This is my first SongFic, so please let me know how I did!(: Rights on song go to Sheryl Crow.
Disclaimer: I do not own RB.
It had been an extremely uneventful first three hours of patrol, and, for a man that thrived on high energy takedowns and smooth talking hostage situations, Sam Swarek was bored out of his freaking mind. It was just too quiet.
Which, in a sense, was saying something, seeing that his partner, Andy McNally, normally wouldn't shut up. He, as a whole, was more of a listener, and she typically provided for him the perfect outlet just to sit there and do what he did best: listen, as she ranted on and on about the most insignificant things known to humanity. And he loved every minute of it.
Today, however, she wasn't talking. He knew exactly what was keeping her lips sealed, but he had sworn to himself that he wouldn't bring it up, he wanted her to tell him, he wanted to hear it from her mouth, not just the grapevine that made up Division 15. And so there they sat, in a silence that was warm and comforting, yet frosted with a peculiar ice that Sam couldn't quite put his finger on.
Okay, so maybe he was kind of extremely happy it had happened. It meant that finally, finally, finally, Andy was a free agent. No longer was she bound to Mr. Perfect, that stupid golden haired detective that couldn't see exactly what was in front of him. Because Sam had seen it. He had seen her. And he loved her ever since she had made him hit the gravel in that alley on her first day on the job. The only downside to her recently single status was her acute case of depression. He knew it would come—come on, they had been engaged. Of course she's going to feel terrible for a couple of days. He hated seeing her hurting, and the selfish thoughts that had occurred to him earlier made him feel guilty. He wanted to comfort her so badly, but there was a slight issue. According to Andy, Sam had no idea that she was no longer engaged. She thought that, for all he knew, she could be picking out a white gown and flowers. But Sam knew she wasn't, and that she wouldn't be.
Sam watched as Andy leaned over and pressed a button, turning on the radio. She left the knob at the first station it landed on, resuming her constant vigilance of staring out the window. Sam let out an audible sigh, preparing to say something—anything—when she turned back, her eyes widened slightly and on the radio. Once more she reached forward, this time turning the volume up.
An acoustic guitar filled out the empty silence, resounding through the squad car, followed by a sweet voice. Andy started singing along, her voice soft. Sam relaxed almost instantaneously, marveling at what her voice, talking or singing, could do to him.
I would have given you all of my heart
But there's someone who's torn it apart
And he's taken just all that I have
But if you want I'll try to love again
Baby, I'll try to love again, but I know...
Fully aware of the lyrics, Sam glanced over at Andy, who, he was pleasantly surprised to see, was looking at him head-on. Caught, Andy's cheeks and neck flushed as she turned away. Sam found a small half-smile reaching his lips. As the chorus started, he noted with a pang Andy had stopped singing.
The first cut is the deepest
Baby I know
The first cut is the deepest
But when it comes to bein' lucky, he's cursed
When it comes to lovin' me, he's worst...
I still want you by my side
Just to help me dry the tears that I've cried
And I'm sure gonna give you a try
If you want I'll try to love again,
Baby, I'll try to love again, but I know...
At the second verse, she had started again, even softer than before, gathering volume slightly as it progressed. By the time the chorus started again, she was singing at a normal tone, her voice full and filling the car.
The first cut is the deepest
Baby I know
The first cut is the deepest
But when it comes to bein' lucky, he's cursed
When it comes to lovin' me, he's worst...
He noticed that she sang the wrong words for the first line, but shrugged it off. Maybe Andy just didn't know them. But then she did it again, and he caught what she was saying—she knew the lyrics, alright, she had just altered them. And it nearly tore his heart in half.
"His cut was the deepest, baby I know, his cut was the deepest..." Sam winced as her voice, raw with truth, layered over the singer's voice. Reaching forward, he slammed the knob in, efficiently turning off the radio.
He looked over at her, drinking in her face. "You wanna talk?" In that split second, their eyes locked, and Sam knew immediately they were both thinking the same exact thing.
Everything had been dark—the dark city, the dark house, a dark-haired man wearing a dark shirt. Everything except for her. Her skin had been pale and creamy, her ivory cheeks tear-stained, bright against the black backdrop she had stood against. The space between them had yawned widely, begging to be filled. You wanna talk? The simple question he had asked. So, so simple. He would never forget that night. Not in a million years.
Her movement sent Sam spinning back into the present. He blinked, the weight and many meanings of the question he asked laying down in front of her. Andy could choose the way she wanted to interpret it. His words echoed, filling the silent car. You wanna talk?
In that moment, their hearts collided, like they had that night. And Andy answered. You wanna talk?
"No."