Andy put his hands on the edges of his sink as he looked at himself in the mirror, water still dripping from his face. He took a deep breath, the sigh following being just as deep, and after a moment, he took a towel to dry his face before getting dressed up in jeans and a white t-shirt. Before getting out of his place, he grabbed the bag he had prepared with clothes for the week-end and opened his door. He was a bit surprised to see Andy on the sidewalk, and yes, his heart did skip a beat when he saw him, but he just gave him a small smile as he locked his door.

Holding his bag above his shoulder, he approached his friend as he put on his sunglasses. The light was only accentuating his migraine, even if the sun was only coming up, and it would help hide the dark rings under his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Thought I'd say goodbye," Andrew said, starting to walk directly next to Andy who let out a quiet laughter.

"I'm only gone for two days, you'll survive this," he said. Andrew removed the cigarette he had between his lips, taking his time to let out all the smoke in a long breath, not answering Andy.

He knew where they were going. Andy would always walk to his old house, where his father would be waiting. They'd put everything in his old red truck, and they'd go. It was very early, Brian Libby was delivering the paper, and was the only person they crossed path with in the center of the village at that time. People were only starting to wake up. They would always leave early, as the ride would take a few hours out of their time.

"How's the head?" Andrew asked. Andy glanced at him, wondering how he knew he had another migraine.

"What?"

"You've been having headaches all week, how you're feeling now?" Andy slightly frowned. This was weird. He would never see Andrew on that specific day, he'd only see his father. Why would he come see him? And why was he trying to find something to talk about? It just felt awkward.

"It's not headaches, it's migraines," Andy said. Not really coldly, but as if getting this right was important. Andrew raised a brow as he looked at his friend.

"All right," Andrew said, taken aback, "any migraines?"

"I'm good," Andy said. "You were right, a good night of sleep was enough," he said. He hadn't slept well, and his head was killing him, but whatever. They fell silent again.

Andrew knew that Andy was going to get depressed around that time of the year, but it wasn't usually hitting him so hard. It was often very sudden, around a week before his birthday, as if he was suddenly conscious about what was coming. It wasn't like he was forgetting about his mother during the rest of the year, but because of the tradition he had with his dad, it made it all the more real every time.

Andrew had never really known the details of her death, of the months before her passing away, of what Andy had went through. He just knew that his friend was a sensitive kid at the time, and probably still was, but he had always put up this act of being tougher than he ever was. And Andrew had always decided to go along with it, because why not? If that's what Andy wanted.

It wasn't like Andy wasn't doing the same for him, right? Andrew had always been cynical about a lot of things, had always been a bit of a douche with other kids, to try and be more respected than he'd be if he was just acting normally. Being a bit arrogant sometimes, even if he was just a stupid teenager. And Andy had always decided to go along with it. He'd always let him know how good he was at doing things, how better they both were.

They'd just constantly fool themselves, really. But at least they had each other. And growing up, they had stopped saying all these things to reassure themselves, but they never really talked about them either. Andy wasn't sharing his feelings much. Andrew could see what was going on in his mind, he could see if he was sad, or if he was feeling good, even if Andy was always trying to not show anything. But if Andy wasn't talking about it, then Andrew wouldn't bother him with it. He'd just remind him that he was there, sometimes. Just so that Andy knew he had someone that would always listen.

It had happened in the past. They had both told things to each other, being each other's confident and best friend, but they would never go as far as crying into each other arms or anything. They both had too much pride. They had to be men, they had to be though, and they also had to not be ridiculous in front of the other.

Well, they were kind of stupid.

Still, there was something more, that year. Something Andrew couldn't understand. He could just tell. Andy was clearly not sleeping at night, things were keeping him awake, and sometimes he'd see him glance at the calendar in their office as if he was scared the date was closer than it was supposed to be. But Andy couldn't control time.

He couldn't control anything, really. He couldn't control his anxiety, his insomnias, his headaches, the fear stabbing him right in the stomach whenever he'd let his mind wander for too long. And he wanted to talk to Andrew, he wanted to tell him about everything, but he didn't want to worry him. And as he was sure he was close to a small mental breakdown, he preferred to keep everything to himself, or he'd be crying in Andrew's arms before he knew it. He didn't want Andrew to reject him, to tell him to man up and to stop being wrapped up in his own little word.

It'd take them both years to figure out by themselves that the both would accept anything from the other. Any behavior, any confidence. They were so far past any single risk of letting the other down without them realizing it. Toxic masculinity, toxic environment.

Still, even if neither of them would say anything about it, they both knew that Andrew wasn't there because he liked getting up very early to walk ten minutes with his best friend, but because he cared and was worried about him.

"Andrew!" The Andies looked up as they saw Andy's father, Clark, near the truck. Andrew remembered the first time he saw that old thing. The truck, not Andy's dad. It wasn't as used, there was no rust, it looked like it had just been painted. All their boxes were in the back, where Andy's dad would usually put the farm's merchandise after that. Andy's father approached the men and directly hugged Andrew, who, even after twenty-one years, wasn't used to that. He hugged him back, though. "What are you doing here?"

"I was up, I just thought I'd come by and say hi," Andrew said, glancing at Andy before smiling at his dad who put his hand on Andrew's shoulder before pressing it.

"You should come by more often, then, we'd have some apple pie together," he said as he also pressed Andy's shoulder.

"I will, sir," Andrew simply said. "It's been a while," he added. He used to hang out at Andy's house a lot when they were going to school together, eating pie and playing football in the garden. They both would still go eat with his father from time to time, but obviously, it was happening less often.

"Are you all set, son?" he then asked his son as he looked at his bag.

"Yeah, dad, we can go," Andy said as he walked towards the truck, opening the cabin to put his bag on the floor in front of his seat. His father was already getting behind the wheel as Andy sat down, closing his door. The window was completely opened, and he looked at Andrew. He let his arm out of the window as he considered him. He first opened his mouth and closed it, not saying anything. After a second and after clearing his throat, looking away, he slightly nodded. "Thanks for coming."

"All right," Andrew simply said, slightly waving his hand to say that it was all good. Andy slightly raised his hand, moving a finger to tell him to approach. When Andrew was close enough, Andy reached for the cigarette between his lips, taking it between his fingers. He then took a long drag, directly letting the smoke out in Andrew's face before handing him the cigarette again. His friend quietly laughed as he took it back.

"I'll see you on Monday."

"Sure."

Andrew took a step back as they left, and he watched until he couldn't see the truck anymore.

.

The ride wasn't really bothering Andy. He didn't use the time to rest, he didn't feel like sleeping. He didn't use the time to eat, he really wasn't hungry. If anything, he was a bit nauseous. Head on the side, against his seat, he simply watched the landscape behind his sunglasses. The music on the radio wasn't very loud, he could hear his father moving next to him, they were exchanging a few words sometimes. But even if his father seemed to be in a better mood, it was only to make Andy feel better. In the end, they were both sad.

Yes, they were going there to "celebrate her life", as they all liked to say, but they knew they wouldn't be able to do that. At least, Andy was sure of it. He never really coped.

Andy didn't miss his old village. Not really. It was like he belonged in Sandford, as if he had to be there at some point. He arrived because of bad reasons, but he was feeling like he would have landed there anyway. He felt at home in Sandford. And it wasn't a bunch of crazy, loony, murderous people that had made him change his mind about the place. It was the country, they were in the middle of nowhere, but he liked it. He had never known anything else and he didn't really want to. He belonged there. Maybe because Andrew was there, and Andrew had helped make things right again. Not because he was his first friend in the town, but because he was Andrew, and it was enough.

It took a very, very, very long time for Andy to accept his feelings towards Andrew.

Oh, he kind of always knew he was gay, that hadn't been the surprise. He knew he liked guys way before he realized what he felt for Andrew and he dealt with that -it had been hard as well- in his own time. But accepting that he was falling in love with his best friend? His very heterosexual best friend? That hadn't been easy. Maybe that was the reason he had never told him about his sexual orientation, why he had made fun of Skinner as well, calling other kids gaylords or all sort of names, laughing with Andrew and talking about the girls in school they found hot. Or that Andrew found hot. Or whatever. He couldn't let anything show.

His father knew. He had talked to him about it because he couldn't keep everything to himself, he would have ended up exploding. And they were very close. They already were before his mother passed, but their bond had just become stronger afterwards. He hadn't been very afraid of his reaction, he just didn't want to disappoint him.

Sometimes, he had wondered if his father had been fine with the situation only because Andy had already gone through a lot, and that he didn't want to tell him awful things that would have made him feel worse. There had always been some doubts, but at the end of the day, he knew his dad loved him for who he was. Especially at his age, he wasn't afraid of that anymore.

His father also knew that he didn't want for that information to be known. By anyone. If there was a single person in Sandford learning about it one day, he knew that the entire town would know the next. He didn't need that. And the relationship between his new Chief Inspector and new Sergeant still hadn't made him want to tell anyone. His father had talked to him about it, saying that maybe now, he could relax a bit. Andy said "I'm good" and left it there.

He remembered when Andrew lost his virginity and told him all about it. How it had to be his turn, how Andrew was looking for girls that Andy would like to hook up with. As always, Andrew had been real classy about it. Andy had played along, but never did anything with any of these girls. He lost his virginity in his old village, during a visit there during the summer holidays. He had spent a week at his grandparents and when he came back to Sanford, he couldn't wait to tell Andrew that it had finally happened. The guy had become a pretty girl, a brunette with brown eyes. Cody had become Mandy, and the rest was history. Andrew had been so proud and excited. Andy had been mildly proud, mildly ashamed of his lie. But it was for the best.

Now, when it came to his feelings for Andrew… He could control them. Sort of. He was used to them. He could ignore them. He wouldn't act on them. Not ever. He wouldn't lose him this way. He was seeing him every day and even after work, they'd usually hang out. They had been inseparable since they were thirteen. He was used to seeing him and it was enough, he guessed. But sometimes, it would hit him again. Like seeing him in the morning light, waiting in front of his house to make sure he was okay and that he'd be okay… his heart would beat faster because he wouldn't expect seeing him there, and in those moments, he'd think that he wouldn't mind if Andrew was the first thing he'd see every morning. But then, he had to push these thoughts far away, because it wasn't like that, and it would never be like that. And it was fine. Andrew wasn't gay. Andrew didn't like him this way. They knew they loved each other, but in their own way. A different way. Still, Andrew was the main thing on his mind during the ride.

And he soon had to think about other things. Once they arrived, they put their bags in his grandparents' house and ate with them. Later, he went around the village, as he would often do, seeing some old friends he had gone to school with, learning about what was going on around there, who had just got engaged, who was pregnant, who had kids.

He and his dad would step by the old farm his father used to work at. Two of his childhood friends were working there, now, one had a family of his own, the other was living with his girlfriend. And there were his dad's old colleagues. The owner's wife would, as always, talk about how tall Andy was, now. She'd ask him about his life, and he'd have to repeat once again that he was a Detective and that life was good.

On their way to the pub, as they crossed path with some kids, some of them pointed at him, whispering and gaping. People knew that Andy had been part of the shootout at Sandford, obviously, and he somehow became kind of popular for that, in that quiet town.

Then, he'd offer help at the pub, being behind the counter with his grandparents for the evening, talking with some customers. Then, he'd go back on the other side of the counter to have one, maybe two beers. He'd usually stay until it'd close, but that evening, he didn't feel like it. So, he excused himself, saying that he was tired, and he left to maybe go back to the house. He didn't know what he wanted to do, really. Somehow, he found himself wandering aimlessly in the dark streets, breathing the fresh air of the night, alone with his thoughts.

As he finally entered his grandparents' street, lighting up a cigarette, it seemed that he could hear something. He didn't pay much attention, it didn't seem that close and he couldn't tell what it was. But the more he was approaching the house, the more he could hear it. He slightly frowned, looking around. Most lights in the street were turned off, it was very late, probably almost everyone was asleep.

He could see his grandparents' house from where he was standing but it's the one right next to it that caught his attention. That's where the noise was coming from and, now that he was so close, he could finally tell what it was. A baby crying. He stopped in front of the house, taking a drag of his fag as he noticed that the front door was wide open. He frowned. There was no light in the house. He approached, noticing that the little wooden gate wasn't locked. He had a bad feeling.

He slowly pushed it open. It creaked, and he stepped in the courtyard. He stopped for a moment, letting go of the gate that closed by itself again. He took a deep breath, listening to the baby. Finally, he walked towards the door. He didn't walk past it, he bent a little and knocked on the door with the back of his finger. He knew who lived there; Ashley. She had married Ryan a couple of years ago. The baby was born ten months ago, and they had just moved in this house. Andy could see the shape of boxes they hadn't unpacked yet. Ashley seemed happy to see Andy that morning, when his dad pulled up in front of the house.

They had only talked for a couple of minutes, it had been enough for him to learn that her husband was on a little trip with some friends from school. Every year, they'd go fishing. She was waiting for him to get back to finish unpacking. He had been stressed about leaving her with their ten months old little boy, but her mother had come to help. While they were talking, she had the baby in her arms. Luke. Andy had smiled at him, softly rubbing his cheek with his finger as he greeted him. He had promised Ashley to step by if he had some time.

"Ashley?" he called. No answer. "Ashley, it's Andy. I'm coming in, alright? It's just me," he announced. He slowly bent down, stubbed out his cigarette against the small step made of stone and left it there before he stepped in. He looked behind just for a second. The street was completely empty. He didn't turn on the lights. Instead, he walked around, not going upstairs to check on the baby at first. He needed to find Ashley. No one was around and if it wasn't for the baby, everything was silent. So, he walked towards the stairs and slowly started to climb them. Some steps creaked under him, his hand was on the handrail and he looked to his left, from where the cries were coming from, and he looked on his right. He had already been inside that house and if he remembered properly, that should be where Ashley's bedroom was. He walked towards it, trying to ignore his gut feeling.

The bedroom door at the end of the hallway was opened and he was almost certain the shape in the bed, under the covers, was Ashley. He walked slowly towards it and didn't touch the door to push it open completely, mainly because of the stains that seemed to be on it. He slowly sidled in the room and approached the bed.

"Ashley…" he murmured, not really calling for her anymore at that point. He knew, somehow. Still, he walked towards the bed, not even thinking about taking his phone and calling someone. He couldn't. As he stopped next to the bed, he wondered if he shouldn't have been there that day, if he shouldn't have found some time to step in, like he said he would maybe do. She seemed to be asleep, but she wasn't moving at all. He couldn't tell if she was breathing or not, but he was sure she wasn't.

His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he reached for the cover. He slowly removed it, only to discover that it was soaked in blood. So was her nightgown and the mattress. That's when he felt his energy leaving him and he fell on his knees, next to the bed. His shaking hands reached for her face. He removed the hair that was covering it, put his hands on her cold cheeks, called her name again.

He didn't really know what he was doing, but he found himself in the hallway, leaving traces of blood on the door as he made his way out of the room. He walked towards the nursery, his own heartbeat covering all the noise the baby was making, and wishing he was alright, and that nobody was in that room with him. He stopped in front of the narrowed doorway. He didn't pay attention to the blood on his hand as he put it against the door to push it open.

The crib was waiting for him, in the middle of the room. Only the night light was turned on. He walked towards it and revealed himself to the infant. Luke, noticing Andy, didn't stop crying but seemed a bit less stressed out. Finally, someone was there to take care of him. Andy slowly took the baby in his hands, lifting him up and taking him in his arms. He didn't know what to do. He just wanted to try and calm him down, so he slowly rocked him, trying to soothe the crying child.

He didn't know for how long he stood there, eyes closed, holding the baby in his warm arms, trying to comfort him. He just knew that he cried a little, and that after a moment, he heard the distinctive sound of a gun clicking behind him. He opened his eyes again. The baby had been silent for a moment now.

"Slowly place the baby in the crib and turn around," Andy heard. Andy didn't move at first. He stared at the wall for a short moment, breathing deeply. He slowly turned around, Luke still in his arms. The baby had his thumb in his mouth, but his eyes were wide open. He was staring at Andy, visibly calm.

Andy felt slightly reassured when he saw that the man in the doorway was a police officer. Yet, he knew that he was about to get arrested. His thoughts weren't making any sense and he wasn't sure about what he had to do.

"He's here! I've got him!" the policeman said louder, visibly calling a colleague. Soon enough, a woman joined him, her gun between her hands as well. She recognized Andy, though.

"Cartwright," she let out in a breath. Andy still hadn't moved nor said anything. "Andy, don't do anything else you'll regret," she said quietly, stepping in the room.

"Look," Andy said a bit quickly, hoarse. "I didn't do anything, you're making a mistake." His mouth was dry, and his eyes were moving quickly as he was looking at the officers back and forth.

The woman was still slowly walking towards him and showed him that she wasn't going to hurt him. Slowly, she lowered her gun, raising one of her hand as she put it back in her holster. Both hands raised, she stopped near Andy.

"Give me the baby, Andy, and come with us," she said, her eyes going on Luke and checking if Andy didn't have any weapon. She then met Andy's eyes and, slowly, he did give her the baby. It seemed for a second that he didn't want to let go of Luke, but he let her take him. His white onesie was now dirty, and Andy slowly looked down at his bloody hands. When he looked up again, the man was in front of him and directly put a hand on his arm, making him turn around.

"Andrew Cartwright, you are under arrest…"

He didn't hear the rest of his speech as he was getting cuffed.

He was escorted out of the house and walked towards the police car, the officer holding him by his shoulder. The street was lighted by the blue lights of the car, and he could see some people watching. A couple was in their doorway, one or two other people were watching from their windows. He was pushed in the car and the door closed behind him.