Merry Christmas, everyone! Hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday, with lots of food and screaming families. Here's a little drabble on Sam's thoughts and ensuing actions (not entirely sure where it came from and even less sure where it ended up) taking place immediately post-2x07, and an apology for not writing as often as I should/have in the past. Let me know what you think, and have a fabulous rest of the holidays!
Sam had known, perhaps before anyone else save for the two parties involved, what had happened between Rosati and Callaghan.
It wasn't anything he overheard, or even overtly saw, but the body language between the two partners was more than enough evidence to infer that sometime between Callaghan's proposal to McNally and Callaghan's return to duty, the blonde detectives had knocked their proverbial boots.
That had made him see red.
Still, it wasn't his place to tell McNally. It seemed that no one else in the precinct had even an inkling, and the God-awful McNally-Callaghan marriage plan was chugging along full steam ahead, and it wasn't like McNally would believe him anyways, with the lack of evidence and the detectives' obvious desire to keep their tryst a secret.
His incredible intution had also alerted him to the fact that McNally had found out about the affair the minute she stepped into the squad room that day. Her disheveled hair to the almost imperceptible redness in her eyes to the abnormal way she sipped the coffee he handed her really, really slowly - all the signs pointed to her discovery - and his prognosis was validated when she all but screamed "I broke up with his cheating ass!" in the squad car after prodding it out of her via his nonstop coffee talk.
That had made him unbelievably happy.
Of course, that happiness faded when McNally still sided with Callaghan during the Ray Nixon case, the happiness fading to anger, then that anger turning to pure, undulated fear at McNally's disappearance (it was your fault that she was all alone, his berating conscience kept reminding him), and then that fear turning to thankful relief.
Needless to say, this uncharacteristic emotion-hopping he had experienced today had him feeling a little off-balanced (and the psuedo-argument he had just had with McNally in the locker room did not help his mood).
Two beers in and Oliver had left with an very inebriated Jerry (who had hit the bar much earlier), leaving Sam alone with his thoughts.
That alone time was finished when he saw the person who had once been his enemy but was now just a sorry excuse of a man sit down at the other side of the bar. All of the weird emotions that had been bouncing around inside now began to swirl together into something he wasn't quite sure of.
He sat there for about ten minutes, just watching Callaghan try to drink himself into oblivion, and tried to sort out and categorize the feelings that had him all riled up.
There was the anger, naturally, not at the failed relationship, but at the hurt that his McNally was now feeling because of Callaghan's actions.
There was the incredulity, at Callaghan's cheating (for who would ever throw away someone like McNally, especially for someone like crazy-Jo?).
There was the love, the all-consuming, ever-present, ever-growing, limitless love he had for Andy.
There was the anger, again. Whether it was the beer, the stress of the day, or something else, his happiness at McNally's freedom was currently eclipsed by his anger at Callaghan's actions.
And then the man across the bar finally saw him and hesitantly raised his glass in recognition. That was the last straw.
He stood up and crossed the room, not entirely sure what he was doing.
"Swarek," the detective said, nodding his head at his arrival. "Long day."
"Yeah." He was having an incredibly hard time keeping his emotions in check.
"Care to sit?" Callaghan asked, motioning to the barstool next to him.
Sam shook his head, giving in to the single need he had wanted to do for the past two years. "We need to talk."
He saw Callaghan's face fell in baffled resignation, the detective slowly getting up and walking ahead of Sam's leading hand until they had both exited the bar, the heavy metal door swinging shut behind them.
Sam registered the drastic change in temperature only briefly before he channeled all of that anger into a fist that connected with the blond face in front of him.
Callaghan reeled back, clutching his nose in a futile attempt to keep the blood at bay. "What the hell, Swarek?"
"That was for cheating on my partner, you jackass!" he spat out, winding up for another punch before the voice in his head (sounding suspiciously like Andy's) whispered, Control, Sam, control.
And so instead of beating the life out of Callaghan, he turned around, went back into the bar, and resumed drinking.