A/N: So, while I sit here and sulk in SA, you will hopefully be watching all things Sam and Andy tonight! The good news, is that the season starts on our tv screens next week (whooohoooo), until then, I will continue to live vicariously.

So, still don't own anything, except my vivid, vivid imagination...

Hope you enjoy this next installment… and again, thank you for all the reviews, favourites and alerts.

Chapter seven: Shattered

David licks his dry lips. Groaning lightly, and without opening his eyes, fumbles, feels, for the bottle of water next to the bed. Squints in the sunlight, unscrews the lid, gulps down the liquid. His head is pounding. Groggily, gingerly, climbs out of bed.

Pauses in the living room, thinks back. Flashes, recollection. Sees the bottle of Jack lying on its side by the sofa, the crusty remains of his pizza… and is that the melted remains of a tub of Ben and Jerry's? Scratches his head. Gonna turn into a soppy little girl if he doesn't watch out.

Sighing, heavily, he slouches over to the coffee machine, switches it on. Opens the front door, fastening his robe. Doesn't want to scare the neighbours. Another reminder of who he is. Of what he is doing. Of what he is meant to be doing. Sam Swarek sure as hell wouldn't be caught dead in this maroon and black silk number. Tattered sweats and hastily pulled-on jeans (if you're lucky), that's Sam Swarek. David is all silk and smooth. The sweet-talker.

Winces as he bends over, picks up the morning paper, neatly folded on his doorstep. Got to love this concierge service.

Pours his coffee, slouches at the kitchen counter. Breathes a few times before opening the paper. Knows what he is going to see… but just because you're mentally prepared for it, doesn't mean that it's not going to punch you right between the eyeballs, now does it? The article is on page three…. A large photograph for all to see… He chuckles. Shakes his head at his own stupidity. Man, if only Oliver were around… What he needs is a firm slap up the back side of his head.

Doesn't mean that it's not gonna happen. Just didn't happen yesterday. And for now, that's good enough for him.

Gets up and pours himself another cup of coffee. Time for a shower, the limo will be here soon. Leaves the paper lying open, the smiling face of Gail, next to her godfather and the radiant bride…

Andy maneuvers the black truck into the parking space, narrowly missing reversing over Dov and his bike. Mouthing her apology, she hops out, grabs her bag. Having locked his bike, Dov holds out his hand to take Andy's bag, hooks it over his shoulder. "Still no news, then?" he asks.

She shakes her head grimly. "Nada". He pushes open the door of the barn, holds it for her. They walk in comfortable silence. It's funny, she thinks, how the officers of 15 simply accepted her driving in that first morning, in his truck, as if they didn't, wouldn't expect anything less. No whispered comments, no snide remarks. And, let's be honest. She did kind of anticipate it. Part of her wonders if Oliver had anything to do with it, if he maybe gave the others that hairy eyeball that he does so well, when he is trying to hide his mushy side…

She stops. Halts. Thought-process immediately interrupted, banished. She leans back, peers into the squad room, the all too familiar form her sole focus. Boyd. With Jerry. With Luke. She moves to step into the room. Heart pounding. Thoughts running rampant. Quickly scans the room. There is no familiar smirk.

Best sees, acknowledges. Gently pushes her towards the locker room. "Get changed McNally. Boyd's here for a while. Needs a hand, surveillance for an op. One you may have an interest in." he says gruffly.

She dresses in haste, has her coffee and sitting in the squad room in record time. Best does the usual notices, hands out duties, plans the roster. Dismisses the team. Andy, confused, looks around. Stands to go….

"Ahhh, Shaw, McNally, my office, five minutes," Best adds.

Traci catches Andy's eye, looks concerned. Andy simply shrugs, follows Oliver and Best out of the room.

Boyd is in the chair, his feet propped up on the desk, doesn't bother to move as they enter, followed closely by Jerry… the small office is cramped. Way too much testosterone Andy thinks sourly, as she lifts Boyd's legs, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor as she moves past into the corner of the room. Folds her arms, raises her one eyebrow, waiting to challenge the comment that lingers, hangs on his lips. The challenge halted, prevented, as the door swings open, and Luke enters the room. Glancing over at the others he nods his hello. Looks at her apologetically for a moment, a second, cut short by the jut of her chin, the defiance in her eye.

"Right, we are all here. Boyd, want to fill us in?" Best takes charge.

"Sure about her?" Boyd thumbs in the direction of Andy. "Seems to have a knack of blowing undercover cases."

"Never gonna let that go, are you?" Andy straightens, tilts her head to one side. "Need I remind you that we got both the Landrys and Bergen."

Challenge given. Challenge accepted.

"You are here because you need our help. Because you need extra eyes and ears on this case. This extremely important, extremely dangerous case, that is going south at a rapid rate and you have no idea how to control it. McNally here knows Swarek better than any of us, can read him better than any of us. You need her if you want it to work." Luke's quiet voice of reason cuts through. Andy looks over at him, grateful. Nods her thanks. He smiles, wanly. It's a start.

"Right, if we have finished with the pissing contest, think we can get back to the job at hand?" Best asks, glaring at them all in turn. Andy looks down at her toes, sheepishly. Mentally packs her verbal arsenal away.

The idea is pretty simple. They are not to engage. At all. They will remain in the support vehicles. Watching. Observing. Eyes and ears. Sam… David…Andy needs to remind herself.

Giggled slightly at that one, remembering a conversation oh, so long ago. Previous partner. Previous life. Wonders what swarthy David has been up too. By sounds of things, quite a lot. Swanning around in limos, nubile young things throwing themselves at him. Red-blooded male. Sex on legs. Cutest butt in town. Dark thoughts crowd her mind, images of tussled sheets, intertwined limbs, sated smiles. Who wouldn't want him? And what man would say no… what was it he said, about his last uncover op: "You stop caring about those things you once cared about"

A wad of paper bounces off her nose, pulling her back to reality, to Boyd's scowl, Shaw's smirk, Luke's concern. Hadn't even realised that she had been frowning.

"Right, now that we have McNally's attention, perhaps we can continue." Boyd mutters. Loudly.

David is due at the opening of the one of the hottest new clubs in town. Meeting the director, and a few key players. Luckily, Boyd's managed to get mikes and cameras in place. Helps to have one of Toronto's top interior decorators on the books.

"You do not engage with Swarek," Boyd's eyes swept over the group, settles on Andy. A roll of eyes, her only response.

Two vehicles: a van and a sedan. Luke and Jerry in the sedan, Oliver and Andy in the van. Who knows where Boyd and his cronies are.

No-one pays attention to an electrical repair van. Luckily. Had parked on the verge outside David's apartment block. Watched as he exited the building, climbed into the waiting limo. Looks good. Healthy, Andy thinks.

Eased into traffic four cars behind him. Didn't matter much, they knew where he was going, the others had set up in position behind the club.

Oliver eased the van into a loading zone opposite the club. They watched as David climbed out of the car onto the red carpet. High pitched squeals as three impossible beautiful girls rush forward to greet him. Andy recognises them from the file – the stars of David's movie.

Air kisses, hugs from two. The red-head seems to linger in his arms a bit longer, a whisper in the ear. He rewards her with his signature smile, his hand slips into the dip of her bare back, rests gently on the swell of her bottom. She laughs, lightly nips his ear. They disappear into the club.

Andy grits her teeth, a slight growl. "All for show, McNally," Oliver reassures as he climbs out of the van.

"Whaa… what you talking about?" Andy looks at him confused.

"Aahh, I mean. Sam… undercover, you know…" he drifts off as Andy continues to look at him uncomprehendingly.

Mutters under his breath about damn blind fools as he yanks open the back door of the van, takes out the warning cones, fencing and "Danger – Men at Work"sign. Removes the manhole, sets up the scene. Satisfied, he climbs back into the van, moves to the back of the van, sits next to Andy and peers at the monitors. "Sound and visual are good," his only comment as they watch the inside of the club. "A little too good, if you ask me," she mumbles.

Four hours later, and the director is still a no-show. His son, Paul, has been there all evening, and a small guy in extremely tight pants, long blue hair, who seems to like flitting around David. Got a little bit of a man-crush, Andy smirks.

Boyd calls off Jerry and Luke. Sends them home. No need for a dual team if the primary isn't going to pitch. Calls Oliver and Andy, tells them to sit tight until Sam leaves. Yippee, thinks Andy, venom dripping.

She's watched the red-head (file says her name is Lisa) drool over David all night in High Def. Equipment in the van is state of the art, as are the eyes and ears in the club. Just great. The time when she can actually do with a grainy picture, and she is stuck able to see every glint of the eye. Lisa's message is extremely clear. And, just in case David was oblivious, her backing into his lap and grinding against his hips was probably a good tip. He smiles languidly. Those half-mast eyes of his, watching her as she moves away, dances back into the crowd.

Andy grunts. Picks up her can of soda, gulps down the dregs, crushes the can. Oliver just gives her a sideways glance. A retort bubbles on his lips, half strangles him with need to escape. But… perhaps wisely, he refrains from sharing it.

Lisa shimmies back over to David, now leaning against the bar. He has managed to shake off both Paul and Pippin. She presses her body up against his, slips her hands into the back pocket of his jeans, pulls hips flush with hers. Andy watches as David's eyes darken, close just slightly. Recognises the look. Seen it a couple of times herself, hasn't she? He bends his head, and Lisa, finding her opportunity, closes the space, gently nips his bottom lip before sliding her tongue into his mouth. His eyes close, he greedily leans into the kiss, breath her in, his oxygen.

Oliver clears his throat, watches Andy, watching David… And Lisa. Feels like a voyeur as the emotions flit over her face, before she carefully schools her features. Her virtual mask glued to her face. Professional. Always.

Oliver turns back to the screen, David has wound his fingers into Lisa's hair, pulled her closer. Any more, and the bouncer will be charging extra for the floor show. David breaks away, opens his eyes, stares at the knowing look on Lisa's face. Cat that got the cream. He closes his eyes again briefly. She reaches forward, runs her hand up his arm. He shakes his head, with, Oliver thinks, a hint of regret… of sorrow… "Lisa…" her name rolls over his tongue. "This… I'm sorry…I can't…" Her next words crystal clear over the mic, teasingly, coy, with intent: "Your words say no, David. But your body… says something completely different." Smiles at him, wolfishly, predatory, again presses her lower body to his.

He pushes her away gently. Gets some space between them. "There's… someone… wouldn't be fair to you..." Lisa doesn't mind. Got an itch, and he's the scratching post. David is firm. "The offer is tempting… oh, so tempting," closes his eyes again, licks his lips. "It would be your body in my bed, but it wouldn't be your face in my mind… And you are worth so much more than that…" He is honest, not callous.

Lisa stares at him. He stares back. Raw emotion. She sighs, lifts her hand to his check, pats it gently. "You're a good man David. Not many, particularly in this industry, would do what you have just done." Takes his face in her hands and gently, lightly kisses him. Stares into his eyes again. He shakes his head, smiles indulgently at her.

"Can't blame a girl for trying." Sashays off into the dwindling crowd as David watches her, lust tinged with regret hanging on his features.

And in the van, Andy turns to Oliver, mouth open, eyes wide, her mask shattered.