XIII

Andy sat in the waiting room, her head hidden in her hands. She hadn't spoken much, neither with Oliver nor with the doctor that had bandaged the flesh wound in her arm. Now, hours later, her colleagues were beginning to worry about the unusual silence. Finally, Detective Nash took heart and approached the brunette.

"I'm sure he's going to be fine. You did all you could." It was meant to be soothing, but her friend winced as if being hit. When she met Tracy's gaze, there was an angry fire burning in her eyes. "No! That's just it. I should have helped him when I had the chance", she replied so loudly she was almost screaming. Chris and Dov inconspicuously left the room.

"You went undercover. You found him. You saved his ass during the shootout", Tracy listed, at which point Andy snorted and interrupted her: "I knew he was injured. I didn't check on him. Sure, I asked whether he was okay, but he's... Sam. Of course he'd say he was fine. I should have known! I should have been attentive! That's my job, for god's sake!"

For a moment, Tracy was speechless. "You can't blame yourself. That's madness."

"Then I'm a lunatic," Andy retorted snidely and pushed herself off the plastic chair when her friend tried to offer comfort with her presence. "And you know what's worse? Now... this... this waiting, it drives me crazy. I need to do something or else I'll explode."

"Go get yourself a coffee," Tracy advised and firmly pushed Andy towards the door. "And take the stairs. You look like you need to burn some energy."

"Yeah." With one last lingering look at the glass door that labeled Employees only beyond this point, she set off. Her mind was spinning, but after a few floors the focus on her burning muscles helped to set her at ease. Yes, she had screwed up. Majorly. But Sam would forgive her. He'd make it and get better. He had to. Suddenly bone tired, Andy crossed the foyer and joined the line for the hot beverages. Her arm and shoulder ached, but it was a distant discomfort compared to the mental torment.

"One coffee, black" she told the young man across the counter, glad to receive a steaming plastic cup right away. Without another look, she turned and slumped down on one of the hard chairs in the area. Take a deep breath, she told herself, feeling sleep creep up to her. For a second she considered to let herself drift off, however most of her was unwilling to let go. What if Sam woke up? What if something happened while she was out?

"Speaking of which... what is going on?," Andy asked, standing up and walking over to the officer at the building's entrance. Moments ago, he'd looked as close to sleep as she was, now he was busily speaking into his mic. Furthermore, she'd seen multiple patrol cars rushing by. When she came close, the officer stopped abruptly and stared down at her, obviously mistaking her for a civilian. What was his name? He was working out of the 24th. Damil... no, Daryl.

"Officer Daryl, tell me what's going on."

"McNally?," he asked sheepishly, then nodded to himself and explained the ruckus. "There has been a robbery a few blocks down. Shots fired. Multiple hostages. All personnel is being requested as backup. Sorry, I've got to go."

"Wait!" Andy yelled, every cell in her body yearning to go with him. Have some action, protect the city. At the same time her fierce desire to be there for Sam pulled her back. She couldn't leave him after all that had happened. Not this time. Decision made, Andy shook her head and waved the officer away. "Nothing. Be safe, Daryl."

I could be out there, the mean little voice in the back of her head whispered, I could help. But not this time, all her nervous energy be damned. Andy watched the officer leave with a feeling akin to envy, then blinked rapidly when she spotted a familiar car parking a few meters down the road.

"It can't be!", she muttered, dropped the coffee cup onto a nearby table and went to investigate. The same type of car had parked in front of the warehouse where she'd found Sam. Same color. Same make. Same license plate? Her fingers were searching for the weapon on her hip until she belatedly realized she'd changed into comfortable sweatpants and a red cotton shirt.

Andy slowed her pace and cautiously approached the vehicle, which seemed to be occupied. Why? It made no sense to sit in a car when you should be on the run. Perhaps she was mistaken and the driver would turn out to be a model citizen. Except that he wasn't, already Andy recognized the hat and the familiar build of Frankie Connigh. After a moment of hesitation and utter lack of comprehension, her curiosity won over and she politely tapped on the side window.

The expression of surprise on his face was priceless and under different circumstances Andy would have laughed or snapped a picture. Instead she bent down when he rolled down the window and asked him what he was doing here.

"Just finishing some business, dear."

"Like what?" The hair on her neck rose, a chill creeping down her spine. Frankie hadn't struck her as the reckless type, which meant he wasn't extending his stay just for kicks. And her deductions were immediately confirmed by the behavior of the criminal, whose eyes narrowed while he was clearly waging his options. Well, she could speed up that part.

"I only need to shout once and the officers around the corner will hear. You won't make it one block."

"True. But I suspect that you will let me go if I tell you why I'm here." No. And yesterday she would have told him so, but with Sam's lifeless frame fresh in her mind, she reconsidered, admitting to herself that right now she would put Sam's welfare above anything else. "Depends on the information."

"I'm just the getaway driver, my dear. While we're having this pleasant conversation, Mr. O'Sullivan is on his way up to kill your colleague", said Frankie, his voice low and uninterested. But behind his weasel eyes, she saw the knowing glint. He knew exactly how impossible the decision was. She could scream, wait until the officers came and make sure the criminal was arrested. Or she could leave him be, save precious seconds to on her way back to Sam.

What if he was lying? Then she'd be the fool. What if Tracy had stayed behind and had not responded to the emergency call? Surely somebody would have stood watch. Of course they would have. There was no reason for her heart to stop and her pulse to race. She didn't need to make that cruel choice.

"Damn it all to hell!" Without another thought, she turned around and ran like never before.

XIV

The constant beeping in the darkness somehow reassured him. Slowly, bit by bit, Sam pulled himself to a state of wakefulness, lifting his heavy eyelids to find himself in a clean, white room. Hospital, his brain supplied after a pause. Heart monitor making sounds. Bloodloss. ICU. Brannigans. Andy.

While his thoughts flashed back and forth in order to make sense of things, Sam listened to the quiet in the hall. A pang of bitterness hit him when he finally concluded that he was alone. Where was everybody? He knew his friends and colleagues were busy people, but shouldn't there be somebody... anybody here to watch him? Waiting for him to wake up? He'd done it countless times for other people. But perhaps they weren't allowed in.

Satisfied by that explanation, Sam settled into the thick pillows. His rest was soon interrupted by steps in the hallway, though. A friendly face poked around the corner. "Oh, you're awake."

Sam smiled at the unknown woman, although she was kind of stating the obvious. "Yes", he answered, equally obvious. The nurse came in, chatting animatedly about the great recovery he was about to make while checking his pulse and blood pressure. "You also had loads of visitors that were waiting outside", she informed him with a kind expression. Now, the skin around her eyes was wrinkled even more and gave her that generous grandma look. In contrast, Sam frowned. He hadn't missed how she'd used past tense.

"Had?" Of course he didn't mean to be ungrateful, but why had they left? How long had he been lying here? "What day is it?"

"Still Wednesday, honey. It's half past seven in the morning. You've been in surgery for two hours and slept another four. Your friends left about ten minutes ago, rather abruptly if you ask me", she informed him, then bustled out the door before he could inquire about anything else. Confusion settled in after she left, accompanied with an uneasy feeling he couldn't quite identify. Hence he tensed when another, heavier set of feet could be heard in the hallway. He was still shocked, though, when none other than Liam O'Sullivan appeared in the doorway.

"Sammie!" Cheerful bastard.

Sam coughed and stared unbelievingly at the slim figure before him, that was sporting a gun in one hand and an chocolate ice cream cone in the other. "Ice cream?" The words tumbling out of Sam's mouth, who was half convinced again that he was hallucinating. The local leader of the Brannigans had always had a reputation for being queer, but snacking on candy while carrying out what could only be an execution? That was a whole new level of crazy. Also, how the hell did he get in here?!

"Ah ah ah, I wouldn't do that", O'Sullivan admonished and casually waved a small revolver in his other hand around. Immediately Sam froze, his fingers only inches away from the call-button that would summon the nurses and hopefully reinforcements. It had been the obvious thing to do from the beginning and Sam cursed himself for missing his chance when O'Sullivan had been entering.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be somewhere far away by now?", Sam wanted to know while still fighting his drowsy body. His mind needed to work properly if he wanted to survive this. Stalling seemed the best, the only, choice. But what for? How long until the nurse decided to come back? Probably a lot longer than the criminal's patience would last. Already he could see the small signs of restlessness, for instance the fact that he constantly shifted the hold on his weapon. Nevertheless, when he spoke, his voice was pleasant as ever, fooling Sam for a moment that O'Sullivan might actually be reasonable. That feeling lasted until the words made impact.

"In general, that's a fantastic idea, Sammie, but I'm screwed either way. See, my superiors are greatly disappointed by my poor performance. If I come crawling back, I'll likely be shot on sight."

Swallowing carefully, Sam nodded understanding. The Irish weren't the forgiving kind, especially after they'd invested into an enterprise and then lost their money.

"And now you're here why?", he asked, although he had a hunch that he wouldn't be happy with the answer. The criminal pushed his glasses further up his thin nose in a business-like manner, then stepped closer to the bed and bend down. "If I am caught, I'll at least finally finish you off beforehand and thereby placate my European friends."

"You don't have to do this", Sam argued, but it was a weak sound and wasn't rewarded with any sudden outbursts of qualms, which the cop hadn't anticipated to begin with.

"I know. But I want to, because...", O'Sullivan began, bringing the gun up. Just then a dark shape barreled into him and stopped the conversation short.

A/N: Phewwwww. I don't think I ever struggled so much to write a single chapter. Glad it's finally done. Do you like it?
I don't know how many of you stuck with this story, but to those still with me: thanks a lot! I promise the next chapter will be up soon.