A/N apologies in advance for the angst. I've got some rumblings in my head that I need to purge before I finish my multi fic.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue

"Seriously, Andy. It's like. Hilarious. I can't believe you haven't seen it."

Andy takes a small sip of her beer, lips barely touching the rim of the bottle. She's not entirely up for drinking tonight, has sat on this one for at least three quarters of an hour.

She's also a pretty terrible friend this evening; Traci has tried to engage her on conversation about everything ranging from what happened on shift, to the quirks of Leo's latest best friend.

It's a pretty feeble attempt all told, the way she doesn't do so well hiding the fact she's looking straight over Traci's shoulder -

Watching Sam at the bar.

He's deep, deep in conversation with Oliver. If he knows Andy is there, he's not letting on.

She examines his profile. Feels the heat from a blush on her cheeks as he grins at something Oliver just said.

Feels an ache in the pit of her stomach as he raises his own beer, takes a swig and then swallows.

"Just go and say hi," Traci mutters softly. "He doesn't bite." Her friend grins, gives Andy an eyebrow that looks like it belongs on Gail. "I take that back. You once told me he does."

Andy smirks, can't help herself. She also chokes out a laugh that's not as quiet as she thinks -

She's still got her eyes pitched Sam's way when his face does a 45 degree turn.

He digs his chin into his collarbone and keeps watching as she tones her smile down.

They hold the gaze for a long, long 20 seconds. Maybe more.

Sam takes another sip of his beer, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his tongue rolling over his lips as he plants the bottle back on the bar.

It's only a few seconds after that, that he's gone -

A quick pat on Oliver's shoulder, and some change out of his pocket that gets tossed on the bar.

Andy can hear her own breathing, can hear nothing else.

"Andy..." Traci says softly, hands very still and flat on the table they're at.

Andy nods, slow. And then fast. A couple of times -

She barely acknowledges her collision into Chris on the way out of the bar.

He's a few steps away from the new TO by the time Andy has got the door open -

Andy pauses under the awning, struck down. Unable to move. She watches their exchange, lets her heart beat out of her chest.

Cruz has got a bright smile on her face; she looks way, way more relaxed then she was earlier today.

Sam grins back, holds his hand up in what Andy thinks could be a wave.

It's not until Sam takes a few more steps in the direction of his truck that Andy moves as well -

His long strides need three quick steps of Andy's if she's got a hope to catch up.

"McNally." Cruz greets her bluntly, neutral about seeing her here.

Andy stutters one step. "Hi."

Sam is right at the truck then, right near the driver side door. He's heard the exchange though -

Stares across the roof of the vehicle -

And waits.

"Hey," Andy says as loud as she can, which. Is not loud at all.

She's gotten within a few meters of him.

Sam scratches at his chest, puts the same hand on his hip when he's finished up there. "Andy, hey." He smiles at her, leaves it hanging until she starts talking again.

"I ...I haven't seen you around...since I got back..." She bites into her lip, tries very hard not to want to move in closer and put her arms around him. Tries not to want to tell him she's afraid of -

Having lost him for good.

Sam's gaze drops to the gravel briefly, but then he shifts it back up. Meets her eyes again. "Did a few weeks without a weekend, caught up on 'em this week. I ..uh. Was gonna come say hi in there. I just thought..you and Nash...figured I'd see you tomorrow."

Andy gives him a small smile, figures she didn't want this inside there either. She's relieved they're at least kind of alone now.

He rests a hand on the roof of the truck. One corner of his mouth gives her another small smile. "Congratulations on Dakota, Andy. Heard you guys did a great job."

Andy does take one step closer then. Just one. The way he's said her name -

She's missed that a lot. For a very long time.

She wants so badly for them to be...okay. For her to tell him everything about the op, how it's changed things for her. She wants to tell him it was hard and awful and great all at once. How the last 6 months have never quite fit. But -

Andy has no idea how to say any of that.

She nods.

"You, uh. Need a lift?" He drops his hand from the roof, rattles the keys. Andy expects him to be cautious about the offer, but. He seems genuine.

Andy tugs at her bottom lip, assumes some teeth marks will stay. "I...I don't need one," she says, eyes still on his. "But. Yeah. I just..." Want one. From you. With you. Is what she doesn't finish up with.

Sam pushes himself off the truck, moves in so close Andy thinks he might be about to embrace her.

Her heart skips a whole lot of beats.

He doesn't do that though -

Instead, he gestures to the passenger side.

As she turns on her heel to walk that way, everything inside of her spins out of control -

It's one, barely there gesture.

His thumb and two of his fingers pressed into the small of her back. Nudging her forward, guiding. Just careful and gentle like so many times before.

Andy freezes.

Sam does too.

They remain fixed to the spot.

"Sam?" Andy turns on her heel, whole body shaking, a furious battle taking place inside so many parts.

Sam breathes out, not so steady himself. "Yeah?"

"I don't know what to do." She turns the rest of the way, looks up to him. Searches his face for the answers. Reaches a hand to his tshirt and tries to hold on.

He smiles so, so small at her, Andy barely catches it. But -

Slowly. Something inside her loosens, starts to unwind. Every bone and muscle in her body start to knock back into the right place. Every nerve ending finds it's home.

It may be coincidental, it may be because finally, finally she's noticed how clear the stars are tonight -

But. Andy thinks maybe, just maybe...

It's because Sam has put one warm hand of his over the top of the one she has near his ribcage. And because the thumb of his other hand is up on her face now, stroking one of her cheeks.

But mostly, she thinks it's because of how soft and clear he tells her what he thinks should be done -

That low, quiet, hopeful tone he took when he told her they'd get a mutt from the pound:

"We fight."