ROOKIE BLUE (isn't mine)

COPPER

Thanks again guys for your incredible support ;)

-o-

Part 2

They walked in silence to his truck. Sam was fiddling with his belt, apparently lost in his thoughts. Andy was doing her best to appear more confident than she really was. He tossed his bag on the back seat and they settled in the car. He struggled for a moment with the seat belt. She couldn't help staring at him. What kind of an adult would do such a thing? Maybe he was not the one who should accompany her to Melanie's. Then she noticed a gun in a holster under his jacket and looked away. His voice startled her. "Listen, I know. All they ever taught you at the Academy is how to do paperwork. That's a good thing. Because the way I see it, you're gonna have so much paperwork with this, McNally," Sam smirked. "I get it. You get frustrated, you want some action. You want to help. I'm sure your training officer gave you the talk. But you've been here, what? Five months?" His voice was even. He was merely stating a fact.

"Four."

"In four months you must have learnt something from Shaw. I mean you know better than putting on this kind of stunt by yourself McNally!" Finally succeeding in buckling up, he turned towards her. "So, where we heading?"

"Fleet Street," she managed to smile.

"Fleet Street? Isn't it the building where Boyd and Barber arranged the meet with Beljak?"

"Yes, sir. Melanie's apartment is on the third floor."

"You're aware that Fleet Street is under 9th Division jurisdiction, right? Why didn't you signal them this in the first place? Battery is a serious felony. They could have sent a car right away."

"I don't know," she said softly, fidgeting with her jacket zipper.

"You don't know? McNally, after four months on the job, you gotta to know. You're a rookie but you must know that you're not supposed to be running around on your own and change the rules."

"I can do it alone if you give me your keys, I don't need someone to hold my hand!"

"Ah!" his hands tightened on the wheel. "The cat that walks by herself."

She looked away. "Exactly. I can take care of myself."

"Okay, I'm not here to babysit, but tonight, I'll have your back. And if something happened to this woman, it's on you." He gave her a stern glance and stepped on the gas.

As much as she wanted to stay silent, it was not her forte. She simply couldn't, even if she tried. "How come you know that Oliver is my TO?"

"He told me," he grinned at her.

"Ah."

"We've know each other for fifteen years. And since I've been away for some time, he kinda of gave me the rookie tour."

"So, you're coming back to the 15?" She sucked on her breath, glancing in his general direction. "I heard you were away for eight months?"

"Nine actually. Well, I don't know yet. Not that I would mind being back in harness. I'd rather work the streets than man the wire room until a spot in guns and gangs opens up."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"Yep," she smiled. "My father was a cop too."

"Yeah, Tommy McNally. I worked with him when I was a rookie."

"Oh, so you know my father..." She stopped, embarrassment getting the better of her.

He patted her hand. "Andy, I'm sorry about your dad. But I'm sure it'll get better."

"Sure, it will," she sneered.

"If you need help, you can just ask, you know," he added matter-of-factly. After that, they rode in awkward silence. Andy wondering why would a perfect stranger grill her about her father, and Sam wondering why he so naturally came to the rescue. It was no secret that Tommy McNally was a generic drunk and had hit some lows recently. He had probably been making her daughter's life a living hell for quite some time. It might have taken a lot guts following in her father's footsteps, and in the same division no less. Sam had been very close to the detective back in the days, and he probably owed him a lot. It was not farfetched to offer his help.

"Okay, we're here," he said, squinting at the building. "And Andy, if you don't know, you just follow my lead."

They jogged upstairs. From the staircase, the screaming and banging was already loud. When they emerged on the third floor, Andy ran directly to the door. "Police! Open up!" she shouted, pounding. That didn't stop the blows or the constant yelling.

"McNally, give me your baton and stand back." He placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her gently. She complied with a nod. She stepped away, holding her breath when he burst open the door. Then Swarek charged. There was blood everywhere, and Melanie was crumpled into a ball on the floor, her arms above her head. Her husband had her cornered and he was kicking her exposed chest. Before Andy had time to process anything and react, the man dropped with a thud and Sam was knelt on his back, twisting his arm and pinning him to the floor.

Her eyes went wide. "Do you need some help sir?"

He grinned. "I'm good. Go check if she's okay. Her arm has a weird bent and I don't like the colour of her shoulder. It's dislocated, might even be broken. We'll need an ambulance." He tugged on the husband's arm eliciting a groan.

"Hey officer, you're breaking my shoulder!"

Sam pushed his knee harder into the man's back. "You're breaking my heart, sir."

"Dispatch, this is McNally. We need a patrol car on 136 Fleet St to take a suspect back to the barn. Requesting EMT asap at the scene. Female, 26, responsive, possible blood loss and fracture." She released the switch and static filled the now quiet room.

"Don't touch anything, don't try to get her cleaned up, not until they take photographs," he stated, cuffing the man.

"I know, it is not my first day," she snapped.

"I know," he smiled, pulling the guy back to his feet. He tackled him against the wall. She nodded and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He watched her comfort Melanie until the paramedics propped her on a stretcher. Two unis bundled the husband unceremoniously down the stairs. Sam's eyes fanned the room. "We'll check on her tomorrow," he finally said. "She's in no condition to give a statement right now."

"We?"

"You wanted my help, so now, this is my case too, McNally. I simply want to see it through." He knew that it was only half the truth but she bought it nonetheless. She looked away and shifted on her feet. "Shaky?" he asked gently.

"No… yes," she whispered, her eyes watering. She looked him straight in the eyes. "It's... This job is... I guess I just have to get used to it, right?"

He had no an answer to that. He just kept staring at her, concern written on his face. "It's okay. You don't have to get used to anything but if you do, then you should worry." He smiled. She was different this one. "It's okay, McNally," he said again. She raised her chin to stare up at him. Her breathlessness might have given away her nerves but that had nothing to do with fear or wishful thinking. Despair? He chose not to delve on it. "Let's go back to the barn then, process that prick. I suggest than we let him sleep on it and wait till tomorrow to get his side of the story." She nodded again.

Back at the barn, he waited for her in the bullpen while she was changing into her civvies. When she was not ready after a good fifteen minutes, he strolled down the hallway, pressed his ear briefly to the door, heard nothing and entered. She was seated on the bench, her elbows on her thighs, her head down. "Hey," he cheered, "you always take this long figuring out what to wear?"

She didn't look at him. "You always hang around women's locker rooms?" she said, her face blank.

"Hey, you started it." He paused. "Want to go for a drink? Need a ride home?"

"No, thanks. I'm actually gonna walk."

"I'll let you walk home if you promise me not to do anything reckless."

"Sorry about tonight," she sighed. "Actually, I… I need Traci. I need a friend."

"I can be your friend."

"I don't know you."

"Yet. You don't know me yet."