Disclaimer: If I owned RB ... well, I don't really know, lol, but I don't own it ... so I guess it doesn't really matter much (;.
Rated T, for a swear word or two.
A/N: Got this one all out last night, but didn't want to post it until I had the chance to look over it while I wasn't half asleep and practically falling over. And I'll just say that it's a good thing I did, lol, because it was absolutely riddled with typos and inexcusable grammar failures.
Set post-season one, probably a couple months into the future. Written because Andy and Sam belong together, but I'm not going to get all mushy and unrealistic and have them come out and say it; they're not nearly that open about their feelings, I don't think.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy! And I apologize in advance for the ending (;. Just keep in mind that I'm considering a sequel, and try not to hate me too much pretty please, lol.
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"A position opened up in Guns and Gangs."
She's never been one to believe that a few short words could make the entire world stop spinning; she's never taken into serious consideration the fact that anything could make her heart legitimately stop beating, even for the shortest time. But the words she'd been planning to say before Sam decided to throw that little tidbit at her are caught in her throat and all she can hear is the blood draining from her face.
One short sentence and it's like her entire world has come to a standstill. The calm before the storm; the shattered silence before the first wave breaks and everything comes crashing down around her.
"Oh."
She can't believe that it's affecting her like this; she can't believe that her ability to speak is gone, and she's sitting here trying (and most likely failing, she thinks) to make some sort of recognizable sound come out of her mouth without looking like a compete fool. Not that she has a clue what to say, anyways. But she's sure she can come up with something; if only her throat would open up and clear out.
"Congratulations, then."
(Finally, she's no longer rendered mute.)
Not that she's okay with this, at all; but she doesn't really have a right to say anything about it, does she … She's with Luke, after all … they're about to find out if they're offer on the house went through, and it doesn't get much more serious than that. Not besides marriage, or kids (and God, just thinking about it makes her palms start sweating uncomfortably; no way in hell is she ready for anything like that yet, if ever).
Come to think of it, she doesn't even have a right to be internally reacting this way. His words shouldn't have this affect on her when she's in a committed relationship with someone else. (But that's never really mattered where Sam's concerned, she finds; The Incident a short while back is proof enough of that.)
But they most undoubtedly do, and now she's just trying to figure out a way to let her feelings known without actually letting all her feelings known.
"You don't sound too excited for me," he observes lightly, chancing a glance at her out of the corner of his eye before turning to look back out the squad car windshield. (He's not her training officer anymore, but they're still paired up together more often than not.)
"I guess I'm just a little … surprised," she answers. "Not that I don't think that you deserve it, or anything, I just …" She trails off before her face can get any more red and she has the chance to say anything else ridiculous and humiliating. But he's always been perceptive, hasn't he; and judging by the look on his face, she thinks that maybe he knew exactly how this conversation would play out when he started it.
"You don't want me to go." It's a statement, not a question, and she can't say that it's wrong. Well, she could, but it would be a lie. (He totally knew before where this conversation would lead.)
No, I don't, she thinks sadly. But it's not like she can say that to him in good conscience, so she just shrugs and doesn't reply, staring and picking at a piece of lint on her uniform pants that isn't really there at all.
But he wouldn't be Sam if he left it at that, would he; so he adds, "You don't, do you."
No raise in pitch at the end suggesting that it's a question, but it's undeniably clear that he expects her to answer. So she takes in a deep breath, and somehow does. "I can't say that I do."
"Why?"
I don't even know, okay? You're totally infuriating, and completely insufferable, and just … you.
"Just, because."
It's not a very good response, and she knows it. But her throat is still seizing up sporadically, and she feels like the walls of the squad car are closing in on her, and she really just doesn't want to be having this conversation right now (or ever). She can't have this conversation. Because having this conversation means talking about and admitting her feelings, and if she does that she's practically placing her heart in his hands and saying, "Squeeze it to death, why don't you." Because as soon as she admits to herself (let alone to him) that she maybe kinda might be a little bit totally in love with him, she's handing over complete control and ownership of her heart.
And that's not something she can just do. She's spent too long building up her walls and keeping everybody out (even Luke, though he doesn't know it) to just break them all down and let him come ripping though. She's worked too hard to do that now.
"Give me one good reason to stay."
Ugh, one more sentence and it's like her world's been torn apart again and this time she can't keep quiet. She only wishes she had an excuse, like subconsciously selective mute-ism. But she doesn't, and as hard as it for her to open up like this and give him a good reason to stay, she knows it would be impossible to stand him leaving the 15th (aka, her).
So she digs into the deepest recesses of her heart, and finds two words. She doesn't know if they're enough; if they'll ever be enough. But they're all she has to give. She doesn't have any promises to give him; she's too broken for that, too far past the point of no return (or so she thinks) to give any guarantees or as straight-forward an answer as 'I love you'.
(She does, she thinks. She cares for him, much more than she cares for Luke – as hard as she tries – and she thinks that this must be love; because what else could make her feel both warm and tingly in her stomach, and absolutely fucking terrified at the same time.)
In a way, she wishes she could give him more. Wishes she hadn't been programmed to distrust people, and despise love as though it were a weakness instead of the blessing that it is. But in another way, she feels like even this is giving too much of herself, and inadequate as it really is.
But his eyes show just how hard he's yearning for her to answer, so she swallows thickly and forces those two little words – that don't even make a complete sentence – out.
"For me."
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Yeah, I know, I'm evil like that (;.
Please review, it would make my world, no joke!
(Oh, and anyone interested in that sequel?)