So, I understand people wouldn't be so happy with the sad ending because it was such a fun story. I had him die because I hate happy stories, and I knew NO ONE wanted me to kill him. That's why I did it though… because no one wanted me to. I also think happy endings are for Disney. I don't write happy endings XD But to make sure people have their choice of ending, I'm giving you this one you whiney bastards!

I kid, you know I love you guys! ;D

I genuinely hate this ending. It's not right.

When I see people who are perfect together in shoes such as Andy and Sam, I have the urge to write about them dying. Because it's more moving that way. But I digress. It's not to please myself, but the readers.

Raymond Chandler once said "Don't write something you don't like… and if you do like it, don't take anyone's advice on changing it. They just don't know."

But again, it's about pleasing you I suppose. Which is why, against my better judgment and morals as an author, I'm writing an alternate ending.

Let's try this again. The beginning is the same, but the ending is different.

Andy, with Sam's gun tight in her sweaty hands, ran down the echoing halls. Nosey neighbors flooded the narrow way, the screams startling the entire floor. She grabbed the woman who lived next door, alerting her to call nine one-one and request and ambulance as fast as she could manage. The woman complied in a rush, hanging up the phone and evacuating the level. Andy was angry that the woman couldn't have dialed faster or spoken without slurring her speech. Yet, instead of punching out the neighbor folk, she decided to save her energy as to whatever was inside her apartment.

Time seemed to slow down as she ran down the hall, pushing past the panicking tenants. Her own breath echoed in her ears, the sound of Sam groaning and screaming was the only thing she could hear. No one else mattered to Andy as she pushed the metal door to her apartment open. The door hit the wall with a loud metal slam. Andy slid against the cold tile in her shoes, grabbing the wall to brace herself. From this kitchen's open concept doors, the sight was very clear and almost made her crumble within herself.

Luke stood, knife in one hand and gun in the other. The knife was embedded deep into Sam's left shoulder so deep that only the handle was showing. Andy could barely watch as blood spurted from the wound as if they were in a cheap budget horror film. Sam gripped Luke's assaulting arm, but he was too weak for the tall detective. Luke, knowing full well to never remove a weapon from a wound, ripped the knife down the shoulder ligaments, and then pulled with all his might removing the knife with a wet popping noise. Sam gasped in excruciating pain as he fell to the floor, his blood staining the pristine white tile. Luke wasn't quite finished, placing the gun to Sam's middle chest and squeezing the trigger. The smell of gunpowder was so strong, Andy could barely think straight.

She felt a sudden pent up bottle of rage explode with the dark corners of her brain as he turned to her with a lopsided, twisted grin. He dropped the gun and gripped the knife tighter, taking a step towards her with open and blood stained arms. She held up the gun and, without hesitation, landed a bullet that went in one eye socket and out the back of his skull. Luke collapsed in silence, his once alive body becoming an inanimate object upon the cutting room floor. Luke's and Sam's blood collided in a tango of gore and tragedy. Andy would never admit the small sense of satisfaction as the light left his single eye or how his last breath sounded like a strained wheeze in a vain attempt to keep living.

She stepped through the pooling blood in a panic, a lake's worth of blood collecting within her shoes. She practically fell to Sam's side, not caring she was bathing in the blood. Andy could care less as it soaked through her jeans and shirt, for the dark haired man lying upon her floor was the only thing that would ever matter that much to her. She took her Sam's sweater, which he had graciously given her earlier, and pressed it against the spitting wounds. His already pale features got worse with every second. Sam turned to white, then to blue without warning. Andy felt Sam's once very still hand twitch and tighten around her own, as if he was sensing her loving presence right by his side. A smile took over for a moment, a hope for a new day upon the horizon.

Andy kissed him, only having a brief moment when she felt him kiss back. His body was limp once more just as the medics were rushing into the apartment with a stretcher and police close behind. The entire night from then on was a blur for Andy. The ride to the hospital and seeing Sam entwined in the mass of cords and equipment, talking to the police, and sitting beside Sam's bed. The police telling her that Luke was deceased, and the way Sam's heart monitor scared her as it slowed with every few minutes. It was a messy, black and red blur.

Andy continued to sit by his side until the doctor's told her she must leave.

"He'll be released tomorrow, depending on his condition. We got the bullet removed, and although a lot of blood was lost, it looked like more in your home because of the other dead body." The doctor's voice was metallic, and uncaring. Andy merely nodded while palming Sam's key ring. She drove his precious truck with the touchy breaks all the way to his home, where she fell into an uneasy sleep entwined in his blankets.

She awoke the next morning, the day's orange light beating against her eyes through the blinds. She groaned as she smelt herself, not pleased with the results. She could have showered, but Andy merely threw on some of Sam's cologne to the really bad parts of her body, grabbed a shirt of his to throw on, and sat upon his couch. Andy flicked the morning television channels, nothing quite interesting enough to distract her from thoughts of an injured Sam Swarek. She sat in her own silence, closing her eyes and tried to use her will to make same better. She jumped, feeling a vibration from her pocket. Upon the LCD, she saw Sam's number with the little heart beside his contact name.

"You awake?"

"Just woke up. U okay?"

"Getting released now, and I need you to come pick me up. You too lazy to write 'you'? ;P"

"Well, atlst I dun typ lyk dis :) I'll be right there."

Andy withheld the urge to speed down the roads of Toronto, pulling up the hospital and seeing Sam sitting quietly in a wheelchair. Andy took his hand softly, helping him into the passenger seat. She began to drive, a simple smile upon her.

"Thank god for Canadian health care, eh?" Sam laughed, looking at his wounded arm sitting within a blue sling. Andy giggled in response, her eyes dead on the road.

" Andy…" Sam cut through the silence with a light tone of voice. As if he sucked in helium. There was a certain hop in his pitch that made her curious.

"Yeah?" Andy retorted, eyeing him for a moment before returning her eyes in front of her.

"You were really good out there. You called the hambulance for me all by yourself!" Sam's smile widened, turning to face her.

"Shut the hell up! I'm not five." Andy made an obscene face that caused Sam to snort loudly.

"Sure you're not. So… what I was trying to say this morning before Oliver ruined our fun. You, Andy, are always in my head. Every time I look at you I get these pains in my chest and I know it's your fault. Andy McNally, I'm in love with you and I'm sure I always have been."

"Took you long enough," Andy threw an exasperated arm in the air with a smirk ", and I love you to, sweetie."

Suddenly, all was right in their little piece of forever.

Happy now?

xoxoPN