The Hold of an Ocean

I run to the river and dive straight in
I pray that the water will drown out the din
But as the water fills my mouth
It couldn't wash the echoes out

~ Drumming Song : Florence + The Machine

Andy McNally sat silently on the beach with her eyes closed and wind tugging playfully at her hair. The wet sand beneath her was cold against her legs, the moisture already seeping through her jeans, but she didn't pay notice. She rather liked the chill. This kind of sand was rough, full of sharp little stones and broken bits of shell, not the fine stuff most people assumed all sand was. It was dirtier and edgier.

It felt good between her fingers.

Tracing her hands through the sand, up and down and back again, she smiled as the grit irritated the pads of her fingers and stuck wetly to her skin. Wrapped in a lightweight jacket, the wind had just enough bite to keep her from falling asleep in the sun and fresh air. She had no badge at her hip, no gun at her side, just a set of keys in one pocket and a phone in the other. She felt at ease.

Inhaling the smells of autumn, all waterlogged leaves and cool air, she blinked and stared across the expanse of water in front of her. At first, the blinding glare from the setting sun dazzled her but eventually faded as the ball of fire sank lower in the sky. Leaving behind a stunning after image and diamonds of light sparkling off the surface, Andy's eyes finally focused on the water itself.

She cursed when the slick need filled her belly. Slamming her eyes shut once again, she knuckled at them angrily.

It was the same, every damn time she caught a glance of any body of water, leaping from the shadows of her mind and whispering sickly things in her ear. Things that brought forth hideous nightmares in the middle of sleep and made her wish she could just crawl back inside herself.

But it was better now.

The first time after her death and return to life, she had been curled under a warm blanket on her dad's couch, simply drifting off to the lull of the television. Eyes half-mast, she had almost missed the coverage of the tropical storm somewhere off the coast of Jamaica. The reporter was almost finished, the video footage nearing the final seconds, when all of a sudden Andy was staring at the raging ocean.

She spent over three hours curled in a ball on the bathroom floor, breathing into a paper back, Tommy sitting just outside, talking steadily to her. Somehow, her father seemed to have understood her nearly destructive actions, in a way that made her wonder.

Now, it only took about a minute of deep breathing and remembering the expression on Sam's face when she had walked away those months ago to calm her down.

That damn look of a heartbroken, kicked puppy had become part of her torturous nightmares. The self-loathing grew every single time his broken eyes and shattered face filled her memories, the knowledge she had let him hope, let him believe, things would be okay for those three days hurting her in ways she didn't know she could feel. She knew, without a doubt, that she would never do anything which would bring that expression back on Sam's face, even if it tore at her insides.

Because, even as she hated him for bringing him back, she loved him to a point where seeing his pain made it her own.

Sometimes it hurt to remember she once loved the water. It hurt even more to remember how the wildness of it had once saved her from herself.

Ever since she had responded to a call at the South Pier and shot point-blank in the back while standing on the edge, thus resulting into a tumble into the water, things had been different for Andy. Sounds and smells became too harsh, overly loud or strong. Colors turned dull and mute, taste was no longer an experience which provided joy. Life itself had lost its luster, leaving her in a spiral of self-preservation, anger and longing to once again return to the place she had ended up. A place she could only describe as heaven.

Technically dead for almost eight minutes, she had left behind the land of the living and found herself where she was at peace. And then she had been brought back, tethered to life by Sam's frantic pleas for her survival. Brought back to a world she no longer had the energy to survive. A world filled with mothers who left, fathers who drank, children who robbed, killed and destroyed themselves and people who found love, only to have it torn away.

What kind of world was that?

Sucked into morose thoughts, ones she had to lock in a box at the back of her mind in order to function, Andy jumped when a sound pierced the haze.

The cellphone in her pocket chirped once, vibrating against her hip and she muttered one more curse. Checking the message from Traci asking where she was, she shook her head at her friend's anxiousness. Andy knew she would make it to Traci's on time for the little get together that had been thrust upon her, much as she wished she could simply go home and sleep. Springing to her feet and spinning away from the shore before she let the light past her eyelids, she half walked, half jogged up the fence separating sand from pavement and leapt over.

The lock snapped firmly shut on the memories, closing away the box for later when it would invariably open again and come pouring out.

She slipped into the cab of her dad's truck, lent to her while he was at a poker game with a few of his buddies, and started the engine. The vehicle rumbled to life, radio filling the air with muted sounds of a classic rock station and she deftly turned away from the sand and drove back towards the city.

She made a quick stop at the liquor store to grab a bottle of red as a gift and proceeded through the streets, pulling to a halt at the end of Jerry's driveway, where Traci currently lived. There were already a smattering of other cars there and Andy was surprised by the amount. She thought the group was only going to be the rookies.

Correction.

The rookies plus herself.

However, it turned out she was wrong. Taking a short moment to breath, to make sure those locks on her box were secure, she eyed the house for a while.

Then she jumped from the cab and headed for the door.

It had been four months since Andy McNally had died. Three and a half were spent putting herself back together, even with missing pieces. And she still wasn't whole, didn't quite know if she ever would be. But she was trying, for her dad's sake, her friends' sake.

For Sam's sake.

For him, she would try. Because he seemed to be the only spark left in her darkening world.

...

...

Author's Note: Hello readers! I feel I should mention this first; no, chapter six of Moonlight On the Sea was not, in fact, an April Fool's joke. I didn't even realize it was April Fool's. So, this was born.

An important note for this chapter is that it is set up to give the reader the background they need for the story (if you have not read Moonlight On the Sea, I would suggest you do so) with previous stories containing the bulk of writing.

Also, I would like to announce I have commenced 'The Rookies Choice Awards', where authors can be both recognized and recognize those stories they deem amazing and we would like to encourage each reader and author alike to participate in nominating their favorite fics and authors for the first year of the "Rookies Choice Awards!" The nomination ballot, rules and category summaries can each be found (in time) at "The Parade" Forum. To reach those posts, please take a trip to the forum itself. We look forward to hearing from each of you!

In order to get the word out to as many as possible, we ask you, our fellow authors and readers, to let others know of this exciting opportunity. Whether by author's notes or Facebook, please let everyone know that the awards season will begin soon.

Thank you to all readers and reviewers. As always, you are all amazing. Any comments, thoughts, concerns and critiques are always welcome and always appreciated.

I have opened a poll on my profile in regards to Moonlight On the Sea and a companion piece; please stop in and check it out.

Thank you!