A/N: This is where I started delving into an attempt at explaining why Sam is the way he is. And, boy, did that prove to be difficult!
I hope you enjoy this chapter, as you have enjoyed the others =) As always, feel free to let me know what you like or don't like, be it in a review or a PM!
Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue, this is purely written for my own, and hopefully other's enjoyment.
CHAPTER 7
It had been two weeks, and the silence was really starting to get to him. There was nothing to do, and he was alone with nothing but his thoughts for hours on end.
Earlier that day, Boyd had called to update him on how the case was coming along. It wasn't good news.
Hill had believed the footage of Sam getting beaten and the photos of him 'dead', but they hadn't really gotten any closer to putting him away. Sure, they had the files, and they had their connection to Hill, but they had also found something else; an overseas connection, making the case a whole lot bigger than they could have ever imagined. This meant a whole lot more work, which in turn meant that they couldn't bust Hill yet, as they needed him as a pawn in their investigation.
Had Sam not been cooped up in a cabin, but actually involved in the case, the news would have thrilled him tremendously. He would have been excited that he was part of such a huge bust. He'd be in the middle of the action when it all went down, rejoicing in the feeling of the adrenaline coursing through his body, feeling alive and loving every minute of it.
But he was stuck in that cabin and he wasn't involved with the case. And so; the news didn't thrill him at all. In all honesty to himself; the news terrified him.
It had been nice talking to Boyd though. Not just because his was the first voice Sam had heard in two weeks, but he had also told him about the funeral. How it had been sunny. How touching the speeches had been, how Oliver's had had that slight hint of humor and how Sarah had thanked him for saving her.
Sam felt horrible that he had to put them through this, and he wondered what would happen when he did come back, if he ever would come back, that was…
He had wanted to ask about Andy, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wasn't close to Boyd. He wasn't close to anyone really. There was no way he'd let him know how much he cared about her, how much he missed her. There was no way no one would know.
He could have sworn that sometimes he didn't even know how much he cared himself.
"That old rookie of yours…" Boyd had said suddenly, and Sam's breath had caught in his throat as he had waited for Boyd to continue. "Talk about an emotional wreck."
Sam felt anger growing in the pit of his stomach from Boyd talking about her like that.
"She looked like she was going to throw up. Callaghan even had to drive her home early."
Sam felt even more horrible than he had done thinking about Oliver and Sarah getting up to speak about him being gone.
He had been sure she would be upset, they were partners after all, and everyone knew that when you rode together as much as the two of them did, you got close. You knew each other on a whole different level: you knew each other's habits, you knew each other's reactions to most situations, each other's moves, and you developed complete trust in each other. It was only natural that she was upset. It didn't mean that she cared about him more than she cared about all of her other friends. No matter how much he wished that she would.
Sam had wanted to ask Boyd how she was doing now. The funeral had taken place a week prior, and he wondered how she was getting along, how she was doing at work, but yet again his mind shut him down and held the questions back.
"Get this case done soon. And keep me posted? I'm going nuts out here." Sam had said when Boyd had finished telling him the names of nearly everyone who had attended the service.
"We'll try to wrap it up quickly." Boyd promised. "But this case is a lot bigger now. So it will take some time." He said stressing the 'will' which Sam knew meant that he could look forward to being cooped up for a long time.
"Oh, and I need some more supplies." Sam said in a hurry so that Boyd would hear him before hanging up.
"More booze. Got it."
Sam hadn't been able to get McNally out of his head when the conversation had ended. He wished he could see her, if only just once, to know she was okay. To make sure that the dark cloud that seemed to follow her around hadn't put her in too much danger.
He was lying in bed. He wasn't tired, and it was still light outside, but he had nothing to do. He figured sleeping would at least keep the thoughts out of his head.
Too bad he couldn't fall asleep.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face. He heard her voice. He smelled her scent. And it felt like she was there.
He closed his eyes and imagined someone knocking on the door.
He imagined getting out of bed and padding over to it.
He imagined opening it to see her standing there, tear streaks on her cheeks, looking at him with hollow, sad, brown eyes.
He imagined asking her if she wanted to talk.
He imagined her whispering 'no' while shaking her head before closing the distance between them, putting her hands on his stomach and pushing him up against the wall, before violently capturing his lips in a raw, wanting kiss filled with desire and desperate need.
He opened his eyes and stared up at the wooden ceiling. Sighing, he brought his hands up to rub his eyes in an attempt to wipe the images away.
He was lying on his stomach. His jaw was stiff, and the pillowcase was moist from having slept with his mouth slightly open in an odd angle. He brought his hand up to move his jaw back into place as he rolled over on his back only to end up staring at the ceiling.
He had no idea how long he had slept, and he wasn't too clear on when he had walked out to lay on the couch either, nor why he had done this.
He remembered that he had been tossing and turning in bed for hours before he had finally grown tired of this and had gotten up and walked out of the bedroom to curl up on the couch, where he had promptly fallen asleep.
He wondered why it was easier to fall asleep on the couch than the bed as he glanced out the window. From the way the light hit the cabin, it seemed to be about midday.
He scratched his stubbled cheek before sitting up and swinging his legs off the couch. The floor felt cold against his bare feet, and he sat on the couch a while letting them get accustomed to the temperature.
He wished he was one of those people who could just sleep and sleep for hours and hours. He wasn't.
6 was usually his number. If he slept longer he just got even more tired, and judging from the heaviness of his head, he had been sleeping for way more than his regular 6 hours.
He stood up and went over to the window telling himself that he probably needed the sleep. He hadn't had more than 4 hours tops any night for at least a month before he had been picked up and 'died'. He had no idea why, but for some reason he just woke up and couldn't fall back asleep.
He tried to pinpoint when it had started as he stared out of the window facing the woods behind the cabin.
He really didn't like trees, at least not when there were so many in one place.
He shuddered as his mind began contemplating the possibility of someone standing in between the trees watching him and him not even noticing.
No.
He wasn't a paranoid freak. There was no one anywhere near this place, Boyd had seen to that.
He sighed as he turned around and walked over to the small kitchen to fix up some food.
As he scrambled some eggs, he once again tried to figure out at what point in time his sleeping hours had been shortened from 6 to 4.
He could remember having had similar issues back when he was a rookie. After they'd found that little boy in the hockey bag. It had taken over a month to get the boy off his mind for long enough to be able to sleep through a full night.
Maybe the amber alert they'd worked a while back had brought up some of the old issues? Sure he'd been hard on that girl's parents, but he had been right. The mother had been hiding something. What kind of parent wouldn't remember what their kid was wearing?
His mom.
No.
He pushed those thoughts away, locking them in the deepest compartments of his mind where they belonged.
He had felt so sorry for that boy's parents. They had been so upset. The mother hadn't been able to stop crying, she'd even soaked Sam's shirt when she had hugged him after he had been told to sit with her while his TO interviewed the husband. How could he not have believed them? They cared so much. She had cried the boy's name over and over into his shoulder as he had sat with her; Joshie, Joshie, Joshie.
He'd known a Josh once.
At one of the day camps one summer long ago. He remembered that they had played pirates. Josh had taught him how pirates say 'argh' and how he had to make a hook with his index finger. He had told him about Peter Pan and Captain Hook. About the magic and the action and he remembered his six year old self being mesmerized as he had listened to the tale. He hadn't wanted to go home that day when camp ended. He had wanted to stay with Josh and hear more fantastic stories.
Then Josh's parents had come. They'd hugged him and kissed his head and cheeks. Sam had watched with wonder as Josh waved at him before his parents had taken either of his hands and they had walked away.
He remembered deciding that he would give his mother a hug that very evening when she got home from work.
She'd been home later than usual. The restaurant had been busy and she had looked tired. Sarah had forced him to put on his pajamas, brush his teeth and go to bed long before she had come, but his sister had not been able to force him to fall asleep, and Sam had managed to stay up until he'd heard the keys in the lock as the door to the apartment slowly slid open and a streak of light from the hall had lit up the living room that held the couch he used as a bed.
He had sat up as she had been taking her shoes off.
"Mommy?" He had whispered. He had seen her shoulders slump at the sound of his voice making her look like a balloon that had just been deflated.
"You need to sleep. You have camp tomorrow." She had said, her long dark hair covering half her face as she turned to go into the kitchen part of the living room and over to the fridge.
He had pushed the covers aside and gotten up to walk over to her, determined to give her that hug, and to receive one back.
He had stopped right behind her as she drained a bottle of water. When she had turned and looked down at him he'd stretched his arms out towards her like he had seen Josh do earlier.
His mother had just stood there, staring at him. Then her eyes had started to sparkle, reflecting what little light was coming in from the street lights outside.
Sam had still been standing there, arms outstretched waiting for her to bend down and put her arms around him like Josh's mother had done in the park, but she didn't.
As tears began to stream down her cheeks she'd gently pushed his arms back down to hang by his sides before reaching into the fridge and handing him a bottle of water.
"Here you go." She had said with a sad attempt at a smile as she had closed the refrigerator door and walked into her bedroom leaving him alone, his bare feet on the cold linoleum, holding an equally cold bottle of water.
A shudder brought him back into reality, and he shifted his weight to shorten his feet's exposure to the cold wooden floors of the cabin. He really needed to put on some socks.
The smell of burnt eggs distracted him, and he looked down too see that they had turned brown, bordering on black.
It didn't matter. He wasn't hungry anymore anyway.
He disposed of the food and went over to sit down on the sofa. He once more thought about putting on socks as he looked down at his feet that were slowly turning white bordering on pale blue.
"Why would anyone ever actually want to stay at a fishing cabin?" He asked the silence of the cabin with a sigh as he laid back on the couch propping his feet up on the arm rest.
It was so quiet, not one sound could be heard anywhere. At least in the city you'd hear the occasional car. Here there was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
And he was out of whiskey too.
He folded his arms defiantly across his chest as he stared at his feet.
He wished that Andy was there. She'd say something funny. Or stupid, it didn't really matter. She'd just say something, and he'd be okay. His thoughts would stop going places they weren't allowed to go and everything would be back to normal.
He hoped she wasn't getting into too much trouble. Not getting guns pointed at her, not pursuing dangerous suspects on her own, not getting herself into life threatening situations.
He hated that he wasn't there. What if she got into something she couldn't manage to get out of? Who would have her back?
Epstein? No way. He'd probably wet his pants before even attempting to go after her and Diaz would have to consult his damned rule book first. Well, in all fairness Diaz was getting better, but he was by far not nearly good enough by Sam's standards.
Nash? No. She tried not to show it, but Sam could easily see the fear in her eyes when they got into conflicts on the beat. She wasn't made to be a beat cop. Her instincts were good though, and the thought of her as a D really did make sense to him.
Who else was there?
Peck? Yeah. Peck might be able to have her back had it not been for her incessant need to keep up appearances and her reputation. Sam was truly glad he didn't come from a cop family like the Pecks.
To have your parents try to push you into something you clearly don't want to do would have seriously brought down his spirits. He'd been his own boss since he was 9, there wasn't a chance that anyone could tell him what to do unless he thought it to be the right way to go.
Of course, if she was paired with Ollie or Noelle she'd be okay. Sam had known them for so long that he had lost count of their years together.
He couldn't quite understand why, but for some reason his charms, that usually worked so well with any other woman, always came short with Noelle. It was like she saw right through it, not buying the smiles, the dimples, the light conversation. She really was good solid police. Yeah, he'd feel comfortable if Andy was partnered with Noelle.
Now, Ollie…
Maybe Andy would be too much for him. He had those girls of his at home after all.
Sam couldn't place it, but there was something about him that just shouted 'I really care'. In all honesty Sam had felt uncomfortable around Ollie when they had first met in the academy. He had been so friendly and accepting that Sam had initially suspected that he was a fake like everyone else he had ever met.
But he wasn't.
Sam held a lot of admiration for Oliver Shaw. He was the only cop Sam had ever known with a stable family life. The only one he knew who managed to have the same someone to come home to at the end of a hard day at work except for his sister.
Why was that?
