to myself.
“Of course it’s not right,” Tim answered, his jaw clenched. “She wants an audience. That’s all. She wants everyone dancing around her like puppets.”
I nodded, keeping my composure. I could feel the tension building in my chest, but I refused to let it show. Getting emotional around someone like Rosalind was dangerous.
She could smell weakness like blood in the water.
We arrived at Sgt. Grey’s office.
“Ready, Officer Bradford?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Tim replied.
“Sir, may I ask something?” I ventured, a bit uncertain.
“Of course, Officer,” he said, looking directly at me. “What’s on your mind?”
“What do you really think about all this?”
Grey sighed before answering.
“I hate it. The idea of a serial killer walking around free, even in cuffs, makes me sick. But… if it means bringing the victims home, giving their families closure… then we swallow the bitterness and follow through.”
I nodded respectfully.
“I understand. I just wish there were another way.”
“There always is. But sometimes justice is made from bad choices.”
He held my gaze for a second longer before concluding:
“Don’t show weakness. She’ll see it. Feed off it. Stay in control, Officer.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
When Grey stepped away, Tim gently took hold of my arm.
“He’s right. No matter what she says, no matter how she looks at you… you’re stronger than that.”
“I know… I just… I don’t like this. Even though I know those families will finally be able to bury their loved ones.”
He seemed to weigh my words for a second. Then he said:
“If she crosses a line with you… I’ll be there.”
There was a brief silence, full of meanings neither of us dared to name.
I just nodded.
His presence was an anchor I hadn’t even realized I needed.
..........
Rosalind arrived under escort.
Orange jumpsuit. Handcuffs. That smug little smile.
But what really unsettled me was the way she looked at me.
Like she already knew me.
Like she’d been waiting for me.
“You,” she said, dragging the word out like she was savoring it. “I knew you’d be here.”
I didn’t respond. Just kept my gaze firm.
“So serious. So… in control,” she stepped closer, within the limits set by the officers. “You’re a good actress.”
“Keep walking, Rosalind,” Tim said, voice sharp.
She laughed, like this was a private game between us.
“You like her, don’t you?” she said, eyes fixed on me. “It’s all over your body language. You stand between us like a guard dog.”
“Shut up and get in the car,” Tim snapped, the edge in his voice slipping.
Her comment about Tim liking me caught me off guard, but I didn’t react. Maybe that’s exactly what she wanted... or maybe not. Still, I didn’t look away.
She was trying to provoke me, but she wouldn’t break me.
Maybe that’s exactly what kept her intrigued.
“You’re different,” she finally said. “That’s why I like you. This is going to be... fun.”
The car door shut with a sharp click, but her words still hung in the air.
“That was personal,” I murmured, exhaling like I’d just released a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Yeah… I noticed,” Tim replied, watching me more intently than usual. “She doesn’t talk like that to just anyone.”
“Great. One more reason to keep my eyes open.”
“And I’ll keep mine on you.”
Tim didn’t smile. Neither did I.
But there was a silent agreement in the space between us: whatever she tried — we’d face it together.
..........
The convoy moved in silence. Rosalind was cuffed in the back of the lead vehicle, flanked by two armed officers. Tim and I followed close behind, both lost in our own thoughts. The overcast sky mirrored our mood — heavy, ominous.
At the location Rosalind had pointed out, the area was already sealed off. Forensics teams, diggers, cadaver dogs — everything meticulously prepared. The press was kept far back under court order, but the tension was tangible, pulsing in the air.
Rosalind stepped out of the car with a satisfied smirk, like she was stepping onto a stage. Her eyes scanned every face until they landed on me. That look — invasive, dissecting — like she was trying to dig something out of me.
“Someone going to uncuff me, or are we playing scouts in the mud?” she said, eyes locked on mine.
Before I could respond, Tim stepped in.
“No one’s playing anything. Say where the body is. The less you talk, the better for everyone.”
She shot him a disdainful glance, but turned back to me.
“Let her handle it. I bet she’s got steady hands.”
My face stayed neutral.
“Keep talking like that and you’ll be back in your cell before you can say another word.”
I was firm. Clear. For the first time, Rosalind stared at me and said nothing. Just smiled — a small, knowing smile that said, you’re learning fast.
......
She walked toward a specific area of the property, stepping carefully, as if she wanted to dramatize every step. As she led the team to the spot where the bodies were supposedly buried, the silence was absolute. The kind of silence that weighs on your shoulders. The agents knew she was enjoying every second of it.
"Here," she finally said. "A meter and a half below the surface. You’ll find Marcus’s bones."
Tim signaled for the team to start digging, and the movement was immediate. Rosalind couldn’t contain her excitement and went on:
"You really think you can understand what happened to them?" she asked, not looking directly at me, but clearly speaking to me. "You feel too much. I can see it. But you’re good at hiding it, and that’s rare... that’s why I like you."
"That’s not liking. It’s a sick obsession," I replied, my tone steady.
Rosalind said nothing after that, but gave a smile that sent a chill down my spine and stood still, watching, her eyes gleaming with twisted pleasure. Then, without warning, she turned to me again.
"Did you know he screamed for hours before he stopped breathing?" she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear.
My jaw clenched. I remained still, my gaze locked on hers, but I didn’t react. I didn’t give her the show she wanted. I simply shifted my eyes to the forensics team and took a deep breath. Control. Always.
Tim, however, noticed something. He came closer, standing beside me.
"What is it?"
"She’s trying to destabilize me. That’s all."
He didn’t answer right away. He just stood there. Present. Close enough to remind me I wasn’t alone.
"One more step, Rosalind, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in a windowless cell," he said, his voice low but sharp.
"Oh, the protective knight..." she sang. "That’s so... cute."
She walked away again, but now I felt something had changed. Rosalind was... far too excited. Her presence was suffocating, but I refused to give in.
That’s when Rosalind spoke again, louder this time, drawing the attention of those nearby:
"You know why he chose you, don’t you?"
"That’s enough, Rosalind," Grey intervened, stepping closer. "You got what you wanted. Now it’s our turn."
She didn’t reply. She just gave me another long, intense look — and smiled again, satisfied with the unrest she left behind.
But that was when everything began to fall apart.
As the forensics team unearthed the body, one of the agents shouted:
"Hey! There’s something else here... besides the bones!"
There were wires, electronic components... something strange.
"Is that a camera?" asked another, alarmed.
Grey approached, and as he confirmed what they were seeing, his eyes widened.
"She wanted to record our reaction. She set us up."
Rosalind let out a low laugh. "I told you it’d be fun."
Before we could process it, a sharp sound came from behind us — a pop. One of the police vehicles partially exploded, smoke rising quickly. Chaos erupted, officers scrambling to contain the confusion.
Then someone shouted:
"The prisoner... she’s gone!"
But Rosalind was still there. The scream wasn’t about her...
---
A strong arm grabbed me from behind as the smoke spread. I tried to fight back, but there was something about the strength, the speed, the precision — this wasn’t improvisation. It was a cold, calculated abduction.
The last thing I heard was Tim shouting my name.
...
I woke up with a dull ache in my head and a suffocating sense of stale air. The smell of mold, rust, and something acidic surrounded me. It was dark — truly dark. The kind of darkness where you can’t even see your own hand in front of your face.
I was sitting, tied up. Wrists and ankles bound. A loose gag still hung beside my mouth — a sign that whoever brought me here wasn’t in a hurry. That was the worst part.
The man in front of me wasn’t someone I recognized right away — not that I could see much. But his eyes...
A faint light flickered on, revealing a room with concrete and rusted walls. He was standing. Still, there was something off about the way he looked at me — like he knew me.
"You’re even more beautiful in person," he said. "She won’t stop talking about you."
Rosalind. Of course. I was her new favorite toy. And him... the partner.
He stepped closer.
"The famous officer. The one Rosalind picked... her next victim," he said, as if amused by my presence.
I stayed silent, but tension coiled in my chest. I was scared.
He continued:
"I noticed you even before she mentioned you. You stand out. No wonder she chose you... I’m sure this will be fun for me, and for you, well — you’ll be begging to die before it even starts."
My heart raced, but outwardly I stayed calm. Fight? Not yet. Too early. I had to understand. Map things out. Survive.
"Who are you?" I asked, voice steady despite the dryness in my throat.
"I’m... a spectator. Like Rosalind. But unlike her, I like to take part in the show. To create it. Shape it," he said, smiling.
That smile... the same as Rosalind’s.
"So you’re Rosalind’s shadow? The one who does her dirty work while she’s locked up?" I asked.
Provoking him wasn’t smart, but I needed a distraction — for what, I didn’t know yet.
After my words, the smile vanished from his face. He stepped closer — and slapped me.
My head whipped to the side, dizziness spinning through me, and I tasted blood.
“I think you’re talking too much. So, let’s play a little,” he said, the twisted smile returning to his face as he stepped away, heading toward a small table in the corner.
I managed to glimpse what was on it—knives, sharp objects, and other tools. A chill ran down my spine. It was going to be a long day... a very long one.
“Shall we begin, sweetheart?” he asked, looking at me with that macabre grin.
I swallowed hard, praying Tim and the others would find me soon...
Meanwhile...
Tim was barely holding it together. But outwardly, he wore the mask.
“I want every helicopter, every patrol unit, and every damn camera in this city scanning every inch,” he barked at the agents.
“Bradford,” Grey tried to interject, “I know she means a lot to you, but—”
“I’m not losing her,” Tim cut him off, voice like steel.
He said nothing more. Just looked around like a man who would not rest until she was back. And whoever had touched her... was marked.
Back in the captivity...
“Shall we begin, sweetheart?” he repeated, twirling a knife in his hand as if it were a dance.
Cold sweat trickled down my back. I kept my gaze steady, but my mind screamed. Every second there felt like an eternity—and yet, I had to stay lucid. Had to remember someone was coming. Tim was coming.
He picked up one of the smaller knives and walked toward me, grazing the blade along the side of my face. Just touching.
“So calm… That excites me. Rosalind said you were special. Thought she was exaggerating. But no—you are,” he said, letting the blade trail down my shoulder, pressing just enough to slice through the uniform and skin.
A shiver ran through my body, but I didn’t scream. Not yet.
“It’s gonna take more than that,” I muttered, voice hoarse, heavy with whatever courage—or stupidity—I had left.
He paused.
“I like a challenge. But you’ll regret provoking me.”
He turned, grabbing something I couldn’t see. That’s when the pain started...
Time stopped making sense.
I didn’t know how long I had been there. Hours? Days? The darkness, the stench of rust and blood, mixed into a constant fog in my brain. Pain throbbed in various places—some cuts shallow, others deep. Dried blood stuck the uniform to my skin, but I kept my head up by a thread.
Because he wanted me to break.
He wanted me to beg.
“You know what I like most about you?” he said, circling me slowly, spinning the knife between his fingers. “You’re still trying to look strong. Even now. Even after all I’ve done.”
My breathing was uneven. I fought to stay focused, though my vision blurred.
My fingers ached; the ropes cut circulation. The last time he sliced me—a thin, burning line across my abdomen—he smiled like a kid unwrapping a present.
“Rosalind always had refined taste. But with you…” He knelt in front of me, eye level. “She got obsessed. Wanted to see how you break. Wanted me to dismantle you.”
He ran his blood-stained fingers down my cheek like he wanted to mark me.
“You don’t scream. Don’t cry. That pisses me off.”
“Maybe it’s ‘cause you don’t know what you’re doing... or you’re just weak,” I spat, voice faint but steady.
He punched me in the stomach.
Air fled my lungs. I tasted metal again, like biting into iron. Groaning, I tried to recover.
“You’re just a fake cop. Wearing the badge ‘cause someone protects you. Maybe your little guard dog—Bradford, right?” he laughed.
He knew.
He was using Tim’s name to provoke me, knowing exactly the weight it carried. I didn’t answer, focusing on catching my breath.
“It’ll be even better when he finds the body. Or maybe… he’ll get here just in time for the finale.” He grinned. “I know how to make cuts that don’t kill. At least, not right away.”
“You’ll be dead before you get the chance,” I rasped.
“But before that... you’ll cry. You’ll beg.”
He pressed the cold blade to my forearm. The skin, already raw, burned on contact. The pressure increased. The blade slid deep.
The scream escaped before I could stop it.
“NO!” I thrashed, the chair creaking under me. The ropes dug into my wrists and ankles. The pain exploded, tearing through not just skin—but something deeper.
Tears filled my eyes. My body recoiled, trying to escape itself.
I cried.
Almost begged.
Almost.
Instead of words, I bit my lip until I tasted my own blood.
My vision spun. Darkness crept in, point by point.
Dizziness swallowed me.
Cold sweat drenched me.
The world spiraled into a void.
Even the strongest can't endure pain like this.
Pain carved into flesh... and deeper, into the mind.
He smiled, satisfied, as if my suffering fed him.
“Yes. Much better now. Rosalind will love hearing about this.”
Outside, the hunt was on.
Tim Bradford sat in the surveillance van, eyes locked on the monitor. Jaw clenched. Fists tight.
Every second was a blade in his chest.
“Rewind that footage.”
“There!” he pointed, sharp as a blade. “That car. Leaving the perimeter right after the explosion.”
Angela zoomed in.
“Plate’s fake. But the model and route match. Multiple cameras show it heading into an abandoned property in the west sector.”
Tim was already on his feet.
“I’m going in.”
“Tim, wait!” Grey tried to stop him. “You can’t go alone!”
“I’m not asking permission, sir. She’s there. I’m not wasting another second.”
Grey sighed—he knew he couldn’t stop him.
“Fine. But you’re not going alone.”
He turned to the radio.
“All available units, get ready. We found the target. Move now.”
Tim was already in the patrol car before the order finished transmitting.
Not knowing where she was had hurt more than any bullet ever could.
He needed to see her. Bring her back. And deep down, he feared just one thing: being too late.
“You’re going pale. Weak. You’ll pass out soon... what a shame,” he said, as if mourning a broken toy—still smiling. “But before that, one more cut...”
Inside
The man watched my trembling, hunched body.
I braced myself, trying to prepare for the pain as he lowered the saw to my arm...
“POLICE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!”
The crash of the door bursting open thundered through the room.
He tried to run.
Didn’t make it two steps.
Tim stormed in like a force of nature, gun raised, rage in his eyes.
“GET ON THE WALL! NOW!”
The man hesitated—but didn’t get the chance. Angela and two more agents stormed in and pinned him in seconds.
But Tim... Tim only saw her.
His whole world was there. Bleeding. Shaking. Barely upright.
“S/N…”
He holstered his weapon and rushed to her, slicing through the ropes with a knife.
“Hey… it’s me. You’re safe now. I’ve got you,” he said, lifting her from the chair and lowering her gently to the floor.
Her eyes opened slowly. Pupils wide. Skin cold. Face stained with dried blood. She tried to speak—but couldn’t. And then... she passed out.
Tim caught her like she was made of glass.
“Call the paramedics! NOW!” he shouted, holding her close. “Stay with me, okay? Just stay with me…”
He rested his forehead against hers, eyes brimming with tears he refused to let fall.
“You’re not leaving me. I found you. And I’m never letting you go again…”
_________________________________________
Beep… beep… beep…
S/N jolted awake, chest rising fast as if the air in the room wasn’t enough.
White ceiling spinning. The sterile smell. The cold light. The machines.
But in her mind... darkness. Rust. Pain.
The blade.
His voice.
“No… no… no…” she whispered, panicked, fighting against bindings that were no longer there.
“Hey! Hey, it’s okay!” Tim’s voice rose, deep and urgent, as he sprang up from the couch.
“S/N, look at me. It’s Tim. You’re safe. It’s over.”
She turned her head sharply toward him, eyes wild and terrified.
“He… where is he? He was here, he—”
“No.” Tim held her gently, one hand on hers, the other on her face, careful not to touch any wounds.
“He’s locked up. You’re in the hospital. With me. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Her breathing was still fast, chest heaving like she couldn’t accept it was real.
His touch, his voice, his eyes so close to hers…
“Tim...?” she whispered, voice cracking.
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Can you hear me?”
She nodded slowly. Tears spilled down her cheeks—not from fear now. From relief.
He knelt beside her, his hand still holding hers.
“You’re safe.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, just breathing. When she opened them again, she whispered:
“My throat… it’s dry…”
“Of course. Hold on.”
Tim grabbed the cup with the straw from the side table and brought it to her lips with the utmost care.
She drank slowly, not looking away from him once. And only then, with her mind a little clearer, she noticed:
He was wrecked.
But he was there.
Like it was the only place in the world he could be.
“You stayed the whole time?” she asked, voice soft.
Tim smiled—a sad, tired smile.
“I rode with you in the ambulance. Yelled at half the hospital until they gave you a room. Then... I just sat here. And waited. The whole time. I... I needed to see you open your eyes.”
She swallowed hard.
“I felt it when you found me. I don’t know how. But it was like... like I could breathe again.”
Tim looked away for a moment but didn’t let go of her hand.
“Hey. Look at me.”
He did.
“I’m alive. And that… is because of you.”
“No,” Tim shook his head. “It’s because of your strength. I just... caught you at the end.”
Silence fell. The tension of fear still hung in the air, but now there was something else—everything left unsaid.
“When he put that knife on me… I thought I was going to die.”
“I thought I’d lost you,” he answered, voice cracking.
“And that scared you?” “It destroyed me.”
She took a deep breath.
“Tim...” “I love you.”
The words came out raw. Bare. Honest to the bone.
She stared at him, stunned—but it wasn’t fear.
It was recognition. Like something inside her had just clicked.
Like she’d always known.
“You took your sweet time. If I knew being kidnapped would make you confess, I would’ve done it sooner,” she whispered with a soft smile, teasing.
“Don’t even joke about that... You don’t need to be kidnapped for me to say it.” He chuckled, teary, no longer hiding it. “I know now. And I’m not wasting any more time.”
And then, as if the world outside could wait, he leaned in and kissed her.
Soft at first, so he wouldn’t hurt her.
Gentle, like a question.
She kissed him back—despite the pain, despite the exhaustion—with everything she’d been holding in for so long.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers, eyes locked on hers, and whispered:
“I love you. And we’re going to get through this. Together.”
She smiled, tears in her eyes.
“I know... I love you too.”
The End.
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