Hey, hey, hey!

The title of this chapter is Malum Rêve. Malum is Latin for bad and rêve, of course, is French for dream. This chapter also consists of lots of talking, lots of visits, and the word 'maybe'... a lot along with a couple of 'probably's (for reasons you may eventually pick up). And some psychology.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue!
Warning: There's swearing. Like there has been in every other chapter so I'm not sure why I'm posting this now.

It was so beautiful.

There was white and red everywhere. White chairs with red flowers. White pedestals with red bouquets. A white carpet leading up to an altar covered in large calla lilies.

It was so beautiful.

Everyone was there: Traci, in a flowing baby blue strapless dress, Detective Barber standing with her in his uniform. Dov, Chris, and Gail were also there in their uniforms. Oliver, Noelle, even my father. Everyone was there. The sun was shining brightly, making my skin tingle in its warmth. The plants and the grass were a vivid emerald green. I looked down at myself. I was wearing a gorgeous wedding gown - an off-white dress that hugged my body until it flared out from my knees with intricate embroidery and a short train behind me. When I looked back up, I was at the altar and Sam was there. He was in his formal police uniform watching me with a faint smile. When he outstretched a white gloved hand to me, I understood where I was and what I was doing.

And I smiled.

Then in the blink of an eye, the sky was dark gray. As if on cue, everyone raised a gun to their heads and a thunderstorm of 'bangs' filled my ears as everyone fell to the ground one by one until only Sam remained. He pointed the gun directly at my heart.

"Why?" I wailed through my tears.

"Because I want to."

Bang.

My body fell backwards upon the bullet's impact. I screamed as loud as I could, but I was paralyzed and couldn't move. I saw Sam stand over me and finally raise the gun to his own head.

The last thing I saw was my bloodstained white dress before everything faded to black.

My throat was throbbing in pain and I could faintly taste the copper taste from blood. Through the layer of sweat, I felt cold. I sobbed in terror, trying to erase the images from my mind. Kennedy rushed into the room in a panic.

"Are you alright?"

My breathing was extremely staggered which apparently was enough for her to understand.

"Nightmare?"

I wiped away the sweat from my face.

From the small amount of light peeking through the nearly fully closed window, I could tell it was at least late in the morning. Kennedy began wandering around the room, moving things to different places, checking my medical clipboard, opening the window curtains to let the light flood in and pierce my eyes.

"You're partner stopped by earlier. You were still asleep though." My head bobbed up and down, too lost in my thoughts to actually say thank you or verbally acknowledge what she had said.

'He came back.' That was all that mattered to me. He had come back, possibly to sort things out. That was all that mattered.

"Anyways, the doctor will be by in a bit to check on your sling. How was the first sleep?"

When I didn't respond, half because my mind was elsewhere but also because I didn't want to be blunt and rude - sleeping with a sling was hell, she nodded and said, "The first few days are hard. You can't sleep comfortably, you can't do the same things, but eventually you'll be able to cope. Just be happy it's your left arm and not your dominant side."

And just like that, she was gone.

However, within short minutes, the doctor walked in and began bombarding me with questions and observations in the nicest manner you could bombard someone with questions and observations.

"How does the sling feel?"

"How did you sleep with the sling?"

"We're not going to operate on it."

"4 to 8 week recovery."

"You should be out in a few days."

Broken skin tissue.

Exercising the arm.

No lifting.

Back to work.

Etc., etc.

He spoke fast and in doctor terms which left me almost completely clueless. The only thing I could catch clearly was that I could go back to work in about four weeks. Of course, meaning I would be working desks the entire time for at least another three weeks. But it was better than nothing.

"We're extremely backed up so I must get going. Kennedy will take care of you."

This was an untrue statement.

By the time he had left and a nurse revisited me, it was past noon and Kennedy was off shift. Replacing her was a woman who possibly spilled burning hot coffee on herself, stubbed her toe, or was just extremely grouchy.

Or all three.

Though it wasn't really necessary to take it out on patients.

"No, the doctor is busy right now! I can't get him!" She marched out of the room like she was on a rampage.

"Water... not... Ugh." I slumped back into my bed and stared down at my hands. 'I want to be home. I want to be alone without anyone to dampen my already terrible day.'

And then it happened out of nowhere. One of the things I had so desperately tried to avoid.

I could see the blood splatters from the impact of the bullet that hit Pinky's head. I could remember the gruesome feeling of warm thick trickles of blood on my face.

My hand shot up to my mouth. 'Don't throw up. Don't throw up,' I repeated to myself.

Save for the repetitive nightmares I kept having, I thought I had done a good job of forgetting the macabre images of the bank. This was done mainly by focusing on, and in turn, nearly destroying my personal life but it had been efficient up until now. Now I was left with nothing but my thoughts and memories. My worst fear.

I needed another distraction and I needed it soon.

My mind quickly turned to Sam, the biggest distraction I had ever encountered in my life. 'I just get so confused and it feels like I should, or something.' How stupid was I? But then it made sense. Maybe that was why I kept pulling and pushing Sam. Because it kept me distracted from the real problem, the real thing keeping me up at night. Or maybe my problems with Sam were the only ones I could really deal with, the ones I could confront. Maybe that was why I continued to blow whatever our relationship was to pieces. It was easier than dealing with everything else. Maybe.

'Please, just let us go!'

'Keep her, and let us go.'

'I don't want to die!'

'Stop, just stop talking!'

'She's going to get us killed.'

'Get up! Get up and do something!'

Quick shuffles of footsteps came towards the door. When I looked up, Traci and Dov stood just outside my room.

"Oh my god, you're okay!" Traci shouted as she rushed in. Her arms were filled with already beginning to wilt flowers while Dov's hands were filled with various shaped balloons.

"Sorry the flowers are already dying. Boy-genius here forgot to put them in water last night. We came here but visiting hours were over. How are you?" Traci said in one breath as she set the flowers down and hugged me, albeit feebly.

Dov also ran over and gave me a hug.

"Thank god you're okay. We were all so worried. At first we had no idea who was in there. How bad were you hit? I see you're bearing the stylish sling. Can I sign it later?" Dov asked.

I let out a small, somewhat faked laugh. "You think watching was terrifying...," I trailed off.

"Has Luke visited yet?" Traci asked. I suddenly felt very bitter. He hadn't. At all. I hadn't even seen him at the bank either. 'He knows I'm in the hospital, right?' I shook my head no.

Dov then asked, "Has Swarek? Man, he was a mess yesterday."

'He still is.' But I was intrigued as to what Dov meant so I asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Chris told me that he saw him kick a squad car. I heard he almost went in, gun drawn. I also heard that he interrogated the guy in an extremely violent manner. I think that one is a rumor though. But I was waiting outside beside him for a bit. He looked sick and angry and upset all at the same time. I never imagined what a helpless Sam Swarek would look like, but yesterday I saw it. It was terrible and it made me uncomfortable, you know? There's just certain people that you know when they're worried or sad or scared, there's something extremely bad going down."

"We were all scared. I'm so relieved you're okay," Traci added in agreement despite the confused look on her face.

"When I heard gunshots. That was so scary," Dov kept going. "Oh and we brought these. There's a birthday one, but I thought the bear was pretty cute."

I told him thanks as he tied the balloons to the handle of the mini closet in the room. Traci sat down in the chair and Dov came over beside her. They told me about what was going on at 15. Boyko was forced to stay in his position as Staff Sergent until the entire matter was solved. Surely, he'd have my ass for that, but in reality I didn't care if he did.

"So what happened?" Dov asked.

Before I could reply he abruptly added, "No. Never mind. Forget I asked. That's a terrible question. You must be so sick of people asking that. Uh... how have you been? No. No, that's a worse question. Uh..."

"Dov, maybe you should get coffee. It's down the hall in the cafeteria. Grab me one, okay?" Traci said with a fake, wide smile. I knew Dov was trying. Traci knew Dov was trying. Dov knew Dov was trying. But we all also knew that it wasn't working.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll go get that..." Dov trailed off.

Traci and I waited until Dov left the room before talking. I needed to talk to Traci. She was the only person I could talk to, that I could spill to and would completely understand me.

'I need to tell her about everything. About the bank, about Luke, about Sam. Especially about Sam. I can't take it anymore and I can't bottle it up any longer.'

I knew I had to tell her.

However, I had hoped it would be in a more eloquent manner...

"What's u-"

"I almost slept with Sam!" I blurted. 'Smooth, Andy. Smooth.'

Her jaw dropped open as she lowered herself on to the bed. "What?" There was a distinct but smothered excitement in her voice.

"I said almost. Just hear me out. On the night of the blackout wh- when I..." I paused, running my hand over my face. 'Deep breath.'

"Luke and I were supposed to spend the night together but he left me to work on the case at the Rec center looking for more bodies. It really tore me up and it really pissed me off. So, I spent the night crying alone at my house. And I know, 'you should have called me,' but you were with Leo and I didn't want to tear you away from him. And I wasn't thinking straight that night. Or maybe I was. Probably not."

I realized I was rambling but it steered my attention away from the awkwardness that I would soon be sharing with someone else for the first time.

"Anyways, I don't know what happened because suddenly I found myself at Sam's house and then suddenly I was in his bedroom and it was like, like... Like everything was spinning and so unreal."

There was a long pause before Traci said anything. That was one of the many things I loved about Traci - she knew when to listen and she knew when to talk.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, we just kissed... a lot. And then the power came back on and then Luke called and then it was like I realized what was happening and I felt guilty and terrible and sad and, and angry and every other emotion because I fucked things up. I fucked things up with my training officer and my partner and then I got myself locked in a bank with a bomb which just made things a million times worse, and- dear God." Break down number one. Now-a-days, it seemed impossible to discuss any portion of my life without breaking down in tears mid-story.

Traci rubbed my back soothingly. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay. Everything else will work out eventually."

"No, Traci. I don't think it will. I was supposed to be partnered with Sam yesterday but he switched me off to some other cop. That's how screwed up things are. And then I nearly died. And Traci I was so scared."

"I know, I know you were. We were all scared for you. But you're okay," she repeated as she hugged me. 'Falling apart at the seams. That's what this is.'

"The whole time I was in there, I just-... And then I messed things up even more last night." I wiped away the now shockingly cold tears that were barely sliding down my jaw line.

"Why don't I even think straight around him?" I asked Traci honestly and wholeheartedly, like she would have the answer for me.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"We- I, I kissed him again, Traci! That's twice! I don't know why and I don't know how but it happened and it keeps screwing everything up more. And he told me not worry about it and I yelled at him because I can't not worry about it and he asked me why I kiss him and I gave him some utter bullshit answer that was based around me being stupid and in denial about something, probably."

I really needed to start making more sense but I was far too flustered to make sense.

"And I asked him why he kisses me back and he told me because he wants to and then he left..." I trailed off. My voice had gone from hyper and manic to slow and depressive, tired. Because I was tired.

"I can't handle this anymore, Trace. I can't handle everything spinning out of control. I can't."

Traci wrapped her arms around me again. "It'll be okay. Have you talked to Sam since?"

"No, but apparently he came here this morning but I was asleep. He'll probably visit tonight. Or, I don't know anymore. What do I do Traci?"

"Listen to me, Andy. When you see him, you're going to work this out. But in the mean time, you need to stop beating yourself up over everything. You've been through hell with the blackout, the bank, with Sam-"

"My training officer!" I threw in as an acrid reminder.

"Andy, stop it. Stop doing this to yourself. You need to talk to him. And you need to stop tormenting yourself. You're in the hospital after getting shot. You need to focus on healing and getting better. Please, just focus on yourself. You need to get better. You're no good in a state of mind like this. I know you want to fix things right now because I know you Andy, but I also know that you're tearing yourself to shreds over everything you've done, good or bad. I know you, Andy. You can fix things once you pull yourself together and get back up on your feet."

More tears cascaded down my face. Traci knew me better than I think I knew myself which in itself is a worrying thought. I was beginning to think that I didn't know myself at all. That I was living some kind of lie; fake it 'til you make it.

"Thank you, Traci." A whisper filled with gratitude and sincerity.

As if on some cue, Dov walked in with two coffees in his hand. He handed one to Traci and then talked about the cafeteria food he saw while getting the coffee. Both him and Traci started conversing about the current mess that was 15 Division. People were supposedly "running around like chickens with their heads cut off" according to Dov. Chris was still shaken up. Gail, who apparently hadn't really shown it at the time, was also fairly rattled.

"Oliver seems down too," Dov said.

"That's probably because he's spending all of his time trying to cheer up his best friend," Traci muttered under her breath to Dov and Dov alone. They turned away from each other and looked at me simultaneously. Traci's eyes shot at me and she quickly diverted the conversation elsewhere.

"I don't know how you did it. But you did a really good job. I don't know what I would have done if something worse had happened to you," she blabbered.

With an awkward nod, I stared at Traci, who fully understood my desperate and pleading look. She stood up and said, "Anyway, we should probably be on our way to the barn, actually. We'll be back later probably. I will, at least."

I smiled as widely as I could at them as they said their last 'glad you're okay's, 'get better's, and 'goodbye's. Traci walked out of the room and Dov followed her but I stopped him.

"How much did you hear?"

He whirled around looking like a deer in the headlights. "What?"

"How much did you hear?" I repeated.

He sighed, head dropping a bit. "Nothing. I mean, honestly, I can gather and draw conclusions, but I heard 'slept with him' and then did a lap around the third floor of the hospital. I swear. Scouts honor." He said as he held up three fingers.

With a nod, I replied, "I know. Besides, I trust you."

He smiled and turned to leave but froze on spot. After slight hesitation, he turned to me and said, "Hey McNally. You saved all those people's lives. I know you're probably feeling hard on yourself, but you did an amazing job. Just thought you should know."

With that, he smiled again and left.

For the next while I tried to find a way to efficiently kill time. I counted tiles. I sang songs in my head. I raided my room. I even walked around the hospital which pissed Gretchen the nurse off probably even more than she already appeared to be. She yelled, forced me back into my bed, dropped a tray of food on my lap and walked away, slamming the door shut.

It had to have been at least a solid fifteen minutes before my staredown with hospital food came to a stop. The door opened and I sat in shock. My dad took a cautious step into the hospital room.

"Oh, Andy. You're okay! I was so worried. Where were you hit?"

It took me a moment to respond. "My shoulder... Dad. What? How did you...?"

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. They left messages on the phone. I didn't get them because, well... you know." I did know. I knew it the moment he walked in, which is why I was still in shock. He was likely out cold when he received those calls. "Sam came by."

And then I swore I felt my heart break slightly.

"Oh?" I said with a quivering lip that I tried desperately to hide.

"He woke me up, told me what happened. If he hadn't stopped by, I probably wouldn't have even known yet. I'm so sorry, Andy. It made me realize something. Which is why I'm going to a meeting today. What if you weren't just injured, and Sam hadn't come by, I wouldn't have even known what happened to my little girl!"

I swallowed guiltily. "Uhm, when? When did he show up?" I squeaked.

"This morning. Andy, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

With a numb nod, I replied, "I know, dad. I know."

"I can't believe- how did this happen?" he inquired. As much as I loved my dad and as much as I appreciated him being with me, I truly couldn't stand to tell this story again.

I looked down at my hands and noted how odd it was that my left hand was freezing cold but my right hand was not. "I don't really want to talk about it right now, dad. I don't think I can."

He nodded and understood completely which I was grateful for. He deviated the conversation elsewhere by asking me when I would get the sling off. We planned to go for lunch next week. He told me about the first time he was shot. Which apparently was in the thigh, but I would have been too young to actually remember. He then told me countless stories from my childhood; my first day of school, the one and only time I went to a zoo, about the blue dress that I used to always wear. Part of me had forgotten what it was like spending time with my dad when he was sober. I had missed it. I missed not feeling anger discontentment. I really hoped that he would stick to meetings, that the bank fiasco and my nearly dying had woken him up and pushed him.

'Sometimes all you need is that push.'

I had spent a few hours with my dad before he left, promising me he'd tell me how the meeting went tomorrow. After that, I tried to take a nap but Gretchen woke me up because it was important for her to know if "I was feeling pain" while I was trying to sleep.

A while later Traci returned after her shift was over. Upon my request, we avoided the topic of Sam. Instead she gave me a picture that Leo drew, though neither of us were sure on what the drawing was of. Nevertheless, I appreciated it. She told me about the everyday lunatics she had encountered while on shift. Such stories included a man lighting a single piece of grass on fire, putting it out and repeating. Twenty minutes later, she left and I forced myself to try and sleep.

But sleep I did not.

After another walk around the hospital, in a desperate attempt to find some time killing entertainment, I grabbed a handful of self-help pamphlets. When I returned to my room, I sat down and tossed the serious and not entertaining ones onto the floor, because I was lazy and didn't care but also because it was my revenge on Gretchen.

After educating myself on ADD/ADHD, perfectionism, phobias I tried to fall back asleep again. 'With all that pleasant stuff in my head, it'll be impossible to sleep now... That was well thought out.' I thought sarcastically.

After about twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling in the darkness, the door slowly creaked open, blaring in the silence. I raised my head enough to see a silhouette in the bright light that painfully stabbed my eyes. I needed more pain medication...

"You awake, McNally?"

I propped myself up with my right arm. Sam hesitantly walked into the room but my eyes were too unadjusted to the new light exposed to them to clearly see his face. To see if he was tired or mad or frustrated. "How did you get in here? It's past twelve o'clock." He sat down beside me on the bed as per usual, but this time he sat perpendicular to me, making sure my eyes didn't meet his. 'Bad sign.' The light his the profile of his face enough for me to see him grin.

"Flashed the badge. That nurse, Kennedy, she let me in. I think she likes me."

I laughed, even though it came out more as a scoff. "You and nurses...," I trailed off.

"It was once!" he said, slightly outraged, but there was still a grin on his face. "I can't help it if nurses fall for me. A lot of women-" My eyes shot up at his which were staring back at me. He nodded, internally dismissing the topic, and gazed back towards the wall.

'It's now or never. Man up, McNally!' I sat up and cleared my throat quietly.

"Sam, I think we need to talk. Like, really talk." He stared opening his mouth to reply and based on the grin that remained on his face, it wasn't the type of response I was looking for. "And don't say that we are talking because you know that's not what I mean."

He shifted to face me but he kept his gaze downwards. 'Now we're getting somewhere.' "No, I know, Andy. I know. It's just, I don't think I can-"

"Remember, the last time we put off talking, I ended up in bank strapped to a bomb," I snapped.

His eyes shot up at me with a fiery rage that I was almost certain was going to burn through my skin. "Jesus Christ, Andy! You think I don't know that? You don't think the fact that I abandoned my partner has been plaguing me every waking moment since? Because it has."

Our eyes locked, scrutinizing each other until the intensity was too much for me to keep up. I let my eyes fall back onto the bed.

"Are you ever going to let me say what I have to say?" he asked. "This is the reason I don't think I can talk everything out right now, Andy. You're lying in a hospital bed because I left you. Because I am not in the right mindset to talk about this. It's not because I don't care, Andy. I do care. More than I think you know. It's because I care that I can't sit here with you in a hospital talking about something so important because I know I'll blow up or say the wrong thing and I don't want to risk that. I don't want to risk..." He hesitated and choked over the right words.

"I don't want to risk losing you, Andy."

'Damn it! Stop crying, McNally!' In the back of my mind, I pondered whether or not a person could physically run out of tears to cry. But it didn't matter because I certainly hadn't as I sat there, tears streaming down my face.

Traci was right.

Sam was right.

'You're the one who's wrong here.'

My head bobbled up and down as I pursed my lips, trying to prevent, or at least stall, another full blown break down. Then I leaned forward, wrapped my arm around him, and hugged him. Like he was the only thing keeping me alive. Like he was the only thing keeping me from fading into oblivion.

I wanted to reciprocate his words, but I couldn't speak. With his arms around me, I just cried into my greatest source of comfort I'd had in the past two weeks until I eventually fell asleep.

There was white and red everywhere. White chairs with red flowers. White pedestals with red bouquets. A white carpet leading up to an altar covered in large calla lilies.

It was so beautiful.

'Not again...'

Obviously, Andy has still got some denial going on, some displacement/reactive displacement (I'm forgetting psychology terms).

So much talking! So much talking in that chapter. I don't like talking. I like thoughts and actions. Oh well. This was only half of the original chapter 10. I decided to split it into two about half way through but it still ended up pretty long. Sorry it took so long. School. Being utterly upset and depressed about the episode The One That Got Away... You know how it is.

If you see any mistakes, please point them out so I can fix them! Greatly appreciated.

RxR
MichaellaLoe