This popped into my head a while back. No idea how or why, but I liked it. :) Originally intended as a one-shot, it had a life of its own, so it'll be two chapters. Enjoy! Let me know what you think with a review. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue.

Mystery Man

Andy walked out of a bar with her friends, Traci, Chris, Dov and Gail. They'd all let loose a little after another tough week at the police academy.

"You sure you don't want a ride, Andy?" Traci asked.

Andy looked up at the beautiful summer night sky. "I'm good. It's a nice night and my apartment's not far," she replied. "Have a good weekend with Leo."

She waved goodbye as her friends got in their cars, before she started walking in the direction of her apartment. She was on cloud nine. The academy was tough, but she loved every second of it. She was training to become a cop and do what she had wanted to become since she was a kid.

She was less than two blocks away from her building when Andy heard a groan as she passed by an alley. Her senses on alert, she looked around at the empty street. She hesitated for a moment, but slowly began walking down the dark alley. Behind a dumpster, she found a man curled into the fetal position, eyes pressed closed as his arms were wrapped around his own torso.

She immediately fell to her knees, pulling her phone out of her pocket with one hand, while the other rested on his shoulder.

His head snapped back and eyes flew open as he felt her touch. He cursed himself for being out of it enough that he hadn't even heard her approach.

"Sorry," she said, pulling her hands up in mock surrender to show she wasn't going to hurt him. "You're in pretty rough shape." Even in the dark, she could tell his clothes were dirty, like he'd been rolling around on the ground, and there was blood on his upper lip. In fact, she couldn't be sure some of the 'dirt' wasn't blood. "I'll call for help," she said, starting to dial the police on her phone.

"No," he nearly yelled as he grabbed her wrist. This time it was his turn to startle her as her eyes went wide. "Please," he continued softly. "Please, no police." He couldn't let himself be taken in or to the hospital. He knew it would blow the operation and he'd be made. He was too close to accomplishing his mission to let that happen.

Something in his dark eyes made her want to trust him. She didn't know why, and nearly a cop, she knew better than to trust a stranger in an alley. But still, she slid her wrist from his grip and pocketed her phone.

"You're hurt. We need to get you help," she said, sitting back on her haunches.

The mysterious man moved to sit up and lean up against the brick building behind him, despite how much pain shot through his body. "I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth.

Andy rolled her eyes at the obvious lie. "What happened?"

The man ignored her, trying to evaluate his situation and figure out what to do next. When he'd been dragged into the alley, he thought he'd been made. He still wasn't 100 percent sure he hadn't been, but he didn't recognize the faces he saw in the dark and they went right for the drugs he'd stuffed into his pocket after the last buy. If he'd been made, they would've killed him, not simply taken the drugs. He needed to lay low for a few days, maybe spend the night at a motel, until whatever this was blew over, until he could be sure he wasn't made.

He started to get up, until his head started swimming. He would've collapsed to the pavement, if two strong hands hadn't grabbed his arm and waist. "You're stubborn," she mumbled. "Let me help you."

"Thank you, but I'm fine," he said as they both stood up. Her hands still on him, he looked into her eyes and immediately regretted it. They burned into his soul and despite his better judgment, he felt like he could trust her.

"C'mon. At least let me take you home, clean up these cuts and get you a hot meal," she said. She had this feeling he had nowhere else to go, and she refused to leave him alone on the streets.

He opened his mouth to protest, but instead found his arm going around her shoulders to help support his weight. "Yeah, that...I'd like that."

She walked him slowly out of the alley, arm around his waist as he tried to hide a limp. "Do I at least get your name?" she asked.

"Sam...The name's Sam," he said, looking over at her.

"Nice to meet you, Sam. I'm Andy. It's not that far to my place," she told him. A million warning bells should have been going off in her head. Her dad, her friends, probably even her instructors at the academy would be yelling at her if they saw this, telling her she believed in people too easily. But something about this mystery man made her feel at ease.

It didn't take them long to reach her apartment. He leaned against the wall as she unlocked and opened the door, and flipped on the light as she walked in. She waited for him to follow before shutting the door and tossing her keys on a small table against the wall. He took a look around as they stood in the middle of the studio apartment, which served as the living room. There was a bed off to one side, with two doors that he assumed led to a closet and a bathroom, and a small kitchen on the opposite side of the apartment. It was modestly furnished, but he noticed several unopened boxes against the far wall.

"Just move in?" he asked, nodding toward the boxes when she gave him a questioning look.

"Uh, no, just takes me a while to get comfortable in a new place," she said, rummaging through a large bag she'd left near the door. She pulled out some old clothes her dad had asked her to donate for him. "Um, the bathroom's over there," she said pointing to the door near the bed. "If you, uh, want to clean up."

He took the sweatpants and t-shirt she held out to him. "Thanks."

She watched him walk past her to the bathroom and decided this mystery man was a man of few words. She walked into the kitchen and turned on the stove before pulling some soup and bread out of her cupboard.

She heard the water from the shower turn on and she wondered what she was getting herself into. She knew nothing about this man except someone beat him up and he didn't want anyone to know about it. But something was drawing her to help him; she just couldn't figure out what.

Andy was bringing chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches over to her coffee table when Sam came out of the bathroom. He carried his folded jeans and t-shirt, and placed it near the front door.

"I made something to eat," she said, sitting down on the couch.

Sam hesitated, but took a seat next to her and picked up the sandwich. It melted in his mouth. He hadn't had much more than takeout or greasy bar food in six months. "This is great," he said between bites.

"It's nothing," she said, turning shy at his compliment.

"No really, for someone who hasn't been able to have…" He trailed off, realizing he was about to admit too much to her. He'd been undercover for six months, but with her he was finding it hard to keep his cover personality. That meant he had to be extra careful not to slip up and say something he shouldn't.

"Is someone after you?" she blurted out.

"What?"

"I mean...Should I be worried someone's going to come breaking down my door searching for you here?" she asked.

Sam took a gulp of water from a water bottle she'd put on the table for him. She had every right to question that with the way he was acting. "No, I, uh...I ran into a little trouble, but nothing that'll follow me," he said, hoping that was true. "I'll lay low for a while and I'll be fine."

"You can stay here for the night," she said.

"No, I can't...I don't want to put you out."

"It's nothing," she said, shrugging. "I've been told the couch is pretty comfortable."

Sam hesitated and took another swig of water. This was a bad idea, a really bad idea. But his heart was overruling his head. "Thanks."

They remained quiet for several minutes, eating the food Andy had prepared. "You're the quiet, silent type, aren't you?" she finally asked.

He raised his eyebrows, surprised she was so blunt. "Why would you think that?"

"You don't say much. And when you do, you respond with a question," she challenged him to disagree.

"I've been alone for a while. I guess small talk isn't one of my skills," he said, placing his empty bowl on the table.

"You don't have any family?" she asked, still wanting to know more about him.

"I've got a sister," he answered honestly. "She lives down in St. Catharine's so I don't see her too much. How about you?"

"Only child. Mom left when I was 12 so it's just me and my dad….when he's not on a drunken bender," she said, the last words coming out softly. She put her bowl on the table and pulled her knees up to her chest as she turned to face Sam.

Sam's heart suddenly ached for the sadness filling her eyes. Before he realized it, he found his hand circling her ankle, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on the skin just above her sock.

"Does this happen to you a lot? Getting beat up in alleys, I mean," she said, her free foot tapping his thigh lightly when he wasn't quick to respond.

"It's just part of the job," he said vaguely.

"Sucky job."

"It has its perks," he said, showing her his dimples as he smiled at her. She blushed and looked down at her knees. "You bring home strangers every day?" he quipped.

"You're the first," she said shyly.

"You don't have to be scared of me, Andy," he said, his tone deadly serious. "You have no reason to believe me when you know nothing about me and I can't...It's better if you don't know anything."

She nodded and put her hand over his that was still around her ankle. "I know. I don't know how I believe you when I just met you, but I do. I trust you." She didn't know what he meant by it being better she didn't know anything about him, but she still felt comfortable with him. More comfortable than she'd been on her last few dates, she realized.

She swung her legs around and her feet landed on the floor as she reached for their plates. He stopped her, picking up his own, and followed her into the kitchen. There was a magnetic attraction seemingly forcing him to stay close to her. Each breath he took, her scent - a combination of vanilla and the muskiness of an old bar - invaded his senses. And, surprising himself, he couldn't get enough. He'd never felt this instant attraction to a women before and cursed the undercover job that would prevent him from acting on it.

Following him out of the kitchen Andy noticed he was limping even more than he'd been earlier. She was sure he'd sprained his ankle. "You're foot doing okay?" she asked as he sat down on the couch again.

"Oh yeah, it's fine."

"No, it's not. I've been watching you limp since we left the alley," she said, stunning him when she called him out on his lie.

Most people in his real life, even his friends, wouldn't push or call him out when they knew he was trying to hide what he was feeling. But this woman...she was something else. He pushed out a breath. "Well, yeah, okay, it's killing me. I rolled it when...you know."

She shook her head and walked into her bathroom. She'd sprained her ankle numerous times over the years playing basketball and she knew how to help it heal. She came back out carrying a plastic container of her medical supplies.

She sat on the coffee table across from him. "Gimme your foot," she instructed. When he complied, resting his foot on her thigh. She pulled off his sock and Sam felt this warmth surge through his body when her fingers touched his skin.

He watched her wrap his foot with an ace bandage, not asking what she was doing or why she was doing it. When she finished wrapping it, she dug through her container for a metal clip to keep the bandage in place. "I'm not a doctor, but you probably shouldn't walk on it too much so it can heal," she said.

"Where'd you learn all your first aid skills?" he asked as she moved his foot from her lap to next to her on the coffee table.

"I played sports all through school. Had my share of sprained ankles, knees and shoulders," she replied, rummaging through the container before pulling out a bottle of pain reliever. She handed it over to him and noticed the dark bruise forming on his cheekbone.

She started to learn toward him to take a closer look just as he decided to reach for his bottle of water. Her breath hitched when their faces were mere inches apart. His freshly showered natural smell with a hint of her soap was intoxicating.

She raised a hand to his cheek and noticed his grimace when she ran her thumb over his bruise. Snapping her back to reality, she pulled back. "That's a pretty ugly bruise," she said, standing up. Walking into the kitchen, she yanked open her freezer, needing the cold burst of air on her body as much as she wanted to see if she had ice for him.

After taking a moment to compose herself, Andy walked back to Sam with a bag of frozen peas. "This is all I have, but it should help with the swelling," she said.

She sat down at the opposite end of the couch from him, pulling her legs underneath her as she leaned against the back of the couch and faced him. "That's gotta hurt," she said, looking at the spot where he held the bag of frozen peas.

"I've had worse," he told her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, so curious about who this man was. He took getting beating up like it was nothing, which would make her think he was involved in some not-so-legal activities. But at the same time, he didn't look or act like any criminal she'd seen when she used to visit her dad at the station. "You really are a man of few words. You don't like to tell people a lot about yourself, do you?"

"It's safer that way," he replied. Not only for his undercover assignment, but life in general. He never let people get too close because it was easier to cut ties without hurting anyone. However, this woman sitting next to him made him want to open his heart and that scared him. He'd only known her for a few hours and she'd already gotten under his skin.

"Look, I won't push. Everyone has a story, but it's none of my business. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need to," she said standing up. "And if you decide you want help in whatever mess you've gotten yourself into, I'm a pretty good listener." She headed toward the bathroom to change into her pajamas.

"Andy, I…" His voice stopped her movement at the doorway and she waited for him to continue. He wanted to tell her everything, but stopped himself. "Thank you."

She gave him a small smile before disappearing into the bathroom. Sam let his head fall back and he closed his eyes. He wondered what the hell he was doing. He should never have come home with her. He should have gone to the nearest motel and hid out there, alone. He was coming close to risking everything; the job, his career, his life, her life.

It was the thought that Anton Hill's men would somehow tie her to him and harm her in some way that had him dropping the bag of frozen vegetables on the coffee table and jumping up, wincing at the pain in his ankle. He took two steps toward where his shoes and clothes were next to the door before Andy stepped out of the bathroom, carrying a pillow and a blanket.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

The look of disappointment on her face caused his heart to flip. "Uh, no...not going anywhere."

"Good," she said, her smile lighting up her face. "Like I said, my couch is pretty comfy." She handed over the pillow and blanket to Sam. "Goodnight, Sam."

He watched her retreat to her bed and Sam silently cursed himself for not being able to leave.

Andy woke up the next morning and heard light snoring coming from her couch before she even opened her eyes. When she finally looked over at the mysterious man she'd met the night before she noticed how peaceful he looked sleeping. The worry lines that covered his face were gone. The anxious way his eyes examined everything around him was replaced with fluttering eyelids. The nervous tap of his finger he thought she didn't notice was stationary as his hand fisted the blanket. She wondered what troubled him so much when he was awake.

She threw the covers off of her, stretching her arms as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She quietly padded into the kitchen, smiling as she passed by the handsome man she wanted to get to know better.

She started the coffee before leaning back against the counter, staring at the coffee pot and willing it to brew faster. She really was curious about Sam. She saw this vulnerability in him that he tried to hide with the facade of a rough exterior. She wanted to know who he was, what he was hiding, and why she was so attracted to a man she knew nearly nothing about. She closed her eyes, imagining what it would feel like to run her hands over his muscles, how his day-old stubble would brush across her skin, wondering what his lips would taste like.

She forced her eyes open, shaking her head. This was a dangerous train of thought. She crossed over to the coffee pot, wishing it to finish quicker.

Sam woke up to the smell of coffee and, for a split second, anxiety over where he was, filled him. His body began to relax when he remembered the night before and where he was. He sat up and saw Andy's bed was empty, so he turned around and saw her in the kitchen. Her back facing him, he took a moment to stare at her without her noticing. Her short pajama bottoms left her long tanned legs exposed and he imagined what it would feel like to have them wrapped around him. The tight tank top showed what a fit body she had. And when his eyes reached the messy bun she'd pulled her hair into, all he wanted to do was release her long locks so he could run his hands through it. He tried to shake the thoughts from his head, as he got up and walked into the kitchen.

"Something smells good," he whispered into her ear, startling her. Standing there, so close to her, he wasn't talking about the coffee. He surrendered to temptation and his fingers pulled the clip from her hair, letting her chestnut brown hair fall down her back.

Andy was having trouble breathing with how close he was to her. She could smell her soap on him, but it was mixed with something that was purely him. She swallowed thickly, trying not to show how much he got to her, before turning around.

He took a step back, but his hand reached out to twirl a piece of her hair between his fingers. "I like it down."

"Coffee's almost ready," she croaked out, not even sure how she forced the words out of her mouth.

Sam took a couple of steps away, until his back hit the wall opposite her.

"Do you, um, want breakfast?" she asked turning around to open a cabinet, simply to give herself something to do so she didn't jump him right then and there. "I don't have much, uh, only cereal."

"That's fine."

She pulled out a box of Honey Nut Cheerios, two bowls and two mugs. He took the mugs from her as she brought everything else to the table. He couldn't help but notice the way she was trying to steady her breathing and it felt good knowing he was having the same effect on her that she was having on him.

Andy poured their coffees and watched him spoon some sugar in. It was hard for her not to stare. Every little thing he did told her a tiny bit more about him. Like now, she knew he took his coffee with two sugars and no cream. It was small, but given that he was a man of few words, she used her skills of observation to learn all she could.

They fell into a comfortable silence, both letting the coffee wake them up before engaging in a full blown conversation. Eventually, Andy couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

Sam nodded as he swallowed more of his breakfast. "Your couch is pretty comfortable."

"Told you," she replied, grinning.

He loved her smile, could stare at it forever. He wondered if her lips were as soft as they looked. He wondered what they would feel like against his. But he could never learn that. He couldn't let himself kiss her, to lead her on when he knew he had to disappear. He took a gulp of his coffee so his face didn't betray him and show his true feelings when she was so happy.

Andy watched him as they continued to eat and she didn't miss the mixtures of emotions that crossed through his eyes. She wanted to peel his layers away and find out what caused him to go from happy to sad in a moment. But for now, she'd settle with learning the little things, like how he took his coffee. "What's your favorite ice cream?" she asked, still smiling at him.

"What?"

She shrugged her shoulders as she chewed a mouthful of cereal. "What? Everyone has a favorite. What's yours?"

This woman. She was constantly surprising him. Of all the things she could possible ask, his favorite flavor ice cream was nowhere on the list of things he expected to come out of her mouth. "Pistachio."

"No."

"Yes."

"No. No one likes pistachio. No one."

"It holds some good memories," he said. Andy noticed the small smile he displayed, but saw sadness in his eyes. Before she could pry, he spoke again. "What's yours?"

"Strawberry. No question. But have you ever tasted a pumpkin smoothie? I mean, I know that's not ice cream, but oh man. This little cart down the street started selling them last week. Soooo good," she rambled on.

Sam couldn't help but grin over her excitement at ice cream and smoothies.

"Okay...um…" She tapped her spoon against her bowl, thinking of another question. "What's your drink of choice?" was what she decided on.

"A nice scotch. I bet you're a cosmopolitan kind of girl," he guessed.

"As if," she scoffed. "Beer on tap is my drink. Not some prissy girly drink."

He chuckled and raised his hands in mock surrender. She grinned at him over her coffee mug before taking a sip. "How long have you lived in the city?" she asked, tentatively taking a step into deeper territory.

"Uh, my whole life, mostly." He shifted uncomfortably, hoping she wasn't going to ask a question he'd have to lie about.

"Yeah, me too. My dad threatened to move us to the States once when he caught me making out with this boy he didn't approve of, but you know, I guess that's what overprotective fathers do," she said with a laugh, taking the attention off of him.

"Wouldn't know about that," he replied with a chuckle. "Glad he didn't follow through."

"Me too," she said barely above a whisper. They were staring at each other again, as if they'd just been challenged to a staring contest. But their eyes were soft, full of a lot of thoughts that didn't reach their lips.

It was a door slamming above them, followed by tiny feet running across a wooden floor, that broke them from the moment. "So, um, if you want...there's a laundry room in the basement. I can toss your clothes in," she offered.

"I don't want you to go to any trouble," he said.

"It's not," she replied smiling. "And I'm sure, as nice as my dad's sweats are, you'd rather be back in your own clothes. It's no trouble, really."

"Guess I can't argue with that," he said, his lips curving into a small smile. "I'd like to thank you for everything, maybe cook you dinner tonight." He didn't know why the offer escaped his lips. He was supposed to be long gone by dinner time. But it was out there and he wouldn't take it back now.

"You don't have to thank me," she said, picking up their bowls to bring them to the sink.

"I know. But I want to." He grabbed their empty coffee mugs and met her in her kitchen. "Let me cook for you."

Andy nodded. "I, um, don't have much in my fridge. We'll need to go to the grocery store."

Sam hadn't thought through that aspect of cooking for her and he realized it was a horrible idea for him to be walking around outside. He was here for a reason, to lay low. And while the chances were slim anyone would see him walking to or from the store, it was still too risky. Not only could he be seen, but Andy would immediately be put at risk.

"You know, with this ankle, I probably shouldn't walk on it too much," he said, exaggerating how bad the injury was.

"Give me a list and I'll get whatever you'll need. The store's just down the street," she said.

"You sure? My thank you is turning into more work for you," he said.

"Well, I have to go anyway, so you can make a list or worry you might die from whatever I make," she quipped. Sam chuckled and took the pen and paper she held out to him. "I'll be right back. Gonna put in the load of laundry before I jump in the shower."

He watched her walk away before starting to make the grocery list.