I was struck by inspiration. I honestly thought this was a one-shot but this came to me. Your reviews pushed me, (thank you so much for the lovely reviews, by the way) I think. LOL When I started though, I had no idea where it was going. Then a scene came to me and here it all is. 4/5 pieces of work for this show in a month. It's eating my brains, I tell ya. LOL

Clearly, this won't happen in the finale, but enjoy anyway. LOL

So, they sit there in silence for a while.

She thinks Sam's putting his thoughts together, because apparently a month isn't long enough to have already done that. He leans forward to put his beer down, along with the spare keys. He puts his own in his pocket. She looks at him when he sits back, but he ignores her for the moment.

Another minute and she's finally sick with the quiet, she thinks to hell with it and comes out with: "Do you miss me?"

He sighs and rubs the back of his head. "Yeah, Andy, I do."

He doesn't say anything else, but he finally turns to her when she puts her own drink down. Well, maybe she slams it down just a bit.

"I need to know that you want to be here, Sam. That you want to talk to me. I assumed you wanted to make things between us work, but if that's not the case -"

"It is. I just don't know where to start."

She counters, "And I do?"

He meets her eye when she asks. She keeps wondering if this is worth the fight but she can't help but doubt it. She wonders if Sam does too.

"Up here," he points to his head, "it's been a mess. I, I haven't been in the game since before we lost Jerry. I don't really know what I'm thinking half the time anymore." His gaze drifts away from her, staring at the wall just over her shoulder now.

"Since we've been together, you mean?"

He stops, then shakes his head. "I'm not blaming you. My mess, that's not on you."

"I didn't say otherwise, but you did heap some responsibility on me earlier." She sighs to herself softly, already knowing they won't get anywhere if she keeps accusing him.

He rubs his legs in frustration. "The time I needed after Jerry died, how angry I was, at you, at everything, that wasn't your fault. But I'm not going to act like things were perfect before."

Taken aback slightly, all she can say is "Obviously."

She gets up, not able to sit there any longer. She wants another drink but decides against it, and instead leans on her counter.

She thinks it over, what he said now and earlier. "We never really talked, did we?"

"We don't like sharing, I guess."

Angry at his lightly worded answer, "But that's something we could have worked on! Instead, you decided that I fuck with your head and left."

Annoyed now as well, Sam stands up to face her. "That's - I never said that."

"As good as."

"Andy -"

"Come on Sam, you said it. You haven't been yourself." She loses steam and continues in a small voice, "And you know what? I haven't been as blind to it, I just figured we'd have time to work through it."

"I -" He pauses. She can only imagine what is going on in his head. She never really thought the mystery of Sam Swarek was one that would hurt them like this.

She could be honest with herself at this point, she knew she could be evasive. Her mother being her biggest sore spot. But she felt like whatever it was that made Sam so reluctant to share himself has been their biggest obstacle since they started.

"I've never been good at this," he finally continues. "Relationships. I'm barely able to keep one up with my sister, and she's all the family I've got. I don't know how to be here and say anything other then I'm sorry." Sam stares at her, trying to tell her where he's coming from. And she knows, she just doesn't know where they can go from here. He looks away after a moment, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"It takes more then that -"

"I know," he jumps in defensively.

She runs a hand through her hair again. "Did you like being with me?" It sounds childish coming out, but she doesn't know how else to get this moving.

"Andy -"

"Just answer, please."

"Yes, you know I did," he glares at her a little, not knowing where she was going with this, or what her intent is."And you were happy, usually, weren't you?" Her fingertips tap lightly on her counter, she feels fidgety. She doesn't like standing still.

Huffing a breath, he gives a curt "Yes."

"But you weren't very confident about us, were you?" He stops, looks at her again.

"Were you?" He asks softly.

She wants to roll her eyes, not caring for him trying to turn the questions around on her. "A hell of a lot more then you were."

He still hasn't moved. She thinks now that maybe he asked her in return so that he could put a response together.

"I think I spent so much time worrying, thinking, about how we would work, that I didn't spend any time actually working on us."

She understands it, but at the same time, she can't get over that he didn't talk to her. Was she really so tight-lipped herself in their time together that he felt he couldn't?

She laughs a little at herself, moving back to the couch, flopping back on it. "We're really dumb."

He doesn't move towards the couch, but he smirks at her attitude.

"Yeah, maybe."

Quietly, she says, "I should have talked to you before, maybe pushed a little, when I felt there was something wrong."

"We wanted to ignore it." He sighs. "I wanted to ignore it."

"I didn't work so hard on us either, I guess."

She hesitates, not really sure she wants to ask her next question. She motions for him to come sit with her. He's momentarily surprised before coming over and settling in next to her. She curls up on her side, pulling her feet up beneath her, and turns her body towards him.

"We can save this for a later date, if you want, but what happened when Jerry died? I know you don't blame me, but I'm still not sure what happened that day when you, you know," she finishes awkwardly. It's a ridiculous feeling, but she can't help but feel this may be too soon to talk about.

He gives his hands in his lap attention for a moment before answering. "I don't know how to explain it. I felt like I did something wrong that day, when Jerry died. And all I could think about was the times I listened to you, followed you, against my own gut -"

"Because we were together?" She interjects gently, honestly asking.

"Yeah. I don't know." He shrugs as he pauses again. He laughs to himself, bitterly. "I don't know how to say what I'm thinking very well."

Now, she really does roll her eyes. "That's not true, you've let me know what you're thinking quite well before."

"I just mean -" He looks at her. "You know what I mean."

"Maybe. But what's so different between letting me know what you're thinking when you're angry and when you're not?"

He scoffs at her, rubbing his eyes. He really does look so tired. "It's just different."

She tilts her head, staring at him. "Is it because sharing your non-angry thoughts makes you feel vulnerable?"

He shakes his head at her, disbelieving. "Don't be my shrink, Andy."

She shrugs a shoulder. "But it's probably true. I feel like that sometimes. I mean, you're right, we suck at sharing. Maybe we're too independent. We wanted to be together, but what did we do to really make a life together?"

He leans back on the couch and tips his head back, eyes closed. He doesn't say anything for a while.

"A life together. I don't know if I ever thought about us like that." His voice is quiet, but it hits her hard anyway. She puts her feet down, still facing him.

"What exactly were you thinking then, when I told you I love you?"

He must have heard something in her voice (she thought she hid it well) because he immediately sits up, looks her in the eye. He starts to reach out to touch her, a hand on her back, but puts it down on his knee instead.

"Andy. I just - I don't make plans for the future. Thinking like that, thinking of a life together, I don't do that. I'm not trying to make light of us -"

"Did you take me seriously? Or did you think I was being silly when I told you?" She tried to let him talk but she wasn't really hearing him.

"Why would I think that? It - I liked hearing it." He ducks his head, like he's embarrassed at his admission. She'd find it endearing any other time, but right now she can't figure out whether to club some sense into him or just throw her arms around him and refuse to let go.

She breathes out, letting some of the tension in her shoulders go. "So, do you think we've gotten anywhere?"

He grins at her, "Totally." Sarcastic ass. But it gets a smile out of her anyway.

"Really, Andy, a life together, I wasn't trying to say that it sounded bad to me. It's just never how I looked at things before, with other women."

Her face scrunches up, "How many women?"

"What? Seriously?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not going to answer that."

She keeps looking at him sceptically. "Why not?"

"I shouldn't have said anything." He's gaping at her, not knowing where this is coming from. "Would you answer if I asked you?"

She taps her finger on her chin, "I don't know, ask me."

He rolls his eyes now, "Right, okay. How many guys?"

Without hesitation, "Serious relationships, probably four, five if you count Taylor, which I sometimes don't."

"Jesus." He puts his head in his hands.

"You asked," she grumbles.

"I thought you were joking. You weren't supposed to answer seriously." He throws his arms out, frustrated by this turn of conversation.

"Secretly, you wanted to know."

"Why do you -" He cuts off when she starts to laugh, a full-bellied one that she hasn't felt in a long time. It feels so good, she's almost afraid to stop.

She lets her laughter slow though when Sam takes her hand. Entwining their fingers, his grip is tight, like he thinks she might snatch it back. But she doesn't. Her heart's beating faster, harder now, and she knows it's not from her laughing.

"I think we can do this. Make this work." He pauses to make sure he's looking her in the eye. "I want to."

She hesitates slightly before nodding. "Me, too. It'll be harder now, after this month. You up for it?" She squeezes his hand as she asks.

"Yeah, I think I am." He returns the pressure.

She nods again. "Okay." She grins at him.

He reaches for his beer, having forgot about it earlier, and leans back again. She curls into her corner of the couch again, both of them getting comfortable, but not letting go.

"But seriously, how many women?"

And that is truly the end! Thank you again for reading! Can't wait for the finally ;)