So I gritted through the first episode and came away with a bit of a sour taste in my mouth. Then, a few days later, I decided to take another pass at it with the goal of being more objective. I'm really glad I did because I saw a lot of things I hadn't noticed the first time, and I actually enjoyed the episode more. That's what prompted me to write this. It builds on several scenes from 6.01 with a focus on what the characters might have been thinking at the time.
Thank you for the comments, favorites, follows, etc. And thank you to everyone who so patiently put up with the fact that I killed off Marlo in Chapter 2 of that last story. Just thought I'd give it a whirl . . . . I promise no one dies in this one. :)
One more thing . . . if you haven't watched the episode and don't want to know what happens, you're going to want to stop reading right here.
Bam. Caught 'em. Then again, how could he not have made the catch? The old Sam would have dropped the keys—probably into an oil spot or underneath a parked car—and then spent the next few minutes grappling around on the dark pavement for them. The new Sam had it together, though. Things happened for him—not to him. He was in control of his destiny. New Sam had the future he wanted and was flying high.
"Kind of reminded me of Tom Cruise there for a second," Marlo remarked from across the parking lot. He certainly hadn't expected to see her out there, and although he would have preferred an unexpected run-in with almost anyone else, the fact that it was Marlo wasn't even enough to unnerve him. Life was good, and even though things between the two of them were still awkward, Sam's big umbrella of happiness had him covered. Not even the prospect of a disjointed conversation with his ex-girlfriend could dampen his spirits.
Feeling mildly uncomfortable, he chuckled and quickly resorted to his go-to strategy in such situations. He made a joke. "Top Gun or Risky Business?"
"Cocktail."
"Not nearly as cool," he responded, feeling a bit of the familiar rhythm that had once existed between them. Now that they weren't in a relationship anymore—now that he was in the relationship he really wanted—he realized that theirs was, and had always been, a connection based on casual banter and arms' length conversations that managed to safely navigate around most of the serious stuff. It was a defense mechanism for Sam, and he assumed for Marlo, as well. Whereas Andy simply refused to put up with it and demanded a deeper connection with him, Marlo actually encouraged the distance. Marlo didn't challenge him the way Andy did, and that simply meant they weren't right for each other.
He asked her how things were going and if she was headed inside for a drink. It seemed like the right thing to do, and he cared enough about her to want to make sure things in her life were okay.
"Ah, no," she said. "I'm on my way home. Good vacation?"
Sam really wasn't sure how to respond. Yes, it had been a great vacation—the best vacation he'd ever had, in fact. And if anyone else had asked, he probably would have said exactly that. Unfortunately, this was Marlo and that meant things were complicated. Telling her about the great time he'd had with Andy just didn't seem appropriate. Instead, he opted for, "Yep. Great. Great." Even that brief response had him biting back a smile and averting his eyes because he didn't want her to see the truth, which was that finally, he was genuinely happy and content.
Unlike Sam, Marlo seemed subdued—maybe even distracted—and the part of Sam that actually cared about other people tapped into the fact that something wasn't quite right with her. To show her he was sincere, he stepped closer and asked, "Is everything all right? What's going on? You thinking about this Ted McDonald business? I've been thinking about it myself for like weeks. Got some crazy ideas about it, you know?"
"No, it's—it's not that," she said, shaking her head. Then what was wrong with her? The whole exchange was starting to chip away at Sam's carefree, post-vacation high. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear what Marlo had to say, but—
"Sam, I'm pregnant."
"What?" he asked, instantly stunned by her admission. Marlo was pregnant? She didn't even want kids. But was she saying . . . no, she couldn't be saying that, could she?
"I wasn't even going to tell you, but now I'm going to be at 15 a little longer, so I figured . . . ."
Yep, that's exactly what she was saying. "How?" Sam forced himself to ask, although he could barely hear his own question from amidst the deafening static in his head. With three simple words, Marlo had essentially ripped out his heart and drop kicked it across the parking lot.
"It was an accident," Marlo stammered. Her words hit Sam like bullets, peppering him with their collective force. "Look, I'm not asking for anything from you, all right? I just thought you should know. And in case you're wondering, there hasn't been anyone else since you. So . . . okay, uh, we can talk about this more tomorrow . . . or never . . . I'm so sorry."
As she talked, Sam's breathing grew shallow and ragged. He just wanted her to stop talking because no, no, no, this was not happening. How? Why? There was no way this was actually happening, right?
And then she left. She got in her car and drove away, and some part of him actually felt relieved that she was gone because she'd taken her brutal, life-altering truth with her.
The air around Sam grew thicker as the import of Marlo's words closed in on him like a vice, wringing out every single ounce of happiness and positivity he'd been feeling just five minutes before. And he knew what had to happen next. It sickened him, in fact. As soon as the haze and confusion began to clear, his first conscious thought was Andy. He had to talk to her. He needed to see her. So he made an effort to steady his trembling hands and pulled out his phone, feeling light-headed and shaky at the prospect of what this would ultimately mean for their relationship.
When Andy answered the phone she sounded happy—almost giddy. If it had been a normal call on a normal night, Sam would have felt pretty smug about the fact that he was responsible for the smile in her voice. Andy's voice perfectly reflected the way he'd been feeling only minutes before, and he hated himself for being the person who had to take it all away from her.
"Um, Andy, I want to talk to you," he said, despising the tremor in his voice.
"It's been like twenty minutes. Really?" she said playfully. Her response was just the sort of flirtation that would normally call forth a grin from Sam. Not this time, though, and that made him feel even more despondent about what he had to do.
Sam was going to tell her he needed to see her. At least, he thought that was his plan. His first instinct had been to call her, and beyond that, he didn't know how it would unfold.
When in the next instant Andy's muffled scream came at him through the receiver, he felt as if he'd been smacked in the face with a brick. All thoughts of Marlo and her pregnancy were swept neatly away, having been temporarily exorcised by the knowledge that someone was trying to hurt Andy. Her stifled shrieks were the last thing Sam heard before the line went dead, and all he could think about was getting to her. With Andy's screams on auto-repeat in his head, Sam wondered if all of this was happening because he'd had the temerity to suppose that for once, he could actually be happy. Suddenly, everything that had been so right about his life was slipping through his fingers, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.
She was okay. She was okay. She was okay. The repeated assurance dulled the maddening fear and anxiety that had clawed at Sam during his frantic drive from the Penny to Traci's condo. The second he rushed through the door and saw Andy looking ruffled and flustered but otherwise unscathed, Sam felt reinvigorated—like he'd been given a gift he had never expected to receive. The heady sensation of relief nearly overcame him, and for the first time since he'd torn away from the Penny, Sam was able to breathe again.
Not only had Andy fought off the attacker all by herself, but there wasn't even a scratch on her. It was all very confusing and . . . amazing. She was amazing. She was tenacious. She was fiery. She was driven. So often he found himself in awe of Andy, and this time was no exception. Most of all, though, he felt thankful that she'd fought as hard as she had because it meant she was still there with him.
Unfortunately, at the moment, Andy was also extremely edgy and as she rambled around the apartment, going off on a comical tirade about recycling and grumbling about him ratting her out to Traci, Sam tried to reason with her, knowing that whatever attempts he made to calm her down would most likely be futile. That was just who she was. Amazing, tenacious, fiery, driven and very, very stubborn . . . .
In a far corner of his mind, the news of Marlo's pregnancy tapped out a vague, yet insistent rhythm, reminding Sam that he still had to break the news to Andy. Feeling mildly annoyed, he batted away the thought, scoffing at the suggestion that he'd even consider telling her about the baby right after she'd been attacked. The only thing that was happening that night was that he was taking Andy home. It could be his home or hers. He didn't care as long as all doors and windows were locked and she was safe. The rest would have to wait.
The next day rolled in just like any other, except unlike all previous days in Sam's recent memory, he was filled with anxiety and trepidation. This was the day his life was going to fall apart. Every part of him was on high alert, just waiting for it to happen.
Fortunately, the morning passed by in an uneventful blur—that is, if you could call an awkward interaction between Andy and Marlo and several questioning glances in his direction uneventful. Sam felt like the world's worst juggler struggling to keep a series of balls in the air, all the while knowing that they were ultimately going to come crashing down on him.
When he saw Marlo alone in the kitchen, he set off toward her, resigning himself to the promise of an unpleasant conversation. Sam felt mildly embarrassed about the way he'd handled things with her the night before. She'd told him she was pregnant, and his response had been nothing but a blank stare. He wasn't particularly proud of his reaction, although given the circumstances, he couldn't imagine acting any differently if he had it to do over again.
As much as Sam wanted to assuage some of his guilt about the previous night, his primary motive for seeking out Marlo was that he needed answers. Her unexpected disclosure had been lacking when it came to a few details—details he needed to know before attempting to explain the situation to Andy. Just telling her in the first place was going to be difficult enough, and the last thing he wanted to do was hit her with a bunch of "I don't knows" and "I'm not sures." For one thing, he didn't even know how far along Marlo was, and that seemed like a fairly critical piece of information. For another, he really wanted to know how long she'd known and why she'd waited to tell him. And then there was the elephant in the room—Marlo's bipolar disorder and how that was going to affect the baby.
"Hey," he greeted her hastily, feeling the need to keep their exchange as brief as possible. The last thing he wanted was for Andy to walk in on them and overhear the conversation before he had a chance to tell her about the baby. "I've got to head out," he explained. "Are you going to be around later? Maybe we should talk."
"Yeah. I'll be here," she said, clearly making an effort to sound casual.
"How far along are you?"
"Four months."
Four months and this was the first he was hearing about it. Feeling a mounting sense of frustration, Sam tamped it down and asked, "And, uh, how long have you known?"
"Two months," she responded quietly. In the interest of moving things along, he tried not to dwell on the fact that she'd kept the news from him for two whole months. That was something he might want to think about later—or maybe it didn't actually matter. All he knew was that blowing up at Marlo wasn't going to solve anything, and it would most likely make him feel worse in the long run. Summoning all the restraint he could muster, he bit back the trace of a sardonic smile and simply said, "Okay."
"Are you taking your medication?" Sam asked with as much sensitivity as he could manage. It was actually the first question he'd wanted to ask, but not knowing how she'd respond, it had taken him a while to work up to it.
Marlo assured him that she was and that her doctors had advised her to continue. What surprised him, however, was that she stumbled over the word "baby" during the brief update she gave him. It made Sam wonder where her mind was in terms of accepting what was happening. Perhaps it was just a slip, though. Still, he noticed and found it curious in a woman who'd had two months to adjust to the news.
When Marlo asked about Andy, Sam was glad for the opportunity it afforded him to explain that Andy didn't know yet. At the same time, he felt defensive at the suggestion that he should have already told her. To anyone mildly in tune to the events of the prior evening, it should have made complete sense why he hadn't talked to Andy. And maybe Marlo's question had been nothing more than an innocent clarification—most likely it was exactly that—but it hit a nerve with Sam. He didn't want to be the guy who avoided the hard stuff. Not this time, anyway.
And then, because he had never enjoyed particularly good luck, Andy showed up in the doorway to let him know she was ready to go. Sam's clumsy response sounded unnatural and strained even to his own ears, but thankfully, she seemed unfazed as she set off down the hallway toward the car.
Backing away from Marlo, he said, "Talk to you soon." That and a quick apology was all he could offer her as he took off after Andy, hoping she hadn't overheard anything.
Marlo had known Sam would have questions, so it hadn't surprised her that he'd sought her out in the kitchen, especially after the awkward way things were left between them the night before. Dov had said it best. Sam was a good guy. She knew that about him just as surely as she knew he was coming to talk to her out of a sense of obligation and nothing more. Although it bothered her that she might be considered anyone's burden, she tolerated Sam's questions with a patient endurance because that's just who Sam was. He was a guy with a conscience, and that meant he would always try to do the right thing.
What was slightly more off-putting to Marlo, although still understandable considering the circumstances, was that he was clearly worried that Andy might see them talking. The furtive glances over his shoulder as he'd entered the kitchen made that perfectly clear to her. Naturally, he was worried about hurting Andy, but to Marlo, it merely served as another bittersweet reminder of just how important Andy was to Sam.
Then, almost as soon as he'd appeared in front of her, Andy came in and Sam was following her out the door—practically chasing her, to be exact. It was the same thing he'd been doing since Andy returned to 15 after her undercover assignment. Marlo was fairly certain it had always been that way for Sam and Andy. She could only regret that she'd ever had the misfortune to stumble into the mix.
Sam loved Andy . . . plain and simple. And that meant Marlo's relationship with him had been nothing more than a brief distraction. She'd come to terms with that. She didn't like it, but she'd learned to accept it and move forward. To do otherwise meant that she was no better than the tragic castoff of a man in love with someone else, and Marlo had far too much self-respect to be that woman. To pine after a man who could never love her was pitiable, and above all else, Marlo hated to be pitied. Ultimately, what it came down to was that she wanted to be with a man who looked at her the way Sam looked at Andy. Every woman deserved that, right? So Sam wasn't that guy for her, but if there was any takeaway from the experience—other than the obvious—it was the fact that there might be someone out there who was.
All day, Andy had been trying not to worry. She really didn't want to create issues where there were none. So she'd told herself she was just being paranoid and that nothing was wrong with Sam. He was preoccupied with the investigation. That was all it was. Of course, that all changed the second she found herself wedged into a tiny galley kitchen with him. With nothing more than the faraway look on his face to keep her company, she could no longer deny the truth. Something was wrong with Sam.
Ultimately, it was the sigh that pushed her past her limit. Well that, and his downcast expression. He certainly didn't look like a guy coming off of an awesome three-week vacation with his truly amazing girlfriend. Deciding it was probably time to give him a nudge, she said, "All right. What's going on? You've been acting weird to me all day. Just talk to me."
He aimed a heavy stare at her, and instantly, Andy knew that whatever he had to tell her wasn't good. With a slight hitch in his voice, he said, "You know I love you, right?"
"Yeah. I think so," she responded with a coy smile, trying to introduce a bit of levity to the situation. When his response was merely a half-hearted smile, though, she began to feel genuinely apprehensive about what was coming.
"We had a great vacation," he continued. "Just the two of us together in a fishing cabin for three weeks. Never been happier."
Andy recognized the setup. He was front-loading the conversation with positive thoughts, indicating that what was coming next was going to be painful. But what was it? Was he breaking up with her? Was he leaving? Was there someone else? None of those things made any sense . . . .
"So then what?" she insisted, searching her memory for any clues that might lead her to a better understanding of what was going on with Sam. "Is it Marlo? I mean, is she sick or something? Or off her meds? She's been acting strange lately . . . ."
A cynical smile played at the corners of Sam's mouth. Of course, Andy knew something was wrong. She'd even narrowed it down to Marlo. Not only that, but she'd gone so far as to suggest that it had something to do with Marlo's health. It really was incredible—and often rather frustrating—how insightful Andy could be. He suspected that if he sat there with her much longer, she'd have the entire story out of him without him having to say anything at all. She was that observant, and she knew him that well. For heaven's sake, she was practically having the entire conversation for him.
She'd given him the opening he needed and now it was time to stumble through it. If he'd ever imagined such a discussion, it wouldn't have been happening on someone's kitchen floor in the middle of a stakeout. Then again, was there really a perfect place to tell the woman you loved that your ex-girlfriend was pregnant with your baby?
Unfortunately, in a textbook example of bad timing, Andy's radio suddenly came to life. The suspect was outside. And that meant Sam had lost his chance.
Rambling . . . that's all she was doing. It's all she'd been doing since they left Laura's apartment to come back to the station. But what choice did she have? Sam wasn't talking, and in light of the really weird discussion they'd been having on the kitchen floor, Andy was feeling extremely uncomfortable.
As she pulled the cruiser into the garage, she said, "We screwed up, didn't we? I knew it wasn't him the second I saw him. Sex crimes said we were going to scare him off, and we did. Now he's going to be in another city, another division, and no one's going to know."
Sam wasn't even listening to her. She knew he wasn't. He was somewhere else entirely. He did start talking, though, and even though it had nothing to do with the case—at least she didn't think it did—it was something. "All right, so . . . it's better to know the truth, right?" he asked. "No matter how bad it is, right? That's what you think . . . that's what you believe."
Andy looked at him, not knowing how to respond. Sam's dispirited expression was doing horrific things to her insides, so she lowered her gaze, unwilling to look at him anymore. "What is going on?" she demanded quietly.
Sam's voice was barely more than a whisper, steeped as it was in a heavy melancholy that scared her more than any loud, angry rant ever could. The person she trusted most in the world was about to tell her something that was going to hurt—badly. She knew it wouldn't be intentional, but it was going to happen. So with the agitated sensibility of a person standing in the path of a speeding train, she waited, bracing herself for what was coming.
This was it. Sam was determined to push forward no matter what. The moment of truth and all that came with it . . . .
"It's about Marlo," he began in a lifeless monotone. It was the best he could do. For the past day, the truth had been slowly bleeding every ounce of positivity from his veins, leaving him feeling hopeless and despondent.
"What about her?"
"She's pregnant."
"What? With who?" Andy asked in disbelief.
On some level, Sam knew she understood what he was telling her. She was going to make him say it, though, because until she actually heard the words, he knew she wouldn't believe him. Bolstering what little confidence there was to be had, he said, "She's . . . she's four months pregnant."
Even though he hadn't actually said the words, Andy definitely understood now. Sam knew because he saw the stunned expression on her face. Shock. Hurt. Confusion. Seeing a living, breathing version of his worst imaginings cut him so deeply that he couldn't even look at her. Uttering a useless apology, he explained weakly, "I only heard about it from her last night. I was on my way over to tell you. And then—"
"That's why you . . . ." Her words lost momentum, dissolving into nothingness before she could finish the sentence.
At least the truth was finally out there, and for Sam, there was some comfort in that. He'd exposed it to air and now, they could deal with the fallout. But when he glanced at Andy, her arm was already on the door handle. She was literally pulling away from him, inching further and further out of his reach. He'd expected it. He didn't want her to run, but he knew he couldn't stop her if she made up her mind to do so. When she wrenched open the door and got out of the car, he followed, feeling desperate to make her listen. And what was he going to say if she did stop long enough to hear him? Whatever she needed, he quickly told himself . . . that's what he was going to say. If it was within his power, he would give her anything she needed because he did not want to lose her.
Andy pulled at the collar of her vest as if it were strangling her. He knew she felt boxed in, possibly even trapped. Her impulse had always been to run, and now, he was actually watching it play out in front of him.
"Come on. Come on," he said with a sense of urgency as he chased after her. "Just—"
"No. No. Can you just—"
"Just talk to me."
"No, I can't," she said frantically, raising her hands in surrender. "I can't. I know . . . I just need a second, okay? Or a day," she spluttered, raising her hand to her head as if she were trying to collect herself. Sam could easily see that the truth—his truth—was choking her. "Or three," she added hoarsely, pushing open the door to the station and quickly slipping through it.
"Just . . . don't leave," he called after her right before the door slammed shut. She was gone, leaving only one thing behind. It was a look, and if Sam lost her for good, he would forever be haunted by the memory of her eyes, clouded as they were by their sad mixture of sorrow and reproach.