Surface from a dead sleep slowly. Claw to wakefulness, with a cold and empty space next to him. Stretch muscles, knead eyes and slide from bed.
Stumble to bathroom, splash cold water on face, shivering as the beads of liquid travel down his back. Chuckle at the sight of Andy's toothbrush once again hogging his toothbrush holder.
Wait.
Re-assess.
Sam falls into full alertness with that, as he does every morning. As he does every morning, he also curses himself for a fool. A fool for keeping the toothbrush, a fool for forgetting what happened, even for a short while. A fool for what he had done.
An all around fool.
Sighing, Sam cracks his jaw in a yawn and wipes his face dry with a nearby towel. Tossing the wet fabric to the side, he exits the bathroom and heads for the kitchen. There, he snags a mug and pours a cup of the already brewed coffee waiting for him. Leaning against the counter top, body still stiff with sleep, he brings the elixir to his lips and takes the first sip of the morning.
He can already tell that today will be a long day. Something, which swirls in his gut, warns him of this.
He sighs again and sets down his mug, heading to the bread drawer to start a weak breakfast of toast. He would love pancakes this morning, but he hates making them. Hates remembering the pancake batter war that took place in this kitchen.
Hates how there seem to be so many memories stuck in this apartment.
So he eats dry toast, drinks his coffee and heads to work.
Locking the door to his house behind him, he realizes then, after so many months, that this place had become nothing more than the place he eat and slept and sometimes entertained … people.
But not a home.
With that depressing thought, he shook his head and hopped into his truck. Just another day.
.
Walking into the station, Sam nodded slightly to a few passing officers, automatically ducking his head when he catches sight of Marlo out of the corner of his eye. He can't deal with her simple friendliness without strings today.
He doesn't deserve her companionship anyway.
Stopping at the window of the gym, Sam catches a glimpse of Andy, and finds his body jerking backwards to remain hidden. But he continues to watch her as she finishes a brutal combination of punches on the bag, sending it swinging crazily on its chain. From his position, he can see the vague twitch of her lips as she regards the bag, catching it at the last moment.
Then she turns away to pick up a towel and Sam turns away from the window.
He hates himself for how he practically sneaks his way into the locker room and berates his actions, but doesn't bother to change them.
Pulling his locker open with a bang, he lets the sounds and hums of the room wash over him. He allows himself one moment of respite, closing his eyes briefly, before shoving his bag into the metal square and shutting the door, perhaps with a little more force than necessary.
Oliver looks up from across the rows of lockers and studies him silently. Sam doesn't want to think about what he sees.
Nodding to his friend curtly, Sam swirls on his heel and heads out to the D's offices. Checking his watch, he notes there are twenty minutes to kill before Parade starts, and he figures he can work on some cold case during that time. Settling himself at his desk, he digs in, all too willing to find something to distract his mind.
But he only works for about fifteen minutes before he registers a presence at the side of his desk.
Looking up, he sees Peck staring at him, a strange look on her face. It almost looked like… worry and apprehension. Sam had never seen that expression on Gail Peck. And that was enough to cause a bolt of fear to run down his spine.
"Detective Swarek, could you come with me?" she asked softly, eyes starting to dart from side to side.
"What is it Peck?" Sam demands, rising from his seat.
She takes a nervous step backwards and hesitates for a brief moment. Just as Sam was about to shake her, because that swirling feeling was back in his gut, she finally answered. "It's Andy. Can you please come with me?"
And Sam follows.
As they head to the women's locker room, Sam sees Collins watching them from across the hall. Sam doesn't bother to acknowledge Army Boy's gaze.
What he doesn't see is the look of pure sadness and desolation that crosses Nick's face when everything seems to click.
Weaving their way through the small maze of lockers, they finally stop at the far corner, next to the open doorway that leads to the showers. Gail walks further into the alcove and leans against the wall, but Sam stops dead when he catches sight of Andy.
She looks small.
This is the first thing that crosses his mind.
Wrapped in a towel, hair still wet and hanging freely, she seems to shrink into the white fabric, her cheekbones standing stark and face pale, she looks exactly like a forlorn and dirty doll that has been left in the dirt by a vengeful child.
(His mind instantly flashes to not even half an hour ago, when he saw her strong and ferocious beating on the gym's punching bag. What in the hell happened in such little time?)
What is worse are her eyes though.
A chill shoots down his spine and settles there when he catches sight of her eyes.
There is nothing left of the warm, intelligent and caring glow that normally radiates from their depths.
No.
The brown eyes that stare out at the three of them without seeing only hold a lost nothingness.
The empty hum of the woman's locker room echo in his ears, much like the men's had done not that long ago. But here is different. Here, the sounds mock him openly. He ignores Traci from where she hovers before Andy and finds himself studying the woman he loves, despite all his attempts not to.
Something catches inside his throat as he tries to look away.
"How long … ?" he starts, voice hushed as he tries to force sound around the lump in his throat. There's a heavy weight in the air, a pressing feeling in his lungs and somberness rings in his ears.
"Has she been like this?" Gail finishes. Sam finds himself nodding, even though not a single person in the room is looking at him. "Since Traci found her ten minutes ago. She hasn't said a word, or done anything since."
This is enough to jar Sam's sensibilities (everything he knows about Andy denies what he's just been told, but its sitting right in front of him) and he glances over at the icy blonde. She quirks an eyebrow at him and shrugs, but he could see the very real fear and concern in her gaze.
"Why am I here?" Sam asks softly, wanting desperately to do something but at the same time, knowing he hasn't really been in the position to interfere for a long time now.
"Nothing else we tried worked. We thought you could help," Gail muttered.
"Andy?" Traci tries again softly from where she is crouched before her silent and absent friend. Sam holds his breath as he waits for something; anything. There isn't any reaction. Andy simply blinks once slowly and a small frown creases her face.
Something sick settles in Sam's stomach.
The feeling only intensifies when Traci reaches out to touch Andy's arm and the reaction is instantaneous; Andy jerks backwards as if the touch burned, screwing her eyes shut and pulling her knees to her chest in order to become the smallest shape possible.
But when she wraps her arms around her legs to curl further inward, Sam's entire body jerks in horrified surprise as his eyes latched onto the gauze wrapped around the arm that was previously obscured from his view. And the crimson stain slowly marring the crisp white fabric around her wrist.
He steps forward on pure instinct, the primal part of him desperate to sooth and fix and heal. But he stops dead when terrified eyes snap up to stare at him, a warning for him to stay back.
Behind him, he hears Gail murmur, "guess you're just as useless."
He wants to punch her.
Resists.
Almost doesn't.
Instead he snaps his head around to glare at her and she at least attempts to appear apologetic.
At this point, Traci stands and backs away from Andy (both of them wince at the way she relaxes as they move away), moving to stand at Sam's side.
"I have no idea what to do," Traci hisses and Sam can feel the anxiousness radiating from her.
"What happened to her arm?" Sam asks (demands) and he can almost feel the air grow cold. The need for an answer, any answer, roils in his stomach like bile.
There's no answer.
In it's place, a new voice joins them.
Sam, Gail and Traci all jump at the sudden noise.
But Andy stays perfectly still.
No one sees the small smile.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Nick murmurs, eyes only on Andy. He leans against the lockers, a blank mask covering his face.
Gail moves to intercept, but Nick brushes her off as he heads toward the still trembling in their midst.
Suddenly, the three others are left on the outside.
Nick takes up the position previously occupied by Traci, crouching at Andy's level.
"You should have told me," Nick reiterates softly and the room holds their breath.
"You can't always take care of me," Andy mumbles out in a croak.
Nick just laughs. And as he does, he reaches for her wrist and she doesn't move away.
This isn't going where you think.
Or is it.
I think this will only be about three chapters.
I hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you think.