Thanks for all the support for this fic – the reviews, favorites, follows. I know this is a darker fic, but thank you all for having faith in me and where I'll take this story. :) As you read this chapter, just remember that as happy as Sam and Andy are that she's home, they're both trying to cope with what she went through and what it all means.

Keep letting me know what you think with a review. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

Chapter 2

Sam arrived at the hospital first thing the next morning while Andy was eating breakfast. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, when he caught her staring blankly across the room.

"Hey," she said, a little startled. "Just trying to get breakfast down."

"That bad?"

"No," she said, shaking her head and looking down at her oatmeal. "They let me put cinnamon on it to give it some flavor, but I...I don't know, my body's not used to so much food or something."

He glanced down at the bowl in front of her, an average size bowl not even full. The fact she considered it, along with the juice on her tray, a lot of food saddened him. Another reminder of what he rescued her from.

She moved her legs over to make room on the bed. "You can sit, you know."

He tossed the duffel bag he brought on the chair nearby and sat on the edge of the bed facing her. "How'd you sleep?"

"On and off." More off than on, she thought. Every time a nurse came into her room through the night, she woke up startled and frightened for a moment that she was still in the farmhouse.

They sat quietly while she fought to finish the rest of her breakfast. Sam had never seen her this quiet since the day she tackled him in an alley. He always teased her about it, but he secretly loved her allergy to silence.

"I brought some pajamas for you and your toiletries," he told her, nodding toward the duffel bag. "I grabbed your phone and a few magazines too, thought you might get bored in here."

"Thank you." She pushed the table holding her now empty breakfast tray aside and rested her hands in her lap, unsure of what to do now. She hated feeling awkward and uncomfortable, but it was hard not to when she felt like everything that had been done to her was broadcast in neon lights to everyone who came within eyesight of her. She still felt dirty, despite a nurse helping her shower the night before. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin felt raw, until her bruises were screaming out with pain, but she still couldn't feel clean.

She looked up at Sam and saw a mix of confusion and sadness in his eyes. She was only glad she didn't see pity; she couldn't take pity, especially from him. "They said I'll have to stay here a while," she finally said.

"And I know how much you love hospitals," he teased before turning serious. "But you have a lot to recover from." He patted her thigh absentmindedly, realizing too late what he was doing. She lowered her head, embarrassed that his simple touches had her jumping.

Sam stood up and picked up the bag he brought, resting it on the bed. "Maybe you want to go through this stuff," he suggested before sitting down in the chair.

Andy nodded and began looking through what he brought her as silence took over the room again. She smiled at the little things he'd thought to bring - her favorite soap, her comfy socks, the blanket she loved wrapping herself in when they were cuddling on the couch. All the things he knew she'd miss. She brought the blanket up to her face, pretending to inhale the scents of home, but really using it to hide her eyes that had filled with tears.

It wasn't long before Andy's friends and her dad stopped by to visit. Sam stayed with her most of the day, except when Tommy and Traci were there, knowing she'd probably want some private time with them. She wasn't very talkative, but was glad to have her friends and father around, so she forced a smile and tried to pretend everything was going to be okay.

Over the next week, it became a pattern. Sam would spend most of the day - having taken a leave from work - and step out around lunchtime when Tommy would come to see his daughter. Andy's friends made regular visits and calls to check on her. She was still fairly closed off with everyone, refusing to speak about anything that happened to her. But she wanted to hear about everyone else, what they had been up to, what she had missed. Sam was worried, but the doctors assured him she needed to do this at her own pace.

"Is it good for her to be keeping this all in?" he asked Dr. Connors one day while Andy and Tommy were having lunch.

"It's always better for victims of trauma like this to talk about it, but sometimes the patient has to go at their own pace," she said. "I've recommended therapy for her, but I can't force her to do it."

"The department might," he replied.

"I can give you a list of therapists, although I'm sure the department can recommend some too," she offered. "I know when she goes back to work she'll likely be required to get a therapist to sign off on her mental condition. One piece of warning, don't hold that in front of her. If you give her an ultimatum, meet with the therapist or lose your job, she may just choose the latter right now."

"Thanks doc." Sam rubbed a hand over his face taking in everything the doctor was telling him.

"Look Sam. None of this will be easy for her, or you. But there are a lot of resources here to help you." She gave him a small smile before walking away.

Traci knocked on the open door of Andy's room that night. "Hey, you up for a visitor?"

Andy turned away from the TV she'd been absentmindedly watching. "Hi Trace."

Sam got up from the chair next to Andy's bed so Traci could sit. "I'm gonna grab something from the cafeteria," he said, wanting to give Andy some time alone with her best friend. "You want anything?"

Traci shook her head as he walked out, and smiled as she focused on Andy. "How are you feeling?"

Andy gave a half-hearted shrug. "Fine."

Traci pulled a folded up piece of purple construction paper from her purse. "Leo made this for you."

Andy gave a tight smile as she opened the get well card filled with Leo's crayon drawings. "He's becoming a little artist."

"He misses you. When you're ready, he can't wait to see you," Traci told her.

"Not yet. Not when I'm like this." She knew Traci would take that to mean her bruised appearance, but Andy was thinking more along the lines of how weak and damaged she was.

"Okay. Maybe when you get out of here, we can have a pizza and movie night." Traci let out a small sigh when Andy simply tried to force a smile...and failed at convincing her friend.

Traci continued making small talk, with Andy remaining mostly silent, uttering only a few words here and there. It was one of the only times in their entire friendship the conversation was visibly awkward.

"I should get going," Traci said after glancing at her watch. "Steve's watching Leo for me."

"Thanks for coming by," Andy replied.

Traci stood up, but hesitated before making a move toward the door. "I'm here for you, Andy. If you ever want to talk...about anything, you know you can call me."

When Traci walked out of the room, she saw Sam in the hallway and pulled him aside. "Sam, I'm worried about her," she said, concerned etched all over her face.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help her."

"You're doing everything you can," she assured him. "But she's retreating into herself. Each day, she talks less and less, and I'm...I'm scared."

"It's a relief I'm not the only one seeing it," he admitted. "It's like she's taking steps back instead of forward."

"Has she talked to you about it at all?" Traci asked.

"No. And I thought knowing how important her statement was that she'd finally say something when Steve came by yesterday, but she pretended to fall asleep," he said.

"Is there anything I can do?" All Traci wanted was to help her friend.

"I wish I had the answers, Nash," he said solemnly. "I'm open to any ideas."

"We just keep trying. That's all we can do now." She gave Sam a small smile and patted him on the arm, before heading to the elevator.

About two weeks after she entered the hospital, the doctor gave Andy the okay to go home. "I know you're anxious to get out of here Andy, but remember, you're recovery isn't over. You need to take it easy and make sure to continue eating the nutrient-rich foods we've talked about. Your body is still healing and you need to increase your strength and keep putting on weight," Dr. Connors said.

Andy nodded, feeling a bit like she was getting a lecture, but she knew the doctor meant well. She just wanted to get out of the hospital.

"I know you're reluctant to see a therapist, but please consider it. Talking to someone who isn't part of your life can be helpful." She handed over a handful of brochures. "And if you still choose not to, at least read through these."

Andy glanced at them and saw they were to help deal with various traumas, all of which she had been through. She put them in her bag. "Thanks Dr. Connors."

When the doctor left, Sam grabbed Andy's bag off the bed. "Ready to go?"

"I just wanna be home," she said, nodding. She slid of the bed and into the wheelchair she was required to be taken out of the hospital in. She'd say and agree to anything in order to get home.

Andy followed Sam into their townhouse, slowly moving past him into the living room as he locked the door and threw his keys in a bowl on a small table. It felt familiar and foreign to her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the scents and sounds invading her senses reminded her that this was home.

Opening her eyes, she turned around slowly and took in every detail. Nothing had changed; Sam had kept everything exactly the same. She wasn't sure what she expected, maybe that there'd be some clear indication life had moved on without her.

She kept walking through their home, room by room, trailing her fingers across tables and counters and the bottom of frames hung on the wall. She stopped at a photo hanging in their upstairs hallway, tracing her index finger over the faces. It was her and Sam at The Penny, celebrating Oliver's birthday a couple of years earlier. Sam's arm was draped across her shoulders and she was leaning into him, a blissful smile on her face and dimples popping out of his. All she wanted was to feel happy like that again.

Andy found Sam in their bedroom, unpacking her bag from the hospital. She leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms as she watched him. "Thank you," she said softly.

"It's nothing," he said, thinking she was talking about unpacking.

She shook her head. "No. Thank you...for..." She looked down at the floor, unable to look him in the eye. "For not pushing me to talk. I, uh...I can't right now."

"I'm here when you're ready," he told her, which earned him a nod in response. "Okay, so how about I make us some dinner?"

"I know I'm supposed to eat healthy and everything, but I could really use something bad and greasy right now," she told him with a shy smile.

He'd give her whatever she wanted. Her first night back in their home and the doctor's diet full of fruits and vegetables be damned. "How about burgers and fries from the pub around the corner? I'll go pick it up."

"And onion rings?"

"You got it," he replied, putting the empty duffel bag in their closet. "You gonna be okay here for a bit while I'm gone."

She nodded as she pushed herself off the door frame and walked further into the room. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay, I'll be back soon," he said before leaving.

As she heard his truck pull away, Andy toed her shoes off and laid down on their bed. She let out a soft moan at how comfortable it was. She rolled onto her side and clutched Sam's pillow against her body. She wished she could hold Sam like this again, to have him hold her like this. Imagining the pillow was Sam, she fell asleep.

She woke to Sam calling her name when he returned with their food 45 minutes later. "Mmm, it smells so good," she said, walking into the kitchen.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked, opening the fridge.

"I'd love a beer, but with the meds I'm on, I'll take a water," she said, pulling the food out of the bag.

"Soon enough. Just give your body time to heal," he told her.

They sat down and ate, exchanging only a few words here and there. Andy was thankful Sam wasn't pushing her to make small talk. She was still readjusting and even usually easy conversation was filled with reminders that circled back to her kidnapping.

Her appetite had been getting better while she'd been in the hospital, but Andy even surprised herself when she finished off her burger completely. She'd help to make a good dent in the fries and onion rings they shared too.

When they were finished Andy started to help clean up, but Sam stopped her. "I've got it. Why don't you relax?"

"I think I might take a shower, wash the hospital off of me," she told him.

"Okay. If you need anything, let me know," he said.

She flashed a tight smile his way before heading up to the bathroom.

Andy savored the feeling of hot water pounding down on her in her own shower. She no longer had a nurse standing by to make sure she didn't fall; no longer had men throwing her under a cold stream of water as they watched her. She took her time and the water was starting to cool down when she finally shut it off.

She stepped out and wrapped a plush towel around her, another thing she hadn't had in months. It was soft and warm and smelled so fresh. Using her hand, she wiped off part of the mirror above the sink. She knew she'd improved a bit over the last two weeks, but the reflection facing her didn't look familiar. The sunken, dark eyes, the bony edges to her jaw and shoulders. Her skin had gained some of its pinkness back, but the paleness was still a far cry from her usual olive-tanned skin.

With a sigh, she picked up her brush and raked it through her hair slowly. She'd never thought a lot about looks; she'd always been comfortable in her own skin, imperfections and all. But staring at her reflection, she couldn't imagine why Sam would ever want to be intimate with her again. She knew he'd backed off even casual touches because of how she jumped every time, but she wondered if that wasn't a wall between them, if he'd truly want her now. It was a new insecurity for her, but one she hadn't been able to shake.

She finished drying off and put on some old sweats that were now several sizes too big for her. She sighed, tied the drawstring tight, and went downstairs, where she found Sam sitting on the couch watching TV. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"It was a good shower, forgot how much I missed it," she said, as she took a seat at the other end of the couch. She pulled her favorite blanket around her and curled up against the arm of the couch.

"Wanna watch a movie?" he asked

She shrugged. "Whatever you wanna watch is fine." She glanced down at the coffee table and noticed the brochures the doctor had given her were lying there. Taking the hint, she picked them up and started thumbing through them. How to deal with physical abuse, mental abuse, sexual abuse; how to recover your normal life after significant trauma, how to let loved ones in again. Sam continued to watch TV as she began reading the advice written in the brochures. There was even one about the importance of going to therapy, but she decided to read that one last. She just wasn't ready for that yet.

"Oliver called earlier," Sam said, stealing a glance at Andy's reaction before continuing. "He wants you to come into the station tomorrow."

She tore her eyes from what she was reading to look at Sam briefly. She knew it wasn't simply for a friendly visit. They'd been trying to get her statement and she found a way over and over to sidestep the questions. She just didn't know how to talk about what happened. "What time?"

"Eleven. Oliver and Steve will be there," he replied.

She gave him a small nod to show she heard him. She felt like she wanted to throw up. Oliver had become like a second father to her, and Steve had become like a brother because of his relationship with Traci. And she knew Sam would be there too. How was she supposed to tell them the details of what happened to her? How was she supposed to speak the words about what these men had done to her? She didn't want them to hear how she was victimized, what she felt she let happen to her. That's why she refused to talk about it. Andy tried to push the anxiety over tomorrow from her mind and focused on the brochures in front of her.

A couple of hours later, Sam and Andy decided to call it a night. Sam came out of their en suite bathroom and found her lying in bed, blankets pulled up to her chin, staring at the ceiling. He realized they hadn't talked about sleeping arrangements and if she'd feel comfortable sharing the bed with him. "I can sleep in the guest room if you'd be more comfortable," he offered.

She rolled her head toward him, a bewildered look on her face. "No, you should sleep here. It's okay."

He shut off the light and climbed into bed. Sam felt the mattress move as Andy rolled onto her side away from him. It was an instinctive reaction to feeling someone in bed with her, and she moved almost without thinking.

She could sense him looking at her and knew the sadness in her own eyes would be matched in his if she turned around. She wanted to find comfort in Sam, like she had from the moment she met him, but she couldn't find comfort in anything or anyone right now. "I'm sorry this is so difficult," came Andy's voice in the darkness.

He wanted to pull her close and hold her tight. He wished he could snap his fingers and make her fear go away. "We'll figure it out," he replied.

Andy closed her eyes, wishing away the tears threatening to fall. She hoped Sam was right.