This picks up just after 6.02. I thought that end scene was perfectly lovely, but there was just this one thing that I really wished the show had clarified. I won't say what it was, but I addressed it here.

The time frame is a few hours after the end of 6.02. This one is rather short, and I believe the fanfic-verse would probably refer to it as fluff. :)

Sam stifled one yawn and then another, expelling a tiny puff of air in frustration. If his alarm clock hadn't been screaming at him in bright red numbers, the elongated shadows and dark recesses of his bedroom would have clued him in to the fact that it was two o'clock in the morning. He certainly didn't need his body reminding him, as well.

Yeah, he was tired. Exhausted, in fact. Still, he wasn't ready to drift off to sleep yet, and it was with a sort of obdurate authority that Sam opened his eyelids wider each time they started to sag. Andy had been asleep for at least an hour, and although he assumed she'd stay that way, he didn't want to risk waking up in the morning to find her gone. His plan—however ill-conceived it might be—was to stay awake as long as he could. And if the first ribbons of early morning light filtered in through the curtains and found him still awake, so much the better, because it would mean they'd made it through the entire night together.

Sam tightened his arms around Andy's waist and buried his nose in her hair, breathing in the comforting scent of her shampoo. Vanilla, honey and almond, according to the bottle in his shower. Of course, as far as he was concerned, it was merely a fragrance known as "Andy."

Fingering the hem of her T-shirt, Sam slowly slipped his hand beneath it and lightly teased the smooth skin of her abdomen with his fingertips. When she stirred in his arms and muttered a sleepy, "Mmmm," he smiled.

"I thought you were asleep," he said quietly, not wanting to disturb the stillness around them with anything above a whisper.

"I'm in and out," she admitted, and Sam wondered if that was her way of telling him he was keeping her awake. "Why are you so restless?"

"How do you know I'm restless?"

Andy looked over her shoulder at him, narrowing her eyes as she said, "Let's see . . . you're fidgety, yawning and still awake. Now, I'm not a detective, but all the evidence definitely points to restlessness."

"So if it looks like a duck and walks like a duck—"

"It's a duck," she finished for him. Sighing, she added, "Sam, I'm not leaving."

"I know."

"Do you?" she asked dubiously, letting her head sink back down to the pillow as Sam wrapped his arms around her more securely.

In the dimly-lit room, he could just make out the curves of Andy's silhouette. With the exception of the subtle rise and fall of her diaphragm at regular intervals, she seemed frozen in a sort of expectant immobility, and Sam knew she was waiting for a response from him.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked carefully, alluding to their conversation in his truck earlier that evening. "Is it really what you want?"

Her response wasn't immediate, and it was ultimately with some hesitation that she said, "It's not what I want, but if the options are this or losing you altogether, it's really not a very difficult decision." She shrugged and rolled over to face him, propping up her head with one arm. "We just need to adjust our expectations and create a new reality."

"You know it won't be that easy," he said uncertainly. He didn't want to hurt her any more than he already had, but it seemed likely that at some point, it was bound to happen. More than anything, he wanted to protect her, and if that meant letting her go now, he'd rather do that than have her hate him later.

She smiled, and he could just make out the delicate curve of her lips in the small slice of moonlight that had stolen through a crack in the curtains. "Sam, I get it. There's going to be some hard stuff along the way. I'm not going into this blindly. Stop worrying." Slowly, her smile faded, and her eyes made a slow circuit around his face as if she were seeking out some way to access his thoughts. At length, she asked, "Is this really what you want?"

"Yeah," he answered immediately, forcing himself up onto one elbow. "Andy. Of course, this is what I want."

"I mean, it might be easier if you were with Marlo," she said pragmatically. There was an unnatural edge to her voice and a hint of wistfulness in her eyes, though, that told Sam she wasn't really buying in to what she was suggesting. She was only saying it for his benefit because she wanted him to have an "out" if he needed it. "It would be more convenient," she persisted, "and it would give the baby a stable home and family life."

Sam arched an eyebrow at her. "You really think I want to be with Marlo?"

"Well, you never said one way or the other, and it didn't occur to me to ask before . . . ."

"McNally, I think it never occurred to you to ask because you already knew the answer."

"Maybe," she conceded, still sounding unsure.

"I don't want to be with Marlo," he said with a finality intended to put the subject to rest for good. "You make me happy. I'm not trading that for any amount of convenience. And the baby will have a stable home and family. It just won't be in the traditional sense, and it won't be a home that Marlo and I share."

"So you've weighed all the options, then? Because, Sam, I want you to be sure about this."

"When it comes to being happy, there's really only one option for me. And that's being with you," he clarified with a firm nod. "You know, I was talking to Oliver today, and he told me the best thing you can do for your kids is to be happy yourself."

"So you've been getting advice from Oliver, have you?"

Sam chuckled. "Well, he is the boss. He also happens to know a few things about raising children in complicated circumstances."

With a saucy smile, she asked, "So what you're saying is that you need me to be happy?"

"Yes. McNally, that's exactly what I'm saying."

"Then I'll do my best to make that happen," she assured him with an easy smile. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I only mentioned Marlo because it sounded like you were trying to warn me away, and I thought that might be why."

"I wasn't trying to warn you away. It's just . . . what you said in the truck surprised me. It wasn't what I was expecting. To be honest, I saw us having a very different conversation, if we even discussed the situation at all."

"What did you expect?" Andy asked curiously.

"Well, even if you were willing to stick around—and I wasn't sure you would be—I didn't think it was fair of me to ask for this kind of commitment from you," Sam confessed, adding, "I still don't."

"But?" She giggled, hovering playfully in front of his lips.

"But you're stubborn," he said, mimicking her tone as he captured her chin in his hand and held her face steady in front of his. "And headstrong."

"Well, you didn't ask it of me," she reminded him. "It's my choice. Remember that."

"Stubborn," he reiterated, skimming his lips across hers in a long, slow tease.

When a telltale yawn slipped out before he could catch it, Andy smiled indulgently at him. "You need to get some sleep, Sam. It's late."

"No kidding," he agreed, watching her intently as he dropped his head backwards into the inviting coolness of his pillow.

Without a word, Andy moved closer—so close that Sam could feel her warm breath carrying away all that remained of his uneasiness. His eyelids were heavy. Very, very heavy. He was ready to fall if he could just let himself go . . . .

Then, Andy's soft fingertips were gently closing his eyelids, and he was letting her do it. He felt her lips on his forehead and then she murmured, "Shhhh. Sam, go to sleep." Snuggling into his chest, she assured him, "I'm not going anywhere. And when we wake up in the morning, I'll make us coffee and toast. We'll shower, go to work, solve some cases . . . ."

"Then what?" he asked drowsily.

"Doesn't matter," she said softly. To Sam, her voice sounded incredibly soothing. Soothing and confident. "Whatever it is, we'll be okay."