The morning started with a chill in the air, the kind that usually made you want to stay curled up in bed for just a little longer—especially now, with how exhausted you’d been lately. But this morning was different. Tim was already up, the scent of his coffee drifting faintly from the kitchen, and you were hunched over the toilet, again, barely able to breathe between waves of nausea.

You had been sick for days now—violently so. At first, you and Tim chalked it up to rough morning sickness, something unpleasant but normal. But this… this was worse. You couldn’t keep water down, much less food, and you were starting to feel dizzy and weak, your body giving out little by little.

Tim didn’t hesitate.

You heard his boots echo through the hallway before he knelt beside you, large hand rubbing slow circles across your back. His usual commanding voice had softened into something quieter, something only you got to hear.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just breathe. I’ve got you,” he murmured, brushing your damp hair back from your face.

When the wave passed, you leaned into him, trembling, your face pale and drawn. “I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, ashamed even though you knew it was irrational. “I didn’t want to ruin your day…”

“Hey,” Tim said, his tone suddenly firm. Not the sergeant bark, but that protective edge he got when something was seriously wrong. “You’re not ruining anything. You’re pregnant. And sick. I’m not leaving your side.”

He helped you up and led you to the couch with careful ease, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders before reaching for his phone. You tried to protest—half-heartedly—but he held up a hand and said, “No arguments.”

You watched him pace the kitchen as he dialed. You knew that tone well—the crisp authority he used when handling things at work. But this time, it was for you.

“Hey, Sergeant Gray. I won’t be in today. It’s not optional,” Tim said. A pause. “It’s Mia. She’s pregnant—and she’s really sick. I’m taking her to the hospital now.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and you saw the way Tim’s jaw clenched just slightly. Gray must’ve asked something. Tim nodded instinctively, even though Gray couldn’t see him.

“No. I’m not leaving her alone. I’ll call if I need anything.”

By the time he hung up, he was already moving—packing your bag, filling a water bottle, grabbing your insurance info from the drawer. That precision of his, the same attention to detail that made him a legendary training officer, was now being put to use for one reason only: you.

He knelt in front of you again, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every feature.

“You ready?” he asked quietly. You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before carefully helping you up. “We’ll get answers. You’re not doing this alone.”

He kept his arm around you the entire way to the hospital. Even as you trembled against him, he stayed steady, his hand curled protectively around yours.

Whatever this was—whatever had you so sick—Tim would fight it like hell.

Because that’s what he did for the people he loved.