Hey guys! So first off, I just want to thank all of you for the wonderful reviews, and also especially thank FireEthereal for being a gem and pointing out the inaccuracy with having the FBI running an operation on Vaughn, so I went back and changed it so that the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) were running the op instead, which are like the Canadian equivalent of the FBI, so sorry if that mistake confused anyone else! The storyline is still the same, and the RCMP has still given up jurisdiction, and probably won't pop up again in the story.
Oh, and also, Vincent Carlson is Sam's handler as well as Andy's. SMchick asked about their handler and why Sam wouldn't have contacted him instead about the whole federal agent incident. I definitely thought I had mentioned Vincent in a previous chapter, but looking back I discovered I hadn't so I'm sorry if that was confusing at all. Sam contacted Vincent, who then contacted HQ.
Anyways, as always please review! They make me so happy and motivated and truly make my day, so please let me know what you think! Hope you all enjoy! xx
The little cafe on the corner of 18th was surprisingly charming as well as secluded and well off the 'beaten' path, the perfect place for a private conversation. As they were being seated, Andy couldn't shake off the feeling that this was some sort of turning point in the relationship she had with Sam, whatever it was, and that they were at some sort of crossroads, with a million different paths branching off from where they were now.
If she was being completely honest with herself, she wasn't sure what she wanted at all.
She peered at the laminated menu rather intently, much too focused on the options in front of her, trying hard to ignore the steady, and extremely disconcerting, stare from the man sitting opposite of her.
"McNally," he began, beginning to feel frustrated when she wouldn't meet his gaze. "Andy, look at me."
"Yes, Alan?" she finally answered, saying his cover name rather pointedly.
"What did I say on the way over here? We don't need to be Alan and Claudia right now, so don't try and use that as an excuse to avoid talking."
"I thought men were supposed to be averse to personal conversations," she muttered, turning her gaze back to the menu.
"Well, little Miss Gun-shy, one of us has to be willing to break the silence."
"I hate it when you talk like that, Sam. Break the silence on what? Just talk plainly instead of using all sorts of metaphors."
"Ah, so now she wants to talk plainly."
She had had enough of whatever game Sam was playing, if he was playing one at all. The agitation brought about from Jake's sudden reappearance added to the stress of being undercover for weeks now, as well as the uncertainty of her relationship with both of her partners came to a front after slowly mulling and building inside of her for the past hour.
"Why didn't you tell me you called Headquarters? I thought we were partners. You know, in this together and all that," she snapped, setting the menu down on the table rather forcefully, gathering the attention of their waitress.
"Are you ready to order?" she asked, hurrying over to their table, pen and pad ready to write. They gave their orders and Andy's already simmering anger was further compounded by the appreciative and suggestive glances the blond woman was giving Sam.
"Fruit platter? Really, McNally?" he asked with a slight smile after the waitress had walked away.
"Wasn't my first choice, Claudia would have ordered it."
That statement made Sam's eyes narrow slightly. He knew too well the complications and small personality shifts that came from going undercover for a lengthy amount of time.
"Make sure you don't lose yourself in this process, Andy."
"I already told you I have no problem 'taking off the uniform' Sam."
"No, I believe your exact words were 'I have no problem taking it off.' Trust me, I remember," he said with a smirk, eliciting a small blush from her that brought unexpected relief - that modest embarrassment was purely Andy McNally, not Claudia Thomas.
"You haven't answered my question," she said quietly. He sighed, running a hand quickly through his cropped hair.
"I contacted my handler after you fell asleep. He then called Headquarters. So technically, he was the one who called HQ."
"Why did you wait until I fell asleep? Vincent is just as much my handler as yours."
"You were a mess that night. You needed to rest, to escape from the trauma. Trust me, I've been there."
"You think I can't handle this assignment?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying at all. I'm just saying that I had my partner's best interests in mind - your best interests - and I made a judgment call. There's no reason to be angry."
"I'm not angry, I'm just - " she paused, frustrated at her apparent lack of ability in expressing herself. "I'm frazzled, that's all."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Frazzled?"
"Yes, frazzled, like, on edge, anxious, stressed out. And don't say it's because I can't handle this," she said, her voice escalating a fraction in pitch, throwing her hands around in an animated manner.
"Don't put words in my mouth, McNally. Why do you think you're frazzled?"
Andy bit her lip as she contemplated his question. She looked at him through thick lashes, seeing his eyebrows raised in expectation. The operation was taking its toll, that much was true, what with Elizabeth Feldman's death and Vaughn's psychopathic tendencies, but she was more on edge now than she was last night. Because of Jake. And Sam. And the two of them being in the same room together. Was there some sort of chemical unbalance in her brain that had her more worried about the interactions between her two partners than the death of a fellow law enforcement officer?
"Why is Jake here? He shouldn't be here. I mean," she paused, giving a short, perturbed sigh, "I don't understand what Best was thinking at all."
"I'm glad we agree on that. He's not undercover material. You seen his hair? No way he could go through a crowd unnoticed. He's like a giant neon sign."
"Don't say that. He's perfectly capable," she protested, feeling obligated to defend Jake.
"What? I'm just agreeing with what you said about how he shouldn't be here."
"I said that because I'm concerned about his safety. You said that because you just don't like him."
"Who said I didn't like him?" he asked.
"Don't play dumb, Sam. The question isn't if, but why. So why?"
He clenched his biceps as he picked his words carefully, trying to form a guarded, vague sentence. And then she said his name again, in that damned soft voice of hers, and his resolve broke.
"I don't like the way he looks at you." He bit the inside of his cheek, an odd bitter taste settling on his tongue as he spoke.
"What do you mean, 'the way he looks at me'?"
"Who's playing dumb now, Andy? Your partner is obviously in love with you," he spat out, the bitter taste turning into a black bile-like substance, making him wonder if the emotion of jealousy could actually take a physical form.
"Don't say that." Her voice was quiet, strained. How dare he make such an outrageous proclamation? Jake couldn't possibly be in love with her. He was like a best friend, a brother.
"It's so obvious that a blind man could pick it up," Sam continued, his voice holding a cold edge to it.
"Why does it matter to you if he is?" Her mind raced with sudden memories of gestures, words, looks. It just simply wasn't possible. But yet the sudden onslaught of seemingly undeniable facts had her facing the now blatantly obvious knowledge.
"So now you're admitting it?"
"Why? You jealous or something, Sam?" The words had been spoken before she could censor them, and she was suddenly filled with a fear of his answer.
Her question shocked him. Yes! His mind screamed, and he desperately tried to control himself from saying anything that would be regretted. Not regretted by him, but by her, for him saying it. Fortunately, he was saved from answering by the arrival of their food, both of them now oblivious to the simpering smiles and batting of eyelashes of the waitress, their focus solely on each other.
Silence filled the space between them, a frigid, tense quiet that set them both on edge. Sam's appetite was completely gone, the deliciously-smelling bacon from his plate garnering no reaction.
Andy, on the other hand, was anxiously picking at the medley of colorful fruit on her plate. She by no means used food to fill the void of pain or boredom, but she was overcome with a desperate need to fill her mouth with something to eat so that she wasn't obligated to speak.
The surrounding clamor of the restaurant, the various shapes and objects in his peripheral view, and everything else Sam's mind was processing ceased to exist as he watched her dip a strawberry in the small dish of whipped cream and bite into it, her luscious lips wrapping around the red fruit, her eyes closing in momentary pleasure at the different tastes that filled her mouth. The tiny dab of cream that was left on her finger was slowly, sensually licked off, a tiny moan escaping her lips at the exquisiteness of what she had just eaten, the unconsciously made sound making Sam squirm in his seat, his eyes fixated on the amazingly perfect, plump lips that were now, at this moment, the bane of his existence.
"Sam?" Andy asked, confused as to why her partner was sitting completely still, his posture stiff.
"Yes, I am," he answered, his mind still reeling form the beautiful few seconds he had just been privy to.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I am jealous." The words rolled off his tongue easily, his heart trying to calm itself down from its currently racing staccato beat. "Listen up, McNally, because I'll only say this once."
She was very, very still as his gaze flew up, locking onto hers, the intensity that was burning in his dark eyes leaving her breathless and slightly afraid.
"I am jealous of Wells. I'm jealous of the fact that for the last eight months, some other man has been making you laugh and smile. I'm jealous of the fact that some other man has gotten to spend every day with you. I'm jealous that he has been let into your life. But the thing I'm most jealous of is that he's in love with you also."