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A Sam/Andy fic.

Chapter Ten.

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Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Rookie Blue.

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A/N: Thanks for the great reviews, so far, guys! You rock!

I'll respond to some reviews here:

nightfog: I was going to have him wait, but they're gonna be in there for a while - without giving too much away - so I decided to have him just watch them for a minute, and then leave. Thanks for the review!

anamarya: It's good that you're liking Dana, I wanted her to be a more sympathetic character than her mother. Thanks for the review!

alicia: Alright, I almost had to beg you to send me a link for the discussion board ... but I found it. Thanks so much for the tip, I pretty much haven't stopped smiling since. Thanks for the review!

oceangirl101: Thanks for pointing out the typo, it has been fixed! And thanks for the review!

Everyone else: Thanks for the amazing reviews, you guys are my inspiration!

Alrighty, that's enough out of me, let's get on with the story!

I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it.

As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!

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The two of them made their way through the hospital, not really talking until they reached the cafeteria.

"I promised him I'd come back up in fifteen minutes," Dana told Andy, while they found a seat.

Andy nodded her head, not needing to ask who she was referring to. "I won't keep you long, then."

Dana looked down at her hands, which were linked around the cup of coffee in her hands.

"Aren't you a little young to be drinking that stuff?" Andy asked her, while sipping on her own concoction.

Dana shrugged. "It keeps me awake. Sometimes ... it's just better to not have to sleep."

Andy sighed slowly, breathing through her nose. She couldn't fight this connection that she felt towards the younger girl, but she also didn't want to get attached, either. As soon as this ordeal with Bobby was over, she wasn't sure that she would ever see any of them again. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Dana tilted her head, staring at Andy.

"Yeah, I figured," Andy replied. "Look, I know that really want me to do this, but I haven't made up my mind yet. I never expected to even be a match to his genetic type."

Dana nodded her head. "But you are. You are a match, the closest we've been able to find."

Andy opened her mouth to respond, but a beeping from Dana's hip cut her off. She watched her grab at her side hurriedly, pulling out a beeper.

"It's him, he needs something," Dana explained, standing up.

Andy tensed slightly in her seat. "I'll just ... wait here for you."

Dana began to move away from the table, but then stopped, an idea forming in her head. "Could you walk me up?"

Andy stared at her. "I'm not sure that's the best idea."

"I won't make you go in and see him," Dana assured her. "But I think if you're going to make an informed decision, you should at least know what you're deciding."

Andy didn't want to go up there. She didn't want to have to look at the poor, sick boy, alone in his bed, hooked up to wires. She'd done her research on the disease, she knew the toll that it took on a child's body.

"Please?" Dana asked, her brown eyes so similar to hers shining with unshed tears.

Andy sighed, relenting. "Okay ... I'll go up."

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Andy stood outside the pediatric ward, fighting with herself. If she went in, there was no going back. If she didn't go in, she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't hate herself later.

He's just a little boy ... it's not like he can hurt you, she reasoned.

Another voice in her head echoed in response, Not physically, anyway.

Bouncing on her feet for a moment, she finally made her decision. Dana had given her the room number, leaving Andy alone while she went to see what her little brother needed.

She walked slowly through the ward, her hands wiping nervously on the fabric of her jeans. 2014, 2015, 2016 ... 2017. She arrived in front of the room, noticing that the door was propped open. With her heart beating rapidly within her chest, she remained out of sight, just listening.

" ... be back once they've had dinner and finished the laundry. Don't worry about them," Dana told who Andy assumed was Bobby.

"I just hate sleeping when they're not here," the boy said weakly.

Andy closed her eyes, trying not to put a face to that voice. She couldn't see him, but she could imagine what he looked like.

"What are you doing in the cafeteria?" he asked his sister.

Dana paused while she fluffed his pillows, looking down at him. "Just getting a drink."

There was a long silence, and then the boy's voice could be heard again. "You know, I can tell when you're lying."

Dana sighed. "I'm just meeting someone downstairs. Nothing for you to worry about."

"It's her, isn't it?"

Andy's heart stopped beating at that.

"Who?" Dana asked, though Andy could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Come on, Dana, I heard Mom and Dad talking about it before," Bobby spoke in a raspy voice. "She's here, right? But she doesn't wanna see me?"

Andy leaned against the wall, her eyes closing.

"Yeah, well ... she doesn't know what she's missing," Dana assured him.

After another minute, Andy heard footsteps coming towards the door, and then Dana was coming out of the room.

She saw Andy standing by the door, then looked back towards her brother. Dana motioned for Andy to follow her out of the ward, out of earshot of her brother. "How much did you hear?" she asked once they were outside.

Andy shrugged her shoulders. "A bit."

Dana nodded her head, crossing her arms as she looked back towards the ward. "I don't know how much longer he has."

Andy sighed, looking down at her feet. "Look, I know you -"

Dana cut her off before she tell her how much she knew she wanted her help. "No, you don't know. You've only known about this for what? A week? Two? I've had to live with this for years. I've had to sit idly by, and watch my baby brother get sicker and sicker. There's nothing that I can do. ... I had my marrow tested, too," she confessed, her skin reddening from her frustration. "I was only a 62 percent match. That's it ... sixty-two. And then you just show up out of nowhere, and you're a 91 percent match! You don't have any idea what it feels like to want to help him so badly, but not have to right genetics to do anything about it!"

Andy met her ... sister's eyes, seeing the tears welling in them.

"Look, I know that you hate my family ... I know what my mom did to you," Dana admitted. "But don't blame Bobby for that. She was pregnant with me when she left you. If you want to hate someone ... hate me."

Andy's head dropped to the side, her arms crossing over her chest. "I don't hate you, Dana. I just ... I don't know you."

"He's just a kid," Dana continued. "He's just ... I would trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could, but I can't. I can't do anything to help him. But you can. You can save him. Please ... help him."

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Her palms were sweaty, her heart was racing, and she was pretty sure that she was about to vomit. The urge to run was stronger than it had ever been, but she forced herself to keep walking forward; just one foot in front of the other.

Dana waited behind her, clearly not trusting her not to run.

Andy didn't blame her. Sighing, she steeled her nerves. With another deep - deep - breath, she entered the room.

It was pretty much as bad as she had imagined. While the room was cheerful, full of bright colors and toys, the center figure made the entire room depressing and sad. Many wires and cords surrounded him, the beeping of the heart monitor resounding in the room. There were sensors and readings that Andy couldn't even begin to make sense of, but most of all ... a small, fragile-looking boy.

He seemed to be asleep, and Andy wondered if she should try to come back later. Dana gave her a push into the room, making her stumble a little bit. The squeaking of her shoes made the boy stir, and Andy knew there was no going back.

Bobby blinked up at her, his eyes hazy with the sleep he'd been pulled from. "Who are you?" he asked her, looking up at her.

Andy opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Bobby's eyes trailed past her, to his sister standing in the doorway, and then it clicked. "Oh ... you're Andy."

Andy blinked a few times. "Yeah ... and you're Bobby." She tried not to stare at the tubes all over, or his hairless head. Instead, she groped around for a chair, pulling it up beside the bed and sitting down.

"So, she guilted you into coming, huh?" Bobby asked her.

Andy shrugged her shoulders. "A little."

He nodded his head, too weak to sit up more.

"Are you okay? I - oh, god, that's a stupid question," Andy berated herself. "Of course you're not. I just ... I meant ... do you need anything? Water, or ice chips, or anything?"

"I'm good for now," Bobby assured her. "Well, ask away."

Andy paused. "Ask what?"

He shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Whatever it is you want to ask me. You didn't just come in to stare at me, did you?"

Andy shook her head. "No, I just ... well, I don't really know why I'm here."

Bobby smiled sadly. "I'm sorry."

Andy furrowed her brow, staring at him in wonder. "Why are you sorry?"

He shrugged. "'Cause you don't wanna be here."

Andy shook her head. "It's not that. I'm just ... this has all been pretty sudden for me."

Bobby nodded again. After a moment, he licked his chapped lips, preparing to speak. "I won't be mad, you know. If you decide not to do what mom wants you to do. It's okay."

Andy had to swallow down the large lump that had formed in her throat, blinking to prevent her eyes from welling up.

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She knocked on the front door, waiting patiently for an answer. A few moments later, she heard footsteps coming towards the door, and then it was swiftly opened.

"Andy?" he asked, flicking on the outside light.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the second a single sound made it past the barrier of her mouth, it transformed into a choked-off sob. Andy brought a hand to her mouth, her body shaking as the tears came.

Sam pulled her towards him without protest, wrapping his arms around her and closing the door.

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End of chapter ten.

Well, what did you guys think? Like it, hate it?

Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.

Until next time ...!