A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed this story. I couldn't help wondering how Sam found that Andy had gone undercover and how he responded. Here's my take on what could have happened. Rated T for language.
Boo Radley watched Sam as he got out of bed and made his way across the bedroom to bathroom, stepping over piles of clothes that hadn't quite made it to the dirty laundry basket. A few minutes later, when he opened the door to return to his room she was sat right in the doorway and he nearly tripped over her.
"Jeez Boo, could you give me a bit of space?" he grumbled.
Boo started barking excitedly, like she had at this time for the last three mornings. "Yeah, all right," he said.
She leapt about, all skittish, as she followed him downstairs to the kitchen. As soon as he opened the back door she ran out into the yard and stopped to squat by a tree. Leaving the door open, he went back up to his room and had just pulled on a pair of sweat pants, a clean t-shirt and a hoodie when he heard Boo bounding up the stairs. She jumped up at him, pleased to see him again and he pushed her down.
"Dumb dog, you only saw me two minutes ago," he said. He sat down on the bed and pulled on his socks and trainers. Boo nudged her way between his arms, trying to lie her head on his knee as he bent over to do up his laces.
"Boo, go away." She barked at him, and he pushed her away again. "Haven't you heard of personal space?"
She followed him back downstairs, nearly tripping him up as she got under his feet. She began to bark and jump up again when Sam grabbed the leash from where it was looped over the back door handle and by the time he had locked the door behind him she was over by the side gate, chasing her tail and working herself into a frenzy.
"Calm down," he muttered, snapping the leash onto her collar. She really was seriously demented, this dog. Ten minutes later, when they got to the park, she was still leaping around like a lamp in spring, even though they'd run all the way from his house. There was no such thing as taking Boo for a walk – instead she took him for a run.
He let her off the leash and watched as she took off, her long legs pumping and her ears flying back. Somebody was enjoying themselves. He realised he felt a tinge of jealousy. At the moment he couldn't imagine ever enjoying himself again. Not without Andy.
After that night at the Penny when she failed to turn up, he'd gone home and formulated a plan of action to get Andy back. He would get the dog, of course, and he'd get on the net and look up some recipes he could make her for dinner. He would also book at table for two at that new Italian restaurant she'd been going on about. And he would look at vacations. Somewhere hot and sunny, where they could swim together in crystal clear water. Not the Dominican Republic, that would remind them too much of Jerry, but maybe the Bahamas or even the US Virgin Islands. So what if it meant flying? So it scared the living daylights out of him. He could do it. He would do it for her.
Just before he switched the light off, he had sent her a text. OK, so you're still mad at me. But I meant it Andy. I love you.
He had gone to sleep picturing McNally on a white sand beach in a bikini. She would take him back, she had to.
The following morning he checked his phone the instant he woke up. Nothing. She could still be sulking. That was OK. Today he would start Operation Win Back Andy. He wasn't going to give up on her. Not this time.
He made sure he was at the barn early, despite his slight hangover. He was the first in the parade room and he sat in his usual position at the back with his eyes fixed on the door. Everyone started piling in but there was no sign of McNally. He fidgeted in his seat, anxious to see her. Frank began his briefing but there was still no Andy. Sam did not hear a word Frank said.
Frank finished with "Serve, protect and let's all get through this shift in one piece," and Sam got up, intent on asking his sergeant if he knew where McNally was. But before he got the chance, Frank pulled his cell phone out of a pocket and answered a call. He strode out of the room towards his office, deep in conversation, and Sam knew better than to interrupt. Instead he walked up to the detectives office and stopped by Nash's desk.
"Uh, Nash, you wouldn't happen to know where McNally is today?" He tried to keep his voice light but Traci knew what the situation was between them. Hell, she most likely knew what he'd said to McNally yesterday; they'd probably had a long girly chat about it on the phone last night while McNally was standing him up at the Penny.
"No idea," said Traci, looking unimpressed that he'd bothered to ask. "Maybe Frank's given her the day off. She did have a pretty big day yesterday. You know, grenade and all."
"Yeah." He ran a hand over his chin. "Uh, thanks."
He turned and headed for the coffee machine, where he poured himself his third coffee of the morning. Then he collected the keys for 1509 and waited in the car for Diaz, his partner for the day. He sent Andy another text: Missing you. Hope everything is all right. I love you Andy. I do.
One look from Sam was enough to make Diaz realise that his partner wasn't in the mood for mindless chatter and the younger man kept his thoughts to himself. They had a busy day dealing with two burglaries, an assault, a traffic accident and a missing kid who turned out to have got accidentally locked in a garden shed, and it passed quickly.
When Sam got back to the barn in the afternoon the first thing he did was make a beeline for Frank's office, but he had two white shirts in with him and the door was shut. He grabbed himself another coffee and sat down at a desk to make a start on his paperwork, looking around the bullpen just in case McNally had come in late.
"She's not here," said a voice in his ear. She turned around to see that Peck had sat down at the desk next to him. "And neither is Nick."
"Is he off sick?"
Peck shook her head. "I doubt it, he was fine yesterday. It's like he's just vanished off the face of the earth. He hasn't returned any of my calls or texts, which is not like Nick."
Vanishing off the face of the earth, not returning calls… Sam instinctively knew what that could mean. He'd been there, done that, a few times himself. An undercover operation might explain why there was no Nick, but McNally? Surely she wouldn't have gone undercover too? It had to be a coincidence that they'd both gone awol, both not answered texts. But the more he thought about it, the more he began to wonder if that's where she was. But why would McNally be asked to go undercover? And who would have organised it? Not Boyd, that was for sure. He couldn't stand McNally after the business with Jamie Brennan. He'd never want her for an op.
So who…? Ah. Callaghan. There had been some whispers about his precious task force involving some UC work. Of course. And wouldn't it just make Callaghan's day to be able to separate him and Andy by sending her under. But would Andy have really applied for the task force? Hell, maybe she had but he wouldn't have known anything about it because they'd hardly spoken in the last few weeks.
He pushed his chair back and got up.
"What is it?" asked Peck. "Do you know where he is?"
"Maybe."
He walked through the bull pen and around the corner to Luke's office. He didn't bother knocking, he just bowled in. Luke looked up from his computer.
"Yes?" The blond detective scowled at him.
"McNally – is she undercover?" growled Sam.
A look of surprise crossed Luke's face for a brief instant then he composed himself.
"That's none of your business," he said.
"So she is," said Sam. Luke's smug expression was a dead giveaway.
"You know I can't say anything and even if I could, you would be the last person I'd tell," said Luke, glowering at Sam.
"How long?"
"Swarek, give up, I'm not…"
Sam leaned over the desk until his face was just a few inches from Luke's.
"How fucking long, Callaghan?"
Luke licked his lips. He had a feeling that Sam was quite capable of punching him in the face and what the hell, he would find out soon enough.
"OK. Could be months. It's deep cover."
Sam stood up and glared at Luke.
"You know she's not qualified to do this."
"Yes she is, she's had experience. You of all people should know that."
"Yeah, but I was with her. I don't think she can do it on her own."
"She's not on her own."
"Collins doesn't know what he is doing either."
Luke's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't expected Sam to figure that out. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"So what do you care anyway? You're the one who let her go."
"I didn't let…" began Sam, then abruptly stopped. He wasn't going into this with Callaghan of all people.
"Yes you did, you're an idiot, like I told you. She came to me, begging to be on the taskforce. She was desperate to do something different, to get away from 15. To get away from you."
Sam squeezed his right hand into a fist. It would be so easy just to take two steps over to Callaghan and plant one right in the middle of his smug face. But he couldn't. It would cost him his job and probably any remaining chance he had with Andy if she found out. And if he was honest with himself, then he had to admit Callaghan was right. She most likely had wanted to get away from him, after the way he had treated her. He had driven her away.
He paused for a moment, just long enough to regain his composure.
"You her handler?"
"I can't tell you that."
Sam gave Luke the menacing look he'd perfected since joining the academy, and it worked.
"OK, not directly, but I do have some access to her. Why, do you want me to pass on a message? Send her your love?" He was smirking and Sam had to shove his hand in his pocket to stop himself lashing out.
God, yes. Tell her I love her and I miss her and I want her back. "No, just…" he struggled to find the right words. "Just keep her safe."
And he turned and stalked out of Callaghan's office before Luke could say anything else.
There was no rush to get home from the park, today was Sam's day off and he had nothing planned. He watched Boo racing around, chasing birds, and tried calling her a few times but she wasn't responding to her new name. She was still Ginger as far as she was concerned. He was going to have to make a concerted effort to call her Boo at every opportunity until she got used to it.
When whistling and calling didn't work he hit on a bright idea. He turned his back on her and started to walk away. Before he knew it she was jumping up on him and there were muddy paw prints all over his sweat pants.
"Idiot dog," he muttered, and snapped the leash on her collar. "Come on, let's go home."
They went the long way back to his house, and again Sam ended up running with Boo because she wasn't capable of simply walking. He usually ran three or four times a week anyway but at this rate he was going to be getting extra fit.
Sam dried off Boo's muddy paws with an old towel he'd left on the back porch, although he did wonder why he'd bothered when he walked in the door. A few dirty paw prints weren't going to make much difference. The place was already a pigsty. The kitchen was horrific – there were dirty plates covered in congealed food scraps piled up all over the counter and old takeout cartons stacked haphazardly in a corner by the overflowing trash can. The sink had a scummy ring around it and a nasty smell wafting up from the plug hole.
The living room wasn't much better. Several empty beer bottles were scattered on the coffee table, which was also strewn with old TV guides and car magazines that had spilled over onto the floor. A hoodie sat in a heap on the floor by the sofa, which was covered in chip crumbs, and a pair of dirty socks poked out from under a cushion. A towel was draped over the back of one chair and a collection of DVD cases were spread over the floor in front of the TV.
Sam shook his head. It was disgusting – how the hell had he been living like this for the last few weeks? Oliver was right, he needed a cleaning lady. Or a kick up the ass to clean it up himself.
He walked back into the kitchen and set about making himself some coffee. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Boo going over to the trash can and nudging the stack of takeout cartons with her nose. "Hey, stop that," he called out but it was too late. The cartons tumbled across the floor. Boo looked up at him and gave a little bark.
"Thanks a bunch," Sam muttered. He opened the cupboard door under the sink and pulled out a plastic trash sack. Grimacing, he picked up all the sticky cartons, many of them still containing bits of rotting food, and dumped them in the sack.
"Jeez Sam, you are a pig," he admonished himself. Then he grabbed the recycling bin from beside the back door and went into the living room, where he collected the bottles. Next the old magazines went in a cardboard box he kept on the back porch for paper recycling. Ten minutes later the hoodie, socks and towel were in the washing machine along with the clothes that had been scattered across his bedroom floor; the DVDs had been put away in the TV cabinet and he was scraping the food scraps off the dirty plates into the trash sack. The whole time the dog followed him around the house like a furry shadow, barking every now and then.
"I hope you're pleased with yourself," said Sam to Boo, as he began rinsing the crockery and loading the dishwasher. "Look what you started. Damn dog."
As he worked, going from one chore to the next, he wondered why he had let things get so bad. He'd never been like this before. Even during the particularly shit times in his life – and there'd been quite a few of those – he'd never wallowed so much in self-pity that he had ended up living in such a filthy mess. It was as if losing Jerry, then Andy, had made him just give up – on himself, on his normal every day life. He had stopped caring.
There had been one moment, three weeks ago, when he had cared, albeit briefly. It was when he got home after McNally had failed to turn up at the Penny and before he knew she'd gone undercover. He had looked around the house and sworn then that he would get the place sorted. If all went according to plan, he and McNally would be back together soon and she would freak out if she saw the state his house was in. He would clean it up, he promised himself. But then he had gotten home from work the next day still reeling from the news that McNally had gone and it could be months before he saw her again. The dirty plates stayed where they were and he ignored the junk strewn everywhere. Instead he reached for a bottle of Jack Daniels from the cupboard and drank himself into oblivion on the sofa.
Now, in the living room, he got down on his hands and knees and peered under the sofa. Yep, there was the empty bottle of Jack Daniels, where it had lain for three weeks.
One thing he hadn't been able to shake from his mind when he learned she'd gone off on the UC op was whether she would have come to the Penny if she hadn't had to leave suddenly. Maybe she had been planning on going for a drink with him but then along came the taskforce offer and she had to drop everything and go. She wouldn't have been able to call him to say sorry she couldn't make it. He knew what that was like – he'd had to go under with no warning on the Brennan case.
That was the thing, maybe she had wanted to come. Maybe she had wanted to start all over again. He hoped that was the case.
He hoped that wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she was thinking about him and the fact that he'd told her he loved her.
He threw the empty bottle in the recycling bin and headed back to the kitchen, his thoughts bouncing around his brain. He loved her. Sam Swarek loved Andy McNally. He had loved her for a long time, yet it had taken so long before he'd finally been man enough to tell her. And the day he finally did it she'd vanished out of his life. Had he left it too late?
Next: He was not sure how long he sat there, hugging the dog and crying but Boo did not move an inch. She sat still and patient, just giving what seemed to be a sympathetic whimper every now and then.
