There weren't many times in Andy's life that she can remember feeling defeated. Sure she'd felt let down, even beat, but not defeated. Even on her first day as a rookie, when she accidentally blew Sam's cover, completely destroying an undercover operation singlehandedly and with one beautiful tackle, she didn't feel defeated. Embarrassed? Yes, painfully so. But, defeat – she can count on one hand the times she's felt utterly defeated.
1) When she went to sleep with two parents and woke up with one.
2) When Jo handed her that stupid hotel matchbook.
3) The most recent: after Sam dumped her and she realized she had the day off and nothing to do but sit and think about how she told him she loved him and he never said it back. About how she liked spending time with him in the mornings and he, well, he did not. About the wrinkles around his eyes when he smiles that irresistible smile.
4) The forth, she doesn't think about. It's buried so deep inside of her, Andy sometimes wondered if she'd ever be physically capable to tell anyone without cutting herself wide open.
And now, here she was, standing in the middle of 15, thinking of adding a possible fifth. Start with a drink. Just like that – start with a drink.
Andy hiked her bag up on her shoulder, took a deep breath, and continued on her way out of the precinct. Before she could even think about Sam, the Penny, a goddamned drink, she needed to go home and take a shower. Maybe two showers. Hell, why not an even three? Three's a good number. Yeah, three is a great number.
Andy walked home, and while she would never admit it to anyone, every second that passed by felt like it was one less second she had to get her ass to the Penny for her last chance with Sam. Next thing she knew, she was turning right instead of left and heading straight for the Penny. Shit. Yep, start with a drink. Okay, McNally, she thought, you can do this.
When she walked into the Penny, the first thing she did was scan the room for Sam. Once she realized what she was doing, she shook her head. Andy took a deep breath, she had to stop letting Sam control her – she can't keep thinking about him every second of every day. It just hurt too much. She needed not to be that girl; she needed to think about herself first, Sam second. There, that doesn't sound so hard, does it?
Oliver laughed and slammed an empty glass on the bar table with a loud thump.
"Andy, just the girl I was looking for," Oliver said, waving her over to where he and Dov were standing.
Andy approached with a small smile, glancing around her to make sure Sam wasn't there yet.
"No burning building to run into? No bomb to diffuse?" teased Dov with a few disapproving tisks.
Andy shrugged and bumped him with her shoulder: "Are you gonna buy me a drink or what?"
Dov turned to the bartender and ordered Andy a beer as she threw her bag down under the counter. Oliver greeted her with a warm smile.
"Hey, Andy, you alright?" Oliver asked.
Andy smiled, and nodded.
"Good," Oliver responded, "You did good, McNally-"
Oliver stopped mid-sentence, his gaze fixed somewhere just above Andy's shoulder. The bartender slid a beer over to Andy and just as Dov opened his wallet a crisp 20-dollar bill was placed on the counter in front of them.
"Make it two," Sam said gruffly before turning to Andy, Dov and Oliver, "this round's on me."
Andy didn't trust herself to respond. All her worries, all her anger, everything she had wanted to tell Sam for the past few months just vanished. All that was left were two sweaty palms and a racing heart beat.
Sam, meanwhile, seemed cool as a cucumber in his leather jacket and black t-shirt. Somehow, he didn't look like the Sam that broke her heart without a second glance. He just looked like Sam. Safe, Andy thought, he looked safe. She scoffed internally – safe is the last thing Sam Swarek will ever be.
Oliver looked from Sam to Andy, as if waiting for them to both start yelling or start making out right here, right now. Not being able to stand it anymore, Dov opened his mouth, ready to break the silence, when Oliver clapped him on the shoulder.
"Well, that's my cue," Oliver sighed, winking over at Andy and tugging on Dov's shoulder.
Dov made no move to leave. In fact, he crossed his arms and gave Sam a stern look, skeptical, his glance going from Sam to Andy and back to Sam as if trying to calculate how mad she would be if Dov punched Sam square in the face right this second. Probably not so mad, Andy thought.
Oliver slapped Dov on the shoulder again, this time a little harder.
"Come on, tiger, let's go beat Chris at pool," Oliver said, finally managing to pull Dov away.
Sam rolled his eyes and turned to face the bar. He toyed with his beer, rubbing his hand up and down collecting condensation. He cleared his throat loudly. Andy took a big gulp of her beer – she had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
"Wanna sit?" he asked, finally looking up at her. He motioned to the back corner of the bar with his head.
Andy looked at him, weighing her options. It was still early, she could go home, take a nice long bath and try to sleep this awful day away. For a second she was tempted, but then she looked at Sam – really looked. He seemed tired – exhausted really – like he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a while. And, based on what little stubble he had along his jaw, she guessed he hadn't shaved too recently either.
"Please, Andy," Sam said softly, "let's just sit."
Not waiting for a response, Sam grabbed both their beers and walked over to a small table in the corner, away from the pool tables and darts – away from most of the prying ears of Fifteen. Andy, always good at following directions, followed and sat down silently, facing Sam. Silence. Andy tried to fight her instincts to start the conversation. Sam was right: she hated silence. But this time, she had to let it come from him. He was the one who wanted to meet; if he wanted to talk so bad, he damn well better be the one to start.
Andy tapped her fingers along the side of her glass and waited, sinking a bit in her seat as Sam sat up straight. Sam never did let his posture give anything away. Andy used to think she had a pretty good read on him, but now she wasn't so sure.
"I, uh, I wasn't sure you were gonna show," Sam started, in a tone that was clearly trying for charm. He even flashed her a small smile for effect.
Andy just raised her eyebrows in response, and Sam could tell she wasn't all that impressed with his efforts so far. He reached over and grabbed her hand, stopping her fidgeting.
"I'm glad you did," he said firmly, giving her hand a quick squeeze. Andy's eyes widened at the contact, and she looked down at their hands for a moment, letting them just rest there.
Closing her eyes for a second, she wanted to fold, to crumble and just let herself fall back into Sam's arms. Just forget the past few months ever happened, just let herself take comfort in this, in him. But she couldn't, she knew she couldn't. Andy had learned a lot during her relationship with Sam, and it couldn't be the way it was. She couldn't give herself to someone who wouldn't be there, giving his all right back.
Andy dragged her hand out of Sam's grasp and let out a breath. She felt her shoulders cave in – defeated, she recognized, she felt defeated. Andy chuckled under her breath, shaking her head, and looked Sam square in the eye, leaning over a bit.
"What are we doing here, Sam? What – what do you want from me?" she asked, almost whispering. Suddenly, she could feel the stress of the day weigh down on her. What could she possibly have to give to him at this moment?
"I want you to give me a chance. Just one more chance, and I swear you won't regret it," Sam said.
Andy snorted despite herself. Hey, self-pity and bitterness were better than defeat in her book. And if being short with Sam was all it took to push the defeat away, then that's what she would do.
"You swear?"
If Sam was even a little bit thrown off by her snippy tone, he didn't show it. Andy wondered if that was good or bad, how unfazed he was by her emotions sometimes. She locked eyes with him for a second before turning her gaze back to the half full glass before her. She took another swig, letting herself slam the glass back down on the table. Some beer frothed over the sides of the glass and onto the table.
"Yes! God, Andy. Look, I'm trying here, really trying. I swear, I meant what I said –"
Andy's head snapped up. "Which part," she demanded, "Which part did you mean?"
Sam held her gaze, unblinking, when he answered. "All of it."
All of it. Andy sat back in her chair. She didn't know what to do. Somehow, despite his declaration of love, Andy thought that maybe it was all some elaborate joke. You know, some 'let's play ping-pong with McNally's heart' type of thing.
Somewhere in the distance, Oliver whooped in delight, Gail giggled and Chris dropped his pool cue on the floor. This wasn't right. They weren't supposed to be having this conversation. They were done, Sam had made that clear – crystal.
Andy jumped up, almost knocking over her chair. She couldn't breathe. The finality of her thoughts just jumped out and hit her over the head. For the past week she'd thought she was over him, done and ready to move on. She fumbled quickly, managing to grab the back of the chair and set it right. Sam reached out to help.
"I got it. Sorry, I," Andy stuttered, frantically looking around her until she spotted the exit. "I need some air," Andy got out, pointing to the door as she walked sideways, bumping into a few unsuspecting patrons. Andy apologized quickly, but she didn't know what she was saying. It was late, she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't anymore.
When she finally made it outside to the parking lot, Andy breathed in a big gulp of air and let herself fall onto the ground against the back wall of the Penny. Slowly, she was able to get her breathing back to normal.
A boot kicked the tip of her shoe and Sam's hand appeared, open, in front of her.
"Let's get out of here," Sam said. Andy looked up at him and nodded silently, taking his hand.
They walked slowly to Sam's truck before Andy stopped, remembering her bag stuffed under the counter inside.
"I left my bag," Andy mumbled, motioning to the door.
Sam tugged on her hand.
"I got it," he said. And Andy finally noticed her bag sitting effortlessly on his shoulder.
They got in the car in silence and Andy let him drive her to her place. She was glad he didn't try to take her to his apartment. If they were going to do this, she wanted it to be on her terms. This time around, he owed her that.
Andy took her bag out of the back of the truck, ignoring Sam's protests, and marched up to her front door, Sam trailing behind her.
Once they were inside, Andy dropped her bag with a thump in the hallway, turned to face Sam and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"Okay. Now, let's talk."