A/N: OKAY. I know. I haven't written in a while, or finished my previous stories, and I apologize. However, now school's out, and summer's in, so guess what? Let the writing begin!
This one takes place, obviously, in regards to the amazing Season 2 premiere where Andy get's shot. My take on what Sam is going through at the time. PLEASE REVIEW!
...
Sam, with a playful air about him: "Hey, boss. I'm gonna keep things moving, if –uh - that's okay with you."
Andy, amused, but hiding it well: "Okay."
...
Sam walks off, focused on the sea of people surrounding him, not really set on a specific task. Only about 25 seconds had passed when…
CRACK.
Time stood still, the chaotic crowd and bustling noises fading into the background. Sam spun around, not really registering what had just taken place. Looking on in a daze, people started running, bystanders started screaming, and officers immediately went on high-alert.
Sam's instincts kicked in within seconds, and he started sprinting back towards the line, gun in hand, where Andy had just been.
Another shot was discharged; ricocheting off of metal, just as Andy had came into Sam's line of sight.
His adrenaline level was immeasurable at this point; he had to get to her.
And this is when the third bullet strikes Andy, and she is thrust backwards, hitting the ground with incredible impact.
Sam's heart dropped, and his emotions circled around fear, rage, and concern. He holstered his weapon, disregarding any risk to his own safety, and raced to her side.
This can't be happening. This isn't happening. This isn't - NO. I had just talked to her, just laughed with her. I'm not kneeling beside her right now, and that is not blood on her face and neck…
Jesus, this is real.
He surveyed her injuries without hesitation, as if his body were on auto-pilot, his mind stuck in reverse.
Oh my God. This,this – ANDY. The Andy I know. The Andy that had broken down my walls, got under my skin; The Andy that busted my entire undercover operation, that I got stuck with on patrol, the one that I let in, that broke me down.
The one that I never confessed my undeniable feelings to.
The one that changed my entire life.
Sam rigorously ran his fingers over her vest. He felt the bullet; lodged, tangible. There was no blood.
He saw her desperately trying to gasp for air.
He snapped back. She's alive, it's only a vest shot, and she'll be alright.
He's unconsciously talking to her, instructing her.
"You're gonna be fine, stay down, don't get up, just try and breathe, okay? Andy-"
She reaches up, and grabs for him. It was a small motion, with so much more meaning behind it. It wasn't just an act of panic, as most would assume.
It meant – It meant something along the lines of. . .
Sam, I'm sorry. For everything I never did… everything I never said. You need to know how much you mean to me; You've always been there, and I'm forever grateful.
. . . [I need you.]
Sadly, sometimes it takes tragedy to incite reality.
Maybe we need things nearly taken away to really understand finality.
Until we're stripped of all we have, and what's left is none,
Is that what it honestly takes for feelings unexpressed to be acted upon?