A/N: Songfic set to Maroon 5's "Payphone" - taking stock of Andy's feelings three months into the taskforce. Told from Andy's POV, but does involve Sam too. Would love some feedback :o)

A/N2: Well to remove the lyrics, I had to re-upload the story - thus losing all your wonderful replies. But oh well! Have now removed the lyrics as requested, but look them up if you're interested. I think the story can stand by itself too, and thank you for all the wonderful replies thus far - they made my night when I got home from work ;o)

Three months in, and she caves.

Andy doesn't know what has caused her sudden turn-about exactly. Nick and her are making headway at the warehouse; has gotten their feet wet so to speak, and their handler; a man of very few words is very satisfied. Things are good – workwise that is, but she misses something. She misses him.

Sam

She and Nick are at a party tonight, a party some of their co-workers are throwing, a great chance to get on the inside as their handler has told them. Andy has mingled, made small-talk and gotten a good idea of when the next shipment of drugs are due. She is doing her job, when suddenly a song starts playing on the stereo that catapults her right back into the past.

This is the precise moment her judgment goes right out the window, and in a moment of weakness she goes outside to a payphone she had noticed on her and Nick's walk over. Andy presses a number that has resided in the back of her mind for more than three years now.

It seems to take forever before someone answers, so much so that Andy is very close to hanging up. In hindsight she probably should've done just that considering the fact that it isn't Sam, who answers the phone. A woman, whose voice Andy doesn't recognize does.

"Hello?" a brusque female voice asks.

'Who are you?' Andy wants to ask, but keeps quiet knowing that she can't let anyone know who she is, not even a woman, who's apparently very comfortable in answering Sam's phone.

"Who is it?" Sam's voice reaches her ear, and she's suddenly hit with an onslaught of missing him; his arms, his warmth, his smell.

Sam

The coldness of the December night reaches her quivering body despite the grey parka she's wearing. She takes a gasping breath, and hangs up the ice cold receiver realizing that he has moved on, moved on from her, from them.

"Hmm, they hung up," Marlo shrugs her shoulders closing his phone before handing it over. "You up for a re-match tomorrow?" she asks accepting a bottle of water from him.

"Yeah, sure," Sam nods his head staring at the caller-id. It isn't a number he recognizes, but according to a contact he has in Guns&Gangs the area code matches where he now knows Collins and Andy are placed. Could it be her?

Andy

Andy is numb when Nick lets them into their crappy cover apartment. The building itself is ancient; the apartment has one bedroom, a raggedy couch and a very small kitchen with a fridge that can hold a jug of milk, a six-pack and a loaf of bread. Not that Andy minds that their fridge isn't stocked to the fullest capacity, she isn't eating right; she's never been a great cook, something that had been Sam's expertise while they were dating.

"Hey, I do a lot of things alright, I cook, I clean, I'm good with tools, I'm an excellent driver."

Andy had actually been looking forward to the holidays – Thanksgiving and Christmas. Despite everything, Sam isan excellent cook – has on numerous occasions cooked them a meal worthy of praise. They had worked a lot of night shifts before it all had gone to hell. But when they had worked days, and he had stayed at her place or vice versa, she'd experienced the culinary skills - she guesses – had been passed down from his mother. Not that she knows that for a fact, all she knows about his family is the very short story of what his sister Sarah had been through when she'd been attacked.

She wants to know more about him, but is it too late? Has he already moved on with her? Whoever she is. Andy has no right to be jealous, she knows that. She left him. But nevertheless she can't stop these feelings from surfacing, and silently wonders if they still have a chance?

"Alright, McNally; enough!" Nick barks at her suddenly with that 'be all that you can be'tone of voice.

"What?" she sulkily replies plucking at the blanket residing on what's been their couch / Nick's bed for the past three months.

"You've been silent for the past hour, McNally. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but that's a dead giveaway with you." It's unnerving how well Nick knows her by now, but somehow it's also strangely comforting.

"What do you want me to do?"

"What you do best, McNally."

"Okay. Wait, what is that exactly?"

"Talk."

"What is it?" Nick asks crossing his arms in front of his chest. He jostles her leg before sitting down next to her on the couch. The action causes her to snap out of her reverie.

"I did something." She finally confesses. They've been each other's best friends for the past three months, and as much as Nick has heard about her and Sam, Andy has heard just as much about him and Gail.

"Andy…" Nick sighs pinching the bridge of his nose, immediately realizing what that something must have been.

"I know, all right?!" Andy snaps practically jumping off of the couch to pace in front of him recalling what she has learned upon having called Sam.

"Is that it?" Nick asks as if she's just told him that she's picked up the wrong kind of groceries for dinner. Andy's sure that if looks could kill, Nick would be among the walking dead right about now. How dare he belittle her like this? She's broken the one rule she had to honor.

"You're leaving everything behind. Your wallet, your cell. There's no e-mails, no calls home, zero contact. And while you're there you've got a job to do, so get it done."

"How can you be so cavalier about this, Nick?" she asks him livid.

He just shrugs his shoulders, "I could be mad at you, Andy, but all you did was call him, you didn't say anything, and it wasn't even Swarek you were on the phone with."

"I know," Andy hedges fiddling with her fingers. "But…" she picks up after a while, but is cut off by Nick holding up a hand – as a sign that she should keep quiet.

"Andy, you're human. You're in an impossible situation, and if I'm not mistaken then you'll spend the remainder of our time undercover kicking yourself, because now you realize that he may have moved on, and it's killing you."

"So you do believe he's moved on?" Andy inquires arching an eyebrow at him.

"The point is," Nick raises his voice an octave dismissing her question making her frown. "It's proven to be a lot harder – for both of us – to be away from the people we love. Yes; love, McNally," he adds when she's about to protest.

"You done?" she asks feeling beyond tired.

"Almost," Nick grins at her. "But for the record," he adds walking in the direction of the bathroom before turning around to look at her. "I don't believe Swarek's moved on. He'd be crazy to, too cool for his feelings or not," he winks at her.

Andy smiles at the now-closed bathroom door. Nick has been her anchor these past ninety – or something odd days. She misses her friends like crazy, but she's thankful every day that Luke picked Nick to be her partner.

"You're a good friend, Marlo," Sam tells her standing on the door step of his house. They have just eaten their usual dinner after their weekly run.

"Yeah, friend," she drawls out the word as if it's poisonous. She's known Sam since their academy days, and he had been that guy; the one you admire from afar, until your best friend starts dating him. She's tried to hint at the fact that she wants them to try and see if they can be more than friends, but it's been wasted efforts thus far.

"I'm gonna head to bed," Sam tells her nodding his head in the direction of the stairs to the upstairs bedroom.

"Is that an invitation, Swarek?" Marlo kids arching an eyebrow – only she's not – kidding that is.

"Funny, Cruz," he smiles awkwardly at her before handing her duffel bag to her – a tell-tale sign that it's time for her to go.

Their hands touch briefly when he hands the duffel to her, but he quickly pulls his hand back, as if he's been burned by the skin-on-skin contact. Marlo averts her eyes, looking to her car, to not give away the disappointment in them.

He's not available.

The light from the street below reaches Andy's eyes for the umpteenth time at 2:00 in the morning. She can't sleep; images of Sam and this mystery woman; Marlo is flooding her brain.

Who is she?

Or more importantly; who is she to Sam?

Memories of the last time she saw him floods her mind. His stubbornness and reluctance to let them end playing on repeat in her mind.

His words

His face

His hope

"I meant it."

"I thought I was doing the right thing."

"I'm gonna show you every single day until you say yes."

"I'm gonna make you dinner, I'm gonna take out your garbage, I'm gonna walk your dog."

"Boo Radley."

She throws the sheet aside and begins her search for her sweats and the hoody she more or less spends all her free time wearing. Picking up her sneakers, she tip-toes out of the apartment, casting a last glance at Nick's snoring body on the raggedy couch before closing the door softly behind her.

The walk to the booth seems longer than it actually is. The reality of the situation, of what she's about to do, doesn't face her, all she knows, is that she needs to hear his voice. The voice that for the past three years has calmed her down when she has been climbing the walls.

Sam turns onto his back with an audible sigh risking a glance at the alarm; 2:30 in the morning. He has to be up in a couple of hours to get his usual run in before work. Being a detective, and sitting behind a desk isn't quite as invigorating as being on the streets day in and day out.

Boyd had probably been right with what he had said right before Sam had gone on his last undercover assignment.

"Uniform's a strait jacket for you."

Because now he has indeed left the uniform behind, and is working as a detective next to Traci Nash. They have developed a beneficial professional relationship – avoiding the topic of McNally whenever they can, while at the same time commiserating over the fact that she is indeed missing from both their lives. But as Christmas comes nearer and nearer, he can't keep his thoughts from centering on her.

Taking a deep breath, Andy's fingers dance across the buttons. She places her free hand against the window of the booth, as she awaits a response.

Turns out she doesn't have to wait long.

"'ello?" Sam's slurred voice thick with sleep answers.

Again Andy's hit with an eerie incapability to speak aloud. Her palms are sweaty, her breathing erratic and her thoughts are all jumbled. What the hell is wrong with her?

Sam instantly knows it's her. The deep breathing he can hear through the receiver reminds him of nights spent on the brink of madness in her bedroom. Her soft hands against his sternum counting up his ribs, as they breathe through their passionate haze.

"Andy?" he asks sitting up straight in his vast bed, the bed that feels too big and too empty without her in it.

Her lips move, but no sound comes out. A lonely tear marks its trail down her cheek, as the words she's wanted to tell him for the past three months make their way through the barrier.

"I love you too."

With that, she's gone.

Entering the apartment again, she throws a glance in Nick's direction, who's now lying flat on his back with an arm draped across his eyes.

Andy softly shuts the door behind her, locking it up tight before tip-toeing into what has been her bedroom for the past three months.

"How was it?" Nick asks from the couch with a smile hovering on his sleep-filled face.

Andy merely shrugs before closing the bedroom door behind her. She shucks off her sweats and hoodie, leaving the sneakers in her hand by the bedroom door. Climbing into bed, she releases a deep breath she didn't know she had been holding in.

For the first time, in what seems like forever, Andy McNally goes to sleep with a small glimmer of hope sparkling within.

FIN