Chapter nine already! Never thought this story would turn out to be so long. I just started with the idea of Andy showing up to work with a bruise and how Sam would react to that, and kinda took it from there.

Thank you for hanging on so long, and thanks again for all the kind reviews.

I think I'll write one more chapter after this, but I won't know for sure until I've written it down.


Andy was tired. She had put on her happy face when the visitors started coming, and kept coming. Everybody had been so worried, and so glad to see her. They filled her in on how they had found her.

Nobody blamed her, they said. Traci didn't even comment on keeping Owen a secret from her. Gail never even made a single bitchy remark. Only Noelle had eyed her suspiciously for a second as she said how glad she was everything 'worked out'.

Shaw showed up with a big box of chocolates (though half the box had disappeared in his own stomach by the time he left), and had been so relieved to see her doing fine it endeared her.

But Andy couldn't be happy about seeing everybody. She felt stupid, sore, and ashamed. It wasn't enough that everyone knew the ins- and outs of her failed relationship with Luke, now they knew intimately about her other relationship mess, too.

She looked to her side, where Sam was flipping through an ancient catalog while she obediently finished her meal and some Jell-O. He had gone away for a while when the people started coming in, but came back as soon as she was alone again. Did he even leave the hospital? He was still wearing the same outfit, so he probably hadn't gone home. Why wasn't he going home to rest?

Andy had no idea how to tell him he could go if he wanted without him taking offense, so she stayed silent. Despite feeling guilty about keeping him here, she liked having him close. He knew when to stay silent, and when to say the right thing.

Dov had told her (with genuine admiration in his voice) about Sam's tenacity in her 'case', after which he continued to elaborate on his own key role in the operation.

Traci was less subtle, and told her all about Sam's near breakdown after her phone call, hinting heavily on its meaning.

What did it mean? Was it just his sense of responsibility that had made him act that way, or something more? Why couldn't he just tell her what it all means?

"McNally." His tone indicated it wasn't the first time he spoke. "You awake? I asked you what the doctor said."

"If nothing changes, I get out tomorrow. Will be a while before I can get back to full duty, though." She had already pictured her first shift back a few times: everybody would be staring, talking about her. Well, she could handle it. She'd straighten her back and act normal. She had experience in that area.

"Where are you going to stay?"

"Home."

Sam exhaled sharply. "You can't go back there, it's not safe. Plus, you don't have a front door anymore."

She hadn't thought about that. She had to get that fixed, fast.

"You can stay with me." He shifted his eyes away from her. "I got a spare room."

Tempting. But she couldn't lean on him again, and she had to pick up her normal life as soon as possible. And, maybe even more importantly, let him.

"Thanks, but I'll be fine. I'll get the door fixed."

Sam shrugged his shoulders, but didn't quite succeed in making it look indifferent. Why was it so important to him that she stayed with him? Wasn't he sick of her already?

"When are you due back on shift?" Andy tried to steer the conversation to safer topics.

"Can't get back on active duty before the shooting clears officially," he informed her dryly.

"Oh." Images of the night before flashed through her head.

"Why, you trying to get rid of me?"

"No." How did he feel about taking a life? It wasn't the first time, but it still had to have had some impact.

"How do you feel about Owen being dead?"

Though question. How did she feel about it? Very conflicted, to say the least.

"I'm sorry you had to shoot him, but I think there was no other way. I'm sorry for the life he had, to make him be this way."

Sam swallowed hard. "Did you love him?"

"I thought I did, once. But not after I saw the real him, I guess. How do you feel about shooting him?"

He shrugged. "Had to be done." His gaze lingered on her. "He hurt you, and he was going to kill you."

"Yeah," she answered softly.

Sam was nervously tapping his fingers on the magazine on his lap, obviously waiting to ask another question.

"Did he…" he clearly struggled with his words, "…touch you?"

It took a moment to figure out what he meant. Did he touch her? Well, she was in the hospital because of him. Didn't Sam see the bruises and the cast? Oh.

Andy shook her head. "No." At least not while I was awake.

He held her gaze for a moment, seeking the truth in her words, until he noticeably relaxed.

"Good."

The trees were closing in on her. The path had disappeared a while back, and the wild undergrowth was hurting her feet. Where were her shoes? She felt like she had been running for ages now, without end. Was she running in circles?

Owen was still chasing her. She couldn't hear anything but her own shaky breath, but she felt it. He was only getting closer, probably watching her right now, and waiting for his moment.

If only she could reach the end of the woods and see the sky again, everything would be alright. She would be found. But there was no end, and no one was going to find her. She was going to die here, in the dark.

He knew it, and she could feel it, too. His anger and anticipation was radiating of him.

What had she done to deserve this? What had she done that had been so wrong? Andy had tried to be a good person, a good daughter and friend, a good cop, but now she had failed. Maybe her mom had been right to leave her when she did. Had there always been something wrong with her, was that why people kept hurting her, and eventually left her?

A tree branch cracked, near her. She turned around to the sound, but it was suddenly too dark to see. He was here. This was the end for her, no escape possible.

The next thing she knew she was on the ground, and he was on top of her smothering her with his weight, strangling her.

This was not how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to be able to fight back. That was who she was, wasn't it? No matter how dire the situation got, she would get through everything if she just fought back hard enough and let nobody see what affected her. But not this time, this time would be the last.

Her breath was taken away.

She had been here before. The prisoner she let escape, the serial killer in the storage locker. She had been saved, then, but not now. Nobody was coming. He would be the last person she'd ever see.

His face looked very wrong; large gaping holes started forming rapidly, expanding while bleeding. His voice sounded crooked, almost inhuman. Was it even Owen anymore? "I'm sorry. I love you."

Her own bed, her own sheets. She was home. Owen was dead, and she was safe now. Thank god Traci had left the little light on her nightstand on, because seeing her own familiar things around her definitely helped. Way better than waking up in the hospital. But, of course, Sam had been there, and that had been oddly comforting. But now she had to cope on her own. She had deliberately refused his offers for a place to stay or a ride home. He had done enough for her.

With her heart still racing and shallow breath, Andy reluctantly escaped the warm embrace of the covers, grabbing her new set of keys from the nightstand. She suddenly felt the urge to check her door.

Traci had put her to bed before she left and had promised to lock up, but did she get all the locks? It was silly, she knew that, but once the idea popped in her head she couldn't shake it.

The sturdy new door had magically been there when she arrived home, complete with multiple locking mechanisms.

She assumed the building manager had taken care of it, but Traci told her Sam had given her the keys before she went to bring Andy home, with no further explanation as to where it came from.

Andy stumbled to her living room and immediately checked her locks. Her only useable hand was still a bit sore from the cuffs, and the skin underneath the cast was itching and felt all crumbled up, but she managed to go through them all in no time.

A sudden creaky sound behind her sent a shiver through her spine. Not again. Why didn't she check out the room before running to the door? So stupid. What kind of cop was she?

She backed against the door (no time to unlock it and get out), facing her attacker. She could almost feel the hands around her neck from her dream. No more, please. There was no strength left in her to fight back.

"McNally?" His soothing and unexpected voice broke something in her. He got up from her couch, looking at her inquisitively.

Andy couldn't hold back the emotion turmoil any longer. Too much fear, too much desperation, it all came out at once.

Tears were already falling down her cheeks as she clumsily sought support on the wall, sliding down along it to her knees.

"Sam? What are you doing here?"


Sam rushed towards her. Damn. The last thing he wanted was to scare her, yet again.

He had tried to go home, tried to respect her wishes. She wanted to do this alone, fine, she had every right to. The last thing she needed was to feel patronized and weak. Andy knew she could call him, day or night.

But after a very refreshing shower and a nice cool beer while watching some sports on TV, he felt he still couldn't relax.

What if she woke up in the middle of the night and wanted to talk? Of course, she could always call, but would she? Wasn't she way too stubborn for that? No matter what she had experienced, she had never been one to ask for help.

And no matter how much times Andy said she was 'fine', he knew she was most definitely not.

Sam couldn't hide that he felt better himself too, if he was around her. He had almost lost her, and it hadn't fully sunk in yet that she was really safe. It was better to be sure. Her neighborhood was not the best (or the worst) part of town, but was the door he put in early this morning secure enough?

After some internal debate, he drove his truck over to her house. She could send him home or let him in, but he had to try.

Andy was already fast asleep in her bedroom and Nash was just leaving when he arrived, but she had let him in with a smile on her face. She didn't seem surprised to see him at all; Nash just commented on the new door and left.

After a quick peek in her room to see if she was still asleep (the cast really popped out admits her colorful bed sheets), he had positioned himself on the couch.

He could certainly use some sleep in a vertical position anyway.

But then Andy had been there in the living room, now crouched against the wall and crying.

"Nash let me in. I'm sorry, didn't mean to scare ya."

She hid her face in her hands while nodding slightly, shaking from her sobs.

"I'm just…" She didn't finish her sentence, and didn't have to. He understood.

Sam hated seeing her like this. He'd rather chase a perp all through the park or be held at gun point then having a woman cry in front of him. It made him feel so darn helpless, not knowing what to do to solve the problem. Especially if he caused it, though he had to admit probably only part of her tears was his fault.

He kneeled in front of her, putting his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it softly.

"It's okay. You'll be okay."

Her sobbing only intensified, so he instinctively pulled her close to his chest, putting his arms around her while her tears formed a wet spot on his shirt.

Nothing he could think of to say right now would make her feel any better, so he just let her cry until the tears would stop coming.

After she had calmed down a bit, he helped her to the couch and got her a glass of water, which she took with a trembling hand.

"Did you fix my door?"

"Yeah, earlier today." As Andy had refused to go home with him or any of her friends he had to do something useful. The shabby door the building manager had put in was just as crappy as the previous one, so he got a new one; he had to make sure she would be secure.

That's what partners do, right? Right. Partners also come into each other's houses uninvited and fall asleep on their couches, right?

"Thanks." She sounded deflated.

"Don't mention it." He sat down next to her, though carefully minding sitting not too close, giving her space.

The room fell silent for a moment, while she was lost in her thoughts.

"He would have killed me." She wasn't saying it to him so much as just stating a simple fact.

"He would have killed me if you wouldn't have found me," she said as she looked up with big puffy eyes.

"But I did find you." I would always find you. At least I would never stop trying.

She didn't wince when he leaned over to wipe a tear from her cheek with his thumb, keeping his hand on her face as their gaze intensified.

Never before did he want to kiss her more, and never before was it so inappropriate to want to do so.

"Thank you, Sam," she spoke almost in a whisper while he rested his forehead against hers. Neither of them spoke again for a long time, being close to each other was enough.

Andy spoke cautiously. "Why are you really here, Sam?"

She had washed up, and now the red circles on her cheek were blending in with her bruises. Since they both had no inclination to go back to sleep any time soon, he was making coffee. She had offered to do it but seeing she only had one functioning arm, he gladly took over.

Her question took him by surprise, and he had to hide his expression from her by quickly spinning back to the machine.

"I… Eh… Didn't think I'd frighten you like that. Sorry."

Sam felt her hand tugging on his arm, rotating him to face her.

"Sam…" He wasn't going to get out of this easy. He chuckled and grinned at her apologetically.

"Just thought you might wanna talk, or needed a shoulder to cry on, or something."

Andy pondered on that for a moment, narrowing her eyes.

"You know I'm not going anywhere, right? I'm not going to vanish as soon as you let me out of your sight."

"I know." Yes, he knew that, consciously, but then there was that nagging feeling in the back of his head.

"Not that I don't appreciate… This. But it's not like I'm going to let you move in so you can watch over me all the time."

"Getting sick of me already?"

Andy laughed. Not a full hearted laugh yet, but it was wonderful to hear that sound again. She opened a cupboard and took two cups out, one by one.

"Not yet. But you can't keep watching over me 24/7. When is the last time you actually laid down in a regular bed?" She raised her eyebrows to question marks.

Sam kept grinning at her, and nodded to the bedroom door.

"Is that an indecent proposal, McNally?" It actually earned him a disapproving look and a full spirited laugh from Andy.