A/N: Hi guys! So I'm not even going to try to describe this week's episode, because it was so incredibly beyond words. What I did try to do, however, was write all the McSwarek scenes from the point of views of Andy and Sam, respectively. I know I won't be able to do them justice, but I'll try. This first chapter is Andy, and Sam's POV will be up sometime later this week. And please, please, review! Hope you all enjoy.

The second that J.D. turned around, she knew she was done for.

Holy fuck.

It was Sam Swarek, midway through tipping back the last of his beer. She tried to keep her features schooled, tried to show no emotion that would indicate a previous acquaintance with the man in front of her, but regardless of all the training, all of the instincts that kicked in in that moment, she couldn't keep her eyes from widening slightly.

And then he smiled, and all hell broke loose in her mind.

She took a deep breath, composing herself, because although she had come here solely because of Sam's previous mention of this place, she hadn't thought she would see him. At the very most, she thought that she would be able to overhear a conversation, put together some pieces of the puzzle, and try to figure out at least something that resembled news, any news, of Sam, or whatever character he was playing at the moment - drug dealer, drug addict.

She couldn't bear it. It had been three weeks since he had gone undercover, three weeks since she had bared her soul to a lousy voice mail that obviously hadn't been heard by him, and four days since she had come to terms with the fact, with Chris's help, that she probably wouldn't see her partner for a very, very long time, and that she needed to get over him - or at the least try to get over him. Which wasn't going so well since her very wet, scandalous dreams involving him that had started the night after the failed prostitution string (and shamefully continued even after she got together with Luke) had only increased since he had gone back undercover.

She had to look away. She couldn't look at him anymore, at least for the current moment, because she felt a sudden surge of emotions being dredged up and sure as hell wasn't going to risk putting his life, or hers, or Traci's (as an afterthought) in jeopardy because she couldn't keep her goddamned emotions in check over this goddamned man.

Six minutes later, Jamie Brennan had all but swept her and Traci in the game, partly because of her inability to stop glancing over at Sam - J.D.- and partly because she could practically feel the tension rolling off Traci in waves, which had thrown the woman off her game.

She looked over at Sam again, and saw that he was already looking at her, with an unreadable expression in his eye, tapping his bottle against his leg in anxiety, or frustration, or annoyance. She couldn't tell.

"So what brings you two here?" Brennan asked, straightening up after sinking the red striped ball.

"We're just here for a couple of nights. Actually leaving tomorrow on a six a.m. flight," she said, trying her best to keep her voice light and nonchalant, which was extremely difficult with Sam's eyes boring into her.

"That's too bad," the silver haired man replied, sinking another ball.

"It's okay. What sucks is that I lost all my luggage. I've got nothing left except for a bus token." That last sentence was for Sam, to let him what just what exactly her and Traci were doing here.

Sam's eyebrows raised slightly as he nodded. "Been there. You'll make it."

How very Sam-like to offer reassurance in his usual surreptitious way. It made her feel slightly less on edge, but she'd be damned if she let him, or Brennan, know by a glance of any kind, so she looked away.

"Jamie. Jamie Brennan," the man offered up, shaking her hand. "That's uh, J.D." - he pointed to Sam - "he started working for me a couple weeks ago."

So this was the bastard that was the reason the equally ass-like Boyd had taken her partner away from her. Screw Brennan.

"I'm Candice, and this is Doreen," she introduced, gesturing to Traci next to her. She couldn't tell if Sam recognized the name or not, which he had said not long ago would have been her stripper name if she had ever become a dancer, because she was trying desperately hard not to look at him. Again.

"Okay Candice," Brennan said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and giving her a little shove towards the pool table, "eight ball left. Don't choke."

Wait. She couldn't play pool. She was horrible at it. She could feel Sam's laughing eyes burning into her, because he knew exactly how bad she was at pool.

Fuck him.

"Okay," she murmured, taking her place at the table, bending over to gauge how to hit the ball. Fake it till you make it. Apparently it applied to all aspects of life.

Needless to say, she completely shanked it.

Was Sam laughing at her? She couldn't tell, refusing to look at him, but soon realized looking at Brennan wasn't much better, because the disapproving look in his eyes was almost enough to warrant a knee in his groin.

He offered up the pool stick to Sam. "All yours. Take it away."

Sam set his drink down on a nearby table - was that goddamned giddiness in his eyes? - and took position, gauging the balls himself in a way that she could only dream of looking like.

"No mercy." Yeah right, as if Sam was going to start showing mercy to her now. She almost laughed aloud at that, having to bite her tongue to keep herself in check.

She had forgotten just how amazing his ass was. Well, she had really forgotten per say, more like missed it keenly. It was a fantastic thing to look at.

He sank it, of course - that mother effing talented man - and swung the cue stick in a manner that shouldn't have been sexy, but was.

"Pay up ladies," he said, locking eyes with her, and she couldn't help but smile at his assured cockiness. Goodness, how she had missed it.

"No, no. Let's go double or nothing."

Damn it, was Brennan purposefully trying to screw them? On the one hand, the man was giving her and Traci a chance to redeem themselves, and make double the cash they had previously been in possession of, something that Boyd and Best would no doubt appreciate. On the other hand, she didn't want to stay here any longer, not with Sam within arm's reach but impossible to touch. It was too tempting.

"No, you know, I've got to get up early tomorrow, so I'm out."

"Well that's good, because sweetheart, I hate to tell you, but you're dragging your partner down here," he said, casting his eyes over to Traci.

That condescending little prick. Damn, could a man be any more infuriating?

"Doreen, you want to go straight up, or double or nothing?"

Traci looked over at her desperately, and her current partner's plight became the number one thing on her mind. She gave a slight tilt of her head, giving her permission to do whatever she wanted. It was her call.

Traci's hesitation was all Brennan needed to rope her into another game. Like a sheep led to slaughter, she followed him to the other side of the pool table hopelessly.

She saw Sam tilt his own head in a familiar manner that showed an attempt to hide a smile as he took another swig of beer. She shot a very brief glance at him, blinked once, and walked towards the cluster of tables situated around the bartender's corner.

Two minutes later, Sam had ordered her a beer, and they were sitting at one of the high-legged tables.

"What brings you to town?" he asked, making her momentarily distracted by his fingering of the bottle. She tugged on her ear in a nervous tic.

"Conference." Short and sweet, nothing complicated.

"Conference, what kind?" God, how she had missed his voice. It was like sex. Was it wrong to want to jump him right now, in a crowded bar, both of them on completely different undercover cases?

She smiled slightly and bit her tongue before answering. "Insurance." She knew by his ever-so-slight grin that he remembered their conversation, back in the early days of their partnership, where she had mentioned that if she hadn't become a cop, she would have probably become an insurance agent. He had answered with the all-true statement that she would have killed herself out of boredom within eight months of working that job, and she had laughingly agreed with him.

"Insurance. How's that been?" That sly bastard. Was he purposely trying to bait her into confessing all these false suicidal thoughts because of her job?

She looked down to gain some composure before deciding to bring the conversation back to their current situation. "Great. Terrific. A little lonely. What about you?" She heard his breath hitch slightly at her words before answering.

"New job. Fresh start. Actually, I've been wondering why I got into this business in the first place." His words carried far more meaning for her than for a potential eavesdropper. Did he regret leaving her? Was this his way of apologizing? He didn't have anything to apologize for, really.

God, she had missed him so much.

"What business is that?" she asked, knowing she was pushing her luck, but not really caring.

He gave her a knowing smile that let her know he knew what game she was playing. "Oh, nothing as interesting as insurance, that's for sure."

She gave a small laugh, knowing her jig was up. "Nothing is," she said, shaking her head, and saw him mirror her movements, perhaps unconsciously, and he had this little smile on his face that made her feel all lovely inside. She didn't want to feel lovely inside right now, at least not while she was undercover, and he was too. It was too dangerous. Feeling lovely inside wasn't part of this assignment at all. What on earth would Boyd think?

Giving a quick glance over her shoulder at Traci, she instinctively knew something was up. "Okay, we have to go."

She really hoped she wasn't imagining the look of disappointment that crossed over his features. "Yeah, you got to find a place to put your head down for the rest of the night. Not here." The look on his face was deadly serious, and she gave him a nod to let him know she understood.

"It was nice to meet you," she said to Brennan as he walked over to the table with Traci. Knowing it would be rude and potentially telling if she didn't address Sam, she turned back to him. "J.D., it was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

"Yeah, you never know." Crap. So he knew that she remembered telling her about this place. So what? She couldn't try to make a bust or two here as well? Looking down, she quickly exited with Traci, and was somewhat gratified when she felt, rather than saw, his eyes wander to her disappearing figure as she walked away.

Of course, maybe that was just her imagination playing dirty, dirty tricks on her. Mean magic.

She knew she shouldn't go back. She knew she shouldn't want to go back. She needed to listen to Chris, who told her to forget about Sam. She needed to listen to Traci, who had just told her explicitly not to go back inside of the bar, to not pass go, to not collect two hundred dollars. Silly Monopoly analogy.

You know what? Screw Traci. I can do what I want.

And who she wanted to do was Sam. Seeing him again had been both exquisite and painful. The past three weeks had been so dreadful, that looking back, she didn't know how she had survived. She had missed him so damn much that now, after getting a sip of that champagne, she knew there was no way in hell she could save it for later. She had to have it now. She had to have him now, the whole bottle, the whole Sam.

Her cop instincts were screaming profanities at her as she walked back inside the bar. She took several deep breaths, calming herself as she wove through the throng of people, trying to get to where she saw him sitting, at the bar, with Brennan. Her steps grew more and more hesitant until she was half ready to turn around and bolt until he looked over at her.

She saw confusion, and uncertainty, and fear in his eyes as she stopped in front of him.

"Hey."

"Hey," he replied his voice husky. He snaked out his neck, his eyes questioning her return, chastising her for breaking all the rules there were when it came to assignments like these.

"Um, I'm going to be on a plane in a couple of hours, back to Appleton, and I'll be gone, out of your life, so - " she could see the realization slowly dawn on him, as the fear and confusion and questions start to fade away, replaced by something else, "if you're not doing anything in the next couple hours, maybe..." she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders as she smiled at the placement of that something else in his eyes in her mind - lust.

She saw him swallow thickly, blinking several times. "I'm - I'm with my boss."

Oh, no. No. "Right." Her smiled had vanished. Oh God, what an idiot she was.

"And I wouldn't want you to miss your flight." There that look was again, that not-quite-a-smile, apologetic look. What he really meant was that she needed to get her ass back to the station because she was being an idiot.

"Okay." She clenched her jaw, the full weight of the stupidity of her actions hitting her square-on. "Then I'm gone." She didn't wait for an answer from him, instead turning and walking away as quickly as she could without breaking into a run.

You stupid, stupid woman. He doesn't want you. Why the hell did you proposition him? You've ruined your partnership, you've ruined your friendship. You let your own feelings cloud what actually is reality. And reality is that he doesn't want you anymore. If he ever did want you in the first place. Which he probably didn't.

She let the door to the bar swing shut behind her. She was absolutely embarrassed, mortified beyond any possible belief. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in her pockets. She was angry. She was embarrassed. And angry. And embarrassed.

So what. It didn't matter anymore. It didn't. Her feelings for Sam could go away. It didn't take her very long to get over Luke. Four weeks really, if that. She and Sam hadn't even been together, hadn't even slept together, so it should take considerably less time to empty herself of any and all feelings for him.

But that was the problem. Luke was Luke. Sam was Sam. He was Sam Swarek, the complicated, sexy, infuriating motherfucker who had just shot her down. She just...she didn't know...she just...

What she needed to do was go back to the station, debrief, and take Chris home with her. She couldn't talk to Dov, because he would be far too unsympathetic, she couldn't talk to Gail, because she was a Peck, and she was a bitch, and she definitely couldn't talk to Traci, who would just say over and over again, 'I told you so.' So what she was going to do was take Chris home with her, because he was the only one who could understand what she was going through right now.

On second thought, she didn't want to talk to Chris. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She wanted to go home alone and take a bath and cry over her wasted opportunities and lost love.

But she wasn't in love with Sam Swarek, because that was crazy.

She really wanted ice cream. And a gun to put herself out of this misery. Maybe she'd have ice cream first, a bowl or two, and then shoot herself...

A hand on her shoulder had her whirling around.

There he was. There was Sam, standing in front of her, looking impossibly sexy in that black shirt and stubble and - that look in his eye.

"Let's go," he said, with that Swarek smirk on his face. And she was powerless to do anything but follow him.

His place was far nicer than she had pictured it in her mind for the past three weeks. Floor, walls, windows...and a bed. She walked in, shrugging off her overcoat as he flipped on the lights. Her heart was going at a thousand miles a minute, and she didn't know what the hell to do, but at the same time she also knew exactly what to do.

"So what, you can just turn the cameras off and they don't care?" she asked as he came to face her.

"I've gotta have some kind of life, right?" he asked, grinning as he took her coat from her, and she smiled back.

"I guess." She fiddled with her bracelet as she just looked at him. God, how she had missed his eyes. Dark and intense and so telling of his emotions. Right now, she could see his pupils dilated - a sign of arousal she knew, thanks to a lesson from him on the fourth day of their partnership - before he blinked several times, the lust still there, but muted now, with...resignation now at the forefront.

"I'm going to call you a cab. It's going to take you back to the station, and you're going to get into your uniform." She knew that voice. It was the exact same tone as the 'it was what it was' speech. She also knew there was no way in hell she was missing out - again - with him.

She walked farther into his room, hyper aware of the slow clop of her boots on the wood floor and of the stare he was sending her that had nerve spiders racing up and down her spine at an alarming rate. She turned to face him, her fingers playing with her buttons. She wanted him so badly, so, so badly.

"No."

There it was, that look again, that part of Sam she had briefly witnessed the night of the blackout, the intense, sexual side that he was now trying so hard to control. She saw a muscle in his jaw clench, and her lashes fluttered as he walked towards her. She felt the edge of the table on the back of her legs and sat on it, her mouth dry, her heart slamming against her ribs, every fiber of her body begging for him.

Her legs parted as he came in between them and stood so dangerously close to her. He dipped his head down towards her, and she was so deliciously scared at the raw darkness that she saw in them.

"If you don't leave now, there's no going back," he said, his voice so ragged and husky and low that it gave her shivers, her body tensing up at the anticipation.

"I don't want to go back," she murmured. She didn't. She didn't want to save the good candy. She wanted to gorge herself with candy and champagne. She looked at him, really looked at him, into his eyes, and in that moment had never felt so wanted.

He moved closer, her nerves violently reacting to his initial touches, his hands on her side and on her face, his thumb caressing her cheek reverently. He lowered his head, her own coming eagerly to meet his, and she felt him brush his nose against hers as she closed her eyes, that movement so uniquely Sam. She waited for an eternity for his lips to meet hers, feeling his breath on her, the scent of alcohol and mint and Sam invading her senses.

And then he kissed her. She knew she was trembling violently, but his lips were so hesitant and soft and firm that she thought she would die. His hand left her face and ran down her side, coming around to her back. He deepened the kiss, his tongue asking for access, which she eagerly granted. His arms were surrounding her, pulling her closer, and she could taste him, and feel him, and was so overwhelmed by him that she didn't know what to do except let him kiss her. She ran her hands up his arms before cupping his face that was surprisingly soft. And she was kissing him like she was dying, breathing him in, feeling every touch, every movement he did with his fingers on her skin with her whole body.

She was disoriented when he broke away and moved to take his shirt off, and then she saw him shirtless for the second time and was positively trembling at the sight of his bare skin, her eyes drinking him in, skimming over every inch before fluttering up to his again. Her fingers ran over the nape of his neck and he shivered under her touch. She fought the urge to run her tongue over his thumb as he touched her lips, instead allowing him to kiss her again before he moved on to her neck, kissing and biting his way down, making her moan and sigh. His kisses became featherlight as he made his way back up to her cheek, his lips ghosting along her nose and lips before moving over to the other side of her face and neck. She felt his fingers skimming the skin she had exposed before dipping down, and felt him growl against her lips as the fabric of her shirt stopped his actions.

He drew his face back slightly, and she saw the same need and desire and want and love reflected in his eyes that she felt. His eyes moved down to her shirt and started to unbutton it. She ran her hands up and down his torso, feeling him tense and flex as she touched him, loving the feeling of his skin under her fingers. She watched him work, saw the myriad of emotions play across his face, heard the sharp intake of breath as her bra undoubtedly came into view, and she had never felt so in control and so feminine and so wanted.

And then suddenly, he bent down and picked her up, bridal-style, and a soft gasp of surprise escaped her lips, followed by a smile as he attacked her mouth again with such a ferocity she thought she would die. She ran her fingers through his hair, their tongues swirling together as he carried her to his bed and laid her down. He kissed her again and again as his body writhed over hers, and she felt his desire for her against the exposed skin on her stomach, and gave an involuntary mew.

His hands came around to her back and lifted her off the bed, and in a moment of clarity she reached behind her head and let down her hair, a low rumble from him letting her know he approved of her action. His hands moved from her bare stomach to her breasts up to her shoulders, slipping her shirt off of her.

The next kiss was vastly different as he slowly kissed her, rubbing circles on her skin with the pad of his thumb, and she bit his lower lip in retaliation for his slow movements, making him kiss her harder before moving down to her neck again.

She was so far gone in pure lust that all she knew existed was Sam and his lips and hands and body. She had never felt this good before, never felt this cherished, with every move he made, every touch and kiss so reverent and careful and loving that she wanted to weep for both lost time and joy.

She watched him, looked at him as he peered into her very soul, making her quiver, never having watched a man, really watched a man, make love to her before, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and all she wanted to do was look at him and have him look at her until he murmured her name, her first name, and she came undone.

She writhed against him, grinding her hips against his, making him groan and buck against her, and she wanted him so badly it hurt, keenly feeling the constriction of her jeans as he rubbed his erection against her, making her gasp before he eradicated her vocal surprise with a searing kiss. He kissed and bit his way down her neck, biting particularly hard when she snaked a hand between them to touch his hardness before soothing the bitten skin with his tongue.

His hands were all over the place, burning a white hot trail on her skin. She felt like he was branding her as his own, and she reciprocated equally, feeling his hard muscles, and his strong shoulders, and the trail of hair that led to places she couldn't bear to wait to discover.

And then he started to unbutton her jeans and she was done for.

She was a motherfucking idiot for not having had sex with him sooner.

Sex with Sam Swarek was like no other sex she had ever experienced. It hadn't been the longest, but it had been the best. By a long shot.

She lay on her stomach, sweaty and thoroughly sated, with her head in the crook of his arm, simply reveling in the feeling of his fingers as he gently drew abstract patterns on her back, her eyelashes fluttering madly whenever they traveled up to her cheek. She had always hated after-sex cuddling, even with Luke, but here...it felt right, and she didn't know why she had never liked it before, especially when his fingers became so light and gentle they gave her goosebumps, her shivering making him laugh a slow, deep rumble.

She never wanted to leave his bed, never wanted to leave him. She just wanted to stay here forever, gazing at him, memorizing his face, his eyes, the feeling of his naked body against hers, and the lazy smile that graced his lips that she was sure was mirrored on her own face.

"Do you think the universe has a plan - for us?" she murmured.

She saw his eyes grow mockingly serious. "Oh yeah. It was undoubtedly fate that brought you to that bar tonight."

She giggled at his words, knowing full well she had been caught in her actions. "Okay, I might remember you saying something about it, but I didn't know you were going to be there!" She opened her eyes wide in an attempt to look like the Bambi he had once told her she reminded him of.

He smiled, wrinkling his nose at her. "I never thought I would see anybody I knew at the Alpine, Andy, least of all you." The sound of her first name - Andy - coming from his lips shouldn't make her this happy, but it did.

She flicked her bangs out of her eyes before grimacing. "The one chance I get to be whoever I want to be, and I choose Candice who works in insurance." She closed her eyes to ward off a particularly tingling sensation as he stroked the low curve of her back. She felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled.

"I think it's funny. Don't tell anybody this, but my first time I was Ernie the Zamboni driver." His deadly serious look and the absurdity of his first cover made her dissolve into a fit of giggles. She buried her face in his chest to cover her laugh before ghosting her lips softly over his shoulder.

She loved seeing him smile. He didn't smile nearly enough, but he should, because it was quickly becoming one of her favorite images. The mirth in his eyes, the smile lines around his eyes, the dimples she wanted to run her fingers over.

He was so magnificently beautiful she had to kiss him again. It was wonderfully unsettling how quickly she was getting used to this. Kissing him, touching him, feeling him. She bit her lip as her internal clock began urging her to leave.

"I gotta go," she said softly, tracing the outline of his lips with her fingers, her other hand stroking his chest.

"We're being incredibly stupid."

"Yes, we are," she said, nodding in agreement yet unable to bring herself to care. And then she realized what he meant by his words.

"I can never come back here. Ever." She didn't know how to express how she felt about that, but it wasn't good. It was downright awful. And she didn't want to go. She didn't want to go at all. She wanted to have him again and again and again, to feel him inside her, to have him kiss her and murmur her name, to be the one to make him lose control.

She wanted to make love to him again. Right now.

"Andy, you have to go," he whispered, his voice gravelly and downright sexy, and she saw in his eyes and felt under the covers his desire to have her one more time as well.

"I know," she replied, knowing full well she wasn't going anywhere right now. She leaned down to kiss him, and was immediately left aching when he boldly started exploring her mouth once again. She rolled over on top of him, barely having time to settle herself on him before he flipped her over so that she was now laying on her back. She shivered as he gently tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin as he whispered to her.

"Just one more time."