I'm back again!

On a random note, I watched Reaper (And by "watched" I mean in two days watched the entire series) and loved every moment of it. Great show, hilarious! HILARIOUS! And Missy. Plus Bret is hot... not the point.

Personally, I'm thinking you'll like the chapter... Maybe? I'm about, like, 95% sure you'll at least somewhat enjoy it. Sorry for it consisting of so much dialogue in the first bit. But that's just how it is.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed/ favorited/ alerted. You are the reason this chapter exists.

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

The question was nagging me, but I pushed it aside for the moment. I raised the glass to my lips again and downed the rest of my drink, slamming the now empty cup down.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter anyways. Luke's pissed at me." I scoffed then added, "I suppose I should just be flattered he even gave me room for any kind of emotion."

Concern filled Sam's eyes. "Why? What happened?" I stared forward, lost in my thoughts. My face had set into a look of contemplation. "McNally?"

"Sam, who's Zoe?"

It was like time had instantly froze. There was no movement from him until he forced out the breath he had clearly been holding. He sat, letting the question really sink in. I saw his eyes flicker up from the glass in his hands to the wall across from him, and, as sorrowful as his eyes looked, there were still sparks of life in them. "How- uh... how'd you find out about her?"

I leaned back, sitting upright, and faced forward like him. "First day."

"What?"

"First day. The same day I busted you," I started. From the corner of my eye, I saw a grin grace his face.

"The day you tackled me to the ground. I got a lot of scraps from that," he said in a reminiscent tone. We both laughed in spite of the topic we were discussing. "But I still don't understand how you found out about her on your first day. Or rather, why."

"I asked Luke if he worked out of headquarters and he said that he was lead investigator for Zoe Martinelli's case."

Sam's head turned and leaned slightly towards me, eyes still down. "And?"

I looked down at my drink again. "I went to Luke's office before I came here, and we had this fight. I-... he-... God. Things between us are just getting so complicated. Which is-" I broke off when Sam's eyes captured mine. The deep concern in his eyes made me think back to the night Benny died. A sudden sadness started to take over me, but I forced myself to break away from Sam's gaze and continue. "I got, well... bitchy and grabbed one of the million files he was swimming in, and I saw her name. That's what this is all about, isn't it? Tanner Lloyd? Did he..."

Sam didn't say anything.

"Is anyone ever going to explain-" Sam held up his hand to cut me off and downed his drink in one gulp. After gently slamming the glass against the counter of the bar, he shifted in his chair to face me.

"Zoe Martinelli had a thing with Callaghan. She was my partner this one night, and we had just finished our shift. We went to the Black Penny together. I was about to leave, and I asked her if she needed a ride anywhere. She said Luke was going to meet her up there, and I left." Sam stopped for a moment. "I don't know what happened."

"And he blames you?" I asked sadly, though I already knew the answer.

"Yeah. Well, he blames himself more. What bothers him more is the fact that we haven't been able to get this guy. We have nothing on him - it haunts him. TL's just that one suspect who won't stop showing up."

I suddenly felt extremely guilty. I was confused, at loss of words, and I didn't know what to do.

"Hey, don't feel like your at fault for anything."

I scoffed and asked the bartender for another drink. "I snapped at him. I read his files."

A sullenness came over me and stared blankly ahead. Sam inched forward a little more and said, "It's not your fault. He didn't let you in. You're the most stubborn and determined human on the planet, he oughtta know that." In the noisiness of the bar, we sat in our own little silence. My brain scrambled in a paradoxical, sluggish way until I finally made a connection.

"Ever since then. Is that what you meant? 'He picks a new rookie every year.' It was after Zoe that he started doing that, right?" I observed Sam struggling for the right words.

"Zoe's death changed him. And when I said that, I didn't mean it bitterly. He does pick a new rookie every year, and I really hope this year is different. I don't want you getting hurt - I want things to work out for you, Andy." Lies. There was an undeniable acid in his voice that made me both defensive and thrilled. I took another gulp of my drink, theoretically blaming the feelings on the alcohol itself.

"That's unlikely now. We've been having-... things aren't working out as well as they could be."

Sam sat up straight and leaned back, casually running a hand through his hair. "Andy, one argument doesn't mean you're having problems. It means you argue. Welcome to 96% of relationships."

With a shake of my head I said, "No, before then. This whole time we've been having issues. We're just- I don't know. Most of the time we get along. It's only when there's a big problem that we don't get along. Like with Benny. Ever since then, I don't know. But I guess most of the time he treats me like I don't exist so...," I trailed off, my voice slowly getting quieter. After a moment, Sam asked a question that I had been avoiding for a long time with pure, honest sincerity and care in his voice.

"Why are you with him then?"

The question hit me like a ton of bricks, and there was a sudden tension. Though it wasn't anything apparently new, I was now forced to come up with a response. Or so I thought.

"Sorry. Not my place. Just forget about it for now. Relax for the night. You've had a long day."

And I did just that, and we passed the time talking about anything we could think of.

The number of drink refills continued to grow, and eventually my lips were numbed slightly, fingertips frozen, and speech brutally stammering. But I didn't care in the slightest. After Sam finished telling me some embarrassing story about Oliver that I was bound to forget within minutes, I abruptly blurted euphorically.

"Let's play a game."

Sam laughed and put his drink down with a clink. "I am not playing truth or dare with you, McNally."

Arms thrown wildly in the air, I replied, "That's not what I meant."

"Oh." Sam nodded. "I'm not playing spin the bottle either if that's what you're getting at."

I laughed drunkenly, pointing a lazy finger at him, and said with an even drunker slur, "You...only wish! I'm gonna ask you a question. And then you're going to answer it."

"Sounds intense."

"Oh it is." I downed the rest of my drink then thought. "Uhm... Favorite song."

"Are we in grade 2, McNally?"

"I thought it was a reasonable question," I said defensively while looking around the bar in attempt to hide the somewhat shame.

"I expected something more, I don't know, crafty."

"Fine. First kiss," I laughed.

"Good Lord," he said with a sigh. "It was in grade six, her name was Emily, and I was a very determined child."

I leaned forward a bit. "What did you do?"

"Asked her out four times, got shut down every time. I had a theory kissing her would convince her to go out with me."

My mind reeled at the idea of a little Sam following a girl around, utterly smitten. The image didn't quite fit. "Oh... Did it work?"

"I believe she kicked me in the shin. Bad recess."

My loud, obnoxious laughter caused heads to turn, but I was too drunk to be bothered. Apparently, Sam wasn't bothered much either - he chuckled and took a small sip of his drink as I, in ceaseless laughter, dropped my head onto the bar counter. "Easy there, McNally. Don't hurt yourself."

"I'm sorry-... It's just-... You just-... Ha!" My laughing continued on and on. Sam let out another laugh and watched me carefully. "I'm sorry. I'm probably embarrassing you right now."

"Nah. Not really."

Heads slowly turned away as the silence between us continued, and I eventually calmed myself down. My manic high turned into a sudden depression when I finally spoke again. "You must hate me." His hand dropped down onto the bar table with an extraordinarily loud thud. I assumed the decibel of the noise was only because of my ear pressed against the table top itself.

There was a bitter frown on his face mixed with hurt and sadness. "Why would I hate you?"

"Because I ruined potentially the biggest point of your career. I destroyed a huge, ginormous, colossal, astronomically huge bust." I pressed my face harder against the wood of the bar, trying to absorb the rest of its coldness that quickly got diminished by the burning of my flesh.

"That wasn't your fault, Andy. You had no way to know I was an undercover cop. In all honesty, it's mainly Boyko's fault. But it's also kind of Oliver's fault. But it wasn't your fault. You were doing your job, and I give you credit for that. You managed to bust me on your first day. Had I not been an undercover cop, you would have been the talk of 15."

I scoffed and replied, "I was the talk of 15. 'The rookie who busted the UC.' I'd rather just be unknown."

Sam rested his head in his hand and stared at me. "I don't hate you, Andy. I could never hate you."

With a shrug, I looked away. The eye contact was only making me feel worse for even asking the question. But I still persisted. "You did that day."

"Oh, come on. Don't use that against me. Sure, I was very pissed off, but you can't really blame me for that. And yeah, I was an ass to you, but I never hated you. I am more than happy where I am now. I'm glad I'm not undercover anymore. I'm glad I'm your partner." That first day seemed so long ago that the flashbacks were fuzzy around the edges but completely focused on Sam yelling, snapping, glaring, smiling at me harshly. "You know I trust you, right? I trust you with my life."

Forcing myself to sit up at least half way, I placed my left elbow on the countertop and then placed the side of my head in my hand. We stared at each other briefly until I could no longer hold his gaze and my eyes drifted away from his.

"Yeah, well, you trust me because you have to."

Sam scoffed sarcastically and said, "I don't have to do anything. I trust you simply because I do." We watched each other again as I considered the truth in his words. "Now. Your turn. Worst elementary school memory."

Shaking off the fact that I was obviously unprepared but abruptly filled with a happy energy, I started stammering, "Ah, ah, ah! Ah! Oh... Um...Grade 4, Mrs. Lansly's class, the pocket of my jeans completely ripped off."

"Seriously?"

I jumped up in my seat and waved my arms around. "I'm dead serious! We were playing some stupid game during lunch recess, and we were all lined up against the fence. Like, you know, a metal fence. We must have been playing What Time is it Mr. Wolf or something like that. Anyways, I have no idea how it happened by my pocket got caught on the fence somehow. Then I- Hah! Tried to run." I broke off with a laugh.

"And- And- Ha! Oh god. I just heard this tearing noise! And I was wearing, like, teddy bear underwear!" My loud laughter filled the bar again, but this time no one really seemed to notice. The sound simply blended with every other sound in the bar. This time Sam was laughing with me nearly as hard.

"Oh. That is hilarious," he said as he dabbed at a forming tear in his eye.

"It was terrible! I almost died of embarrassment."

Sam shrugged with a smile. "It was a character builder."

My eyes jokingly narrowed at him, and he simply smiled back at the action. "Scariest movie you've ever seen?"

"Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The first one. You?"

He thought for a moment then replied, "Hmm.. scariest movie. Probably Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory. Gene Wilder. Those oompa loompas were just... wrong and scary as hell."

"Uhm... hottest actress?"

He raised an eyebrow in contemplation. He instantly shot out his answer, "Megan Fox."

"Favorite movie?"

"The Godfather."

"Worst movie you've ever seen?"

"The Car."

My rapid fire questions ceased briefly as I started him down in confusion.

"A killer car? It wasn't exactly quality film."

Hours, and many questions, later I found the slight blitz that I was so very aware of before fading fast. I was amazed at the number of people still filling the Black Penny. The air was becoming thick and muggy from the people sweating and jostling into each other. It eventually gave me a slight headache.

"Come on. I'll give you a ride home," Sam said as he stood up from his stool.

After a somewhat wobbly trip to the door, we stepped outside into the night. The coldness pressed against me and alleviated the choking feeling I had in the Penny. Realizing that I had used most of my energy talking, once I got in the truck I simply rested against the side of the door and allowed the weight of my eye lids to close. The radio wasn't on, which I told him frequently drove me insane, but the hum of the truck and Sam's breathing was more than enough sound for me. As I laid comfortably in a semi-conscious state, Sam continued driving and said absolutely nothing until we reached my apartment.

"Andy?" he whispered gently.

I groaned sleepily in response and sat up. In attempt to rid of my sleepiness, I rubbed my hands on my face and reopened my eyes. With a suppressed yawn and turned to him. "Thank you, Sam. For everything."

His one arm was still stretched out over the steering wheel when he grinned at me. "Get some sleep."

With a nod and a small smile, I placed my hand on the door handle. For a moment, all thought ceased, my mind a complete void. But as quickly as it came, it vanished. Still, I remained in my seat, staring out my window more than aware of the fact I should be getting out. But a thought was holding me in place.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, McNally?"

"Have you ever done the right thing for the wrong reasons?"

He slowly slid his hand from the steering wheel and rested his elbow against the side of his truck. With his eyes on me, he nodded his head slowly. "Yeah, I have. A few times, actually. And what I've learned is that, in the end, it doesn't work." And with that response, we sat silently refusing to look at each other. I nodded and tried to force myself to get out, placing a hand on the door handle.

"What about doing the wrong thing for the right reasons?"

He let out a small laugh at the question and replied, "Sometimes the wrong thing isn't really all that wrong."

Shocked, I tore my hand away from the door handle and whirled in my seat to face him. My eyes watched his arm drop from the door, slumping against the side of his body, until my eyes fluttered to his face only to meet his eyes.

Mindlessly, wholly on autopilot, I slowly leaned towards Sam, who was mirroring my movement. I could feel the warmth of his breath as it brushed across my face, and in unison, we paused within only inches of each other. I searched his eyes for a spark of hesitance or anything of the sort. A minuscule part of me wanted to find it, his want to stop and forget what was presumably about to happen, solely because it would provide me with a legitimate reason, a need to stop. But every other part of me begged for him to continue. Without a regret.

I watched his eyes to flicker to my lips for a split second then return to my eyes. I could tell that there wasn't even a hint of hesitation in him.

And it was instantly made apparent there was none in me. Before I could stop myself, I fervidly leaned forward and pressed my lips against his in a nearly aggressive manner.

One hand immediately found its way to my hair, fingers slowly becoming tangled, the other resting on my waste, pulling me closer. His skin was cool on my burning finger tips, but his lips were warm against my cold ones. Heated kiss after heated kiss, our breathing became more rapid and our hold on each other tightened.

Blindly, I reached for his seat belt which was still full in tact and pressed the button. He ripped the seat belt away after breaking apart slightly.

No longer being held back, he dominantly leaned forward until he was early hovering over me. After a number of more kisses, the air in the cab of his truck was becoming extraordinarily hot and humid. With the ragged breaths we were already drawing in, it was almost impossible to breathe sufficiently. I sat up from my position and inched backwards, pulling Sam with me. When my back hit the door, I pulled away.

The sound of our gasping in the silence was deafening in the thick, hot air, proof being the condensation beginning to form on the windows. Hating the silence and the frenzy of sensations within me, I kissed him again nearly as hard as the first time. Once my hand found the door handle, I forced it open; I was overwhelmed yet relieved at the sharp gust of cold air.

This time Sam pulled away and looked at me with slight confusion. I briefly kissed him again before he took full initiative and tore his keys out of the ignition in a hurry. He got out of his truck on the passenger side after me, and as soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk, using my back, I shoved the door shut.

Sam pinned me against his truck lightly and continued pressing his lips against mine much more gently, short and rapid, but with just as much heat and need. He stepped away from the vehicle with me in his arms, and we started stumbling towards my front door but getting too caught up in each other to actually move forward in any way. Presumably fed up with our nonproductive stumbling, he picked me up with what appeared to be the utmost ease. Clinging onto him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist, I gazed down at him, and it was then that I noticed he was grinning wildly.

He hurriedly approached the door as we continued on with our kissing craze. When we were right at the door, Sam tightened his hold on me and softened our kisses, slowing them down. 'Please don't let this end now. Please.'

Sam pulled away and stared at me with a look of expectancy written on his face. Huskily, he said, "You do have your keys, right?"

After a moment on comprehension I grinned and replied, "Put me down."

One more kiss and he slowly lowered me down until my feet were planted against the ground. With shaking hands in urgency, I reached into my pockets and fished out my keys. I opened the door as fast as I could and stepped inside. I flipped on the first two lights. 'That should be enough to get to my room... maybe.'

Sam, quickly behind me, shut the door and locked it. When he turned to face me again, I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him against me with more force than I thought, and I caused myself to recoil backwards slightly and bump against one of the many boxes lining my wall.

'There's glass in there. There is definitely glass in there,' I thought, but it didn't matter to me.

The only thing that mattered was Sam's lips against mine, and Sam's tongue twisting with mine, and Sam's hands running over my body.

Through the semi-darkness, we stumbled along, inching closer and closer to my bedroom. Within seconds of stepping into my room, we tore each others shirts off without hesitation. Sam picked me up once again and lowered me onto the bed. The main entry, the moon and the street lamp outside shining through the window were the only source of light shining into the room.

Sam pulled away and stared down at my face shortly. Instantly, his lips pressed against mine, but there was a shift and everything slowed. The insistent heat calmed. He ran his lips down my neck as my fingers tangled lightly in his hair. His lips returned to mine as his fingers traced down my waist in a painfully pleasurable way causing me to let out a small moan. Kiss after kiss seemed to escalate again, and the need that was present before returned. My hands trailed down his chest until the settled on the buttons of his jeans.

"Andy," Sam groaned between kisses as we grinded against each other. I continued fumbling with the buttons. "Andy."

The cautionary tone in his voice caused a flood gate to open in my mind. A millions thoughts raced into my mind. Rules. Training officer. Luke. Abby. Amy. Luke. Training officer. Rookie. Zoe Martinelli. TL. Rules.

My fingers tore away from the still done up buttons as if they burned through my skin. In tandem, we recoiled from one another, and our eyes bore into each other. Sam breathed deeply and backed away to sit on the bed. In somewhat of a shame, I looked down and ran my left hand through my hair.

"Sam. I- I'm so sorry. I-..." I didn't know what precisely I was apologizing for, and I'm sure he didn't either. I just hoped he would take it as however he wanted to.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too. I should- I should go. I'll see you tomorrow."

He stood up and headed out of the room, stopping just behind the door frame to pick up his shirt. I watched him put it on as he continued down the hall. I stared blankly to the side, hiding my face from him. Only when I heard the door closing did I allow myself to face forward as the tears formed in my eyes. Why I was crying was, again, beyond me. I buried my face into my hands and cried freely.

Partly for Luke out of sympathy.

Partly for Sam out of empathy.

Partly for me for screwing up my life on so many levels.

Partly for allowing things to get as far as they did with Sam.

And partly for missing out on something I secretly wanted more than anything else in the world.

Aaaand scene! For taking so long, I'm sorry it's not longer. The only part that I could write decently was the drunken scenes... That's a great sign.

Again, I only went over it once so if you see any major mistakes, if you could kindly point them out to me that would be super duper so I could fix them. Mhm. Thank you for reading!

RxR
MichaellaLoe