Author's Note: I apologize to those of you who I told that this would be up yesterday. I finished it but then as I was reading through there were some things I wasn't very happy with and wanted to rework. As always, thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.
Sam knocked on the brown, nondescript door of the house that sat in the middle of a row of townhomes. He knocked again and then stepped back, waiting for someone to answer.
Boyd opened the door, bare-chested and buckling the belt that held up his low slung jeans. He squinted at Sam, as if he was having trouble seeing because he had just woken up, and then greeted him, "Sammy, buddy, what's up?"
Sam wanted to roll his eyes at the other man's use of his nickname. There were only a select few individuals who he didn't mind calling him "Sammy" and Boyd was definitely not one of those few. He decided to bypass pleasantries and get to the real reason he was there. "Andy McNally is your rookie, correct?"
Boyd glanced around, suddenly seeming anxious, and then snorted with a laugh. "Yeah, why?"
"Well, it's come to my attention, through a variety of sources actually, that you've been giving her some trouble."
Boyd shook his head. "Don't know what you're talking about man."
"Oh, I think you do," Sam assured him.
Boyd pursed his lips and crossed his arms, assuming a defensive stance. "And what does how I treat my rookie have to do with you?"
"She's a family friend," Sam told him easily, not bothering to offer any more information. "Here's the deal, I'm going to make this very simple - start training her like you're supposed to, stop yelling at her all the time and stop making vulgar comments."
Boyd scratched at his beard. "Or what, exactly?" He asked with mock curiosity.
"Or I'm going start bringing things up. Things from three years ago," Sam told him, keeping his expression neutral. "Things you probably don't want brought up."
"Oh, okay," Boyd scoffed. He rolled his eyes and went to shut his door, but Sam stuck his arm out, keeping it from closing. Boyd looked at the hand on his door and then back at Sam, arching an eyebrow in question.
Sam smiled at him patiently, the kind of smile a parent gives an unruly child. "You and I both know that had I made more noise, suspension would have been the least of your problems."
"Sam, let's not dredge up the past," Boyd said. "It's over, it's done with… we've both moved on."
"Nope," Sam shook his head, "I really don't think I have. And I promise you, if you continue to make McNally's life hell, I will go down to internal affairs and I will make so much noise, they will fire you just to shut me up."
"Like they're going to listen to you now," Boyd challenged. "It's been three years."
"It's incredible how being tortured can really repress a person's memories," Sam replied menacingly. He twirled his finger in a circle. "Things are just coming back to me daily."
"You're lying," Boyd claimed, the hitch in his voice giving away his nerves.
"Try me," Sam dared. "See where it gets you."
Sam was bluffing. Before he'd gone on his two-week paid leave courtesy of the city, he'd told internal affairs everything he knew about the Brennan, the undercover operation and Boyd. He hadn't been around when they had settled on Boyd's punishment but, given the fact that Boyd still had a job, he'd always suspected that somehow, someway, things had gotten swept under the proverbial rug. Boyd's less than confident response to his threats was only strengthening those suspicions.
"You know what Boyd," Sam continued, shaking his head, "It's been a really, really bad year for me and there isn't much that would make me happier than putting a headstone on your career."
"You wouldn't," Boyd sneered.
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Trust me, I would. And I swear to God," he threatened between clenched teeth, his hand resting meaningfully on his gun, "If I ever see another bruise on her, it will not be your career that I will end."
Boyd looked at him and after a moment his expression changed from fear to one of amusement. He laughed, "Oh, I get it now. You're screwing a rookie. What?" he grinned suggestively, "Is she too depressed to give you some lovin' when she gets home for work? Not getting enough rookie nookie?"
Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He licked his bottom lip and cautioned, "Watch it."
"Of course," Boyd continued, "I'd think the angry sex would be incredible." He whistled and shook his head. "Gotta hand it to you, she is a hot little thing. A little mouthy maybe," he mused sardonically, "But that could be put to good use."
Sam glared at him and then grinned mirthlessly, baring his teeth. He began to chuckle, low and humorless, and Boyd, looking uncertain at first, eventually joined in. After a moment of seemingly genial, knowing laughter, Sam clapped Boyd on the shoulder and then, when the other man was least suspecting, delivered a swift, strong uppercut to his midsection, knocking the wind of out him. Boyd made a noise that was a mix between a grunt and a whimper and fell to the ground, hunched over and gasping for air.
Sam crouched down beside the wheezing man. "This shouldn't have to be said but, as I just witnessed, the depth of your stupidity and lack of anything resembling common sense never ceases to amaze me, so I'm going to make myself clear." He paused until Boyd looked up at him. "You don't breath a word of this to McNally or to anyone else for that matter. Got it?" Boyd just nodded. "We good?"
Boyd coughed and cleared his throat, letting out a hoarse, "Yeah man."
"Good," Sam patted Boyd on the shoulder and then stood to his feet, adjusting his belt. He started to walk away and then turned back around. "Oh, one more thing." Boyd glanced up at him, "Don't ever call me Sammy."
Sam made his way back to the patrol car, smiling cordially to a lady on the sidewalk as he passed by. He opened the door to the cruiser and then lowered himself into the driver's seat. When he glanced over at his rookie, he found Dov was staring at him with wide-eyed admiration. "That. Was. Awesome," Dov said, punctuating every word. "You hit him and he just, POW!" he clapped his hands together, "Fell right to the ground."
"Yeah well," Sam grimaced as his fingers curled around the keys to turn the ignition, "I wasn't planning on hitting him but he pissed me off." He inspected his knuckles and found that they were bleeding. "Get me a napkin or something, would you? I must have hit his belt buckle."
Dov pulled some napkins out of the glove compartment and handed them over. "There's a first aid kit in the trunk, you want me to get that?"
"No, this'll be fine."
Dov looked back to see that Boyd had finally peeled himself off the ground and gone inside. "You think he's going to leave Andy alone now?"
Sam dabbed at his fingers with the napkin, hissing slightly when it stung, and then shrugged. "Hope so." He flexed his fingers. "We'll see."
Andy wasn't given the opportunity to notice the change in her training officer immediately. Two hours into her shift on Friday she and the other rookies were assigned to help with the search for a missing child. They were briefed on the details – male, six years old, last seen the night before when his parents tucked him into bed – and told that the fifteenth division was heading up the investigation. They were sent to Queen's Park, where there had been a confirmed sighting of the young boy on one of the surveillance cameras in the area.
"Hey McNally," Oliver called to the rookie when she got out of her squad car, waving her over, "They send you guys to help?"
She nodded and gestured back to the other officers from twenty-seven, "Yeah, there's four of us here and there are two more on the way."
"Good, good, we're gonna need all the bodies we can get," Oliver admitted, distractedly scratching his forehead with his thumb. Andy could already hear the strain of the day in his voice. "Sam's running this, so you guys can head over there and he'll tell you what to do." He jerked his thumb over to a picnic table that had been made into a make-shift command station. Sam was hunched over at one with a map in front of him, marking off areas of the park for the search.
Andy observed him for a moment, thinking how strange it was to see him in uniform and on the job. Even though she knew he was a police officer, her superior officer at that, being around him in a professional capacity was odd. They made their way over to him and he stood up straighter when he saw them approach. He acknowledged Andy with a subtle nod and then was all business, giving them a run down of the investigation so far and laying out the parameters for the search.
There had been a storm the night before and the ground was waterlogged and covered with a layer of damp leaves. It was still drizzling and the air was chilled from the recent cold front. When Sam delegated responsibilities, small puffs of condensation formed with each word he spoke.
As uncomfortable as the weather was, it only added to the already heavy sense of urgency.
They were teamed up with officers from fifteen and sent out to look for anything and everything that might be important. Andy and another rookie from twenty-seven, Brad, were teamed up with Dov and Traci. There were hasty introductions made, but everyone was far more concerned with finding the little boy than they were with getting to know each other.
Half an hour later, it was Andy that found him, his small body crumpled unnaturally behind a large tree, covered with debris and trash bags and limbs that had fallen from the storm. His skin was pale and grey and there was a large wound on the side of his head.
She sucked in a sharp breath of air, pushing her horror and the sudden sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach aside, and knelt down to check for a pulse while calling out to Dov. She couldn't find a pulse, but her hands were shaking so badly that she asked Dov to check as well, hoping she had just missed it.
She radioed it in, fumbling over her words as she tried to get the message out. From across the park, she could see Sam and Oliver start running her way when they received the call.
Dov stood up, shaking his head. Andy hunched over, feeling like she was going to be sick, and took several deep, controlled breaths, willing herself to keep it together until she could break down in private.
The next hour seemed like a blur. There was a flurry of activity and she was asked to give her account of finding the boy at least three different times to three different people. The medical examiner arrived, along with CSU, and the area was roped off as a crime scene.
Finally, the officers of twenty-seven were told they could return to their station and finish up there.
Andy was about to slam the cruiser door shut when Sam called out to her, jogging over. She got to her feet and leaned against the side of the car, waiting for him.
As he got nearer he slowed and approached cautiously. His arms were out and for a second she thought, hoped even, as inappropriate as it would have been, that he was going to draw her into them. Instead, he rested one hand on the top of the car and the other on the open door, trapping her in the space between the car and his body. Had Brad not been sitting in the passenger's seat, she might have leaned against him. As it was, she simply lowered her head and huddled in front of him, shielding herself against the wind.
"You okay?" He asked. His voice was low and only meant for her.
She chewed on her lip and nodded, looking down.
"If this is ruled a homicide, which it's gonna be, it's fifteen's."
Again she nodded. "I know." He didn't have to elaborate; it was going to be Luke's case.
There was a stretch of silence. "You shouldn't be alone tonight," he said finally. Her eyes flicked up to meet his for the first time. "If you are…" he didn't have to spell out why she would be, "Come over."
Andy swallowed hard. She wanted to protest, to tell him that she would be fine, but she heard herself saying, "Okay."
"Okay," he repeated with a slight nod. He pushed her door open further and moved back, giving her space to climb into the car. She did and he slammed the door shut and then slapped the back of the car as she pulled away.
She didn't get home until late, after dark. Her clothing was drenched from her walk home and her nose and ears were red from the cold. She could have taken a bus or a taxi, but she needed the time alone.
Before she left the station she had called Luke and was unsurprised to learn that he had taken on the case.
"You doing okay?" He asked. "I heard you were the one that found him."
"Yeah, I did," she said. She took a deep breath. "I'm okay."
"I'm going to be swamped here tonight," Luke told her apologetically. "Do you want to come by? We can grab a quick bite to eat somewhere, or…"
"No," she interrupted him. "That's fine. I know you're busy."
"I'll call you later, okay?" He promised.
"Yeah, okay." She frowned as she ended the call.
In the privacy of her home, as she pulled her wet clothes off, she thought over the brief conversation and tried to reason with herself. It was his job. She knew that. She knew what the life of homicide detective was like before she even started dating him. It was unfair to hold it against him, but on a night when she needed him, needed his comfort, she couldn't help but feel disappointed and hurt.
While she was tugging on a comfortable pair of sweats she debated with herself about whether or not she should take Sam up on his invitation.
On one hand, it would be admitting that she was alone.
On the other hand, she was alone. And she really really didn't want to be.
Every time she didn't fill her mind with something else, anything else, the image of the little boy would pop up and her chest would tighten with panic and she would have difficulty breathing. She could still feel his cold, lifeless skin under her fingertips. It wasn't the first time she had seen a dead person but it was the first time she had seen someone so young and so innocent.
She couldn't spend the night curled up on her sofa, replaying the horrible day over and over.
The decision made, she pulled on a pair of boots and her coat and made her way next door.
Sam opened the door almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for her.
"Hi." Andy greeted him simply and even to her own ears her voice sounded weak and drained.
"Hey," was Sam's gruff reply. He kept one hand on the door and was stretched across the entrance, his other hand making a fist against the doorframe. His dark eyes bore into hers and she had to look away, shifting uncomfortably under his tense gaze. He didn't looked at all surprised to see her and she was thankful when he didn't make a comment as to what her appearance on his doorstep meant.
Luke had chosen work over being there for her, again.
It was embarrassing enough without Sam pointing it out and, to his credit, he didn't. Without another word, he pushed himself back and moved aside to allow her in, out of the cold, wet night air.
She stepped into the house and shrugged off her coat, handing to him when he reached for it. Their fingers brushed together as she handed it over and she found herself holding on to the material for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, enjoying the warmth of his touch.
Sam gently tugged at her coat and she let go, quickly turning away from him to hide the sudden and involuntary blush that colored her cheeks. He hung it in the closet with the other outerwear and then moved past her down the short hallway, asking, "Have you eaten?"
She shook herself out of her daze, reminding herself that it had been an emotional day and she was in no state to be noticing how warm his hands were. Or how good he smelled. "I'm fine," she insisted unconvincingly.
He stopped and turned back to look at her. "Come on," he said in a tone that didn't leave room for argument. "We already ate but there's plenty of leftovers."
As she followed him into the kitchen, she heard Lindsey call out, "Is that Andy?"
"Yep," Sam replied, opening the refrigerator.
Andy leaned against the counter and called back, "Hey Lindsey!"
There was a patter of footsteps and then Lindsey appeared in the kitchen. "Oh good," she said, not bothering to question Andy's presence or whether or not she would be staying. "You can be the tiebreaker for tonight's movie. Would you rather watch Transformers," she said the word slowly, shaking her head, "Or Pride and Prejudice." She nodded eagerly, making her choice obvious.
Andy laughed at her enthusiasm and then tapped her chin, pretending to think. "I think I'm going to have to go with Pride and Prejudice."
"Yes! Ha, you'll have to watch your stupid robot movie later." Lindsey gloated to her uncle. "I'm just going to get it ready."
"Traitor," Sam mumbled under his breath as Lindsey went back into the living room. He pulled out a Tupperware container that was holding some kind of soup and then closed the refrigerator door. "I'm feeding you and everything."
"You should thank me. I just saved you from what could have been a very embarrassing and potentially scarring movie watching experience." A look of confusion crossed Sam's face and Andy asked, "Have you seen Transformers?"
"No," he admitted, "The kid at the movie rental place recommended it though."
"Aw, you still go to the store to rent a movie?" A grin spread across Andy's face. "That's… cute."
Sam looked at her suspiciously. "Why is that cute?"
"No one goes to the movie store anymore. Well, no one except you, apparently. They have those movie rental kiosks on pretty much every block now," Andy told him.
"Oh." Sam bent to retrieve a pot from under the counter. "Those things that look like ATMs?"
Andy nodded. "Yep. You'd love it, you don't have to talk to anyone. You just swipe your credit card and pick your movie."
"Sounds life-changing," Sam deadpanned. Andy smirked at him and he reciprocated in kind. He turned the stove on and asked, "So, why is it I should be thanking you for choosing a movie where women sit around yapping in a British accent?"
"Oh right. The main character of Transformers? His name is Sam."
"Good name," Sam quipped.
"Yeah," Andy humored him. "Well, there's a scene where Sam's mom walks in on him and finds him in what she thinks is a compromising situation, but what she thinks is going on really isn't what's going on but Sam doesn't want to tell her what's really going on so he just let's her think she knows what's going on…"
"McNally…" He interrupted her rambling, prodding her to get to the point.
"Right, anyway, long story short, there's a discussion and they use the phrase "Sam's happy time" and I just think it would have been weird and awkward to hear that." She paused. "Because your name is Sam," she explained unnecessarily. "And they were talking about… you know. And no one wants to think about you doing… that." Sam arched an eyebrow and Andy groaned and dropped her head into her hands, "Oh my god, I'm just going to stop now."
Sam wet his lips and then grinned, thoroughly enjoying her apparent mortification. "I'm glad you saved us all from that embarrassment," he said wryly.
Andy looked up at him, her cheeks flaming red, and couldn't help but smile. He was teasing her. "Oh, anytime," she replied before laughing and shaking her head. She had been on the verge of tears all day but five minutes at his place and she was already laughing.
She nodded towards the living room and asked, "Speaking of embarrassing… how's Lindsey doing?"
Sam shot her a look she couldn't read and then reached to open a drawer, pulling out a pamphlet of some sort. He handed it over to her without a word.
Andy let out a loud snort of laughter when she read the title. Everything You Need to Know About Your Period. "What is this?"
Sam had already turned away from her, back to whatever he was making on the stove. "Lindsey brought that home from school for me," he explained. "Apparently she decided the best way to get past the awkwardness was to just be open and honest about everything."
"That is a very mature approach to take," Andy replied.
Sam turned to her and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt before crossing his arms. "I thought that nothing could be worse than the birds and the bees talk I got from my mom when I was eight," he told her, looking disturbed. "But then I had to read that with my niece sitting right beside me and I realized I was very, very, wrong."
Andy started to giggle, imagining the conversation that must have taken place between Lindsey and her uncle. She kind of wished she had been there, just to bask in Sam's nervousness. "Wow," she exclaimed, reading over the material. "This is very informative."
"Oh yeah," Sam nodded, "I know more than I ever wanted or, in my opinion, needed to know." When Andy burst out laughing he turned to her and, with a completely straight face, said, "I'm glad you think this is funny."
"Come on," She laughed. "You have to admit, it's pretty funny. If Oliver were in your position, you'd be cracking up."
The ends of Sam's lips curled and he finally cracked a grin, shrugging, "You're probably right."
"Hey," Andy said, trying to sound supportive. "If you made it through this you can make it through anything. Maybe. Hopefully. I don't know," she admitted, "Dating's probably gonna be rough."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said warily, taking the pamphlet from her. He put it back where he it got it from and covered it with various take out menus and flyers before slamming the drawer shut.
There was a lull in the conversation and Andy fidgeted in her spot while Sam calmly stirred something on the stove. When she couldn't take the silence any more, she spoke up. "So, what's that you're making over there?"
"Soup," Sam answered.
Andy rolled her eyes. "Well I know it's soup," she said, moving to stand next to him. She peered over his shoulder. "What kind of soup?"
"Italian sausage and vegetable."
"Oh. What's in it?"
Sam looked at her and slowly replied, "Italian sausage and vegetables."
Andy slapped him on the arm. "I know that, I meant what kind of vegetables."
He shook his head. "Secret family recipe," he said, pulling a bowl out of the cabinet beside the stove. "Can't tell you."
"You expect me to eat that without knowing what's in it?" She asked, watching as he spooned the soup into the bowl.
"Well, you can either eat this," He said, carefully handing the bowl over to her. "Or you can starve. My guess is you're gonna eat it."
Andy cradled the bowl in her hands. "It does smell delicious," she admitted reluctantly.
He grinned and gave her a spoon, "It's good, I promise. Careful though, it's hot."
"I think I can manage," Andy assured him, She took a small spoonful and blew on it, cooling it off, before lifting it to her lips. "Mmmm…. This is really good." She took another bite and then asked, "Who taught you to cook like this?"
His back was already turned to her to clean up so when he answered, "Sarah," she couldn't see his expression.
She was about to ask him another question when there was a low, guttural sound behind them. They both turned to see Lindsey standing in the doorway, looking perturbed. "Are you guys coming to watch the movie or not?"
Andy had completely forgotten that Lindsey was setting up the movie. "Oh yeah, " She said, pushing herself away from the counter. "I'm right behind you."
"I'm just gonna clean up," Sam called after them. "Feel free to start without me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Andy replied, turning to grin at him before following his niece into the living room.
They settled in to watch the movie, Lindsey and Andy on the sofa and Sam, when he joined them a few minutes later, in his chair. Andy curled up and ate her soup, the hot liquid warming her chilled body, and found herself being pulled into the story of Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy.
They paused the movie about an hour in when Lindsey declared she needed to use the bathroom. The young girl popped off the sofa and threw her uncle the remote, telling them that she would be right back.
"You know Sam," Andy said, "You're kind of like Mr. Darcy."
Sam smirked. "Handsome, intelligent, charming…"
"Arrogant, sarcastic, monotone," She looked over at him, "In the habit of doing things for others without their consent." A look that Andy couldn't quite identify washed over Sam's face… guilt, maybe? She didn't want him to get the wrong idea and think she was upset with him, so she smiled, "I noticed the hedges were trimmed. Thank you."
"Oh," he replied uneasily, as if he thought she had been talking about something else, "You're welcome."
"Of course," Andy continued, "Elizabeth Bennett is a brunette, so Jane would probably be more your type."
Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Who said I don't like brunettes?"
"You did." Andy looked back at him incredulously. "You said I wasn't your type. I'm a brunette."
"I said insurance adjusters weren't my type," he reminded her. "I like brunettes just fine."
"You probably should go for a brunette next time," Lindsey advised, returning to the room. "Monica was a blonde and look how well that turned out."
Andy perked up. "Who is Monica?"
"Uncle Sam's ex-girlfriend," Lindsey told her, climbing onto the couch and folding her feet beneath her.
Sam groaned from his chair. "Andy doesn't want to hear about my ex-girlfriends, Lindsey."
Andy nodded, looking from Sam to his niece. "Yes I do."
"Monica was the only one I ever met," Lindsey said, rolling her eyes. "Ugh. She was horrible."
"Lindsey!" Sam admonished.
"She was!" Lindsey insisted. "Mom liked her because they were both nurses but we went to lunch with her once and she ignored me the entire time. And she was rude. Not funny rude, rude rude."
Andy grinned at Lindsey's clarification of Monica's rudeness and asked Sam, "When did that end?"
"Few months ago," he answered nonchalantly. Andy's brow furrowed at his casual tone and she looked at him curiously. A few months ago he either would have been undercover or it would have been shortly after Sarah had died. He must have felt her eyes on him because he shifted his gaze to meet hers, shaking his head slightly. She took the hint not to continue with that line of questioning.
It didn't matter, because Lindsey quickly informed her, "Yeah, she dumped him right after he got me."
Sam sighed heavily. "She did not dump me, we decided not to see each other anymore," he corrected. "And it had nothing to do with you."
"Whatever," Lindsey argued, obviously upset on behalf of her uncle. "She dumped you right after you got custody of your dead sister's daughter. What a winner she was."
Andy's eyes widened at the young girl's sudden outburst of anger. She imagined that Lindsey had to feel guilty over her uncle's break up whether she was the catalyst or not.
"Lindsey," Sam said, addressing only his niece. His tone was firm but kind. "You know that is not true."
Lindsey rolled her eyes and slumped back into the sofa, folding her arms in front of her chest with a huff. "Let's just watch the movie."
Sam stared at his niece, who studiously avoided his gaze, and chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, but then held the remote towards the television and pressed play. Andy looked over at him and mouthed "Sorry". He winked at her and shook his head slightly, letting her know he wasn't upset.
Andy sighed and nestled into the corner of the sofa, turning her attention back to the movie. Her interest had waned during the brief intermission and she found herself fighting to keep her heavy eyelids open. She pulled one of the pillows up to the armrest and relaxed against it, stifling a yawn.
When the movie ended, Lindsey whispered, "Uncle Sam." She pointed at Andy, who had fallen asleep. "Should I wake her up?"
At some point Andy had stretched out her legs, as much as she could anyway with Lindsey at the other end of the couch, and one hand was cradled under her head while the other was clasped between her thighs. She was snoring softly and ever so often her cheek twitched.
Sam shook his head. "No, it's okay," he said quietly, motioning to the television. "I'm going to watch the news so we can let her sleep a little while longer."
"Okay," Lindsey agreed, gently standing to her feet so as not to disturb the sleeping woman. She pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa and covered Andy with it before making her way over to her uncle. "I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight," she said.
"Goodnight sweetie," Sam said, sitting up in his chair to quickly press a kiss against the top of Lindsey's head. "Love you."
"Love you too," she replied with a tired smile, padding towards the stairs.
Sam clicked through the channels and found a late night show. He watched for as long as he could, not fully understanding why he was putting off waking Andy up, but when he felt himself nodding off he knew he couldn't wait any longer.
He approached her carefully, not wanting to startle her. "Andy," he whispered, kneeling down beside her. He shook her shoulder gently. "Andy, wake up." She stuck out her hand to push him away, mumbling incoherently in her sleep. Sam's lips twitched with a small smile and he nudged her again, whispering her name.
She reached her hand out again and this time it connected with the side of his face. The contact must have woken her up because her eyes fluttered open and she blinked a couple of time to focus them. "Hey," she said hoarsely. "I fell asleep."
Sam chuckled softly, his hand resting on her shoulder. "Yeah, you did."
"Did the movie end?" She mumbled, still not fully awake.
He glanced at his watch. "Yeah, like an hour ago."
Her forehead wrinkled adorably. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Thought I'd let you sleep for a while," he said quietly. "It's been a long day."
"Yeah," she nodded, feeling the emotion of the day come rushing back, "It has."
He gave her a small half-smile and his brown eyes were soft and kind. His hand was warm against her shoulder and she absently reached out, running her fingers up his arm to cup his jaw in her hand.
His breath caught in his throat and he found himself leaning forward. "Andy," he croaked.
"Hmm?" She murmured, tracing her thumb over the scar beneath his eye.
"What are you doing?"
The question snapped Andy out of her daze. "I don't know," she said, sobering. She sighed and removed her hand, flopping over onto her back. Pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, she groaned, "Luke took the case."
Sam sighed and then moved to sit on the other end of the sofa, pushing her feet out of the way. "I know," he said.
"It's his job, right?" Andy said, trying to convince herself. "He had to take it."
"Yeah," Sam answered, laying his hand against her bent knee. "He works homicide, Andy. What we saw today… he deals with the all the time. He doesn't mean to, but he probably just forgets how hard it can be."
Andy looked at him for a moment and then her lips curled into a slight smile. "How much did that hurt?
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.
"To say something nice about Luke," Andy clarified. "How much did that hurt?"
Sam chuckled. "I'd rather tazer myself than do it again," he admitted, his mouth twisting into a grin.
Andy laughed, "Well you don't have to." She hesitated, her laughter dying, and then muttered, "If I'm going to be with him I need to get used to the job coming first, huh?"
Sam pursed his lips but then nodded "If you're going to be with him, yeah." He paused. "If you're going to be with him."
Andy didn't miss the meaning behind his words. She had a choice; she didn't have to be in a relationship with Luke.
"Hey," she said, nudging him with her foot. "Enough about me. Tell me what happened with Monica."
"Ah," Sam groaned, leaning back against the couch. "It was just a case of bad timing, that's all." Andy raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his answer, so he elaborated, "We met before I went under this last time and dated right up until I left." He squinted and scratched at something on his jeans. "It was kind of an understood thing that if she was single when I got back we'd start dating more seriously. But then… " he shrugged, "Well, things changed. I tried to see her a couple of times but I could tell she wasn't into it."
"What do you mean?"
"Monica wasn't sure if she even wanted kids of her own," he said. "She definitely didn't want to raise someone else's teenager. Can't really say I blame her. Plus, I was trying to get Lindsey settled in, so it wasn't like I had a lot of time on my hands."
Andy stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if his laidback attitude was genuine or just an act. It was so hard to tell with him. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment.
Sam waved his hand. "It's not a big deal. Probably wouldn't have worked out anyway. Despite what Lindsey says," his lip tugged into a half smile when he mentioned his niece, "Monica's not a bad person. I don't think too many women will be jumping at the chance to take us on."
Andy's brow furrowed and she suddenly felt very sad for him. There were times when she was around him and Lindsey that she forgot how dramatically their lives had changed right before she met them. She forgot that they were both still adjusting to a new way of life that was very different from what they were used to. Sam always seemed so unflappable and self-assured that when there were small glimpses of vulnerability she wasn't sure how to respond.
She wanted to say something encouraging but before she could think of anything he sighed and looked at his watch.
"It's late," he said, standing up. "Come on, I'll walk you home."
Andy took the hand he offered her and got to her feet. "I can walk home on my own," she insisted, "It's like, ten feet."
"What kind of police officer would I be if I let you walk home alone, late at night, in the dark?" Sam asked, heading towards the front of the house.
"Um…" Andy followed after him, offering, "The kind of police officer that lives right next door to me?"
Sam opened the closet to pull out her coat. "Would you stop arguing with me and just let me walk you home?" He asked, holding the coat up for her so she could slip her arms into it.
"Fine," she agreed, fastening the row of buttons down the front. "But I want the record to show that I think it's silly."
"Duly noted," Sam said, opening the front door. They were hit with a blast of cold air that made Sam curse and Andy instinctively hooked her arm around his, huddling close for warmth. The short trip was made in silence, save for Andy's chattering teeth. Whey they reached her house, he leaned against the wall as she fumbled with her keys, finally finding the right one and slipping it into the lock.
"Hey, Sam?" She said, turning to face him before she stepped into her house.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for tonight. For inviting me over."
"You're welcome," he replied.
She took half a step closer to him, close enough for the material of her coat to brush against his chest. "One day, someone's gonna jump."
The crease between his eyes deepened and he looked at her, confused. "What?"
"At the chance to be with you." Andy smiled. "You're a good man. And Lindsey's a good kid."
A strange look flickered across his face and he pressed his lips together in a tight smile. "Goodnight, Andy."
She pushed her door open. "Goodnight."
AN: Just as an FYI- I'm going out of town tomorrow for a week and I'm not sure how much internet access I will have. If I don't update like I normally do, don't worry... I haven't given up on the story! As soon as I return I'll get back to the regularly scheduled updates.