Riding next to him, holding his hand, she replays the last 30 minutes through her mind. She grips his hand a little tighter as she watches him in her mind's eye. Letting out an exhausted breath and holding his face in his hands, he explained 'I can't… I can't be here anymore – with you. I've screwed it up. It's my fault. I've screwed up over and over and over again. Andy, I want you to be happy, more than anything in the world, more than anything I could want for myself… and you are – with him.'
Glancing back at the man on the stretcher in front of her, she runs her hand over his forehead and through his hair. His brown eyes open to look at her, and she tells him the truth they both need to hear, 'I love you, Sam. I'll always love you. Couldn't stop even when I tried.' 'But you love him too…' He whispers out. 'Shhhh, Sam. Save every breath,' she urges him as she begins telling him her story. She wanted him to know that she still remembers their good times, still remembers when she had been happy with him… wanted him to know that she knew he loved her in his own way.
When he wakes from surgery, he only wants to see her… only wants her at his bedside. Walking out to the waiting area, the nurse scans the crowd of blue and asks 'Miss. McNally?' Her eyes dart from Nick to the nurse, acknowledging the nurse after a nod from Nick. 'He's asking for you,' the nurse explains. 'Ohhh ook,' she stutters her response as she follows the nurse through the ICU doors.
Coming to his bedside, he reaches a hand to her. He needs to know… has to know… 'You said you love me. But do you love him too? Are you in love with him?' Looking down at their hands clasped together, her relationship with Nick flashes through her mind in a nanosecond. She sees how his soft eyes cascade over her as they make love, sees his smile as he taunts her, feels his confidence in them and is reminded that he makes her feel more confident in herself, she feels faith and trust, she feels safe and content, she feels her heart swelling with fullness. Looking back up to meet Sam's gaze, she whispers 'Yes… Yes, I do.'
Turning his head away from her, his hand goes limp in hers. 'Sam, you were with Marlo. You're still with Marlo. I thought you moved on. I thought you were happy with her. I'm so sorry Sam. I had no idea – I… I didn't know.'
Taking a page from his book, she explains 'He's not you, Sam. He and I are different than you and I were. The chemistry isn't the same… the sparks were more like a slow burn, but there's more openness, less doubt. There's depth and assurance. We are equals…. We don't have to work so hard at being together.' Pressing her hand gently to his face, turning it back to her, she continues 'Holding yourself back until the last-minute or until it might be too late – that's not what a forever relationship looks like.' Kissing him lightly on his forehead, she says again 'I really am sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry we didn't make it. And it's true… I love you. I will always love you, Sam.' Squeezing his hand in hers, she turns to go, but not before telling him that she'll be back to check on him, and that she isn't going to let him walk away from them… from 15… 'We'll find a new normal, Sam' she says with a small but honest smile.
She returns to the waiting room. Assuring her 15 family that he is awake and going to be ok. Nick's standing… waiting with baited breath… waiting for her verdict, as she comes to him and presses her lips to his. Wrapping his arms around her, he finally lets out the breath he's been holding since he saw her running to Sam's side. 'Yep, He's still worth it,' she says to herself as she hugs him close and whispers to him 'Let's go home.'
- Two months later -
Jolting from his sleep, Sam wakes in a cold sweat. He's yelling out 'No! Wait! Stop!'
Marlo, reaching a hand across him, turns over and mumbles 'It's ok Sam. You're ok.' She's never asked him, always just assumed that he's reliving being shot by Ford. Though if truth be told, this reoccurring nightmare is so much worse – and it's happening more and more frequently.
It's the same every time. He's in uniform and running at a frantic pace. He throws open the church doors, praying he's not too late, and yells 'No! Wait! Stop!' - Only to hear the minister pronounce them man and wife, 'Mr. and Mrs. Nick and Andy Collins.'
Sitting upright in bed, his eyes wide and Marlo's arm draped across his lap – he runs a hand over his face. 'Oh God, What have I done?!' – The question silently haunting him.