Not really sure where this idea came from, but it popped up one day and wouldn't go away till I wrote this story. It's a two-parter and chapter 2 will be posted in a couple days. This is a bit darker than my fics usually are (but no Sam/Andy angst!), and I hope you all enjoy it. Oh, and in terms of Sam & Andy's relationship for this story, Jerry hasn't died yet and they never broke up. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue.

Chapter 1

Andy sat in the backseat of a car being driven by her new boss, Mark Gilbert. He was chatting away with her co-worker and new friend Casey. Andy nodded, smiled and threw in an 'okay' and 'mmhmm' here and there to make it seem like she was paying attention to their conversation. Instead, she thought about Sam. It had been nearly a week since she'd seen him at their scheduled meet, and one month two days and 12 hours since they had really been together. She missed him. They both knew it was going to be hard being away from each other when she took the assignment, but they also knew it would be worth it. If everything worked out, she'd help bring down a large drug smuggler in the Toronto area. That is, if she could find out who he was.

Guns & Gangs had spent months trying to find out who the new drug smuggler was that was making Toronto his new home. There were several small up and coming gangs trying to make a name for themselves by working with the new drug king. Two other undercover officers had been placed with other gangs, while Andy was assigned to Mark's. She'd already made friends with Mark, so goal number one was accomplished.

Now, all she needed was for Mark to trust her enough to introduce her to the big man, who he'd already met with a few times since she arrived. Unfortunately, he intentionally only let a couple people from his inner circle accompany him to those meetings, and she hadn't gotten an invite yet. If she couldn't get personally introduced to the drug smuggler himself, Plan B was for her to gain as much intel as possible about him so Guns & Gangs could find another way to get close to him. Right now, they were just at a loss for who the guy was or the specifics of how his operation worked. She just hoped she got a break soon because living in a crappy apartment and hanging around people who not only distributed drugs, but consumed them in large doses, was wearing on her. She also wasn't sure how much longer she could convince Mark, Casey and the rest that she didn't want to sample any of the drugs they distributed.

She looked down at her tattered skinny jeans, an old knit top that had seen better days and a thin jacket that did nothing to keep out the cold. She definitely couldn't wait to get back into her own clothes.

Andy's head flew up and her eyes went wide as she was snapped back to reality when she felt the tires lose traction on the icy road before the car sailed into a utility pole. As she was tossed around, her head collided with something hard. Her head was spinning and the world through her eyes looked like an old television with bad reception. She pressed a hand to her forehead trying to remember where she was, and soon felt someone tugging on her arm. "Andy, come on! Come on!"

"We have to get out of here, Casey! Get her out of the car!" Andy heard a man yelling as she stumbled out of the car and into the arms of the girl who had been tugging on her arm.

"You have to help me, Mark. She hit her head or something." Soon Andy felt herself being picked up and the man was running away from the car with the girl at his heels.

He nodded toward the bag Casey carried. "With all the product we have in that bag, you know we can't be there when the cops arrive," Mark scolded Casey as they fled the scene.

"I know, I know. She just, she wasn't moving. I didn't think you wanted me to leave her," she replied.

Andy wasn't sure what was happening as the pounding in her head took over all her senses. She eventually realized their pace had slowed and they were walking up to a rundown house.

Once inside, Mark placed her on the couch in the living room and Casey immediately sat by her side. "Andy? Andy? Are you okay? How do you feel?" she asked.

She pressed her hand to her forehead and searched her memory, but it was blank. "Is...Andy, is that my name?"

Casey's eyes went wide. "Don't you remember anything?"

She shook her head before quickly realizing that wasn't a good idea. It felt like a jackhammer was at work in her head. "I remember the accident, but that's it. I can't remember...I don't know who you are...who any of you are," she said, looking around at the handful of people standing around her.

"Sounds like amnesia," a voice from behind the couch suggested.

"Shut up, David, you're no doctor," Casey snapped.

"He's right," Mark said, walking up with a bottle of water and handing it to Andy. "Sounds like she might have some memory loss from hitting her head." He bit back a smile. Andy had been a tough nut to crack over the last month. She'd popped up out of nowhere wanting to work in his club and, soon after that, distribute for him. He found that she was a great worker, but he couldn't understand why she refused to try the product. And man, did he want to see the product loosen her up; those long legs she always showed off with her short skirts and those low-cut tops teased him more than he'd let on. Maybe now he could mold her into who he wanted her to be, and where he wanted her to be, in his bed.

When she brought a hand to her pounding head again, Mark pulled out a small box from a desk nearby. "I think you could use some relief from the pain," he said.

She sat up as he walked over to her and placed a small vile of a white powder Andy assumed was cocaine on the coffee table in front of her. Mark knew she always refused his offer, but what she couldn't remember wouldn't hurt her, he thought mischievously. She eyed it suspiciously.

Casey's eyes went wide. "Can I?"

Mark pretended to think about it and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, party's on me tonight."

Andy looked over at Casey. "Is that? Do I? I don't remember..." She frowned realizing how could she remember what she enjoyed when she wouldn't have even known her name if it wasn't for Casey.

Casey smiled and patted Andy's leg reassuringly. "It'll make you forget what you don't remember." She poured the cocaine out onto the table and took a hit, sighing in contentment before she looked over at Andy. "Your turn."

Andy was hesitant, but Mark and Casey were giving her reassuring looks and the pain in her head was atrocious. If this could help, why not? She immediately started feeling the effects of it and man, did she feel good.

That night, instead of going back to her apartment - since she had no idea where that was - she crashed in one of the empty beds in the house despite Mark's insistence she share his bed so he could watch over her. There was something about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she didn't want to be sharing a bed with him.

The next morning Andy listened as Casey told her about her life, a life she couldn't remember. They'd met about a month ago when she started working at Mark's club, right after she got off a bus from Vancouver to escape a lousy boyfriend. Casey said she hadn't told them much about her life prior to that. She explained that they both helped Mark with a side business he ran from the club, but hesitated before giving Andy any additional details. Andy put two and two together and figured it had something to do with the drugs, but didn't press Casey on it. There were more important questions to find answers to, like why she had this nagging feeling that this wasn't her life despite all the signs that proved it was.

Andy sighed. "Where do I live?"

Casey made a face while she thought about it. "I think it's some ratty apartment on East Avenue. You took me there once, but I was totally high," she said laughing. "Mark probably knows, but you should stick around here for a while, until we know you're okay. You don't want to be alone right now."

Andy frowned. Great, she didn't even know where she lived, although looking at the clothes she was wearing and Casey's description of a 'ratty apartment' she imagined she didn't have many possessions to care about. And Casey was probably right. With her head still foggy, it probably was best to be around other people.

Andy spent the next couple of hours lying on Casey's bed as she told her about Mark and the other guys Andy met last night. She tried to take it all in, so she could claim to have some memory, but it was hard to focus. She felt like something big was missing, something that Casey wasn't telling her or maybe didn't even know.

Eventually Andy changed into some clothes Casey offered her and they headed downstairs, where they found the men already having a good time. "Join the party ladies," David said, grinning.

Andy looked at the clock on the wall. "Uh, it's only 2 o'clock."

"You used to be the life of the party, sweetie," Mark said, making room on the couch and patting the cushion next to him. She reluctantly took a seat and accepted the beer he held out to her.

A feeling of uneasiness swept through her when his hand rubbed up and down her back, but she was hesitant to piss off the only people she knew, the only people who could help her remember who she was. And she had been with them in the car, so they had to be her friends, right? She gritted her teeth and pretended to have fun.

Hours later, the alcohol and drugs Mark was feeding her made it easier to have fun and she found she didn't really have to pretend anymore. She was needing less and less convincing to take whatever was offered to her. Mark smiled when he saw the drug-induced haze take over and used the opportunity to slide his hand under her top, caressing her back. She leaned into him and grabbed the beer he held and took a long drink.

"See sweetie, the life of the party," he murmured into her ear.

She had no idea with all the 'fun' she was having that she was missing her scheduled meet with Sam to report in on her undercover assignment.

Sam sat in a crappy diner on the outskirts of the city and looked at his watch for the hundredth time in the last 10 minutes. Andy was never late for one of their meets and here it was 30 minutes past when she was supposed to be there. He was trying not to worry, but anxiousness was flowing through his body. He was tapping his fingers nervously on the faded laminate of the table when the waitress came over and poured more stale coffee into his mug.

Another check of his watch a few minutes later and Sam was out of his seat and tossing a few bills on the table. Something wasn't right. As he jumped into his truck, he knew he was breaking protocol, but he didn't care. He sped over to her undercover apartment and resisted the urge to barge through the door. There was a small chance he was overreacting and maybe she just forgot about their meet. He couldn't blow her cover if that was the case. So, he casually knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he knocked harder. With still no answer, he let himself in with the extra key he kept.

"Andy," he called out when he entered the apartment. The unit wasn't that big and it only took a minute to realize she wasn't there. That's when he noticed the cameras weren't turned on, so if something had happened, no one would know. "Damnit Andy!"

He carefully took in the one-bedroom apartment. Nothing seemed out of place. It didn't seem like any struggle had taken place. He called her burn phone and listened as it rang and rang.

Ending the call, he stormed out of the apartment, dialing another number on his way. "Sterling," the Guns & Gangs detective answered.

"We have a problem," Sam said as he got in his truck.

"What did Andy tell you?" Sterling questioned, knowing they had a meet scheduled.

"Nothing, she didn't show. Something's wrong, I know it."

"Calm down Swarek. Meet me at headquarters. Don't do anything stupid."

Sam hung up without responding. He'd meet the detective, but Sterling was going to get a piece of his mind on how they lost track of his girlfriend.

His truck squealed into the parking lot and Sam wasted no time getting to Sterling's office.

"Why didn't anyone notice her cameras were off for so long?!" Sam demanded the moment he was face to face with Sterling.

"Hello to you too, Sam."

"Don't even. Why didn't anyone realize something was wrong?" he questioned, more calmly this time.

"We don't even know something's wrong. Calm down Swarek," Sterling said, shifting some files on his desk.

"She missed our meet. She wouldn't do that. Even if something came up or it became too dangerous she would let me know," Sam explained.

"Well, we need more evidence than your intuition about your girlfriend before we ruin this whole op. If we rush in guns blaring and she's fine, it'll be your badge on the line," Sterling said.

"I don't care about my badge if Andy, if my partner, is in trouble."

"Look, I'll have the team poke around, see what I can find. Let me remind you not to do anything stupid Sam."

"I'm gonna do my own poking around. I'll get you the evidence you need." Sam spun on his heel and stomped out of the room. He'd come up with his own plan, he'd find the confirmation Sterling needed and he'd rescue Andy.

Sam was pulling his truck out of the parking lot when his phone rang. "Swarek."

"Sammy, it's Oliver. I have a case here I think you should take a look at." He wasn't too keen on breaking the news over the phone, but needed to get Sam back to the station.

"Now's not a good time, Ollie. I'm a little busy with something."

As much as Oliver hated to tell him this way, he knew the words that would make his friend listen. "It has to do with McNally."

Sam slammed on his breaks, so he could change directions and head toward the station. "What happened?" Other than Sam, no one outside of Guns & Gangs was supposed to know anything about Andy's operation. However, Sam gave Oliver Andy's cover name, along with the names of the key people she was interacting with. Without giving his friend any other details, Sam asked him to keep an eye and ear out if any of those names popped up on any cases he worked.

"We were called to a motor vehicle crash and traced the car back to Mark Gilbert. There was no one at the scene, but there was as a phone in the car. Standard issue burn phone and your number's programmed in," Oliver explained.

"She's missing." Sam slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration. He couldn't believe he let this happen.

"We don't know that, brother," Oliver said, trying to calm his friend down.

"No, she's missing. She didn't show for our meet. Shit. I'll be at the station in five." With that, he hung up and threw his phone into the passenger seat.

Oliver was waiting, file in hand, when Sam came jogging into the station. He flipped through the file, reading details about the accident. Based on the location, which wasn't far from the club Mark owned and Andy was working at, and the time of night the crash was reported by a nearby resident, it was a reasonable assumption that they were headed home after work. There was a hitch in his breath when he saw that blood was found in the backseat, which was also where Andy's phone was found.

"There wasn't any other evidence of trauma. And the hospitals didn't report anyone with her description coming in last night or this morning," Oliver said, knowing by the look on Sam's face what part of the report he was reading.

"Yeah, yeah. But she missed our meet today. She never misses without telling me." Sam flipped through the report again trying to find more, to find something that would tell him she was okay.

"We can't figure out why they'd leave the car," Oliver said, interrupting Sam's thoughts.

"Drugs. Mark probably had drugs on him, was afraid of being arrested." He handed the file back over to Oliver. "I gotta go. Thanks for…"

"Hey, no thanks necessary," he replied. "I'll keep you posted if we get anything else."

Sam drove home and collapsed on his couch with a beer and a large file that contained all the information he had on Andy's undercover operation and all the key players. He'd been through all the information at some point or another, but he painstakingly went through every detail of information again. He had to find a way to get the confirmation Sterling was looking for and then come up with a plan the detective would approve of for a takedown. With any plan he thought up, Sam's main priority was going to be keeping Andy safe…and alive.

The next morning, Sam parked down the street from Mark's house and waited. By around noon, he thought about pretending to be a pizza delivery guy at the wrong house or someone given the wrong address for a friend's house, but simply knocking on the door wouldn't tell him if Andy was okay. So, until he came up with a better plan, he sat in his truck and waited, hopeful that at some point she'd leave the house.

More than an hour later, Sam saw a group of people exit the front door. He only saw the back of her head at first, but he'd recognize her long chestnut brown hair anywhere. When she turned around and began walking down the street with the others, even from a distance, he recognized the signs. She was either drunk or high, and neither was good. But he could risk Andy's life, if it wasn't already in danger, by making the wrong move.

For a moment, he held onto hope that she was just faking it, that she'd become a fantastic actor during this op and that she wasn't really high or drunk. He had to get confirmation that he could bring back to Sterling, so he got out of the truck and crossed the street. Acting as if he were just another guy in a rush to get somewhere, he smacked right into Andy. Their eyes met briefly as he quickly brushed past her and his worst fears were made even worse. Not only could he tell she was high, but she hadn't even looked at him like she knew who he was. Something was wrong, horribly wrong.

Andy felt her shoulder being practically dislocated as a man ran right into her. "What the hell?" she screamed as she looked at him. She had a fleeting thought that she knew him, but her mind wouldn't let any recognition take place. "Asshole!" she called as he stormed down the street.

Sam walked around the block before heading back to his truck. Once inside, he pulled his phone out. "I got the confirmation you needed. It's time to pull her out," he told Sterling before throwing his phone into the passenger seat. Andy was just a shell of her former self and it was killing Sam.

That night, Mark insisted Andy didn't need to work the club so she could relax and continue recovering from the accident. Still frustrated she couldn't remember anything, she agreed it was probably best to stay home. Well, in her temporary home. Mark had told her where her apartment was, but she had yet to go back there. She was scared. Scared that nothing there would feel familiar to her. Scared that it would really hit home that she had no memory if she walked in her apartment and didn't recognize a single thing.

Andy wasn't sure what she thought about Mark staying home with her, but figured it beat being alone. She was sitting on the couch trying to find something good on TV to watch when Mark came and sat beside her, invading her personal space.

"You know, we were starting to get hot and heavy before the accident," he lied, waggling his eyebrows seductively at her.

"Really?" she asked, not masking her surprise.

"I'm hurt you don't remember," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I just, I don't remember anything." She looked down at her fidgeting hands, and was surprised when Mark kissed the corner of her mouth gently.

"It's okay, sweetie," he said before covering her lips with his. He quickly deepened the kiss and Andy was too stunned to react as she felt his tongue exploring her mouth. It wasn't until his hand found its way underneath the sweater she wore and squeezed her breast that she pulled back and put a hand on his chest.

"Wait, stop...I'm not ready for this," she said, backing up against the arm of the couch.

Mark stood up and looked down at her with a scowl. "I'm not gonna wait forever. Get your act together, cause there are plenty more like you out there." With that, he stormed out of the room and Andy soon heard him slam a door upstairs.

Wanting to forget the feeling of his hands on her, she grabbed some cocaine from the box left out on the table and took a hit. She sat back on the couch, bringing her knees to her chest and rocking herself until the drugs took effect. As much as the powdery substance could help her forget, she let a few tears escape as she wished it could help her remember her life.

Hours later she practically crawled up the stairs and into a bedroom, and got ready for bed. She walked down the hallway to the bathroom so she could brush her teeth. When she was done, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was pale and had dark circles under her eyes. She felt like a different person and it wasn't only because of the memory loss, but she couldn't put her finger on what was making her feel that way. She sighed, realizing she should just be grateful she only suffered memory loss from the accident and that she had friends willing to take her in and comfort her.

She had no sooner walked out of the bathroom than she was being pushed against the wall with Mark's muscular body pressing into her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. "I want you," he said huskily. "And I'm gonna have you." Her reflexes were slowed by the drugs and alcohol she drowned herself in before coming upstairs, so she simply stood there, back against the wall, arms hanging limply at her sides, eyes staring through the man that stood right up against her.

She let him run his lips along her jaw and neck, let him run his hands up and down her sides. This was the person that pulled her from the car, she reminded herself. This was the man who let her stay in his house, eat his food, use his drugs. She lost her reasons to fight him. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be, what her life was like before the accident. The life she couldn't remember. Her body stiffened only slightly when she felt his hands slip under the oversized t-shirt she wore and inch up her body until they squeezed and caressed her bare breasts. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to ignore what he was doing. She finally had the urge to fight when she felt one of his hands slip into her underwear, but before she could react, a door slamming downstairs had Mark jumping away from her like he'd touched a hot stove. She took the opportunity to run to the bedroom, slamming the door and collapsing onto the bed in the fetal position.

She tried, really tried, to live this life she was being reintroduced to, but she hated it. Hated all of it. She focused on the happy feeling of the drugs in her body and fell asleep with tear-streaked cheeks.

The next day, Sam stood at the front of the Parade Room as Sterling explained what was going to happen during the takedown and what everyone's role was going to be. "Remember, we have to be quick. In order to get them on anything, we can't allow them to flush any of the product. If we get enough evidence, we might be able to get one of them to flip on the big guy we've been after," he instructed.

Sam looked over at Sterling before meeting the eyes of his fellow officers – his friends, Andy's friends. "And don't forget, we have an undercover officer in the house and we don't know what condition she's in." He looked over to the photo of Andy on the bulletin board next to photos of Mark and his crew.

"We'll get her back safe," Oliver piped up from the back of the room. He knew many in the room, most importantly Sam, needed to hear those words.

Sterling dismissed everyone, and knowing they still had some time before they had to leave, Sam walked into the locker room and sat down on the bench in front of his locker. He opened his locker and pulled down a photo he had taped to the inside of the door. He wasn't big on photos, but Andy managed to capture a few of them here and there. In this particular photo, they were at a barbeque thrown by Oliver and Zoe – the first since he'd moved back home – and Andy was so happy things were looking up for Oliver that she'd been giddy all day. Suddenly, she pulled out her phone, leaned into Sam and told him to smile. He did, but it nowhere near matched the big toothy grin on her face. Once she'd taken the photo, she'd placed a messy kiss on his cheek and told him she'd never been happier.

Sam rubbed his thumb over her smiling face and closed his eyes. He just wanted her back in his arms, to know she was safe and unharmed. Two things, he couldn't be sure of right now. They both knew undercover work was dangerous, but it was a part of the job they both loved. However, that didn't make his heart break any less as he thought about what she might be going through right now.

He heard the locker room door open and as footsteps came closer, he opened his eyes. "Time to go," Oliver said. Sam nodded and instead of putting the photo back in his locker, he tucked it into the pocket of his pants.

When Andy heard the police storm into Mark's house, she jumped out a side window and began running down the alley. She'd only gotten about halfway to the next block when she felt a hand grab her waist and she was quickly tackled to the ground.

"Stop fighting me," a gruff voice said as she tried to free herself.

She felt a knee in her back as her hands were pulled behind her and she was handcuffed. "What is up with you? You don't need to make it look this good, Andy," Sam whispered.

When she was finally turned around and looked at the man holding her down, she furrowed her eyebrows trying to identify him. "Who are you?"

When he'd seen her run, he'd hoped it was just her playing the part. But now, when he looked into her eyes in the dark alley, he realized she wasn't playing a role. She had no idea who he was or that she was being rescued. "I'm Officer Swarek," he said, pulling her to a standing position.

He pushed her toward a cruiser parked in front of the house and at Oliver's questioning look as he passed by, Sam shook his head. He put her in the back of the cruiser and shut the door before laying his head on his hands on the top of the cruiser. He sighed, both out of relief that he had her back and out of sadness that something was very wrong with her.

Oliver leaned against the other side of the car and looked at his friend. "Sammy, it's gonna be okay. We'll figure it out and she'll be okay."

Sam simply stared at his friend. He didn't know how things were going to be okay. All he'd seen when he looked Andy in the eye was a vacant stare. Without saying a word, he got into the cruiser and Oliver mirrored his actions.

As Oliver drove, Sam radioed back to the station. "This is 1509. We have a UC under arrest that we need to rush through. ETA 5 minutes."

"Copy that 1509. Booking will be cleared."

When they arrived at the station, Oliver made sure a path was clear as Sam brought Andy in and quickly found an empty interrogation room. She struggled, trying to get out of his grasp, but the hand he wrapped around her forearm only tightened. "Stop it," he demanded, quickly losing patience for this person Andy had become. He would usually have uncuffed an undercover officer by this point, but the way Andy was acting, he decided to leave the cuffs on, at least for the moment.

"Why am I here? Am I under arrest? What did I do wrong?" The questions kept flying out of Andy's mouth as she huffed and puffed around the room. She didn't know why officers had stormed Mark's house. Well, she guessed it had something to do with the drugs, but she couldn't even remember who she was, so she couldn't be tied to the drugs. They had no right to arrest her and keep her here.

He looked at her with eyes wide open, waiting for her shut up. When she finally caught on, she stopped moving her feet and her mouth. "Sit down," he requested.

"No, I don't wanna sit down. Tell me what I'm being charged with!"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, and motioned to one of the chairs. "Please, sit. I'll explain if you sit." He watched her sit down, but noticed she was uncomfortable with her hands cuffed behind her back. Since she seemed to finally be listening to him, he walked behind her - hating that she flinched when he reached down to touch her - and unlocked the handcuffs.

"Thank you," she mumbled, rubbing her wrists.

Sam took his time walking around the table, trying to think about what to say, and sat down in the chair opposite her. "What do you think your name is?" he asked.

"Andy Greenbaum."

"And where are you from?"

"I thought you were going to give me answers," she said. When he simply stared at her, she finally answered his question. "Vancouver. Got to Toronto a month ago."

"Andy..." Sam sighed. "That's not who you are."

"And how the hell would you know, Mr. Hotshot cop?"

He pulled out the photo he'd kept in his pocket all night and placed it on the table, slowly sliding it over to her. She looked at the photo and saw herself with the cop who was sitting in her front of her. She looked up at him and back at the photo very confused. "What is…I don't get it."

"You're Andy McNally, my girlfriend. You're an officer here at 15 Division. You were on an undercover assignment. We're not really sure what happened, but there was an accident and it seems you have some memory loss," he explained.

She slumped back in the chair and stared at a coffee stain on the table that hadn't been cleaned. That something she felt missing as Casey and Mark tried to fill in the blanks was this, her real life. "How is this possible?" If the room hadn't been completely silent, Sam wouldn't have heard the question, wouldn't have heard the tremble in her voice.

"I don't know. You were supposed to check in two days ago. When you didn't, I knew something was up. We went - "

"In the car accident, I hit my head," she interrupted him.

Sam nodded, having guessed that's what happened.

"And yesterday…I saw you yesterday, didn't I?" she asked, thinking he looked a lot like the man that had run into her on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, I was checking up on you," he confirmed. "When you didn't recognize me, it proved I was right and something was wrong."

"What happens now?" she asked.

"Tell me everything you know, anything you can remember, anything you've been told about your life," Sam said.

For the next half hour, Andy struggled to remember everything Mark and Casey had told her about her life. It wasn't much, but she told Sam what she knew. For some reason, even though she couldn't remember him, she felt comfortable with him.

When she was done, Sam reached out and took one of her hands in his. "There's one more thing I need to know," he said, knowing he really only needed confirmation. He saw her bloodshot eyes, dilated pupils, how she kept sniffling, and the restless behavior as she bounced her leg or tapped her nails on the table. "Did they have you doing drugs?" Andy bit her bottom lip and nodded. "We'll figure this all out, okay?" She nodded, but she wasn't as confident as he looked.

When Sam left the room, she resumed tapping her nails anxiously on the table. She was nervous and scared and really needed a hit right now. She closed her eyes thinking about how the white powder eased her mind, relaxed her, released the tension. She really needed some.

Sam walked into the observation room and saw Frank, Oliver and Sterling looking through the two-way glass.

"Okay, get her to a hospital to get her head checked out," Frank ordered.

"Sir, if we do that, they're going to have to report her drug abuse. Undercover or not, you know what that can do." Sam was worried about Andy, but knew she'd be pissed if her career was ruined because of this.

"What are you suggesting Swarek?" Sterling asked.

"Let me take her home, give me a couple days to get the drugs out of her system. Then I'll take her to hospital. Look, I'm worried about her and the loss of memory, but I know Andy and she didn't take those drugs willingly. She shouldn't have to suffer because of it," he pleaded.

"Fine, get her out of here and do not leave her alone," Frank agreed. "And Sam, don't make me regret this."

Sam nodded and walked out of the observation room and back into the interrogation room.

"Look, you don't deserve to be locked up, so they'll allow you to go home, your real home, if you allow me to stay with you." He walked around to the side of the table she sat on and leaned back against it as he looked down at her. "It's your choice. You can stay here, locked up in a cell till we figure things out, or go home."

"Home," she replied softly.

He reached his hand out and she stared at him, as if sizing him up, before her hand met his. He pulled her out of the chair and led her to his truck.