A/N: Hi all, so I had taken an unexpected leave of absence from fanfiction, but am back and decided to try my hand at Rookie Blue (have previously only concentrated on NCIS). So here goes. Please note that I am South African, so some spellings (and words) may differ….

This takes into consideration the last two episodes of season one and liberally uses the promos (got to love Youtube) of season 2. I have conveniently changed a few things to fit my story…I do not own Rookie Blue. I don't even own a DVD box set – although, I do have it on preorder…

Chapter one: The monster stirs

It shouldn't hurt this much. But it did. It was stupid, really. After all she was with Luke. Happy with Luke. Wasn't she? Hell, she must be, she was moving in with him. And if that isn't a big step for the girl who constantly has a backdoor plan, then what is?

Andy leans further into her hand, her elbow pressing into the worn, puck-marked bar. She absently scratches the grooves, probably put there by some other rookie sitting in the same seat, years before her. Her father, perhaps? Or, Sam?

She shakes her head. She cannot go there. Will not go there. Glances over to where Luke is playing darts with Dov and Jerry, shifts her eyes back again to the door. The door that has recently closed. Behind Sam. And Gail. Together. Again. That blonde hussy...

When Sam ushered out Gail a few nights back, without a glance back, she had felt an unfamiliar stab of something. A sharp pain to the chest. Bile rising up in her throat. Irrational feelings. Feelings she had no right too. Green-eyed monsters lurking in the shadows.

So, she had put them out of her mind, turned back to Luke, her lover, her boyfriend. The man she was planning to move in with. And tried to squash down that little monster clawing in her chest. She succeeded. Barely. Told herself it was nothing. After all, Gail had shown, ughh, compassion over the past few months, had become a little less bitch and a little more, well nice. Chris had a lot to do with that. And Andy knew there was something there. Gail wouldn't hurt him. And, well, Chris didn't seem perturbed at all, that the sexy blonde and left, with her equally sexy partner. Alone. Together.

But that was before. Before the uncover op. Before Eddie and Gabe. The fear she felt, the desperation to know that he, Sam, was still alive, that ripped her up inside. Seeing that yellow body bag….

Then hearing him call her voice. Relief flooding her body. He smiled at her, that sultry, sexy smile, pushed himself off the car, told her he would see her tomorrow, her knees weak with relief. She had wanted to reach out, touch him. Feel that solidness of him, that he really was there and not lying cold, dead – that place her vivid imagination had taken her too.

But, what does she do instead? What she always does. When things get tricky. Backs straight into her comfort zone. The easy option. The safe option: "Yes, Luke, I will move in with you."

Was that just yesterday? She huffs, shifts her position slightly, tilts back her head and glugs down some of her beer, noisily banging it onto the counter. Sighs again, and continues nagging away at the scratched counter.

She has no right to Sam. No right to feel this way. No right. And while it's not fair, and sure as hell not right, she needs to battle her own demons tonight. That little green-eyed monster is now clawing its way up into her throat. It will not be silenced. She lifts her hand, signals the barman. Guess she has to drown the sucker now.

Tracy sits next to her. Watching the emotions flit across her face. "Don't go there," she warns. Hissing slightly, jabbing Andy roughly in the ribs.

"Wha- what?" Andy asks, turning to her bleary-eyed. She had forgotten Tracy was even there.

"You know exactly what I mean," Tracy says quietly, tilting her head to the closed door.

"I'm with Luke. I'm moving in with Luke," Andy responds, glugging down the fresh drink. Reassuring herself, as much as she is Tracy.

"Uh-huh" Tracy responds, signaling for another round. It's going to be a long night.

Andy's head is pounding. Jack-hammer, sledge-hammer, some kind of damn hammer. A thudding that will not be silenced. Not even with painkillers and coffee. She sits in front of the computer, typing up her report. The case file lies open next to her. Ricky's interview transcribed in black and white. For all to see. How she and "Gabe" were so convincing. Every minute point. Every nuance. That despite his holding a gun pointed at her, how she just walked away. Turned her back. On him, holding a gun. Said something about saving her partner's life. And. Walked. Away…

She has been here at the barn for a couple of hours already. Couldn't sleep. In her new room. Her new bed. Her new bedmate.

Sighing, she shuts down the computer. The report complete. Picks up the case folder, and puts it back on Jerry's desk. Rolling her shoulders stiffly she walks into the locker room. She is still sitting, her head tilted forward, her arms on her thighs, when Gail walks in.

Hah. Bounds in, more likely. A definite spring in her step. She grins at Andy. "Late night? I, on the other hand, was tucked up nice and cozy in bed rather early in fact." Her smile widens, and she licks her lips, peeling off the jacket she is wearing. A leather jacket. Black leather jacket. Sam's leather jacket.

Andy stands, grimacing and walks out. Repeating over and over in her head, she has no right, she has no right.

She stalks into the training room. Plonks herself next to Tracy as Frank calls the group to order.

"Glad to see you can join us Swarek," he intones dryly.

Andy looks up. At Sam, lounging at the doorway, that slouchy way of his, a half smile, half smirk on his face. Wearing the same worn jeans and black shirt he was wearing at the bar.

She closes her eyes briefly, turns her head. Barely listens as Frank gives out the notices. Chris is still in hospital, doing much better and should be home soon, thanks everyone for the support. Good takedown the other night, commendations go out to the undercover and support teams. Quick action saved the lives of fellow coppers. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Frank calls out the partnerships for the day. Andy sits up a little straighter in her chair. Wondering who she will be partnered with. After all, primary training is finished, she may even be partnered with another rookie. Her blood runs cold as she sees the words forming on Frank's lips. Swarek and McNally. Seriously? Her sharp intake of breath, right under Frank's nose, makes him take interest.

"Problem McNally?"

"Ahh, no Sir. Just thought that maybe you would, you know. Mix it up a little. Change partners and the such?" she mutters, sliding down in her chair again.

"No sense in changing a strong team McNally. Unless there is a reason? There's no reason is there McNally, Swarek?" Frank asks, turning from one to the other.

"No sir," they answer simultaneously, as Andy slides even further into her chair, her face reddening slightly

Notices finished, assignments given, they are dismissed. Andy walks passed Sam, still slouching against the wall, chatting to Jerry and Oliver. "I'll wait for you in the car," she says, barely civil.

"Oh, and shower before you change into your uniform. You smell of cheap perfume," she hisses, exiting the room.

Sam raises his eyebrow, glances over at Gail, who returns the look. A peal of laughter is heard echoing behind her as Andy grits her teeth, marching down the passageway.