This is the last official chapter of the story, only the epilogue left after this! Yikes!

Luckily (maybe), my new story is finished. It's called "Grey Sweats and a Blue Hoodie" not the best title, but as I am not very good at coming up with titles, it will have to suffice. I mentioned in an earlier A/N that I'd might post a "teaser" of this new story at the end of the epilogue of this, which means tomorrow, if you guys are interested? The prologue will be posted on Saturday most likely.

Once again: I couldn't ask for better reviews!

And to WolfRage (you have PM turned off, so I couldn't thank you there) thank you SO much for this comment: "I can say without any doubt that this is the best McSwarek fanfic I ever read." It made my day!

This is a busy day for Sam.

I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue or its characters or anything related to the series in any way, shape or form.


Chapter 8

August

That bust two months prior had screwed him up. Badly.

He thought about her all the time now. He absolutely could not get her out of his head.

For two months he had tried to decide if he should contact the force and say that he needed out, but he couldn't.

He was gaining the trust of Petrov's guys, and with that came more important jobs. He was now part of the inside security when it came to larger drug deals. But that was not what they wanted to bust Petrov on. It was the kids.

He had yet to have been let into that circle, but it couldn't be long. They used him for almost every drug deal these days. Had his head been in the game, he would have been thrilled.

What was good about doing those kinds of jobs was that he was able to eat and sleep properly. Yes, he was still posing as a recreational coke user, but working security meant he had purpose and so it would be natural that he lowered his drug use to be more alert. He also got to work out again, which was a welcome break in his lowly routine of hanging around waiting to be called in and also a welcome distraction from the constant images of a certain female cop.

His phone rang and he flipped it open while lifting it to his ear, not bothering to look at who was calling.

"Yah."

"It's me, man..."

"Max? How've you been? I haven't seen you in a couple of weeks." In fact it was more than just a couple of weeks. Apparently Max had made a swing at Shaw in the interview room and had been put into holding and in the end been charged with assault. Sam didn't know how long his sentence had been. And he was too busy with his case and the distraction of McNally no longer being with Callaghan to find out. He now regretted not having taken the time.

"Yeah, I'm not doing so..."

"Max? Are you okay? Where are you?" Sam was worried. Max sounded horrible, and couldn't even complete his sentences.

"I'm at the house."

"I'll be right there." Sam shut the phone and ran out the door. It didn't take long before he was standing outside the busted window of the abandoned building. He climbed through it and looked around the dusty room.

"Max?" He shouted, but didn't get a response. He ran up the stairs. "Max!" Sam ran over to the couch where Max was lying, face up, staring blankly at the ceiling. Blood was trickling out of his nose, and his right arm was clutching his chest.

"What's going on?" Sam said as he knelt next to the couch and put his hand on Max' forehead he was wet from cold sweat.

Max groaned. "My chest."

"Does it hurt?"

"Pressure." He groaned and closed his eyes. His head lolled to the side.

Sam wiped away some of the blood with his sleeve. "You need a hospital."

"Nah. I don't like..." Max groaned again and clutched his chest. "I can't… Breathe." He forced out.

"I'm calling an ambulance." Sam pulled out his phone and dialed 911.

"Hey. I'm an undercover officer." Sam started. He wanted them to not treat this like a regular druggie case. And Max was too focused on the pain to pay any attention to what he was saying so he didn't have to worry about blowing his cover. "An informant of mine is in bad shape. I suspect a heart attack." Sam informed the dispatch calmly. "Name's Max, he's 19." Sam waited for the dispatcher to speak before he informed her of the address. She said that the bus would be right over. Sam thanked her and hung up.

"They're coming to take you to the hospital." Sam said grabbing Max's left hand which was cold and clammy.

"I... Don't…" He was struggling to breathe.

"Shh. Be quiet. They'll be here soon."

"Thanks… For caring." Max forced himself to say. He groaned loudly and the knuckles of his right hand turned white as he clutched his chest.

The sirens blaring outside made Sam's head whip around and he walked over to the window. He saw the paramedics get the gurney out of the bus and when they'd entered the building he went over to the stairs and yelled for them to come up.

They did a quick job of strapping Max to the gurney and taking his vitals before they attached an oxygen mask to his face and brought him out to the bus.

"Thank you." Sam said shaking one of the paramedics hand. "Can I..." He was cut off by his phone ringing. Flipping it open he saw that it was Mikahil, the beefier of Petrov's guys calling. "Shit!" He said loudly. "I gotta take this." He excused himself with a nod. The paramedic got into the ambulance and it drove off.

"Yah." Sam said into the phone, cursing the bad timing.

"We're moving some stuff tonight. You need to be there."

"Aight."

"It's small stuff, if you catch my drift?"

"Yup." Sam said. He knew exactly what he meant. Children. His heart was beating hard and fast. This was it. They'd get him today. He got information about when and where they would meet and were they'd unload.

When he hung up, Sam thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest due to its rapid beating from the amount of adrenaline that was coursing through his body. He felt dizzy and realized that his breath was quick and shallow. He forced himself to breathe with his stomach to calm down enough to get his thoughts in order. He had a lot of preparations to do.

The ensuing conversation with "Jennifer" was fairly short. Sam informed him of where and when the move was going to happen and that the kids were coming in to be stored before being sold and shipped off.

Boyd told him that he had nothing to worry about. They'd stake out the place and come crashing in once they were certain they could control the situation.


He was picked up around six even though the kids weren't arriving until the middle of the night. Mikahil informed him that the kids were coming in from Eastern Europe on a ship, and that Sam's job would be security, riding with the truck driver. Mikahil and the other bulldog, Stan, were going to shadow them in the Mercedes.

Sam was trying his best not to let his nerves show through his cocky character and he seemed to be doing a good job. He joked and made derogatory remarks about the police and the people they drove by on the streets as they made their way towards the docks. Mikahil was as entertained as always by Sam's stories and laughed heartily at his remarks.

They picked up Stan and the three of them waited at the docks for hours until it was finally time to get to work.

The large white truck with the unmarked shipping container passed easily through the security check at the docks, and Sam was soon sitting next to an overweight bearded truck driver headed for one of Petrov's storage houses on the outskirts of the city.

The truck driver wasn't particularly talkative which didn't really bother Sam all that much except that there was no distraction to keep his mind off of the children that now probably were huddled together in the shipping container they were pulling.

When the driver had pulled into the loading dock, and turned off the engine, Sam got out and went around to the doors leading into the warehouse. He met up with Stan and Mikahil and he lit a cigarette as they watched some of Petrov's other security guys starting to unload the boxes of toys that were used as a decoy to cover the hidden compartment of the container.

Mikahil was talking about his family, and how he couldn't wait to get home to his wife who had promised him a feast for breakfast. Sam played along, asking questions about his kids, all the while keeping a wary eye on the unloading of the container.

They were unloading the last couple of boxes of board games when he heard the sirens blaring. Excitement and panic spread amongst the people in the warehouse as they pulled their guns in preparation for the inevitable shoot out that would ensue when the cops came barging inside.

Out of the corner of his eye Sam could see Petrov coming out of his office on an upper floor with a panicked expression on his face. Sam couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at his lips as he ducked behind a crate, his gun pulled and pointing at one of the doors.

He'd just gotten into a decent position when the SWAT team burst inside and the shooting started. Sam shot off some poorly aimed rounds to keep his cover before ducking and getting out of the line of fire. As he moved away he saw Mikahil's head whip back as it connected with a bullet and his big body dropped to the floor lifeless.

Petrov's guys were severely outnumbered by the police and the situation was soon under 5-0 control.

Sam welcomed the cuffs that were forcefully put on his wrists and was willingly led by the officer, his good friend Oliver Shaw, out to squad car 1519 where he was promptly put in the back.

"That went well." He smiled at Ollie as he undid the cuffs, freeing Sam's arms.

"Yeah. Good job, buddy. You just stay here for a bit until we get some of these people removed." He gestured to the mass of Petrov's guys that were being brought out in cuffs. "Then you can come out."

Sam nodded and leaned back against the car seat. He let out a deep sigh and smiled. He'd done it. The case was over. He'd seen it through. Now he could relax. Well, soon. He needed to see that those kids were all right, or as good as they could be considering their situation.


It didn't take long before most of the officers who had made arrests were getting into their squad cars and driving back to their precincts to book Petrov and his henchmen, and Sam took this as a sign that he could go back into the building.

The inside was filled with a hoard of uniformed and SWAT-clad officers. They were all congratulating him on a job well done. He just nodded curtly at them all as he made his way over to the container.

They'd gotten the hidden compartment open and the stench was horrible. It was a mixture of week old excrement, vomit and fast food that oozed out of the container and made most of the officers gag.

The children were, as he had imagined, huddled together in a corner clinging on to each other for dear life. Their eyes were wide with fear and not accustomed to the light.

As Sam walked into the container, one of the children squinted at him. He tried to give the skinny boy a reassuring smile, but this apparently scared him as he proceeded to struggle to get closer to the other kids.

Sam slowed his agitated breathing and squatted down offering his right hand.

Several of the children just stared at him, but the boy reached out to touch him hesitantly. It took a couple of tries but he finally took the plunge and grabbed Sam's hand. Sam gave him a warm smile, and the boy threw himself around his neck. Sam scooped him up and carried him out of the container.

Some of the other officers followed his example, and soon all nine children were outside the container.

"Swarek!" Boyd was making his way through the mass of officers.

"Boyd." Sam said with a small nod. The small boy was still in his arms, holding on to him tightly.

"We need your statement." Boyd frowned at the boy in Sam's arms.

"Can't we do it tomorrow?" Sam asked gesturing with his head towards the boy he was practically wearing as a necklace.

Boyd rolled his eyes slightly and with an exasperated sigh said "All right then. Tomorrow." He then proceeded to walk away.

"Listen up!" It was Oliver who was shouting over the crowd. "The kids need to go to the hospital to get checked out! All of you, who've got a kid, get in the cars outside and we'll drive you." He turned and promptly walked out of the warehouse. Sam adjusted his grip on the small boy and followed suit.

"Sammy! Here!" Oliver called as Sam exited the warehouse. He walked over to Oliver's car and got in the back with the boy on his lap.


Well inside the hospital the boy would not let go of Sam's neck and so Sam was forced to stay with him as the doctors and nurses checked his vitals. The boy was severely malnourished and his body was almost skeletal. Sam learned that he was approximately six years old and most likely from Romania.

Sam sighed heavily when the last of the nurses left the room. She'd put out a basin and some hospital PJs for the boy to get cleaned up and changed into. Sam slowly forced the boy's hands apart so that he could get a hold of the wash cloth.

He smiled at the boy, who just looked at him with his big brown eyes. He held out the wash cloth, but the boy didn't take it. Sam then brought the cloth to his own face and mimicked washing himself. Then he cautiously brought the cloth towards the boy's face. He pulled away at first. But after a while he relaxed understanding that Sam did not intend to hurt him, and Sam proceeded to clean his face, neck and upper body. He helped him put on the PJs and tucked him into the hospital bed.

As Sam went to straighten up again, the boy grabbed his hand, and stared pleadingly into his eyes. Sam smiled sadly, before looking around to find a chair. He pointed to one a few feet away, and the boy nodded carefully before releasing Sam's hand so that he could pull the chair over to the bed. Once he had sat down, the boy once again grabbed his hand and held on tightly.

After having sat there for at least an hour, Sam was running over his day backwards. He saw every vivid detail of what had happened in high speed rewind. The kids, the shooting, the trucker, the waiting at the docks, the planning, the phone call, Max.

He looked down at his arm, and could see the dried blood still on his sleeve from when he had wiped the blood off of Max' face.

How could he have forgotten about Max? Was he okay? He had to find out. But he couldn't leave the little kid.

As he was stressing out as to what to do the door to the room opened.

He had expected to see a nurse, but no.

She was a welcome sight at the end of a long and quite frankly horrible day.

She was still in uniform, and her hair was in a messy bun. She smiled sadly, first at the boy in the bed, and then at him.

"Hey." She whispered. "How is he?"

"Scared." Sam said silently. "I think he might fall asleep soon."

"Good." Andy walked over to the bed and pulled up a chair on the opposite side of Sam.

They sat in silence for a while. The boy's eyes were fluttering open with regular intervals, but when they came to rest on Sam they closed again.

"How are you?" She asked.

"I'm okay." Sam said deep in thought.

"You did it." She said with a small smile.

"Yeah." He said somberly. "Listen…" He sighed. "I have to go check on someone. Max." He clarified at her look of question.

"Oh."

"Yeah…" Sam trailed off. "Thing is. I'm kind of stuck." He lifted his hand so that she could see the tight grip the little boy had on his hand.

She smiled slightly.

"If I try, maybe he'll trust you?" Sam said, not bothering to explain further. He smiled when she understood.

"Sure."

Sam nudged the boy and his eyes fluttered open filled with fear. Sam smiled at him which calmed him down somewhat. "Andy." Sam said pointing to Andy. "My friend." He knew the boy probably didn't understand English, but he had to give it a shot. The boy looked worried. Andy leaned forward and grabbed his hand. He looked at Sam nervously at first, then over at Andy, and back at Sam again. Sam just kept smiling. And after a couple more glances between them, the boy relaxed and clutched Andy's hand the same way he did Sam's.

Sam gave him a reassuring nod, and the small hand loosened its grip. He got up and shot Andy a thankful smile before he left the room.


He walked around for a couple of minutes trying to find the reception area. When he finally found it he approached the woman behind the counter with determination.

"Hello." She said with a slight smile.

"Hi." Sam said with a courteous nod. "I called for an ambulance earlier today. 19 year old with a suspected heart attack? I wanted to go with him but unforeseen circumstances unfolded" Sam explained.

"Do you have a name?" The woman asked as she started typing on the computer.

"Max." Sam said hearing an anxiety in his voice that he had not expected.

"Oh." She frowned at the screen.

"What?" Sam asked. When she looked up at him her smile had faded and her eyes revealed sadness and compassion.

"I'm going to call Dr. Campbell. He was here when your friend was brought in."

"What happened? Is he…" Sam couldn't bring himself to say it.

"The doctor will be here soon. He'll answer your questions." She said. "Why don't you sit down for a while?"

Sam walked over and slumped down on one of the benches in the waiting area. The woman wasn't lying when she'd said the doctor would be there soon. Sam had only been sitting for a couple of minutes when a tall, brown-haired, bespectacled man in a white coat came around the corner. He exchanged a few words with the woman behind the glass before turning to Sam.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Campbell."

"Sam Swarek." Sam said accepting Dr. Campbell's outstretched hand in a quick handshake.

"You're an undercover officer if I'm not mistaken?"

Sam nodded. "Finished today." He added to his nod with a sigh.

"Oh, the children? That case?"

Sam just nodded, not wanting to talk about it.

"I'm guessing you did a good job then. I mean…"

"How's my guy. Is he okay? What happened?" Sam interrupted the doctor.

"I'm sorry to say this, but you were right in suspecting a heart attack. It probably came about due to malnourishment. His body was so deteriorated that there wasn't a lot we could do. I'm sorry." Dr. Campbell said compassionately.

"Damn." Sam swore silently. "I knew I should have pushed him more. I shouldn't have let him…"

"It's not your fault." The doctor started, but Sam interrupted him.

"Yes. It is." Sam stated and got up from his seat. "Thanks for doing your best." He told the doctor before he walked back to the room where he had left the young Romanian boy with McNally.


"He's asleep." She whispered as Sam reentered the room.

"Good." he said dully as he walked over to the chair he had left and slumped down in it. Max was dead. And it was his fault. He had provided him with drugs. He had provided him with money. He might as well just have shot him.

"How are you?"

Her words pulled him out of his head, and he put the feelings of failure away. "I'm good." He said forcing himself to smile.

She didn't believe him. He could tell. He braced himself for her to ask him again, but she didn't. He looked up at her and frowned. She just smiled comfortingly at him. Her eyes telling him that everything would be all right. That he had nothing to worry about. That she was there.