Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The Old-School Solution

The air in Lieutenant Wade Grey’s office was heavy with disappointment. The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, casting jagged shadows across the cluttered desk. Papers piled haphazardly across his desk, a reflection of the chaos of the day. A botched operation, marked by a cascade of errors from Officers Lucy Chen, John Nolan, Celina Juarez, Aaron Thorsen, Nyla Harper, and Angela Lopez, had left the Mid-Wilshire station reeling. Careers hung in the balance if any of this went on paper, and Grey’s temper, usually tempered by years of experience, simmered over the edge.

Sergeant Tim Bradford stood across from him, arms crossed, his posture rigid but his expression calm. The two men had known each other for years, their professional respect forged through countless shifts, shared losses, and hard-won victories. Grey leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his closely cropped hair, exhaling a sigh that reflected the burden of his rank.

“Tim, I’m livid,” Grey said, his voice low but laced with frustration. “This wasn’t just a mistake. It was a domino effect of screw-ups. Six of my best officers, and they all dropped the ball. I want this handled, but I don’t want to see their careers tanked over one bad day.”

Tim nodded, his sharp blue eyes meeting Grey’s. “I hear you, sir. But we can’t let it slide. They need to own it, and we need to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Grey’s brow furrowed. “You got something in mind I’m all ears? Because despite what I said in there, I’m not about to write up six officers and ruin their records. Not when I know they’re better than this.”

Tim shifted, his boots scuffing softly against the linoleum. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke, his voice steady but carrying a hint of something almost nostalgic. “There’s a way to handle this. Something we don’t do much anymore, but it works. I’ve used it before—sparingly, with promising rookies who needed a wake-up call.”

Grey’s eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across his face before a slow, knowing smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re talking about an old school ass-whooping, aren’t you? Paddle, bend-over-the-desk kinda discipline.”

Tim’s lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close. “Call it what you want. It’s humbling, it’s effective, and it doesn’t leave a mark on their permanent record. It can change behavior fast. I’ve seen it save some good careers. It’s a reminder that sticks.”

Grey leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled. He studied Tim for a long moment, his mind drifting back to his own rookie days. “You know, I haven’t administered that kind of discipline in… hell, probably twenty years. But I’ve been on the receiving end. Old TO by the name of Big Mike Thompson. Mean son of a gun, but he knew how to make a lesson stick.” Grey chuckled, the memory softening his features, though his smile faded slightly as he returned to the present, the day’s failure settling back over him. “I was cocky, thought I knew better than everyone. One day, I mouthed off one too many times, and Big Mike had me in a back office, bent over a chair, with a paddle he kept in his desk drawer. Ten swats. I learned quick.”

Tim let out a low laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “Big Mike? Oh, I knew him. I can just imagine him laying into you. Bet you didn’t sit right for a while.”

Grey grinned, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong. But it worked. It wasn’t just the pain—it was the embarrassment, the humbling. Knowing I’d screwed up and had to face the consequences in such a personal way. It made me think twice before I got that cocky again.”

The room fell quiet for a moment, the hum of the station outside filtering through the closed door—phones ringing, voices overlapping, the steady rhythm of a precinct in motion. Tim uncrossed his arms, his tone shifting to one of careful consideration. “So, what do you think, Lieutenant? We give them a choice: handle it officially, with write-ups and disciplinary hearings, or handle it privately, old-school style. No record, but they take their licks and learn from it.”

Grey leaned back again, his chair creaking beneath him. He tapped a finger against the desk, his gaze distant as he weighed the options. “It’s unconventional, no question. If the new young hotshots at Parker Center ever found out we might have a problem.”

”There’s still enough old school deputy chiefs left that enbrace tradition. It won’t be a problem,” Tim said with confidence.

Grey arched an eyebrow but did not question it. “Could work. It’s a middle ground. They own their mistakes, they pay a price, and their careers stay intact.” He fixed Tim with a steady look. “You’d have to administer it, Tim. I trust you to handle it fairly, but firmly. No favoritism, no going easy on anyone—not even Lucy.”

Tim’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Understood. If they choose private, it’s my call—how, when, where, and for how long. I’ll make sure the lesson sticks.”

Grey’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying Tim. “You ever been on the receiving end of this kind of thing, Bradford?”

Tim’s expression didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or a memory he wasn’t about to share. “Let’s just say I know it’s effective.”

Grey let out a soft grunt, accepting the non-answer. “Alright, Tim. You have my blessing. Lay out the choice for them: official or private. Make it clear that if they choose private, they’re surrendering control. It’s your show from there.” He paused, then added, “And Tim? Make sure they understand this isn’t about punishment for punishment’s sake. It’s about accountability and growth.”

Tim gave a single nod, his face set with determination. “Yes, sir. I’ll handle it.”

Grey watched as Tim turned to leave, the door clicking shut behind him. The lieutenant sat back, his mind still turning over the conversation. It was a gamble, no question—an old-school solution in a modern world. But if anyone could pull it off, it was Tim Bradford. The man was a rock, unflinching and fair, with a knack for getting through to even the most stubborn officers. Grey just hoped the team would see the value in the choice they were about to make.

—————-

Outside Grey’s office, Tim paused in the hallway, taking a deep breath. The station buzzed around him, oblivious to the burden of the decision he was about to carry out. He’d meant what he said—this would be personal, humbling, and memorable. He’d already decided there’d be no set number of strikes, no formulaic approach. The choice of implements, positions, and even the possibility of corner time would depend on what he saw when he met with them one-on-one.

Tim’s mind flicked to Lucy, his former rookie and now a seasoned officer in her own right. She’d been through this before, back when she was still finding her footing. He remembered the flush of her cheeks, the way her pride had warred with her determination to take responsibility. She’d hated it, but she’d learned from it. He wondered how she’d react now, facing the same choice alongside her colleagues.

His boots echoed softly as he made his way toward the briefing room, where the six officers were waiting. They’d been told to stay put, to expect a conversation with him. He could imagine the tension—Nolan’s quiet introspection, Lucy’s nervous energy, Angela’s defiance, Harper’s cool detachment, Thorsen’s unease, and Celina’s wide-eyed anxiety. They were a good team, a damn good one. But today, they’d failed, and now they’d have to face the consequences.

Tim squared his shoulders, his resolve hardening. This wasn’t about cruelty or power. It was about accountability, ensuring they never made these mistakes again, and survived with their careers intake. He’d give them the choice, and he’d follow through, no matter what they decided. The burden of it settled over him like a mantle, heavy but familiar.

He pushed open the door to the briefing room, his eyes sweeping over the six officers seated before him. The air was thick with anticipation, and Tim let the silence stretch for a moment before he spoke.

“Alright,” he said, his voice calm but unyielding. “We’re going to talk about what happened today. And then you’re going to make a choice.” He paused, inhaling sharply.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: The Choice

The briefing room was a pressure cooker of tension, the air thick with the strain of what had just been proposed. The six officers—Lucy Chen, John Nolan, Celina Juarez, Aaron Thorsen, Nyla Harper, and Angela Lopez—sat scattered at the long tables, their postures rigid, their faces a mix of shock, disbelief, and unease. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a sterile glow, while the faint hum of the station’s activity filtered through the closed door. Sergeant Tim Bradford stood at the head of the room, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but resolute. His presence was a gravitational force, commanding their attention as he laid out the choice that would define the next chapter of their careers.

“Let’s be clear,” Tim said, his voice low and steady, cutting through the charged silence. “What happened today was a failure—a collective one. You all know your part in it. Lieutenant Grey wants this handled, but he doesn’t want your careers destroyed over one bad day. So, you all have a choice: we handle this officially, with write-ups, disciplinary hearings, and marks on your permanent records. Or we handle it privately, old-school style. You take your licks, you own your mistakes, and we move on, clean slates.”

A ripple of unease passed through the room. Lucy’s eyes widened slightly, her fingers tightening around the pen she’d been fidgeting with. Nolan’s brow furrowed, his gaze dropping to the table as if searching for answers in the wood’s grain. Celina’s breath hitched, her hands twisting in her lap. Thorsen shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence replaced by taut nervousness. Harper’s expression was unreadable, her lips pressed into a thin line, while Angela leaned back, arms crossed, her dark eyes narrowing as she processed Tim’s words.

“Private means a paddling,” Tim continued, his tone matter-of-fact but carrying an edge of finality. “It’s humbling, it’s personal, and it’s effective. If you choose it, you’re surrendering control. I decide how, when, where, and for how long. You’ll list your mistakes out loud and own them. No set number, no counting—this lasts until I’m sure the lesson’s sunk in. It’ll sting, and not just physically. But it’s a clean slate afterward. No record, no repercussions.”

The word paddling hit like a grenade, sparking a chorus of reactions.

Celina let out a soft, incredulous, “What?”.

Thorsen’s jaw dropped, his head whipping toward Lucy as if expecting her to confirm this was a joke.

Angela scoffed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Bradford. A spanking? Like we’re kids caught stealing cookies?” Her words hung in the air, sharp but tinged with the fear they all felt.

Harper remained silent, her eyes flicking to Tim, assessing him with a detective’s cool calculation.

Lucy stared at her hands, her cheeks flushing faintly. She’d been through this before—Tim’s old-school discipline wasn’t new to her. She knew the sting of the paddle, the burn of embarrassment, the way it forced you to confront your mistakes head-on. But knowing didn’t make the prospect any less daunting, especially not in front of her colleagues.

Nolan broke the stunned silence, his voice steady but laced with grim acceptance. “So, we either take a hit to our records—potentially our careers—or bend over for a paddling like it’s 1950.” He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “That’s a hell of a choice, Tim.”

Tim’s gaze locked onto Nolan, unflinching. “It’s the choice you all have. Official or private. But here’s the catch: you all have to agree. If even one of you opts for the official route, that’s how we handle it for everyone. It’s the only way to keep this fair.”

The room fell silent, the burden of that condition settling over them like a lead blanket. They weren’t just choosing for themselves, they were choosing for each other. A single dissent would send them all down the official path, with its paperwork, hearings, and lasting consequences.

Tim let the silence stretch, his eyes sweeping over the group, taking in their reactions. He’d expected Lucy to lean toward the private option. She knew what to expect, knew it worked, even if it stung like hell. But it was Nolan who spoke next, his voice calm but resolute.

“I don’t like it,” Nolan said, leaning forward, hands clasped on the table. “Hell, I hate it. The idea of bending over for a paddling at my age? It’s humiliating. But I know I screwed up today. I missed a call that could’ve changed the outcome, and I own that. If this is the price to keep my record clean and ensure I don’t make that mistake again, I’ll take it. It’s the best of the bad choices.”

Tim’s eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of respect in his expression. He hadn’t expected Nolan, the oldest among them, to be the first to see the pragmatism in the offer. Nolan’s willingness set a tone that rippled through the room.

Lucy glanced at Nolan, her expression a mix of admiration and unease. She opened her mouth, then closed it, her fingers drumming nervously against the table. She knew what the private option entailed—the sharp crack of the paddle, the searing sting that lingered, Tim’s steady voice forcing you to confront your mistakes. It was effective, but the thought of going through it again, with her colleagues nearby, made her stomach twist.

Angela wasn’t ready to concede. “This is insane,” she snapped, her voice sharp with defiance. “I’m not signing up for some medieval punishment just to avoid a write-up. I’ve got a kid, Tim. You think I’m going to go home and explain to Wesley why I can’t sit down for a week?”

Harper spoke, her tone cool and measured. “Angela, calm down. Let’s think this through. An official write-up could mean suspensions, demotions, or worse. It’s not just a slap on the wrist, it’s a stain on our records. This private option, as ridiculous as it sounds, keeps it off the books. We take the hit, we move on.”

“Easy for you to say,” Thorsen muttered, his voice tight. “This is humiliating. A paddling? In 2025?”

Celina’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with anxiety. “What if we say no? What happens then? How bad would the official route be?”

Tim’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at Celina, but his tone remained firm. “The official route means disciplinary hearings, possible suspensions, and a permanent mark on your records. It could affect promotions, assignments, even your standing in the department. I’m not sugarcoating it—it’s serious. The private option is no picnic, but it’s done and over with. You decide what you can live with.”

The room fell quiet, each officer grappling with the reality of the choice. Tim watched them, his expression unyielding but not unkind. “I’m giving you time to talk it over,” he said, stepping toward the door. “You need to come to a consensus. All or nothing. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

With that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence that followed was deafening, the officers exchanging glances, their emotions a tangled mix of fear, frustration, and resignation.

The Debate

As soon as the door closed, Angela was on her feet, pacing the room. “This is ridiculous,” she said, her voice sharp. “Tim’s lost his damn mind. A paddling? Are we in grade school?”

Nolan leaned back, his expression calm but weary. “Angela, getting worked up won’t change the situation. We screwed up—badly. We all know it. The question is, do we want to pay for it with our careers or with something else?”

Lucy finally spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ve been through this before. With Tim. It’s not fun. It hurts, it’s embarrassing, and it makes you feel about two feet tall. But it works. You don’t forget the lesson. And when it’s over, it’s over. No paperwork, no hearings.”

Thorsen turned to her, eyes wide. “You’ve done this? Like, actually let Tim paddle you?”

Lucy’s cheeks flushed, but she nodded firmly. “Yeah. A couple of times, when I was a rookie. I screwed up, and he gave me a choice. I chose private. It sucked, but it kept my record clean, and I learned from it.”

Celina’s voice was small, her hands twisting in her lap. “Does it… hurt a lot?”

Lucy hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. It stings like hell, and you feel it for a day or two. But it’s not just the pain—it’s the whole experience. Tim makes you own your mistakes, out loud. It’s humbling. But he’s fair. He doesn’t drag it out or make it personal.”

Harper leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “So, what’s the alternative? We say no, and we’re all facing hearings. I’ve seen how those go—internal affairs doesn’t mess around. A write-up like this could cost us promotions, or worse. I’ve got a daughter to think about. I can’t afford to lose ground in this job.”

Angela stopped pacing, hands on her hips. “So, we just line up and let Tim whack us like we’re in some old cowboy movie? This is insane.”

Nolan’s voice was calm but firm. “It’s not about liking it, Angela. It’s about what we can live with. I’m not thrilled either, but I’d rather take a few minutes of embarrassment than spend the next five years explaining a disciplinary mark to every CO I work with.”

Thorsen ran a hand through his hair, his voice tight. “I don’t know, man. This feels wrong. What if someone finds out? We’d be the laughingstock of the station.”

Lucy shook her head. “Tim’s discreet. He doesn’t do this to humiliate us—he does it to teach us. If we choose private, it stays private. He won’t broadcast it.”

Celina bit her lip, eyes darting between her colleagues. “But we all have to agree, right? If one of us says no, we’re all screwed.”

The room fell silent, the burden of that reality settling over them. They weren’t just making a choice for themselves, they were making it for each other. One dissent, and they’d all face the official route.

Harper broke the silence, her voice calm but decisive. “I’m in for private. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than the alternative. We need to be practical.”

Nolan nodded. “Same. I’ll take the hit.”

Lucy took a deep breath, her voice steady. “I’m in too. I know what it’s like, and I’d rather deal with it this way.”

Thorsen hesitated, his jaw tight. “I… I don’t know. This is a lot. Can we really all agree on this?”

Angela threw her hands up, her voice sharp. “I’m not there yet. I need a minute to wrap my head around this. You’re all acting like this is normal.”

Celina’s voice was barely audible. “I’m scared. But I don’t want to lose my job. If you all think this is the best way, I’ll do it.”

All eyes turned to Angela, who stood with arms crossed, her expression a mix of defiance and frustration. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second bringing them closer to Tim’s return.

“Angela,” Nolan said gently, “we’re in this together. If you can’t do it, we’ll figure out the official route. But we need to know where you stand.”

Angela’s jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with emotion. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, her gaze dropping to the floor. The room stilled, every eye on Angela, waiting for her decision.