Hey guys!
So I realized no one had written a story from Sam's perspective during the end of 'In Blue', so I thought I'd write a quick one. I got momentarily very depressed while I was working on it. Poor Sam =(
Hope you like it! As always, please review, they make me so happy! xx
It was like one of those horror movies, where you know you shouldn't watch the gruesome scene in front of you because you'll get nightmares from it, but you just can't seem to tear your eyes away.
Of course, Sam had never been bothered by those type of movies before, but the scene playing out in front of him at the moment was a different story all together. This time, the horror was real, it was palpable. It wasn't something on a movie screen, with actors running around spewing fake blood. It was actuality, it was real life...it was a psychological horror.
Years of undercover work made it easy for him to carry on the easy conversation with Peck without actually knowing what they were talking about. His full attention was on the couple across the bar.
Andy and Callaghan. The two names merged together in his mind - Andy Callaghan. The hateful combination made him physically sick. To think of his rookie, his Andy, taking that name as her own, wearing a wedding ring engraved with some sickly sweet saying that Luke had picked out of a random romantic comedy.
He tossed back the glass of tequila, vaguely aware that the blond woman next to him was doing the same. He heard her speaking in her signature monotone, saying something of no consequence. He answered, not comprehending their exchange.
Callaghan put his arm around Andy, kissing her hair as he raised a hand to wave to him across the bar. The cocky gesture made Sam's blood boil with an anger he didn't know he possessed. But his sudden hot temper was immediately extinguished when Andy looked right at him. Her eyes were vacant, her smile weak.
Nine months of riding with her every day made Sam realize she was running on autopilot. Just like him.
"You okay?" Peck asked, and Sam was acutely aware how wrong her voice sounded, how harsh and guttural it was to his ears after months of listening to the smooth and lyrical voice of Andy.
No, he was not okay. He was sitting here, on the wrong side of the bar, with some woman he didn't even want to be with, watching the woman he loved being kissed by another man.
Andy was not happy, that much he could tell. He looked back at her, her eyes still vacant, but that now held a flicker of something that looked oddly like annoyance. Why?
"Yeah, great. You?" he answered, the response automatic and extremely untruthful. But Sam Swarek was a guarded man, and he let no one inside. Except Andy McNally. And look where that had gotten him.
He saw Callaghan say something to her, saw her laugh at whatever it was. In the last few minutes, his heart had been wrung out, hung up, and left to dry. He now had no feeling in him at all. He wondered if this is what it felt like to be paralyzed.
He registered the fact that Peck had just said something about needing some air or something to that extent, and he threw down a couple bills on the counter to pay for their drinks, following her outside. He didn't see the jealousy that passed over Andy's face as they walked out. He didn't feel the way Peck sidled up to him suggestively, weaving her arm through his.
What he did feel, though, was the shock of cold air that hit his face as the door swung shut behind him. He breathed in the crispness of the night and suddenly remembered the bottle of vodka that had been lying around his house for a while now.
"Night, Peck. Good job today," he said, untangling his arm from hers without realizing they had ever been entwined.
He didn't see the hurt and shock that passed over the blond woman's face as he walked away from her. He didn't realize he had just been incredibly rude and inconsiderate, leaving her alone in a dark parking lot, something he had never done before.
What he did realize though, was that he was irrevocably in love with Andy McNally.
And that was a very bad thing, indeed.