chapter 2

January 11, 2011

"Gail?"

"Go away Dov."

He didn't go away. Instead he turned the knob. The door was locked. "Unlock the door." His voice held the quiet authority and supreme confidence of someone fully capable of forcing their way in.

She wanted to disobey just to spite him, but she'd been hiding in the bathroom for over an hour. At some point he would lose patience and just pick the damn lock. She surveyed her face in the mirror above the sink. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, there were ridiculous pink splotches on her cheeks and her hair was a mess. She prepared her very best this-is-all-your-fault-and-I-hate-you glare before yanking the bathroom door open. "I said go away," she snarled in Dov's worried face.

Still, he held his ground. "Gail, I-"

"No," she shook her head, "no. You don't get to apologize to me. Not tonight." She tried to push past him, but he grasped her upped arms.

"Gail.."

"No." She turned her head away so he wouldn't see the traitorous tear trickling down her cheek.

"I meant it."

For a moment Gail forgot se was mad at him, "Wai- what?"

Dov's blue eyes were serious. "I meant every word."

Gail stared at him, her mind refusing to process what he'd just said. "Dov, you don't have to..."

He shook her lightly, and her eyes snapped to his again. "I meant it then, and I still mean it. You're-"

"You're crazy." She tried to jerk away from him, but his grip was strong. "Dov, you have a girlfriend."

"I know." He took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment while he tried to find the words. "And Sue is great, really... but she's not you." He met her eyes again, willing her to believe him.

Gail stopped trying to pull away. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if he were a difficult puzzle she was trying to solve.

Dov let her look. He'd wanted Gail for a long time. Since before he'd really known her he'd thought she was beautiful. Now that he knew her, he was a fair way to being in love with her. Unfortunately he'd been too boneheaded to figure any of that out before she and Chris hooked up and now everything was all turned around and fucked up. She was the girl of his dreams, and he would never have her. But even though he knew she would never be his, he needed her to know how he felt. Somehow that had become the most important thing in the world.

"You really meant it?" the hostility was gone from Gail's voice, but she still sounded suspicious.

"Yes."

"You told Chris we kissed?"

That was not the question Dov had been expecting. His head shook almost of its own volition. "He asked if I kissed you."

"But we didn't-"

"I. Kissed. You." Dov interrupted. "I'm sorry, Gail. I can talk to him tomorrow. Or.. try to."

Gail shook her head, "He made his choice."

"But-"

She shook her head again. "No." She leaned closer to him, her lips mere inches form his own. "It's okay." she whispered, closing the distance.

Her lips were dry, but warm. Dov wrapped both arms around her, pulling her against him as he deepened the kiss. Gail slid her hands into his hair keeping him close as he explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue.

Suddenly he took her by the shoulders, pushing her back until she was at arm's length. "We can't do this."

Gail stared at him blankly for a moment, "But you said..."

"I meant it. I did… I do… but that doesn't make this right." He sighed, defeated. He knew the words he had to say. The words she needed to hear, the words that would protect them both, but for an instant, he wished he didn't have to say them. He wished she really did want him, but she didn't.

Dov had been watching Gail from afar for a year. Sometimes he thought he knew her better than she knew herself. She was hurting. She'd done nothing wrong and Chris, her perfect boyfriend, had broken up with her anyway. She was heartbroken. She was also angry. At Dov, at Chris, at herself. But more than sad, or angry, she was lost. She was drowning in confusion and pain and Dov was there. The fact that he had caused her breakup didn't matter, maybe if they made a go of it it would all be worth it. If he would just take her to his bed, maybe breathing would be a little easier. All of this Dov knew, and wished to God he didn't. "You don't want me."

"Yes I do."

"No." He forced his lips to smile fondly, "You're sad, and I'm here, but you don't really want me."

"Like you know what I want." She muttered bitterly.

"You want Chris to stay, you wish I'd kept my big mouth shut because two weeks ago you were happy and now your heart is breaking, you want not to have lost Chris over nothing so you want us.. This... To be something more. But as much as I wish you loved me back, you don't."

She stared at him, big blue eyes brimming with tears. "I'm sorry."

Dov pulled her against his chest, pressing a kiss on top of her head. "You're going to be okay. I'm right here." He whispered.

June 7, 2016

"I wasn't expecting you tonight." Gail opened the door to her apartment wide and stepped aside to let Dov enter.

Dov handed her a twelve pack of Steam Whistle. "And I was expecting you at the Penny."

Gail shrugged, "I wasn't in the mood."

Dov's forehead creased in concern. "You alright?"

"Fine," Gail flashed a smile, "just.. Traffic, puts me in a mood. Y'know?"

"Should I go?"

"No, I was going to order pizza, you can pay for half."

"Only if there are mushrooms on my half."

Gail wrinkled her nose. "Fine. You call, I'll put these in the fridge."

Ten minutes later, the pizza was ordered and Dov had taken his usual spot on her couch.

"I can't believe you and Andy are working with Swarek!" Gail sank down next to him, and handed Dov a bottle of beer. "You get to work a shooting with Swarek and I'm on traffic."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you dated half the homicide detectives in the department." Dov teased.

"That was three years ago." Gail grinned. "Besides, Callaghan is a total fox."

"A total fox?" Dov could barely get the words out through his laughter.

"Shut up!" Gail threw a pillow at his head. "Tell me about the case."

"Okay, okay." Dov took a swig of beer and recounted the details of the case.

"Andy and Swarek in the same room for hours. How did I miss that?" Gail moaned. "Was it unbearably awkward?"

"Surprisingly not, unless you count the fact they didn't say two words to each other all day."

"I have got to get on that case."

"Good luck with that." Dov rose to his feet picking up their empty beer bottles from the table.

"You could trade me." Gail used her best pleading tone.

Dov's laughter floated after him as he disappeared into the kitchen. A knock at the door signalled the arrival of their dinner.

They settled back down on the couch, a box of pizza open on the table in front of them, fresh beer in hand. "You really want in on the case?"

"Yes!" Gail fixed him with her best pity-me expression.

"Beat me at Death Domain and you can have whatever case I'm assigned to tomorrow. But if you lose, you take my next traffic shift."

Gail barely paused to think before nodding. "You're on." She snatched the remote from his hand. Somehow she had ended up with the X-box when Dov moved out of the two bedroom apartment they'd shared for three years, which also meant she had the dubious honour of hosting the game nights. They'd tried countless games over the years, but somehow ended up back at the very first game she'd ever schooled him at. The graphics were a little cheesy, but it was nothing the nostalgia couldn't overcome.

Their first game was intense. Neither made a sound, their eyes and reflexes fully focused on the game playing out before them. Gail led most of the way, until out of nowhere, Dov clipped her back wheel, sending her spinning out of control just seconds before the finish line.

"Bastard!" She threw the remaining throw pillow at his head.

Dov threw it right back, "You love me."

Gail went suddenly still. She could feel his eyes on her face and it suddenly felt like her every movement was being scrutinized. "You wish." The words sounded stilted and she wished the couch would open up and swallow her whole.

It had been less than a year since Sue. He hadn't dated at all. He didn't even seem to see other women. He visited her because she was safe. The last thing she wanted was to take advantage of him, or worse, lose their friendship. She was in love with her best friend, but he didn't need a woman to love him, he needed a friend.

"You want to go best two out of three?" Dov offered. "It's always more satisfying to beat you twice in a row."

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the familiar opening sequence playing out on the screen. "You're not winning again, Epstein. Not tonight."

He did win. Five straight before Gail threw her controller down, and admitted defeat. The twelve pack he'd brought and the six beer that had already been in her fridge were gone as was the entire pizza.

"You shouldn't drive," Gail said, rising to throw the empty pizza box in the recycling bin. "I'll make up the couch."

"You are the best," Dov smiled broadly up at her, more than a little tipsy.

"Except at Death Domain," Gail grumbled, though she wasn't really angry. As much as she hated losing, Dov's smiles were precious these days. She couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled this much. So she would take the extra traffic shift, and she would absolutely bitch about it, but more for his benefit than her own. It heaping a little suffering on her made Dov smile, she could take it.

February 20, 2011

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" Frank's voice echoed off the observation room's sound proof walls.

Sam wondered absently if Brennan and Boyd could hear Frank's yelling through the glass. He supposed he should feel something. Anger, shame… something. His friend and staff sergeant had been yelling for at least five minutes with barely a breathe, and Sam felt nothing. Well, not quite nothing. He felt detached. Like he was floating somewhere near the ceiling, watching his battered, bruised body sag a little more with each minute.

"I'm trying to get your hearing first thing next week." Frank said, his yelling finished for the moment. "For now, just do yourself a favour and lay low. There are a lot of unhappy people up the food chain, I don't want your head to roll for this"

"What about McNally?" Sam asked, leaning back against the glass, too exhausted to stand anymore.

"I'll do what I can, but Boyd wants her badge."

"Boyd wants.." Sam ran both hands through his still-damp hair, a spark of anger giving an edge to his voice. "Boyd? The guy almost gets me killed because he was too busy selling out to some biker to check his fucking facts and he gets a say?"

Frank held up a hand. "We're looking into those allegations-"

"Fuck that. 'We're looking into it'," Sam mimicked his staff sergeant bitterly, he could feel the umpteenth rush of adrenaline of the last thirty hours surging through his body. It made his fingers shake and brought Frank and the room into hyper focus. "He set this entire case up, including tonight's little water boarding session and you're 'looking into it.' I feel better."

"You don't know that Bo-"

"Brennan told me." As quickly as it had come, the adrenaline left. Sam's voice was flat, defeated. "It was the fucking boat, Frank. That's what made me."

"McNally.."

"Fooled him completely. If you don't believe me, ask him yourself, he's right on the other side of the glass."

Frank shook his head. "You know I can't do that."

Sam slumped against the glass. Every muscle in his body ached and he needed to get ice on his eye before it swelled shut completely. "Fine, follow procedure. You'll call me when the hearing is set?"

Frank nodded. "I'll call."

"Can I go?" Sam sounded like a petulant teenager, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't slept more than a couple hours in the last three days, he'd been beaten, half-drowned, terrified and angry by turns, and all he wanted was a handful of painkillers and blissful, pain free sleep.

"You got lucky. You could have gotten both of you killed." Frank said, drilling Sam with a stern look that bordered on fatherly.

Sam said nothing. What could he say? Frank was right. Calling Andy had been incredibly stupid, even if he was damn certain Brennan was telling the truth when he said it was the boat that tipped him off. He could have gotten her fired, or worse, killed, and for what? Because he had idiotically run off on an undercover assignment with no known end date without even talking to her? Because he'd been unable to shake the thought that she was going to find someone better while he slaved away in Brennan's shipping company, no closer to a conviction each day than he'd been the week before? Because once he'd had a taste of her he couldn't breathe without worrying it was all going to slip away? He'd been incredibly stupid and he was lucky to be alive.

"You're suspended, pending the results of the hearing." Frank continued, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger. Yelling hadn't helped, it was time for a different tact. Somehow, even though he just wanted to celebrate the fact that Sam had made it home alive, he had to maintain his role as Staff Sergeant. Tonight he wished the job belonged to anyone else.

For a moment the room was silent. Sam leaned heavily against the wall. Every breath hurt. His ribs felt bruised and his throat was raw from coughing. He wanted to leave, but the idea of standing under his own power was daunting, let alone making it all the way to his town house.

"What were you thinking?" It was at least the sixth time Frank had asked, but this was the first time he'd waited for a response.

Sam shook his head but didn't answer. There was no easy answer, nothing that would make Frank see why he couldn't stay away from her for another day, let alone the foreseeable future. Certainly no answer he was willing to share with his Staff Sergeant.

Frank's expression softened slightly. "Go home, Sam. We'll talk in a couple of days." He stepped past Sam and reached for the door.

Alone, Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It hurt like a bitch but a part of him relished the pain. It meant he was alive.

June 8, 2016

It was strange to be back. Sam sipped a cup of coffee and tried to convince himself he still belonged here. Fifteen division, once his home, now he felt like every eye was on him, waiting for him to do something incredibly stupid. Why wouldn't they? He'd done it before.

Andy was pouring herself coffee, talking animatedly to a cop Sam didn't recognize. His heart thudded against his chest, double its normal speed. He'd managed to keep his distance at the crime scene, but that hadn't stopped his wandering eyes from taking in the subtle changes five years had wrought. Today, under the bright fluorescents of the station, standing in a place he'd seen her so many times before, those differences seemed to melt away. The Andy McNally he'd avoided yesterday was a woman he used to know, but this was his Andy. He forced his lungs to breathe and his eyes to focus on anything else.

Knowing she wasn't going to be assigned to his case should have made things easier. It didn't. No matter how vehemently he told himself she was not interested, off limits more so than ever before, he couldn't keep his eyes from straying.

She looked happy. Her eyes didn't drift his way once.

"Or you could talk to her," Oliver took the seat next to Sam, giving his old friend a strange look. They'd fallen out of touch since Sam had left fifteen division, but picked up right where they'd left off over pints at the Penny the night before. Oliver wasn't the type to hold grudges. Especially not with Sam looking so very much like a forlorn puppy.

"What?" Sam tore his eyes away from the coffee station and looked at Oliver, one brow raised.

Oliver returned the skeptical look with one of his own. "Talk to McNally." He said pointedly. "It'll do you both some good."

Sam shook his head, "There's nothing to say."

"So you've moved on?"

Sam tried to say yes, but the word stuck in his throat. If he was honest with himself, something Oliver seemed to have an uncanny knack for bringing out in him, he hadn't moved on quite as much as he would have liked. There had been women. He wasn't pining, and he certainly wasn't a monk. But they'd been nothing serious, absolutely nothing longer than a few months. Beautiful women, smart, sexy, passionate, but none held his interest. They were amazing, they just weren't her.

May 5, 2011

The Fox and Friar was a dive bar. There was really no other way to describe it. The dim lighting, caused by burnt out bulbs not an attempt at atmosphere, could not hide the bits of stuffing poking out of leather bar stools so worn it was impossible to tell what colour they had originally been. The hard wood floor was stained, scratched and warped and liberally dotted with circular burns from the days when smoking was optional, but second hand smoke was not. The glassware was perhaps the only part of the bar that had survived the thirty years Fox and Friar had been serving Toronto's finest and the occasional civilian who didn't know this was a cop bar. It was rarely spotless, but Sam didn't much care. The 80 proof whiskey would kill anything the dishwasher hadn't.

At first Sam hadn't understood the appeal of the place. Compared to the Penny, there was nothing to recommend it. The dart board and pool table were as poorly maintained as the barstools, and he couldn't imagine a karaoke night. Still, there was something about the place that kept him coming back. At least, he told himself it was the place. The other possibility, that it was the alcohol and the only reason he wasn't drinking in his townhouse instead of the bar was because at the bar someone else decided when he should stop, was too depressing to contemplate. Bad enough he'd nearly tanked his career, lost Andy and ended up working at the same division as Jo Rosati of all people, he didn't need a drinking problem.

He took a deep swig of whisky, relishing the way it burned a hot trail all the way down to his stomach. Twenty-seven division really wasn't bad, if he was honest. If he'd ended up there under any other circumstances he might even have liked it. Even Jo Rosati wasn't the conniving bitch he'd once thought her to be. She was a damn good detective, and without Andy as a constant reminder of what had happened six months earlier, he found he was able to judge her on her own merits. They weren't likely to be friends, but he found working under her bearable.

"I thought I'd find you here." Jo Rosati slid onto the stool next to him as if called by his thoughts.

Sam gave her a look, half dislike, half curiosity, but said nothing. Instead he drained his third whiskey and gestured to the bar tender that he'd like another.

"Make it two," Jo told the bartender when he moved their way.

The grey haired man with slightly stooped shoulders and empathetic brown eyes set two tumblers on the counter and poured two a shot of whiskey in each before pushing them towards his patrons. "Anything else?" He asked.

Jo shook her head and thanked him for the drink.

Sam didn't even look up from the worn oak surface of the bar. If she wanted to sit there, it was fine by him. He certainly wasn't going to flee the bar just because she'd taken the stool next to him and he could feel her gaze on his face.

"Look." Jo said, turning sideways on the stool so one elbow rested on the bar top and she was facing Sam, "I know you don't like me. But you need a friend at twenty-seven. You've been with us for weeks and you're still drinking alone. It's getting hard to watch."

"So don't watch."

"Here's how I see it," she continued as if he hadn't opened his mouth at all, "you're only at twenty-seven division because you fucked up an undercover assignment and it was this or a desk job with your ex..."

Sam raised his head to glare suspiciously at her. He felt the insane urge to defend Andy against the dismissal in Jo's tone, but quelled it. She hadn't actually been attacking Andy, and even if she had, any defense from him would only make matters worse.

"People talk." She said raising both hands in mock surrender, "Come on, Swarek, you've been around long enough to know that."

He gave her a weak smile. "Why do you think I prefer working undercover?"

"Touché, but not the point." He was still watching her and Jo thought she might actually be getting through. She also thought they should give her some sort of medal for even trying. "The point is, you're stuck with us - at least until you've proven your worth again. This can go one of two ways... you can continue drinking alone, working alone and end up dead and in a file on my desk, or you can stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually become one of us."

"So my choice is death or becoming friends with you?" Sam asked, sounding amused.

"Pretty much." She grinned, "Despite what I'm sure you think of me, you'd be lucky to have me as a friend."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow, intrigued in spite of himself.

"Oh yeah. I buy drinks, I kick ass at poker, I'm a pretty good listener." She leaned in so her lips were inches from his ear and whispered a final comment.

Sam turned, his eyes raked over her body and he smiled. This could be interesting. "I guess a new friend wouldn't hurt."

"Your place or mine?" Jo asked throwing a pair of twenty dollar bills on the bar to cover their tab.

"Yours is closer," Sam said, following her out into the crisp night.

June 8, 2016

"You coming?" Gail stood in front of Andy, arms crossed across her chest, eyebrows raised at an extreme angle that suggested she'd asked the question more than once.

"Yeah, sorry." Andy pushed her chair back. She couldn't believe Sam had taken her off the case. She half expected to wake up and realize this was a paranoid dream. It's been five years... But apparently five years wasn't long enough. A small part of her was relieved, she had not been looking forward to another ten hour shift with Dov watching her every move waiting for her to crack and... well she wasn't sure what they expected her to do. But the expectation was exhausting.

"You're pissed at Swarek, eh?" Gail asked in a conversational tone as they made their way to the parking lot.

"No," Andy lied.

Gail's expression clearly stated she wasn't buying it. "I would be. Getting thrown off a murder is bad enough, but now you're stuck on traffic?"

Andy shrugged. She tossed her bag in the back of the cruiser and climbed into the passenger seat. She was glad Gail usually drove, she wasn't sure she had the necessary focus today. She was even a little glad they were on traffic duty. Sure, it was boring and monotonous, but the mind numbing repetition sounded pretty perfect today.

"Was it weird working with him again after, well, everything?" The engine roared to life and Gail pulled out of the parking space and guided the car onto the street.

"We weren't really working together."

"But he was there, at the scene all day, wasn't he?"

"Yeah..." Andy took a deep breath in through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth. Just the mention of Sam's name set her stomach churning.

"Did you talk?"

"Can we talk about something else?" Andy asked, inserting a dose of pathetic into her tone in a vain attempt to gain Gail's sympathy.

"This is my third traffic shift this week and because of an idiotic bet I lost of Epstein last night I will probably be stuck in Traffic for at least the next two shifts. So, no. We can't talk about something else, because everything else is boring and I need something to keep my mind occupied. I need something to distract me from how bored and annoyed I am so I don't go postal on the next asshole who tries to flirt, cry or argue his way out of a ticket."

Andy raised an eyebrow. "You know, repressing emotions like this is bad for your health."

Gail glared at her, "You were at a murder scene yesterday, you don't get to mock me for this."

"I would have traded in a heartbeat." Andy said, turning to stare out the passenger window watching the city slide by, ignoring the curiosity she could feel radiating from Gail in waves.

"Any time you want my traffic shift you just let me know," Gail said. "I would rather sit behind a desk and do Oliver's paperwork."

Andy chuckled. Of all their once TO's Oliver Shaw had the worst paperwork, not because he handed out any more citations or took on any more cases than the others, but because his notes were almost completely illegible. Not that he would ever admit it, after all, he could usually read them. But for the rookies it had been a constant headache. "it's not that bad."

Gail snorted. "Yesterday I pulled over a guy who blew through a red doing 90 on Dundas, his excuse? He had ice cream in the trunk and needed to get home before it melted."

"That's weak," Andy said though her laughter.

"That's been my life for the last three days. Can we please talk about Swarek? You never talk about him and now he's back."

Andy sighed. She'd come to love Gail but that didn't mean there weren't days she wanted to strangle her. Today was one of those days. "It's fine. He's here for one case and then he'll go back to twenty seven and you can all stop watching me like I'm going to do something insane."

"He was in pretty late talking to Frank last night, it seemed like Frank was trying to convince him to stay."

Andy groaned. "Just what I need."

"Maybe it is." Gail's smile was decidedly mischievous. "You're both single, good looking, addicted to the job. I never understood why you broke up in the first place."

"He's not."

"Not what?"

"Single."

Gail looked confused. "How do you know?"

"I overheard Luke talking to Jerry about Sam and Jo last week." Andy said in a nonchalant tone that had nothing in common with the nauseous feeling she'd had in the pit of her stomach when she'd overheard Luke's comments the week before.

"Jo Rosati? I thought they hated each other."

"Apparently not. They were together at the wedding, I saw them."

"Yeah but that doesn't count." Gail said as if Andy were being a complete idiot to count a wedding hook up as an indication of anything. "Weddings are like New Years Eve, everyone hooks up with someone and usually they wake up wishing they hadn't."

"Maybe," Andy cursed the little thrill of relief that flashed through her at Gail's words. If Jo and Sam weren't... No. She stopped the thought dead. It didn't matter if Sam was single or in love with Jo Rosati, he wasn't hers anymore. She'd given him and out and he'd taken it and never looked back. That was the only thing that mattered.

February 20, 2011

Andy closed her door behind them and turned the deadbolt. She kicked off her boots, not bothering to move them from where they landed. She turned to Sam, her breath caught in her throat as she got her first good look at his bruises. She closed the distance between them and ran one finger lightly over the bruise on his cheekbone. "God Sam, I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, "It wasn't you."

"If I hadn't stayed..." She bit her lip.

"I wanted you there. I called you."

"But I told you to ask me to stay. I let him give me a ride, we talked... I don't know what I said, but he must have made me. I blew your cover and he almost killed you." There were tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"No, Andy listen to me." He cupped her face with his uninjured hand. "It was God's Good Grace."

"What?" Andy wracked her brain but nothing came to mind. As far as she knew the only time Sam called on God was to curse someone or thing.

"Part of my cover ID. Boyd gave me a boat from a high profile bust two years ago… God's Good Grace. Brennan knew the name, knew the cops had it.. That's how he knew. Your being there... whatever you said or didn't say..." He shrugged. "He'd already made me."

"But..."

He cut her off, pressing his lips gently against hers. It wasn't much of a kiss. He was too tired and too sore for more than a peck, but it seemed to do the trick.

Andy gazed up at him, her warm brown eyes no longer clouded by unshed tears. "We should get some ice on that eye if you want to be able to open it tomorrow."

Sam let her push him into a chair and watched as she bustled around his kitchen, preparing an ice pack and wrapping it in a dish towel to protect his skin from direct contact with the cold.

"Here, let me..." She pulled up another chair and pressed the ice pack gently against his black eye and bruised temple. They sat like that, Andy pressing ice against Sam's swollen face, neither needing to say a word, both too tired for small talk, for fifteen minutes. Then Andy stood and removed the ice pack, throwing it in his freezer for later.

"I don't know about you," she said in a too bright voice, "but I'm ready for bed."

Sam rose to his feet, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth at the sharp stabbing pain that moving caused. "Andy I can't-"

She smiled, cupping the uninjured side of his face with one hand. "I know. Just sleep, Sam. The rest can wait."

He followed her into his bedroom, let her slide his shirt over his head and unfasten his pants. She hissed at the bruises the covered his torso, but when he told her the doctor had done a CT scan and found no internal bleeding she handed him his pain pills and let him slide into bed. When she climbed in next to him, clad only in a tank top and panties, he pulled her against him and slept.

Andy did not sleep. Could not. She lay in bed, listening intently to each breath he drew. She still felt like she was running, trying to save him. It was as if her brain had gone three moves past panicked and was having trouble accepting the fact that Sam was okay. He was hurt, but nothing he wouldn't recover from before their one month suspension was lifted.

"You put an undercover officer's life in danger!" Frank's voice echoed so loudly in her head she almost expected to see him standing in the corner of her bedroom, arms crossed over his chest, face set in angry disappointment. He was right. No matter what Sam had said she couldn't shake the feeling that if not for her, none of this would have happened.

Sam mumbled in his sleep and tightened his arms around her. Andy felt a surge of affection, tinged with sorrow. She loved him. She realized she'd been in love with Sam for months, just too stubborn and stupid to admit it to herself. Now, in the wee hours of the morning as she lay awake, staring at the ceiling and counting breaths, she realized something else. She was bad for him. From their very first encounter, she'd done nothing but drag him down into the quagmire of misery that was her life. He deserved better. The only question that remained was if she was selfless enough to walk away.

A/N: whew! This is the single longest chapter I have ever written. There are still unanswered questions, I know. I promise the answers will come before the end of the story. I'm sure you die-hard S/A shippers are probably warming the tar, plucking chickens and sharpening pitchforks right now, but I hope you'll trust me and keep following even if you think I'm a heretic. Thank you everyone who has read and reviewed. I can say hands down that this is the most challenging project I've ever taken on, and the most fun.