A/N:

Im Just dipping my toe in the waters of fanfic, see what people think of this. I don't know how romantic it will be at first. I wan't it to be more of a friendship for a while but I think they will get together eventually. I like the idea of Sam and Oliver being young officers trying to prove themselves so I might try to explore that a bit more. This chapter and probably the next do grace over the topic of suicide, so if this is something you are uncomfortable with/ it is a trigger for you please don't read it.

If you do read it, I hope you enjoy it. Please tell me what you think, so I know whether it's worth continuing.

Disclaimer: I own a very, very pissed off cat, unfortunately though I don't own Rookie Blue. Blame any mistakes that may or may not exist on the cat, but please correct me if there are any :)


Jacob Cross had been all over the news. The teen that had been about to jump off an overpass, when a good Samaritan had stopped and regaled him with the tales of a life well lived and fed him hopes and dreams of a life worth living. Just as Jacob had turned to climb back over the railing of the bridge to safety, he had slipped and, ultimately, plunged to a now unwanted death. The passer by had been haled as a hero; the incident, a wake up call to take teen suicide more seriously. It highlighted the need to put more money into teen mental health, and to watch for the 'warning signs'. Jacob had been a "wonderful young man with a promising life ahead of him" and according to the papers, this tragic event "should be a lesson to us all about the importance of mental health and looking for the warning signs before it's too late."

However, as Andy McNally sat reading the newspaper article mourning the loss of Jacob cross, all she took from it was the promise of a way out.
Andy was 17. It had been almost six years since Claire had packed up her maternal instincts, and with them, her bags, and walked out of Andy's life. Five years and six months, since Detective Tommy McNally had started looking at the bottle in his hand at the end of the night, with the same love and affection he had shown his daughter. Five years two months, since that look of love had turned into a look of need and Andy had learned the skill of not caring. A whole three years since Tommy McNally had been tragically killed in the line of duty, and Andy's life had been turned upside down even more than she thought was possible. Three years since Claire had smarmed her way back into Andy's life. Now social worker extraordinaire, she seemed to have time for every child in Toronto, except for her own. And now, it had been three long months since Andrea McNally's ability to not care had turned into an inability to care. Sitting outside a café on a bench, reading about Jacob Cross in last week's newspaper all she felt was numb. The world was black and white with big grey clouds hanging above her head, and yet Jacob's plight had bought a flash of colour dancing through her life. Glorious, colourful, hope. Hope, because finally Andy knew there was an end to it all. And unlike Jacob cross Andy was never going to change her mind.

She thought back over the last six years. They had begun with hope. Unwavering, unflinching, unmovable hope. The total belief that Tommy had been wrong, that Claire was coming back. Because at 12 years old how could Andy break her own heart and acknowledge that she hadn't been enough. That the mother who was meant to care for her no matter what, the mother who's love was meant to be unrequited, who should have been the dryer of her tears not their cause, hadn't loved Andy enough to stay. And when Andy did finally realise, and her heart broke into thousands of tiny pieces, her life began to spiral out of control. Tommy's drinking stopped being a worry and became a problem, and his fellow officers and detectives began bringing him home at early hours of the morning after finding him at various bars around the city. So when two officers turned up on the doorstep a week before her 14th birthday, she was in no way prepared for the news she was given, and as she crumbled to her knees in the doorway she realised that she now had no one. And suddenly, as though she had never left, Claire was back, and Andy began to recede into a shell. Distancing herself from reality and falling deeper and deeper into depression. And now, this morning had marked the third week that her period was late and there was no way she could pretend that was normal anymore. And she didn't know what to do anymore.

And so she had found herself in an old deserted barn on the edge of town. Looking at the pill packets in her hand, remembering the day they had been given to her.

"Andy, look at me; I'm going to try you on something new, ok, but it might make you feel worse before you feel better. So I need you to promise me that if anything happens. If you feel even the slightest bit not ok in any way, you call me. I don't care if it's 2 am in the morning. If you need to talk, you call me. For the next week I am on call for you, no matter where I am, if you call me I will pick up ok. Just promise me that you will call."

And she had called, sometimes all she would do was sit on her bed and cry into the phone, other times they would go out for afternoon tea and Andy would pretend that she was normal, that she was coping. For a few months she believed she was beginning to make a friend, a person to lean on when the going was tough. Someone to trust. But as quickly as she began to believe this, she remembered that the woman who had been her rock, was, at the end of the day, her psychiatrist and Andy was just another paying customer, and she had pulled away ("I really don't feel like I need to see you as much, I've finally started to feel like I can cope with the world") and although Dr Harper had seen this happening, she had hoped that Andy would come back to her in her own time. But Andy wasn't coping, slowly spiralling down a staircase of depression, until here she was, sitting in a dilapidated barn, an empty packet of pills in her hand and half a bottle of whisky beside as the edges of her vision began to slowly get darker and the world began to fade away. As her eyes slipped shut, she felt a jolt of fear and regret grip her heart, but it was too late.


Sam Swarek knew it was going to be a bad night when he walked into parade for the nightshift and saw a picture of a young brown eyed, brown haired girl staring back at him. Although he tried to deny it, cases like these shared an unpleasant resemblance to Sarah's story, and as much as he wanted to pretend that Sarah was the only person affected by that experience, the fluttering in his gut, and the tension in his shoulders as well as a general feeling of agitation made this hard to believe.

"Alright boys and girls" Boyko announced as he strode to the front of the room. "Settle down, settle down! Tonight our biggest priority is one Miss Andrea McNally." A rustle moved through the officers as those who had been at 15 long enough recognised the last name. Boyko cleared his throat noisily, staring down the room.
"She wasn't at school today, normally this wouldn't be a worry, at 17 she may have just wondered off, pushed a few boundaries. However, she also didn't turn up to her scheduled psychologists appointment at 1600 today." At this statement several officers frowned, still confused as to why this was a missing persons case. Boyko picked up on this and continued, speaking slowly. Spelling out why this case was different.
"An appointment she's kept for the last three years without fail. More concerning however, is the possibility that Miss McNally's state of mind could prove a serious risk to her own safety." Understanding washed over the room and with it sombreness. Sam felt a flash of guilt, because this wasn't going to be an assault case, and the moment he realised this he felt a load of tension fly off his shoulders.

Boyko let them have their moment of realisation before he continued.
"Her psychologist, Dr Harper will be coming into the station within the next hour and may be able to shed some light on possible locations to search. Need I remind you that Andrea is the daughter of the late Detective McNally, one of our own. We owe it to his memory to bring his little girl home safe. Serve, Protect, and let's not have a death on our hands tonight. Assignments are on the board. And rookies." He looked pointedly at Sam and Oliver. "No heroics ok." The room erupted into chatter as Boyko walked out and Sam waited for every one else to clear out before he checked the board. He didn't have to wait long, as he was nearing the board Oliver approached him and stood rocking on the balls of his feet.

Sam smiled at his fellow rookie "You and me today Ollie?"
"You and me brother" Sam rolled his eyes.
"Ollie, you know that whole 'brother' thing is never going to catch on right."
"You are my brother Sammy" Oliver smiled as he said it. "My brother in blue. I will always have your back and you'll always have mine. We are a family here. I just want every one to know it." Sam licked his teeth and tried not to smile.
"You know. Brother" it came out in a droll sarcastic tone "One day when you're a seasoned officer you are going to have a rookie who's as overly enthusiastic as you. And then you will understand what I put up with."
"You know Sammy, maybe you're right. But at least I'm not a cynical old fart." He clapped Sam on the shoulder and walked towards the door, turning as he did so "Now let's go get this girl. Forget the no heroics."

"Coffee" Sam grumbled to his retreating back. He wasn't starting the day with an overenthusiastic Oliver Shaw without at least one coffee on board.