A/N: This is something a little different for me. The season finale left a complete mess in my brain and for the longest time I didn't want to watch or read or write about Rookie Blue, and then slowly my muses returned from the far off place I banished them to and they gave me this. I initially thought it might be the start to soemthing longer, and I may come back to it one day, but I consider it a complete work in and of itself. It's a little bleaker than I would like, but also hopeful I think. I hope you enjoy it.

One Dream on Repeat

Day One

Sam

Sam doesn't invite her back to his place. He thinks about it. He's almost certain she will said yes. But he could never cheat on Andy, and in his mind that is what it would be. Sure, technically he is in the clear. He broke up with her, tried not to miss her for weeks, and then chose the worst possible time to finally spit out the words he'd felt for what seemed like forever. She said it was too late. He refused to believe it, but with every minute that ticked by, every man or woman who walked through the door causing his heart to lurch in anticipation, her words seemed more and more real. So no, he doesn't ask Gail to go home with him, but he thinks about it, and somehow that is even worse.

He does offer her a ride. He wasn't going to. The churning guilt in his stomach at the thought of taking her to his bed making him temporarily forget Gail's last cab ride. He had remembered though, the moment his feet hit the parking lot and the crisp October air hit his skin. "Can I drive you home?" It sounds like a clumsy invitation for something more and once again there is that sick churning in his stomach.

Gail takes a moment to react. She's been mainlining tequila for the last three hours, long after Sam gave up both hope and refills on his whisky, so it's not all that surprising she's having trouble keeping up.

Sam puts both hands in his jacket pockets. When did it get so fucking cold? He supposes it's been cold for a few weeks now, but there is a bite in the air tonight that cuts through to the bone.

"Yeah, thanks." Gail responds about thirty seconds slower than she should have. She smiles up at him but there is no joy in it.

Sam wonders what Collins is up to. The possibility that leaps to mind is not helping the uneasy feeling in his gut. But no, Andy wouldn't do that. Not to Gail. Girls like Andy stuck to whatever the female version of the bro code was. It is part of why he loves her. And God does he love her. Just the thought of her sends a sharp pang through his chest. He knows he's been a fool, and that she has no reason to take him back. But there is a tiny voice that refuses to give up hope. That is what hurts the most. The hope.

He tries to smother it as he pulls his keys out and starts up the truck, getting the warm air going as soon as possible to combat the frigid night. It doesn't work. It seems like the more reality he piles on top of it the deeper that tiny, excruciating sliver of hope sinks into his heart.

Gail changes his radio station without asking. It's something Andy would have done, and by keeping his eyes on the road he can almost imagine it's Andy in the passenger seat as he pulls out of the parking lot. But Gail's voice giving him directions pops that fantasy and he spends the rest of the drive trying to banish Andy from his mind.

"This is me," Gail says and Sam pulls into the drive.

He idles there until she disappears into the house and then backs out onto the road and turns homeward. He passes an LCBO and on impulse pulls into the parking lot. He isn't planning to turn into a sloppy, scruffy drunk like Luke Callaghan did when he lost Andy, but having a forty of whisky on hand is never a bad thing.

The store is empty except the black haired girl smacking a stick of gum and reading a Twilight novel behind the front counter. She glances up briefly when Sam enters and then goes back to her book. She looks about sixteen years old and Sam wonders when he got so old. He doesn't waste any time grabbing a bottle of 40 Creek and taking it up front. The girl behind the counter puts her book down and rings him though with barely a word. Up close he still finds it hard to believe she's actually old enough to be selling liquor, let alone working the evening shift alone, and he fights the urge to ask her if anyone else is working. He's not in uniform, and even if he were, there aren't any laws against young women working alone at night. Although with the number of crimes in the city over the last year he sometimes thinks there should be. "Thanks." He says when she hands him his receipt.

"Have a good one," She says, already reaching for her book. Before Sam has even left the store she's forgotten he was there.

Sam's apartment feels empty. He turns on the TV just to have some background noise and then turns it off again because he feels stupid having it on when he isn't planning on watching it. Instead he cracks open the bottle he just bought and takes a generous swig. He's working tomorrow so he knows he shouldn't get too drunk, but he also knows he won't sleep sober. There are too many images warring in his mind. Andy holding the grenade, looking so scared and brave; Andy smiling at Nick at the Penny; Andy looking like she wanted to run away as he poured out his heart. He turns off the lights and sinks down on the couch, whisky bottle in hand. He's lost the lid, but it doesn't really matter, there probably won't be any left by the time he's through.

Andy

She could kick her own ass for doing this. Running away... again. She's an expert at it. Of all the people to learn relationship coping mechanisms from, Claire had probably been the wrong choice. The woman abandoned family number one, and Andy still isn't sure if there is a family number two. Yes, she was mad at Sam, she still is still mad at Sam. Six weeks of silence. Even if she'd understood why he ended things she wasn't sure she could have taken that. Now suddenly he'd found the words.. Granted she was holding a grenade and fearing for her life at the time... and maybe that is the problem. Yes he said he meant those words even now. People say a lot of things they don't really mean for all kinds of reasons. But now she has had some time to think and she wonders if she made a mistake. All the doubt makes me head heart, almost as much as her heart.

There is a knock at the door. For a moment Andy considers ignoring it. It's well after midnight and for all the person on the other side knows she's fast asleep.

"Andy?" Nick's voice is muffled but even with the distance and door between them she can hear concern in his tone.

It's annoying. She isn't some little girl who needs a big strong man to take care of her. Besides, if he wanted to take care of someone, why was he here instead of consoling Gail? Assuming the department followed through on firing a Peck that is. Andy doesn't really think they will, but that doesn't stop her from wondering just what Nick is doing here. She rises from the bed and takes the three strides to the door purposefully, prepared to tell him just that. Instead what comes out when she is face to face with her partner for the next few months is: "Sam told me he loves me."

To his credit, Nick merely raises and eyebrow and steps past her into the room.

Cursing her own mouth, Andy follows him back to the queen sizes bed and perches beside him atop the garish pink rose coverlet.

"When did this happen?" Nick asks.

Andy can feel his eyes on the side of her face, but she glues her eyes to a hole in the wall where a painting probably used to hang. "While I was holding a grenade." The ridiculousness of Sam's timing, the hurt and the confusion bubble up and escape in what could have been a bark of laughter or a sob. Andy has no idea which one it really was. She can't remember the last time she felt this lost. Except that day… She tries to shake off the memory, but it clings like a foul taste at the back of her throat. She still dreams about it sometimes, the dark basement, her heart pounding in her ears, his grubby tank top slowly staining red as he bled out from the three holes in his chest, the gunshots ringing in her ears, and then Sam.. his arms around her, his lips on hers… Her port in the storm. But not anymore.

Nick still hasn't said anything, and she turns to meet his gaze.

"Why are you here?" He asks, his handsome face devoid of its usual cheer. He looks almost severe, and there's a hint of disapproval in his tone.

Andy's hackles rise. She should be asking him that question. He is the one with someone waiting for him. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Andy. I haven't known you that long... But you obviously still care about him."

"He broke up with me."

"And maybe it was as hard for him as it was for you."

Andy feels her eyebrows raise. "Yeah right" She mutters.

"I know it doesn't make sense, but trust me I know what it's like to walk away from the love of your life..." Nick drops his eyes, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks.

Andy feels a flash of anger. Maybe she should have stayed; tried to work through it. But Nick has Gail, Andy has six weeks of silence. How dare he try and tell her how Sam's feeling? "Why are you here?" She snaps.

Nick shrugs, his boyish smile flickering across his face. "It sounded like fun?"

Andy stares at him in silence for a moment. She wants to ask about Gail, but at the same time she doesn't have the energy to care. For a long time they sit in silence.

Andy plays absently with a small hole in the knee of her pajama pants, trying to sort out the mess of her feelings. It's too late to turn back now. She fought hard for this opportunity, and no matter how big this mistake might be, she needs to see it through. If she is meant to be with Sam, if he meant what he said about proving how he felt, maybe he will still be there when she comes back. If not… Well, she will deal with that when she has to.

It's Andy who talks first. Try as hard as she might she can't banish Sam's hopeful, desperate face from her mind. "He wanted us to get a dog. Who says something like that?"

Nick chuckles. "What's wrong with dogs?"

Andy gives him an incredulous look. "It's not dogs its… everything." She tucks her knees up to her chest, resting her cheek against them. She feels suddenly drained. It's been a hell of a day.

Nick doesn't say anything, he just rubs her back soothingly.

She gives him a tight little smile for his effort. She's realizes she's glad it's him here. Somehow she can't imagine telling anyone else everything she's told him over the past six weeks, not even Traci. She isn't sure when it happened, but he's become a really good friend. "I mean... I took advice from my mother!"

Confusion crinkles Nick's brow. "Didn't she...?"

"Pick up and leave one night and not come back for fourteen years?" Andy finishes for him. "Yeah." She groans and hides her face against her knees. "I am such an idiot."

"No you're not."

"Says Mr. Relationship." Teasing him is so much better than dwelling on how royally she's screwed up. "How'd Gail react when you told her you were going to be gone for six months?"

Nick looks down, lips pressed together.

Andy turns so she's facing him. "You didn't tell her?"

"Callaghan-" He mutters, not looking up from the carpet.

Andy scoffs. "You know she's going to find out by the end of the week."

Nick shrugs. "So why didn't you tell Swarek?"

Once again Andy's hackles rise. "That's completely different!"

Nick looks at her, his eyes are guarded. "So what are you going to do?"

"My job. If Sam and I are meant to be, he'll wait. "

"And if he doesn't?"

Andy shrugs as if her heart didn't lurch at the thought of losing Sam for good. She knows it's a possibility, but her heart refuses to accept it. "I survived the last six weeks."

"You could always join the army."

Andy laughs despite herself and punches him lightly in the arm.

"Now can we get some sleep?" Nick asks. "If you get us killed all the rest of it is moot."

Andy rolls her eyes. "We're the rookies. We're probably going to be stuck in a van for the next six months. I can nap tomorrow."

"I'm serious." Nick says, rising to his feet. "Get some sleep McNally."

"You too." She says, smiling up at him.

For the first time in weeks Andy is asleep five minutes after her head hits the pillow.

Day Two

Gail

She wakes up with a hangover and a vague memory of getting really drunk. Nick is MIA again. It's the first thought across her mind and she can't help remembering all the other times he's disappeared with no warning. She thought since the kidnapping things had changed. She's an idiot. Of course nothing has changed. Nick is Nick. No matter what has gone on between them she's never felt like she really has him.

Memories plaguing her even more than her pounding head and churning stomach, Gail manages to haul herself into the shower, but she can't shake the thoughts churning through her mind. She imagines he is off with some other girl and it makes her miss Chris, and now she feels disloyal. She tells herself she'll see him in an hour and everything will be fine.

But he isn't at parade and neither is Andy and now all Gail can think is that he's been planning this. That while he told get he missed her and tried to talk her out of Europe he was scoping out greener pastures. She thinks of he and Andy together and then stops herself. It's not fair to Andy. They may never be close, but Andy's been cheated on, she knows the painful humiliation. Gail tells herself this will stop them, but she doesn't really believe it. She remembers Swarek's dwindling hope the night before and feels great sympathy for him. Poor guy is going to get his heart broken.

As if he knows exactly what is going on, which in retrospect she realizes he probably does, Frank pairs her with Sam and a boatload of boring desk work. Not that she has the mind power for much more today. Despite the aspirin she had for breakfast, Gail's head is pounding and there's a vile taste in her mouth that no amount of mouthwash seems to be able to wash away. She really needs to stop drinking her feelings. Sitting behind a desk with a supervising officer is not the way to get her career back on track.

Sam is in a mood. If the stormy expression and one word answers don't tip her off, the handful of aspirin he chases down with his fourth cup of coffee does. He keeps checking his phone and Gail bites her tongue to keep from asking if he's still waiting on Andy. There is no way she can ask it without a sarcastic bite that will probably result in her spending the next three months suffering Swarek's ire. It's bad enough riding with a TO three years into the job, a TO who wants her head on a spit is like a nightmare.

But she can't just keep her mouth shut. Two hours into shift she forces a casual tone and, without looking at him, asks, "You expecting a call?"

Sam hands her a pile of tickets to enter into the computer. "Coffee?"

Gail rolls her eyes. "No thanks." Well, so much for the casual approach. She adds the tickets to the already ridiculously large stack beside her. It's like every officer in fifteen decided to skip finishing their paperwork the last few weeks. And Oliver's look like they were written by a five year old who hasn't quite managed to figure out the difference between a d, a, e, and o. She rubs her temples for a moment and then reaches for another ticket. "Seriously, how hard is it to punch this into the computer while you pull the guy's plate number?" she muttered as she pulled up the appropriate form and translated Oliver's barely legible scrawl into the appropriate boxes. It is going to be a long day.

Nick

He knows he should have told Gail when he applied. But she was facing the prospect of losing her badge and talking about taking off for months and he honestly didn't think she would be around to care. Or at least, that is what he tells himself. She'll be mad, but she will get over it. She got over Vegas, she will forgive him for taking a great opportunity. Right?

He shakes his head, sending droplets of water flying all over the tiny bathroom in his cheap motel room. He knows he's kidding himself the same way he knows why he didn't tell her about this. It's not that he doesn't like her, love her even, but he's never been enough for Gail Peck, and that's not likely to change any time soon. Right now she was probably boarding a plane to Europe, he was going to spend the next six months cooped up in a surveillance van or running a wire-tap while the senior officers on the task force did the exciting work inside, or at least that is how he assumes this will go. He just hopes they don't give him and Andy paperwork duty. Sifting through files is not how to get his mind off the girl who he let get away, twice.

That's what he's doing. He's letting her go. A clean break. In three months, six, they'll both be back at work and maybe they can be friends. He thinks he might make a good friend, and maybe if they let go of the sex he won't feel like she's waiting for something more, something he doesn't think is in him to give.