The expression that entered the girl's eyes as he spoke was so reminiscent of Sarah that Sam feared he wouldn't be able to handle what came next. Each one of these young women had gone through the same hell his sister had and here he was telling them they had survived the worst of it… when earlier tonight he'd come face to face with the battle his sister was still waging twenty-three years after her attack.

But he refused to kill the small glimmer of hope looking back at him in the big brown eyes of the young stranger facing him. So if that meant he had to tough it out and sweat bullets while they recalled the horror of their assault, well that's just what he'd do. He could always get drunk afterwards…

"You really mean that."

The surprised tone in which she said that told Sam a lot: there had probably been a parade of people trying to make her see that what had happened to her had not been her fault, that she'd been an innocent victim of a vicious crime. All things family members and well-meaning people were fond of saying never realizing they were just taking a little bit more power from her every time they said it.

"Of course I do. One thing you have to know about me is I always say what I mean, and mean what I say," Sam declared to the entire group, his eyes traveling the length of the circle. He thought he imagined a muted choking sound only to realize – when his eyes landed on her – that Andy had indeed made the sound.

She's definitely still pissed at me.

Now was not the time or place to dwell on that even if he'd been so inclined, which he just wasn't tonight. Andy McNally and their fitful relationship – if one could even qualify what they had as a relationship – would just have to wait because he'd had about all the drama he could endure for a day… and the hardest part still loomed ahead.

His stomach roiling in protest at the thought, Sam let his gaze wander over the last half of the circle and searched Lindsay's eyes. He'd half expected her to show some kind of professional interest at the way he'd handled the situation and he'd been ready to downplay it with a wink. Easy and breezy, a way to cut the mounting tension in his body… except her eyes held nothing resembling professionalism, or interest for that matter. She looked shell-shocked and her brilliant blue eyes held shadows that Sam hadn't noticed during any of their previous conversations.

Rising from his crouching position, Sam took an involuntary step toward her only to change course when she shook her head in denial. He could feel Andy's stare bore into him as he took his seat but she mercifully kept her comments to herself.

Was he doomed to fall under the charm of women who didn't want him? He didn't think asking for some sense of normalcy in his life was that big a deal. Okay, so he probably wouldn't know the first thing about living a normal life. Still, he was a moderately intelligent guy so figuring it out should be easy.

Just admit it Swarek: you don't really want Lindsay Drake, you're just smarting over McNally's continual rejection and you're trying to make her jealous.

There was some truth to that. He was glad to see Andy fuming at every overture he made towards Lindsay and he sure as hell was still pissed that she continually treated him like yesterday's trash. But he couldn't honestly say his interest in the leggy blonde was only to force Andy's hand… What a bloody mess.

"Alright," Lindsay said breaking into his thoughts, "with that out of the way, we'll just start with a quick introduction so Officers Swarek and McNally don't have to say 'Hey you with the red shirt' or 'Yeah you with the purple hair'. You can just state your name and age unless you feel ready to share your story."

"I thought you said you'd get the ball rolling Ms. D?" Kerry said before blowing a bubble with her chewing gum.

"I will unless someone wants to go forward first. And would you mind not doing that?"

"What, that?" Kerry asked, blowing another bubble.

"Yes, that Kerry; it's distracting for one thing, it's loud, and some of us are a little jumpy at unexpected noises," Lindsay explained calmly but firmly.

Kerry heaved an exaggerated sigh, but Sam saw she still complied with Lindsay's rule. "I might as well go first since Ms. D already said my name. I'm Kerry Morgan and I'm almost sixteen."

"If you consider 9 months being almost there," snickered the next seat's occupant. Sam recognized the girl who'd made the various cop remarks earlier.

"Shut up geezer," Kerry mouthed back.

"Girls, that's enough…" There was no mistaking the subtle warning in Lindsay's warm tone and both teenagers were smart enough to take notice and stop their bickering.

"I'm Beth and I'm nineteen," said the girl Kerry had called 'Geezer'. Sam surmised she'd gotten the nickname because she was one of the eldest of the group.

"I'm Kris and I'm seventeen," said the petite blonde in the next seat.

"Am I the only one with a last name or what?" Kerry asked out of nowhere.

Sam fought back a grin and focused on the floor until he had it back under control but the long-suffering look in Lindsay's eyes when he looked up again reduced all his efforts to nothing and he coughed to hide his laugh.

"I'm Cathy Kormick and I just turned eighteen," said the next girl in the circle. "My mom and I decided to come here after my stepfather hit us one time too many…"

"Is your mother here tonight?" Lindsay asked with a touch of concern.

Cathy nodded. "Yeah, we decided not to participate in the same groups because there were things I didn't feel right saying in front of her, and there are things she doesn't want me to hear – because apparently she doesn't think I know all he did to her."

"Maybe because you don't know all of it," Beth said with a lot more insight than Sam would have thought her capable. "I always made sure people never knew just how bad it really got. It was bad enough they even had an idea of what was happening…"

That statement bothered Sam even though he heard it more often than he cared for in his line of work – or maybe it bothered him because he heard it so often. If he stopped to wonder how many broken lives could have been spared if that wall of shame hadn't been there to protect the abuser, he would probably turn to the bottle as surely as Tommy McNally had.

"Are you okay Sam?"

Of course, Andy would pick that moment to break her obstinate silence and ask if he was okay. The woman had a knack for picking the worst moments to ask her questions! It was on the tip of his tongue to lie and say everything was perfect but he knew she wouldn't buy it because she knew about Sarah.

"I'll be better the moment I get out of here," he answered caustically, making sure to keep his voice low enough for her ears only.

Andy nodded and diverted her attention back to the presentations just in time to see all eyes fall on her. Apparently, they expected her to decline her identity as well. "I'm Officer Andy McNally and I'm 24 and this is my first year on the force."

"So miss rookie, you're probably sitting there thinking we're pretty stupid to have put up with abuse, seeing as you're a woman cop and all," Beth glowered.

"No not at all. I think you're very brave to have gotten yourselves out of there. Just like I think it takes a lot of guts to admit you need someone."

"No need to talk down to us," Kerry muttered.

"I wasn't," Andy stammered, looking to Sam for help.

"You ladies seem to think my partner had a rosy life and that, because she's a cop at the tender age of 24, she can't relate to you." Sam enunciated each world slowly, looking at Beth and Kerry alternatively. "Trust me when I say that if someone in this room can relate, it's probably her. She may not have grown up with a violent father, but she had her own set of challenges. And she knows the value of asking for help because she did that when she shot and killed someone in the exercise of her functions."

Sam felt the weight of Lindsay's eyes on him but kept his attention on both teenagers until he saw the aggression fade from their stance and their eyes shifted away from his. Only then did he turn his head to see her studying him and Andy carefully. He'd probably revealed too much with his little spiel, but at least Andy was safe from further attacks.

"What about you? Have you ever asked for help?" came tentatively from the girl Sam had called a survivor – what had Lindsay called her already? Whitney?

"Yeah, I've asked for help though probably not as often as I should have," Sam acknowledged with a snicker. "But that's because when I joined, things were a little different. And really, it wasn't all that long ago – just eight years – but you didn't get the luxury to talk to a shrink after a particularly gruesome day like we do now."

"Like you ever do," Andy chimed in. "I'm bad-ass Swarek, I don't need to waste my time lying down on a couch," she added in a mock gravelly voice that was supposed to represent him.

Sam stretched his legs in front of him and crossed his feet at the ankle in a relaxed pose belied by his fiery expression. "Next time, remind me to let you fight your own battles McNally."

"Did I hit a nerve?" she asked sweetly.

The look Sam aimed at her promised retribution and Andy knew she'd pay in spades, but at least when Sam was mad at her, he wasn't worrying about hearing horror stories. With any luck, he'd thank her when all was said and done.

"Are you guys like…together-together?"

The question, asked very quietly by the girl sitting two seats to his left, hit Sam just as hard as a fist to his solar plexus. He fought to keep his relaxed attitude in place, but inside his mind was whirling with questions: would she have asked that question of any male/female partners or was it very specifically about him and Andy? Was the situation getting so out of hand that he could no longer hide his feelings for his rookie, even from traumatized teenagers?

"No we're not; why would you ask that?" Andy's curiosity sounded so genuine that Sam wondered if she really could be this oblivious – or that good of an actor.

"It's because of the way you bicker like an old married couple, right Val?" a second teen chimed in when the first girl – Val apparently – didn't answer.

"Me I would have said it was because of the way they keep looking at each other when they don't think anyone can see," Cathy interjected with her own theory.

Sam didn't like either options because it confirmed his sinking suspicion that they had indeed been targeted by the innocent-sounding question. It wouldn't be long before everyone else started questioning their relationship; and Best would have questions of his own…

No. Sam refused to let that happen – he wouldn't let a stain appear on Andy's jacket – so that left him with only one solution: he had to ask to be partnered with someone else the minute they got back to the barn.

"Okay girls, let's get back on track here," Lindsay jumped in when other theories started to pop up around the circle. "Megan, I believe it was your turn," she prompted the teen sitting beside Sam.

The girl – Megan Sam repeated mentally in order to remember the name and associate it with the face – had long dark blonde hair, but he couldn't tell the color of her eyes from his position since she wasn't looking directly at him.

"I'm Megan Foxx – and you can all forget the jokes, I think I heard them all already. I'm seventeen and a senior in high school."

The certitude came out of nowhere, but Sam already knew her story would include rape and comments made by her attacker about her namesake – the hot American actress with the alluring figure and sexy attitude. He looked at Lindsay for added confirmation but her attention was on the young girl who'd asked about his and Andy's relationship, prompting Sam to look at her too.

"I'm Valentina but everyone calls me Val . I'm fourteen years old and I'm homeschooled." She looked at the floor the entire time she spoke and her voice was just as shy now as it had been earlier.

There were only two girls left.

"My name is Narine Gazanian and I'm sixteen years old."

"And my name is Whitney Stone. I'm seventeen but will be eighteen in three months."

Sam tensed in his chair, not knowing exactly what to expect next. Were the girls just expected to talk about their situation every time they met or was this more of a 'say it as you feel it' kind of group?

"Sam, you're frowning and that just makes you look mean," Andy whispered in his ear. "So may I suggest you tone down the glower before you scare them all into hiding?"

She had a point. Just like Sarah needed him to alter his personality around her, so did those girls. At least he had years of practice at this – not that practice ever made it any easier on him. Exhaling slowly, Sam centered himself and forced a blank expression on his face.

"Well now it's time for me to own up to my words," Lindsay said casually with a smile on her lips, but Sam noticed the tensed set of her shoulders and wondered at it. Her eyes settled on him.

Puzzled and more than a little intrigued, Sam leaned forward in his chair, all his senses focused on Lindsay. When she wet her lips, he knew it wasn't a come-on but rather because her mouth had gone dry. He saw her wipe her hands on her pant legs nervously, but her face remained as calm and open as any other time she talked to her group.

"My name is Lindsay Drake and I'm twenty-four. I'm still relatively new to – I've only been here two years – but I grew up in Toronto." She looked at Kris and Val and grinned. "I like it here so I'm not going anywhere any time soon, you girls can stop worrying about that."

The grin faded and she turned serious again. "I didn't grow up with my nose in books to get a psych degree so I could counsel victims of violence one day. If anything, it's a small wonder I got that degree at all…"

"Why's that Ms. D?" Sam was thankful Kerry asked the question for him.

"Because by the time I was Valentina's age, I had already been living on the street for six months," Lindsay admitted quietly, her eyes intent on Sam. "You see girls I know exactly where each and every one of you comes from, because I've been there myself. I grew up with a drug-addicted mother who overdosed when I was eight and my father… let's just say he was never a gentle man."

Sam didn't want to know. He didn't want to hear in just how many ways her father had failed to be gentle with her, but the expression in her eyes told him anyways.

Son of a bitch…

"I finally had enough of home and I left even though I had nowhere to go. I was young and stupid enough to think I'd already seen hell so being on my own would be a piece of cake. I kept on thinking that for about one more week, and then winter came."

A far-away expression entered her eyes and Sam knew she was back there, a cold and lonely thirteen-year-old on the mean streets of Toronto…trying her best to survive. He already knew she hadn't gone back to her father, so where had she gone?

"I had to learn quickly but once I figured out where the good spots to get food were and where the buildings provided better shelter against the wind, snow and rain… well it got better. Except I was lonely and after a year of this life, I figured I'd give home another shot and that my dad would have seen the error of his ways and welcome me back with open arms."

"But he didn't huh?" Whitney asked softly.

"Oh, I bet he took her back – with more than just open arms," Beth said harshly.

"You're both wrong, and you're both right at the same time. He took me back – not without calling me a dirty little slut first – and for a while things were almost bearable. He wasn't touching me anymore at least."

"So what changed?" Megan enquired with a quiver in her voice.

"My body," Lindsay stated matter-of-factly. "I was fifteen by then and my dad and his drinking buddies really took notice." There was a small catch in her voice and Sam found himself wanting to go back in time and bash her father's head in.

"Oh God, Ms. D… Did he, did they?" Kerry choked out for once not as loud. Lindsay nodded, unaware or uncaring of the silent tears tracking down her cheeks.

He couldn't do this. There was no way he could sit stoically while she recalled the way her dad… Shit! He couldn't even think the whole sentence without wanting to throw up.

"Tell me the bastard's name," Sam growled between clenched teeth. He hadn't known he was about to ask.

Lindsay smiled through her tears. "What's that gonna change Sam?"

"What's that..." Sam realized he was shouting and had to rein in his anger before continuing. "What's that gonna change, Linds? Is that what you want your girls to get out of your story?"

He knew he'd hit the mark with his question but got no pleasure out of seeing her wince. He'd thought her too young and innocent to be a counsellor here… what he wouldn't give to have been right about that now.

"If I tell you his name, you have to promise you won't touch him," Lindsay said in a hushed voice Sam had to strain to hear.

"You can't be protecting that guy, Lindsay. Did you even report what he did to you?" He didn't need her answer because it was all there in the way she suddenly avoided his eyes and in her silence.

Sam stood and walked purposefully to the opposite side of the circle, aware all eyes were on him. He wanted to shake Lindsay so badly he shook with it, but he only jammed his fists in his pockets and stopped a foot away from her seat.

"Why Lindsay? Why won't you tell me his name?"

"Because you can't touch him, no one can."

"Try me…"

Lindsay finally looked at him. "Martin Drake. My father's name is Martin and he works for…"

"Anton Hill," Sam finished for her.