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The following is the Christmas outtake, as promised. These scenes predate those of Chapter 3.


First Christmas (outtake).

"Andy?" Sam said, his voice echoing in the hallway as he stamped his boots at the front door.

"Hey," she called from the living room. "In here."

Sam walked over to find her sprawled across the couch, half-eaten candy cane caught between her teeth. She was flipping through a home décor magazine – just one of many scattered knick-knacks that had recently snuck into his house, unbidden.

Popping the candy cane from her mouth, she sat up and greeted him with a quick kiss. "Howdy, stranger." Shivering slightly as Sam's rough palm slid under her t-shirt and came to rest on her lower back, she hummed purposefully into his mouth.

"Hi." He pulled back slightly and chuckled, running his tongue across his lips. "Sticky peppermint… Just what I was hoping for, thanks," he teased.

She fell back into the cushions, tucking her legs underneath her as she patted the couch. "Come sit. We have lots to talk about."

"Mmm, is that right?" he asked, circling the couch. Shrugging off his jacket and draping it over an armchair, he eased into the seat next to her.

"How was your shift?"

"Long," he said, exhaling and closing his eyes briefly. His head swiveled, and he eyed her curiously. "But enough about me for the moment. What are you wearing, exactly?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Um, clothes?" She pointed to each article of clothing in succession. "Sweatshirt, pajama shorts, socks. Pretty standard fare, officer."

He pointed to her feet. "Yeah, and what holiday-crazed soccer player did you rip those off of, McNally?"

She wrinkled her nose at him, readjusting her knee-high socks. Okay, so busy was a tame description. Green and red and white-striped, the socks were sprinkled with tiny elf hats, glittering against the soft light of the living room. But they were cute, she thought.

"I like them," she said primly, setting her mouth in a firm line.

"Mmmhmm," he echoed, clearly amused.

"I'm not asking you to like them."

"Okay then."

"But you should know I bought you a pair for Christmas." At his dubious look, she grinned and burrowed into his side, pulling at the hem of his thermal. "No, I wish. You're too cool for Christmas socks."

Tugging her to his chest, he rubbed his thumb across the hollow of her collarbone. "Yeah, something like that."

"So. When are we decorating this place?"

His brow furrowed and he glanced briefly around the room. "This place or your place?"

She shrugged her shoulders, unconcerned. "Well, both, I guess."

"Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but this house hasn't seen the likes of Christmas decorations since before I was a homeowner. If I'm not undercover, I'm in St. Catharine's for Christmas – I never had a good reason for investing in decorations."

"What?" she mouthed in disbelief. "Not a single decoration?"

"Well, my mom left a tiny Christmas crèche that I put out every year, but other than that… No. No decorations."

She sucked in a breath, her mouth puckering into a tiny "O." Shaking her head, she looked at him in disapproval. "I'm gonna say this right now… This could be a dealbreaker, Swarek. I take the holidays very seriously, and a man without a tree or a garish light display? Why, he's no man at all."

He cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Funny, McNally, you've been whistling a different tune for the past month or so."

She shook her head again, undeterred. "You have a truck, for crying out loud. There is no reason why you shouldn't have a tree."

"You wanna go pick out a tree?"

Her eyes lit up. "Um, hi. Is that even a question? Yes. Of course."

"Okay then. But it's going in your apartment," he stated firmly.

A lesser woman would have pouted. Andy settled for sighing heavily and throwing her stocking-clad legs in his lap. "Fine. But it has to be real!"

He caught her heel and gently pushed her foot back to her. "Then to reiterate: It's definitely going in your apartment. I'm not dealing with the hassle of pine needles. And you have to go put on real clothes if we're going out tonight."

"Party pooper," she said, wrinkling her nose. Fidgeting on the couch, she proceeded to add a number of stipulations. "It has to be a good size. And no Charlie Brown trees!"

"I'm starting to think Old Ebenezer didn't hate the holidays; he just had a bossy woman in his life," Sam muttered. "We'll go to one tree lot, and no whining, got it?"

"I'm buying an angel for the top, not a star," she maintained, holding her ground.

"Do what you have to do."

They were silent for a beat, each lost in memories of former Christmas celebrations and traditions.

"Hey, Sam?" Andy asked quietly.

He was still for a moment before reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, McNally?"

"Thank you."


The next morning, Sam woke to an empty bed, sheets cool and wrinkled. Stretching lazily, he scrubbed his face, struck by the smell of pine and sap that lingered. The smell had proven nearly impossible to wash off his hands, and he was the furthest thing from a happy camper about it.

After careful deliberation in the tree lot, Andy had selected a five-foot conifer, adding coolly, 'Be nice, I could have picked something larger.' One hour later, Sam had hauled it to the fourth floor of the condo complex and set it up in a stand, to Andy's delight. Clapping eagerly, she had examined it from every possible angle and declared it "perfect."

Perfect, sure, except for that stupid smell that had seeped into his every pore.

Shuffling to the kitchen, he was grateful that they had decided to come back to his place last night. At least there was the hope that the scent would gradually dissipate.

Andy sat cross-legged on the wooden chair, a pen tucked behind her ear and her hand propped under her chin. Glancing up as Sam entered the kitchen, she offered a quick "Good morning," and her gaze returned to table: An evergreen wreath lay in front of her, next to a pile of pinecones, berries, and ribbon. Silver paint, two giant plaid bows, and what looked to be a row of jingle bells rounded out the mix.

"You're up early this morning," he said, kissing the top of her head as he rounded the kitchen table to get to the coffee maker. "What gives?"

"Catching the worm," Andy explained, shrugging her shoulders. Crossing an item off the list in front of her, she reached for her mug and took a sip of coffee. "And don't you dare manipulate that into some poorly-conceived joke."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sam said airily, waggling his eyebrows. Rustling for juice in the fridge, he asked, "So all this is…?"

She tossed her hair, smirking cockily. "I'm like the MacGyver of Christmas decorations. Give me three items, and I'll turn it into a fabulous holiday ornament for your tree, or your house, or your car…"

"My truck is in desperate need of decoration?" he questioned.

"Well, the scented little pine tree is a good start, but your truck could use a little more holiday lovin'."

"Mmm," he said, leaning over the back of her chair and resting his chin on the top of her head. "My truck's not the only thing that could use some holiday lovin'."

She tipped her head back, resisting the urge to smile. "I'm glad we've established that 'normal' for you is a helluva lot of innuendo. For a formerly gruff T.O., you sure maintain high spirits with every passing, suggestive remark."

"It's a gift," he said seriously, his tone betrayed by the slight glint in his eye. Tugging her ponytail, he stepped away from the table and popped a piece of toast in the toaster. "Hey, any spray paint happens outside, ok?"

She wrinkled her nose in disdain. "Thanks, Dad," she said, rolling her eyes.

He ignored her wisecrack and slipped into a chair. "You sure you have a handle on all of this?"

"I pack some serious heat. On the job, and with my glue gun," she said, holding up the tool for effect. "Just you wait and see."

"Ok, well I have to run a few errands this afternoon. Will you be okay here by yourself?"

"Yup, as long as you're cool with it."

"The coolest," he said in a teasing voice. "Have fun. And hey," he continued, pointing to the glue gun and adopting his T.O. voice. "Watch where you point that thing."


Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, snow is glistening…

Dancing across the kitchen floor, Andy hummed along with the music and popped the oven door open, checking on the pot roast inside. Hoisting a cutting board laden with freshly diced vegetables, she used the edge of her knife to push them into the saucepan. With a cursory glance of approval, she stepped back, adjusted the temperature, and set the timer.

Rinsing her coffee mug in the sink, she poured herself a cup of hot cocoa from the pan simmering on the stove. After a brief ransack of Sam's kitchen cupboards left her empty-handed, she grabbed a pen from the countertop. Uncapping it with her teeth, she added 'Pick up marshmallows' to her list of to-dos.

Relationship Lesson #14: If you want something sugary, don't expect to find it in Sam's pantry.

Marshmallow absence aside, it had been a pretty successful day.

She had completed two Christmas wreaths, addressed four holiday cards to her fellow rookies, watched a hokey, made-for-TV movie that Sam would have mocked relentlessly, and personalized a stocking for his mantel with fabric paint. Step one on the road to redecoration. Or, decoration as it were.

Grateful for the warmth of the cocoa that was heating her hands, she clutched the mug tightly and wandered into the living room. Grabbing her phone from the coffee table, she settled into the armchair to text Sam. Dinner in an hour? Hope the errands are going well. Taking a sip from her mug, she sighed contentedly as the chocolate goodness coated her throat.

A second later, she heard the key turn in the lock, and the door opened and slammed again.

Sam entered the room, two shopping bags in hand and a surprised look on his face. "Hey. You're still here."

"Well aren't you a beacon of Christmas cheer," she said, standing up to greet him with a kiss. "I just texted you. Hello to you, too."

He frowned, setting the bags down and running a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I'm just distracted."

Reaching up, she carefully thumbed the creases around his eyes, smoothing the wrinkles. Pressing her lips together, she said lightly, "If you're up for it, I made dinner."

"You didn't have to do that," he mumbled, catching her wrist and running his thumb over the soft skin there.

"I wanted to," she insisted with a blinding grin. "And I had time." Switching subjects, she tried to rouse him from his reverie. "Hey! Did you see the door? Good, right?"

"The wreath?" His gaze softened and he released her wrist. "Yeah, McNally, it's beautiful."

"I made one for my apartment, too. You're not the only one who is good with tools," she said, cocking her finger in a gun shape and blowing across the imaginary muzzle. "I was a beast with that glue gun."

"Hmm," he said absentmindedly. "That's nice."

Narrowing her eyes, she stared at him in confusion. When he didn't meet her eyes, she grabbed his hand and led him over to the couch."Ok," she instructed, "Sit. Now, are you going to tell me what has you in this funk?"

Exhaling deeply, he took a seat and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "It's dumb, really. I'm not cut out for holiday shopping," he replied.

Rubbing the back of his neck wearily, he shut his eyes and held up one finger. "Pro: After today's three-ring circus at the department store, I crossed Sarah and Will off my list." Switching fists, he held up another finger. "Con: I couldn't find anything for the girls."

"Why didn't you ask me?" she said, furrowing her brow. "I would have gone with you."

He shook his head. "I didn't want to interrupt your afternoon, especially when you were getting all – you know, crafty and stuff. And I've managed every other year; I didn't think this one would be different."

"This year's different for a slew of reasons, Swarek," she said playfully. "Look, we'll go the mall tomorrow, ok? I'm actually pretty decent at this kind of stuff. I'll help you find something."

"I'm at a loss," he said. "I don't know when it became so hard to shop for Hannah."

"That's because you were never an eleven year old girl," Andy reminded him, poking him gently. "She likes to read, yeah?"

"Read, write, talk… She's a young scholar, that one."

"Okay, so we'll check out the bookstore," Andy said confidently. "We can look up some popular young adult books online. Now what about Abby? I thought you said you were getting her a doll? That seems straightforward enough."

"Yeah, that's what you would think," Sam huffed. "First of all the store was insane, crawling with bickering parents and whiny kids. I almost wish I had gone in uniform."

"So no luck?"

"No, I couldn't find anything for her. They have these weird dolls in the kids section… Girl monsters in bizarre colors. Dracula, Frankenstein, some Ghoul, I don't know," he said, waving his hands around in frustration. "Seriously, why any little girl would wanna play with them is beyond me."

"Sounds tough," she said, her voice sympathetic, but her mouth tugging into a smile.

"Sarah would not let those things into her house, I'll tell you that." He groaned, standing up and walking toward the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he opened it with a flick of his wrist and took a long pull. "Next year they're getting gift cards, I swear."


The following afternoon, snowflakes drifted aimlessly as Sam and Andy wandered down the street and paused in front of a department store window.

"Window displays," Andy said, her mittened hands pressing against the glass. "I love to look at them. Shiny and bright and cheery – It's like a perfect Christmas moment, captured and frozen in time."

"Right?" she asked, turning to look at Sam. "They're just so pretty and festive."

Linking her hand with his, she pulled him down the sidewalk to the entrance of the mall. "Game face, Swarek. We're not coming out of here today without Christmas presents. Failure is not an option."

He squinted his eyes and pursed his lips. "Yeah, you're not competitive or anything."

Puffing her chest out in mock-bravado, she spoke firmly. "Competition is the name of the game. We're running a race against time and other crazed shoppers." Patting her arms, she added, "I'm ready to throw some 'bows if necessary. These things can be deadly."

Mimicking a pump-fake, she planted a foot and pivoted around Sam's body, digging her elbow into his jacket. "And that's without a basketball," she crowed. "Watch out, shoppers. Andy McNally in the house."

Shaking his head, Sam grabbed her elbow and steered her to the Map Directory. "One: You've got to stop consuming copious amounts of coffee before we go out in public. Two: I don't know whether to be overwhelmed by your insanity or awed by your dedication."

"Awed, always awed," Andy reassured him, a smile on her face. "I'm just teasing. For the most part. Okay, here's the plan…"


"What'd I tell you, Sam?" she said, two hours later. "All I do is win, win, win, no matter what."

"You did good, copper; I'll give you that," he answered.

"Four books! Four of them! A trilogy set and an independent read. That's what I call success."

Sam smiled silently, content to let Andy rave about the gifts they had found.

"And how cute is that doll? Gosh, I love cloth dolls. Soft yarn hair, cute eyes, and those teeny, tiny embroidered clothes?" She grinned and linked her arm through Sam's. "They're the best."

"I have to admit, I fared much better today than I did yesterday, due in large part to present company," he piped up.

"I'm on a shopping high, I think," she interjected. "Man oh man. They should have a holiday mash-up of 'Eye of the Tiger.' I am feeling good."

Rolling his eyes in amusement, Sam decided to switch gears. "So," he said, anticipating Andy's request for a hot chocolate and dragging her over to the coffee kiosk. "What does Andy McNally want for Christmas?

She shook her head solemnly. "Nope. That's between me and Santa Claus."

"Secrets never come out neat and tidy, Andy," he persisted, slipping two fingers into her belt loops and pulling her closer. "Sooner or later…" he trailed off ominously.

"If you want to know, you have to ask him," Andy said, pointing toward Santa's Village, where a Mall Santa was fully outfitted and sitting on an ornate gold throne. Three elves in red and green costumes flitted about, one with a camera in hand, and the other two passing out candy canes and flyers.

"No," he said firmly for her benefit. "Forget about it."

"Saaaam," she drawled, her tone wheedling. "It could be fun, you know."

"No," he repeated emphatically, shaking his head.

"Not even for Christmas?"

"For Christmas? Look at the line! No, Andy. I'm not about to skip along and sit on a grown man's lap to figure out what kind of present you want."

"You don't have to sit on his lap," she insisted. "You can stand next to the throne."

"I'll sit on his lap," she added, brightening. "Problem solved."

He glared openly at her. "Problem not solved. I'd rather you not sit on some strange man's lap, thank you very much."

"Tsk, tsk," she said, clucking softly. "The holiday season is all about sharing and caring, Sam."

"Not when it comes to lap privileges, Andy!"

"C'mon, Sam," she said quietly, her eyes wide. "Consider it my reward for being a fantastic helper today. You have to admit, I'm better than one of Santa's elves." Tucking one hand under her chin and the other on her hip, she posed theatrically, adding, "Cuter, too."

He was silent.

"How about this: We both get hot chocolate, and we can sip it and talk while we wait in line. I won't even sit on Santa's lap. We can both crouch down, okay?"

He continued to stare at her, not budging.

"Sam?" she prompted.

"Andy, the whole Mall Santa thing is creepy. Who knows what kind of priors this guy has?"

She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. "Why does everything come back to criminal records?"

"Because it's a dangerous world out there, McNally," he replied immediately, unblinking.

"I hardly think one photo with Santa is going to do you in," she said firmly. "Or blow your reputation, if that's what you're concerned about."

Rubbing his jaw, he studied her for a long moment. She bounced on her feet, silently begging, as the crowds swirled around them.

"Can we leave after this?"

"Yes. Immediately." Holding her breath, she looked at him expectantly.

He sighed.

"One photo, no lap, and you're buying the hot chocolate."

"Deal." She beamed, extending her hand. "You drive a tough bargain, Swarek, but I knew you'd see it my way eventually."

"Write this down, McNally, and remember it next time you request some ridiculous favor."


A Week Later...

Approaching Andy by the Division coffee station, Sam glanced at his watch nonchalantly before addressing her. "Dinner. 6pm. Tonight. You're still game?"

Spinning on her heel, she tossed the wooden stirrer away and met his gaze. "Of course! We're exchanging presents, right? And you're still cooking?"

"Of course," he said winking. "One holiday special, coming right up."

She smiled slyly. "Is that right?"

"Mmmhmm," he murmured, leaning in ever so slightly. "I'd like to spend a little time with you before I drive up to St. Catharine's." Pulling back, he brushed by her and walked over to his desk. "But, uh – Maybe leave the crazy socks at home this time around, okay?"

She scrunched her nose, placing a hand on her hip. "Are you telling me there's a dress code for this dinner?"

"I'm just saying it might be a nice opportunity to dress up," he called over his shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, following him to his desk and feigning offense. "I'm always dressed to impress."

"Great," he said, smiling mischievously. "Then I'll see you later, Officer McNally."


At five of six, Andy rang Sam's doorbell, her heel tapping to the reverberating chime. A moment later, Sam flung open the door, and she was greeted with a rare – but not unpleasant – sight.

"Wow."

"I could say the same thing."

"A button down AND a sweater?" She stepped across the threshold and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You've outdone yourself, sir."

"Just one of many surprises coming your way, McNally," he said, taking her jacket. She smiled kindly, smoothing out the wrinkles of her hunter green dress and adjusting her white cardigan.

Placing a hand on her lower back, he guided her down the hallway. "This way to the surprises."

Biting her lip, she glanced behind her shoulder and caught his eye. "I can't decide if it's weird that we can't act like this at work, or if it's weird that we act like this at home.

He nodded in affirmation. "Yeah, it will take some getting used to, I imagine."

"I don't mind," she said, smiling. "I'm glad to be here now."

"I'm glad you're here," he reciprocated, his mouth tugging up in a grin as he looked at her expectantly.

Spinning on her heel, she came to an abrupt halt at the entranceway to the living room and inhaled sharply.

"Oh, Sam…" she whispered. "It's beautiful."

A small, three-foot tree stood in the corner, decorated with tiny, white lights that sparkled in the dim room. The tree, adorned with gold and red balls, was wrapped with a plush tree skirt and topped with a small angel.

"Artificial," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "No messy needles to clean up. It's tiny, and I can put it up next year, how about that?" Wrapping his arms around her waist, he rested his chin on her shoulder and whispered softly in her ear, "Merry Christmas, Andy."

Speechless, she continued to stare at the tree, mesmerized by its beauty.

"Can't have presents without a tree, McNally," he said easily. "Dinner will be ready in another 30 minutes or so. In the meantime, your present is waiting for you over there."

Pushing her gently in the direction of the tree, he added, "There were a few different angel options, but I liked the brunette angel best."

She slowly approached the Christmas display, stooping to pick up the present underneath the tree. Fingering the gift lightly, she laughed when she examined the silver snowflake wrapping paper. "You wrapped this yourself, didn't you? I can tell because of how messy the scotch tape is." Returning to Sam's side, she gently tapped his chest, shaking her head.

"Damn it, Sam," she said accusingly. "You do these sweet, unexpected things, and I just…"

"You just…?"

Sighing, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug and whispered a quiet "Thank you" in his ear. Gesturing for him to sit down, she pulled a flat package wrapped in reindeer paper from her bag.

"Open them at the same time?"

Lacing his fingers through hers, he knelt by the coffee table in front of the tree and pulled her down with him. "Sounds like a plan."

Tearing open the reindeer paper, Sam found a beautiful wooden frame nestled in the flat box. Divided into two partitions, the frame held a picture of them from their first night at the Penny following their suspensions. Sam's smile was carefree, and Andy had her arm looped over his shoulder, beaming.

The second picture was a copy of their photo from Santa's Village, which Andy had wrestled and hid from him, citing "a really unfortunate blinking accident on my part." In truth, the picture was lovely; they had decided to stand next to each other to the right of Santa. Andy, wearing his favorite ear-to-ear grin, looked happy and content, and Sam was no less pleased in the photo, although his gaze was focused on Andy's expression rather than the camera's lens. Andy had meticulously stenciled their names and the year into the lower right hand corner of the frame, adding a personal and delicate touch.

"It's not too early for pictures, right?" she said, appraising his face and looking slightly nervous.

"No," he replied, tracing the outline of the frame. "Not too early at all."

Gingerly breaking the seal of her parcel, Andy discarded the wrapping paper and lifted the lid of a tiny white box. Nestled inside was a sleek, pewter lioness, a rather silly expression on its face for a jungle cat. Attached to its back was a loop of shiny red ribbon, ideal for hanging.

"It's a little hokey, but I figured you could add it to your ornament collection. You know, for your real, live tree," he teased. "It was either that or a snowman dressed in a police uniform, but I opted for the more subtle parallel."

"I love it," she said softly. Meeting his eyes, she smiled widely, a mirror of the photo in his lap. "Thank you, Sam."

He sobered, carefully gauging her expression. "I'm glad you like it." Leaning in, he nudged her nose with his own, pressing a light kiss to her lips.

She smiled into his mouth, kissing him in return. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

Spinning around gingerly, Andy leaned her back against Sam's chest and reached for his arms, guiding them around her waist. "This is nice, you know? We should do this every holiday."

"Every holiday, huh? Somebody sounds like she's forward thinking."

"Well, when you know..."

"What, exactly?" he teased. "What do you know, Andy?"

Bypassing his upper arms, where his sleeves were pushed to his elbow, she began to trace a light pattern on his exposed skin. "Well, I know what I still want for Christmas."

He chuckled lowly. "You're not, uh, going to feed me some cheesy line right now, are you? Like, "All I want for Christmas is you."

She broke away from him, laughing boisterously. "No. Definitely not. In fact, since you brought it up, you're going to feed me." As if on cue, her stomach grumbled loudly. "All I want for Christmas is whatever smells so delicious in your kitchen."

"10-4, McNally. Let's get this show on the road." Standing up, he extended his hand in support and lifted her to her feet. "Follow me to the table of plenty."

She giggled, following in his wake, her legs pausing ever so briefly before the tree.

"Hey, Sam?" she called after him.

"Yeah?" he said, turning around and looking at her, an amused smirk on his face.

Her tone was light, but it was laced with a careful undercurrent of– something more. "This whole decorations thing? It wouldn't have been a dealbreaker for me. For us."

"Now you tell me," he deadpanned. A moment later, his smirk gave way to a true smile, and reaching for her hand, he tugged her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm just kidding. I know."

"Hey, Andy?" he murmured in her ear, his tone emulating hers. "I'm just happy you like it."

Hands linked, the two walked into the kitchen.


Hope you enjoyed this one (and I hope it wasn't too choppy for you!) Thank you, as always, for reading.