still a little hard to say (what's going on)
So, it's slightly annoying how well the plot bunnies keeping hopping for this show for me. I'm half tempted to beat them back. Can't wait until the season is over so I can work out some fluffy bunnies though. LOL I stole a line or two from an unfinished fic of mine that'll probably never be published.
Disclaimer: Rookie Blue is not mine. I wouldn't know what to do with it anyway. Probably have them all making out all the time.
Home alone after today's long shift, Andy lets her shoulders slump, feeling the defeat of her broken relationship hit her full force again. Like it does every damn day. A month has not been long enough. Not when she has to see him almost everyday, work with him. Return his fucking keys.
She throws her bag to the side of her couch as she settles on it. Lost in her pathetic thoughts, her eyes sting, a feeling she's become familiar with these few weeks. Her hands feel too soft as she presses her palms to her eyes. Her head sort of shakes as she does, like it feels it's impossible to still be this upset.
She wishes that ridiculous book her mother gave her was helpful. She appreciated Nick's efforts today, but it didn't change the fact that it still hurt to see Sam, that she still stupidly misses him and that she can't stand it when he talks to her, whether it's to ask her how she's doing or to berate her.
And while grateful to Nick for being her "break up buddy", she can't even lie to herself that seeing him leave with Gail didn't sting a little. She hates thinking about how Sam would give her a ride everyday. Hell, he used to give her rides before they were even together. And now, thinking of these last few years, she has no idea if they can get any of that back. A part of her desperately hopes for it, but another part of her, the angry, bitter part, doesn't want to let her get close again.
Groaning at her thoughts, she seeks to break herself from her misery. She decides to put in a movie. A happy adventure one, for sure. It's while she's picking one out that there's a knock at her door. Confused since she wasn't expecting anyone, she doesn't do anything for a moment. There's more knocking though, so she puts the movies that she'd been deciding between down and starts towards her door. She hesitates, about to yell through the door, asking who's there, when she hears:
"Andy?"
It's his voice, and she hesitates again before relenting and unlocking the door and opening it. He's standing there, a hand full of keys and a reluctant look in his eyes.
She clears her throat. "What are you doing here?"
He sighs. Looking down at the keys in his hand, he takes out the spare ones she gave back earlier. She has no idea what he's doing and he looks no closer to knowing what to say. She's ready to shut the door on him when his voice finally comes to him.
"I didn't really want these back." His voice is low and quiet and she thinks she smells some alcohol on him. This might not end well. Again.
"What were you expecting when you asked for them back?" She manages to keep some of her resentment at bay with the question.
"Andy -"
"No, no, I don't really want to do this. Why don't you go?" Her voice breaks with her request. She doesn't see any good coming from this, so she would really rather not try. She didn't think she was a quitter, but this hurt enough as it is.
He looks at her tiredly. Maybe waiting for her to shut the door or say something else. But she doesn't. A part of her wants to know what exactly he wants now.
"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not, I'm not really dealing well with things. I don't know. I have freaking Diaz telling me to pull my shit together," he grinds his teeth. Probably thinking about how annoyed he was in that moment.
She stops. "Wait, Chris did what?" She had to ask, unbelieving that her friend would say anything of the sort to Sam.
"He didn't like my style. Thought I was out of line today." He scoffs and looks down. After a beat, his brow furrowed, he admits: "Maybe I was."
She looks at him, not really knowing what to say to that. Apparently breaking up with her has made him more open. Since that day, she's heard more of what is going on in that head of his then the whole time they were together.
Softly, she asks: "What did you want, Sam?"
He takes a moment. "I didn't really have anything to say to you earlier when I asked for these back." He holds up his spare keys. As if she didn't know what he was talking about. "I wanted to know how you were doing. I didn't have anything beyond that to say. I don't know why I asked for the keys."
She shakes her head. "Why are you doing this now?"
"What?"
"Why couldn't you talk to me like this before? Before Jerry?" She stumbles somewhat over the name.
He smirks, unkindly, "What, like you did?"
"That's not fair."
"Bull. I didn't share, I didn't talk. That's probably all true." Completely true, but she chooses not to interrupt. "But you weren't any better, Andy. You didn't want to talk about your fair share of issues."
She frowns at that, thinking she should shut the door on him. Instead, she opens her door wider, silently telling him to come in. If they're going to have it out, may as well get out of her hallway. He comes in, but doesn't move too far into her apartment. When she closes her door, he's closer then she thought. He still smells the same, even with the slight stench of alcohol. She moves away from her entrance, from him, wanting as clear a head as possible to get through this.
She runs her hand through her hair. "Is that why you broke up with me?"
He stills. "I - no. No, Andy -"
"Then that's not really the point, is it? I had personal problems, my mother for one, that I didn't want to talk about. You, you had a problem with us and decided to let it go until you couldn't take it anymore and left me standing in the rain."
He flinches a little. "I wanted some time, Andy."
"You could have said so."
He looks her in the eye. "Did I really need to?" He asks so quietly.
She looks down. She can't deny that he was obvious in his quest for solitude. But she can't find her voice to say anything.
He continues, "It might not have been something you wanted, but I needed some space."
Not full of confidence, she feels the need to somewhat defend herself. "I didn't want you to deal with Jerry's loss alone."
He rubs his face. "I know." He looks like he wants to add something, but doesn't.
He puts his hands in his pockets, and just stands there. Both of them not moving, awkward, nothing else to say at the moment. She heads back to her couch, sitting down on it.
In a small voice, "Are we done?"
He doesn't say anything, so assuming he doesn't understand, she continues.
"It's just, I've been trying to move on, get over this. But if you want honesty from me, this isn't easy. I don't want to be angry or sad anymore, pretend that it's no big deal. I just -" She stops, trying to figure out exactly what she's saying or asking. She pauses too long and Sam jumps in.
"I don't know. It's not a fair answer, but I'm pretty tired too. I didn't want to leave you. I felt it was the right thing to do though." She looks over at him, sees him shrug. "At the time at least." Another pause. "I'm not perfect. You know that. I just followed my gut feeling."
"Right, your gut feeling which told you to get out." She nods, mostly to herself. Sam sighs.
"It - You know it was more then just Jerry dying, Andy. I tried to make that clear."
She shakes her head. "No, Sam, you did," she says gently. "I just - I guess I didn't know how bad off we were." She gets up from the couch as soon as she says this.
Telling herself, screw a clear head, she grabs a beer from the fridge. She thinks for a moment before dismissing the idea of offering him one. He still has to drive himself home. She returns to her couch.
He does that thing again, like he wants to say something and thinks better of it or whatever. She can't decide if he's censoring himself or he just can't figure out what he wants to say. If his head has been anything like hers these past weeks, she'd guess the latter.
She looks down at the drink in her hand, and asks again: "What are you doing here?"
He hasn't moved from his spot. But he turns to face her, stares at her a moment. She shifts under his gaze, uncomfortable with it now.
"You know, Callaghan called me an idiot." She snorts to herself. She sees a little smile on his face at hearing her.
"That's why you're here? I didn't tell him to call you an idiot. I could do that myself."
He looks down at his shoes before continuing. "No, I kept thinking about getting my keys back from you. I didn't want them back. I don't actually need them."
"Are you saying Luke was right?" He actually laughs at that. She joins him. This tight feeling in her chest that she was used to by now, she's surprised by it lessening with his laugh. It makes her feel like she can breathe better.
He gets quiet again. Still unmoving, his eyes are on her again. It's how he looked at her before.
"I'm saying, I think we should talk."
She looks away from him, thinking it over. A month ago, she wouldn't have hesitated. But now she has to consider. She has been working to get over him, to move on. Maybe it's too late. Maybe it should be.
But he's here.
She gestures to her kitchen. "Grab a drink. This could take a while."
She finishes off her beer by the time he makes it back to her couch. He hands her a second one and she stares at it as he sits.
Weirdly, it comforts her, the fact that Sam knew to grab another for her. She glances over at him and he sits down, amused to see him unnerved. She wonders to herself if he's ever had to really work at a relationship before.
"So, you wanna go first?"
Yeah, I ended it there. LOL And it is completed. The point of this piece was to get them to start talking. I've got to be honest, beyond that, I really have no idea where to start.
Thank you for reading!