Author's Note: Yay! I'm glad that Luke is gone too! I really enjoyed reading some of the comments about him and the varied range of emotions expressed about his character. Thank you so much for taking the time to give me your reactions to the last chapter!

Disclaimer: (Is this really necessary?) I do not own Rookie Blue.

The day after her break up with Luke, Andy walked home feeling lighter than she had in ages. Or, at least, the last four or five months. She supposed she should be more upset and part of her even wanted to feel sad, as if the ache that came along with that sadness would somehow validate her relationship with Luke. As if it would be evidence that they had actually meant something to each other beyond a warm body to snuggle up next to every once and awhile.

She wanted to feel those emotions that typically came along with a break up, but she didn't. Instead she felt… calmed. Relieved. Relieved she didn't have to fit into Luke's self-inflicted crazy work schedule anymore, relieved she didn't have to defend their relationship to her friends anymore, and relieved that she just didn't have to try so hard anymore to make something work that obviously wasn't.

Work had even been good; her training officer had apparently decided to try and start acting like a decent human being in the last couple of weeks. It wasn't a drastic change but instead of leaving everyday feeling like an incompetent failure, she left with a renewed sense of optimism, hopeful that she could actually be the kind of police officer she strived to be.

The pressures that had been on her shoulders – the difficult work situation, the draining relationship – were finally eased.

When she neared her home she saw Sam sitting on her front steps. She hadn't given much thought to how she was going to tell him that she had broken up with Luke, but delightful shivers tingled her skin as she briefly allowed herself to consider the implications of her break up, the possibilities that were opened for her and Sam. An unexpected swarm of butterflies took up residence in her stomach as she approached the steps, a wide smile on her face.

"Hey," she called out, casually striding up to him. "What's up?"

He didn't acknowledge her right away, instead choosing to stare at the ground for an extra second. She noticed he was fidgeting with his wristwatch, a habit of his when he was anxious, and when he finally glanced up at her the pleasant flutters in her stomach turned to stone, her heart dropping at the look in his eye.

"Hey," he responded, getting to his feet. His tone was void of the warmth she had come to expect from him and his eyes lacked their usual mischievous sparkle.

"Is something wrong?" She asked immediately, her mind racing with possibilities.

"I, uh," he paused to clear his throat, covering his mouth with his fist. "I wanted to talk to you about yesterday."

"Oh," she replied, relieved that it wasn't something more serious. "Is Lindsey okay? I was going to come by later and see her."

Sam ran his hand through his hair and scratched at the base of his head as he answered, "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He took a deep breath and then stared her straight in the eye. "I think it would be best if you stopped coming over."

His request caught her off guard and it took her a moment to respond. When she did, she could barely stammer out, "What?"

"Lindsey's getting too attached to you," Sam explained, "I should have realized what was going on but…" he broke off, shaking his head and shrugging.

"Too attached?" She repeated, confused. "Sam, what are you talking about?"

"Yesterday, the little fight you saw?" She nodded, prodding him to continue, "It started because she was mad about Luke being there, taking your attention and it ended with her yelling that you were going to leave and forget all about us."

She tried to interrupt. "If this is about Luke…"

He cut her off. "It's not about Luke. And it's not even really about you. It's about Lindsey getting too close to someone who's not always going to be there. I don't think she can handle getting hurt again."

Andy didn't try and conceal the emotions that played on her face as his words settled in. "What makes you think I'm going to hurt her?"

He sighed, pained by the distress in her eyes. After Lindsey had blown up at him the day before he'd sat outside for at least an hour trying to figure out what had caused her outburst and what he could have possibly done to prevent it. He knew that her words weren't just angry; there was real, genuine fear there. Fear of being deeply hurt. Fear of losing someone she cared about. He didn't realize just how attached to Andy Lindsey had become in the few short months until right then.

He'd wrestled with the decision to talk to Andy the entire night, knowing that she probably wasn't going to understand he reasoning and that he wasn't going to be able to explain it to her satisfaction. He didn't even necessarily understand but he knew that the closer Lindsey became to Andy the more it would devastate her when Andy wasn't around anymore.

Hurting Andy was one of the last things that he wanted to do, but he knew that he had to put his niece's needs before his own wants.

Sam looked at Andy, telling her sincerely, "I know that you would never intentionally do anything to hurt her. But one day, sooner or later, you're going to go off and you're going to start your own family and whether you mean to or not, Lindsey's going to get left behind."

The breath left Andy's lungs in a sharp whoosh. "That's not fair," she protested. "I can't predict what's going to happen and neither can you."

"I know that," he admitted. "I know. But it's my job to protect her. I should have been more careful about who I let around her."

"You can't protect her from everything that could possibly hurt her."

"No," he tilted his head and squinted. "But I can try."

"So your solution is what? Just to cut all contact?"

He shrugged, remaining silent.

"And you don't think that's going to hurt her?"

"I know it will," he confessed, "But it's better now than later, when she's grown even closer to you."

She folded her arms over her chest and looked down to the ground. "So, if I see her on the street, am I allowed to say hello?"

"Andy…"

Her chin jutted out and she continued, "If I'm walking home and her bus passes by, can I wave?"

"Don't be like this." He pleaded quietly.

"Like what? Offended? Angry? Hurt?" she yelled. She knew she was being unreasonable, but her emotions were clouding her ability to be logical. "Because I am, Sam. I am. You have no right…"

"I do have the right," he argued, his voice eerily calm. "I'm her guardian, I'm responsible for her wellbeing."

Andy narrowed her eyes bitterly, "And you think that being around me is bad for her wellbeing?"

"No," he replied firmly, "I think that after going through what Lindsey's been through, getting attached to someone who will not always be around is bad for her wellbeing."

She let out a short, indignant huff and shook her head, looking anywhere but at him.

"It's not personal," Sam said almost guiltily, grasping at anything that might assuage her justified anger.

Her eyes swung to meet his and she glared at him. "Of course it's personal, Sam. Don't give me that crap."

There was a long stretch of silence and she held his gaze intensely, challenging him. "Please try to understand where I'm coming from," he said after a moment, breaking the quiet. "You're not her mom or her aunt and you're not my girlfriend or my wife and that's what she's expecting you to be. Those are the relationships she understands."

"I know I'm not any of that but…" Andy threw her hands up, helpless, "I'm her friend, isn't that enough?"

Sam winced at desperation in her voice. "I wish it was, but her world is incredibly messed up right now and nothing makes sense," he said. "She's having trouble making the distinction between how things are and how she thinks things should be."

Andy stared at the ground and she worried her bottom lip, contemplating what he was saying, trying to understand. "I think you're underestimating her."

"Maybe I am," he acknowledged. "Look, Andy, I know that I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm just trying to do what I think is best," he told her earnestly.

Andy took a deep breath. "And you think this is best?" He nodded. "For Lindsey?" Sam nodded again, his mouth twisting to the side.

He stubbed his toe against a step a couple of times, exhaling heavily. He wished there was some way he could make her understand that his decision wasn't one he reached easily and that it honestly had nothing to do with her as a person. Selfishly, he wanted her around all the time but he knew it wasn't fair to put that expectation on her.

She didn't say anything for a long moment, her expression searching and pensive. "Okay," she finally spoke, almost too softly for him to hear.

He bent his knees to make eye contact with her. "Okay?"

"Well I'm not going to force you to let me see her." Her shoulders dropped and she frowned. "You have to do what you think is right. I don't agree with you, but I think I understand."

"Andy," his mouth gaped open. "I'm sorry."

She smiled sadly at him, resigned. "Yeah," she said, hiking her bag higher on her shoulder. "So am I."

At that she turned away from him, blinking furiously and willing herself not to cry as she climbed the steps to her house. She heard him call out her name again when she opened her door, but the sound died as she slammed it behind her.

She sagged back against the door and tried to gain control over her erratic breathing. As she sunk to the ground, she lost the fight and the tears began to fall.

The week that followed passed slowly. Andy went to work and came home, alone. She made dinner and sat on her sofa watching television, alone. She went to bed, alone. For a few days she craved that time and that space but her heart ached whenever she allowed herself to think of the people she would rather be spending her evenings with.

She hadn't realized how ingrained she had become into their lives until she wasn't invited anymore. She missed Lindsey's funny and surprisingly quick wit and she missed Sam's warmth. If someone told her two months earlier when she first met them that she would describe Sam as "warm" she probably would have laughed in their face, but when she thought about him, even in her anger, that's was the word that came to mind.

Finally, when she couldn't take the loneliness anymore, she called Traci and made plans to meet with her and the other rookies at the Penny.

Traci was there when she arrived and she greeted her friend with a hug, slumping into her outstretched arms. Traci rubbed her hand over Andy's back and when they pulled back she smiled sympathetically. "I'm so sorry about Luke," Traci said, assuming that was the reason for her friend's melancholy mood.

Andy just nodded and hopped up onto a barstool, not wanting to explain that it really had very little to do with Luke and far more to do with a certain dark-haired man and his equally dark-haired niece. Her lip curled into a half smile as she replied, "Thanks. I'm really okay though."

"Yeah," Traci nodded, "This is a good thing. You'll realize that eventually."

"Oh, I know," Andy assured the other woman. "It's just… hard."

"I know it is," Traci said, squeezing her friend's arm.

Chris and Dov arrived and made their way over to the table. When Andy told them she had broken up with the blonde detective a huge grin spread across Chris's face and he held his hand up for a high five. "Alright!" He exclaimed, not attempting to hide his joy. "About time!"

Andy couldn't help but laugh as she slapped his hand.

"This is excellent," Dov chimed in, climbing onto the stool next to her. "Now you and Swarek can date and get him out of the funk he's in."

Andy was taken back both by Dov's easy assumption that she and Sam would date and by his description of his training officer's state. Her brow furrowed and she asked, "Sam's in a funk?"

"Oh yeah, totally," Dov said, taking a long pull from his beer, "Today, we were interviewing this guy that's been supplying high school dealers and yes, okay, he was a real punk but I swear to god, I thought Swarek was literally going to eviscerate him and fillet his flesh." He paused and shook his head, "Guy's got some pent up rage, that's for sure."

Andy "hmmed" and leaned back in her seat. She wasn't sure if she should take satisfaction in the fact that Sam seemed to be as miserable as she was or if she should be concerned about him.

"Well, you see him sometimes, don't you, Andy?" Traci asked innocently. "Did you notice anything weird?"

Andy pursed her lips, shaking her head. "No," she said, "Nothing. But I haven't really seen him too much lately."

"I'm not surprised," Dov remarked. "He's probably been too busy looking for babies to eat for breakfast. Thank god he and Detective Barber are getting ready for court tomorrow, I won't have to see him." He held his bottle up to his lips and then pulled it back, "He did ask about you though, Andy."

It was a throwaway comment, one she was sure Dov didn't realize held as much meaning as it did.

"Me?" She squeaked, glancing around the table naively. "Why would he ask about me?"

Dov shrugged, blissfully unaware of the weight of his words. "I'm not sure. He just asked if I had seen you lately."

"What did you say?" She asked, trying to hide the anxiousness in her voice.

He finished his sip of beer and answered plainly, "That I hadn't seen you."

"Oh," Andy said, settling back down. Her friends were looking at her curiously and she could tell they were getting ready to ask her questions she didn't want to answer, so she grinned and tried to change the subject, "Enough about Swarek," she said, remembering to call him by his last name even though it sounded strange to her ears. She set her attention on Chris and waggled her eyebrows, "I hear someone's been hooking up with the ice princess."

Chris's cheeks burned red as he tried to suppress a guilty grin. "I don't know what you're talking about," he claimed.

"Don't even try and deny it, man," Dov said, backhanding his friend on the arm, "The walls are thin."

Chris blanched. "You can hear us?" he asked, horrified, as if he'd never considered the possibility.

"Not when I put my headphones in and cover my head with a pillow."

Chris groaned and Andy laughed as Traci and Dov continued to rag him about Gail, happy for the distraction and the pleasant numbing that came from the continuous string of drinks she consumed.

She was successfully able to push all thoughts of Sam Swarek out of her head until the taxi she had taken home pulled up in front of her house.

In preparation for the day ahead, Sam had already brought their garbage bins around to the sidewalk. Both cans sat there, side by side, as they had every Wednesday since he first started doing little chores for her. She stepped out of the cab and gawked at the inanimate objects, irrationally infuriated by their presence and the pretense that nothing had changed.

Emboldened by the alcohol in her system, she marched up the short staircase that led to his house and knocked furiously on the door.

It took a moment for someone to answer and when Sam finally threw the door open, his expression was less than pleased. "What the hell, McNally?" he said as a welcome. "You trying to wake up the entire neighborhood?"

She ignored his question and pointed down to the sidewalk. "Stop doing that," she ordered.

He looked at her blankly. "What?"

"That," she repeated, pointing again at the trash cans. "Stop doing stuff for me."

"You're mad because I put your trash out?" He asked dubiously.

"Yes," she hissed, slightly slurring the end of the word.

Sam narrowed his eyes, studying her intently. Her nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold but her eyes were red too, bloodshot and bleary. He stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. "Are you drunk?" He asked, placing both of his hands on her shoulders as if to steady her.

She twisted herself out of his grasp. "No. Maybe. A little bit," she stammered. She took a deep breath and then informed him petulantly, "It's none of your damn business if I am."

"Okay," he accepted, blinking with surprise by her uncharacteristic language.

"And don't talk to my friends about me," she continued, rambling on. "I'm none of your damn business either."

"Andy…"

"No!" She ranted, extended her hands and attempting to push him back. "This… this… separation or whatever the hell you want to call it, this was your decision, you have to live with it."

He grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands down, stopping her from hitting him again. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Well I'm fine," she spat, "Just fine."

"Clearly," he responded sarcastically.

Andy scowled. "What about you?" She asked. "Dov said you've been eating babies."

"Babies?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing together with alarm. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you've been in a rotten, nasty mood," she explained, pointing at him.

"I usually am."

She clicked her tongue, irritated by his passiveness. "More so than normal."

"Well, Epstein's been particularly stupid lately," Sam replied, not admitting to anything.

Andy let out a long, disgusted sigh and shook her head. "Whatever."

"You're articulate when you drink," he observed.

"Oh, screw you."

"Wow," he drawled. "Way to prove my point."

"Shut up," she shot back. She fixed him with a look that made goosebumps prickle his skin. "Do not do nice things for me and do not ask people about me. If someone says something about me, pretend like you don't even know me." She stepped closer to him, close enough that he could smell the alcohol on her breath, and poked her finger into his chest, punctuating each syllable, "Just leave me alone."

"Fine," he said.

His agreement caught her off guard but she quickly recovered. "Fine!" she yelled back, spinning on her heel to make her way over to her house.

"Use the hand rail!" he called after her.

"Make me!" She threw her arms up in the air and left them raised as she continued down the steps and then up her own, purposely doing the exact opposite of what he asked just to piss him off.

He sighed as he watched her go and waited until she was safely inside her house before reentering his. He closed the door and then turned around to find Lindsey glaring at him, obviously having overheard the conversation that had taken place on the front porch. "I hope you're happy." she said. Before he could reply she turned and stomped up to her room.

Sam sighed again and brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the headache that was forming. He heard Lindsey's door slam shut and he dropped his head, groaning.

His niece had made her feelings regarding Sam's responsibility for Andy's recent absence well-known. He'd tried to explain his reasoning but, as he had suspected, his excuses fell on deaf ears. Lindsey had been giving him a cold shoulder for the better part of the week and when she did deign to talk to him, her words were either monosyllabic and empty or tinged with barely concealed contempt.

To say that things had been tense would be an understatement. He didn't blame her for being upset so he gritted his teeth and hoped the phase would pass. Soon.

The following day, Sam knew he was going to have to work late so he gave Lindsey money to take a cab to the station after school. He was finishing up pulling together a case file for Jerry when she arrived, another uniformed officer escorting her back to the detective's office. "Hey Lindsey," he said, standing up from the desk to greet her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him, and she rolled her eyes as he kissed the top of her head. "Just a couple more minutes and I'll be done, okay?"

"Whatever," she mumbled, dropping her heavy book bag to the ground. "I'm going to get something to eat."

"Do you need some change?" he asked her retreating form. She didn't bother to answer him as she walked off and turned down the hallway, out of view. Sam watched her go and then exhaled heavily as he sat down and wheeled his chair back under the desk.

"She's cheery," Jerry said, his head bent over a file that was spread out on his desk.

Sam cut his eyes over to his friend. "She's mad at me."

"Could have guessed that one," Jerry replied, not looking up. He didn't ask for more information and Sam didn't want to give it, preferring instead to quickly finish his work so he and Lindsey could go home. He stapled a stack of papers together and slid them into a manila folder before handing it over to Jerry.

"Here you go, man, I've gone over it three times, everything's there. Accident report, witness testimony, mechanic's report," he tapped the top of the folder, "It's all in there."

"Thanks," Jerry said, taking it from him and flipping through the pages. "I think that's it then. We're ready to go for tomorrow."

Sam nodded and leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. "How many days do you think it's going to take?"

Jerry tilted his head from side to side. "Two," he answered, "Maybe three. The prosecutor seems to be pretty confident."

"Good, that's good," Sam mumbled, rubbing his hand over his eyes before getting to his feet. "Listen, tell Lindsey I'm just going to change, I'll be right back."

"No problem," Jerry assured him.

Sam got changed quickly and threw his stuff into his gym bag, hoisting it over his shoulder before he exited the locker room. When he arrived back at the desk to get Lindsey, he found her sitting in his previously occupied chair, fidgeting nervously and looking around with wide, expressive eyes. As soon as she saw him she jumped up and grabbed ahold of his coat sleeve, dragging him into hallway and huddling against the wall.

"Lindsey, what in the…?"

He question was cut off when she blurted out. "I saw him kissing someone else!"

He shook his head, not catching on. "Who?"

"Luke!" She exclaimed. "I saw him kissing someone in the break room!"

Sam groaned, "Lindsey…"

"I'm not making it up!" She insisted. "He was in there kissing some blonde woman!" She saw the recognition that flashed through his eyes and she looked at him accusatorily, "You know who she is, don't you?"

Sam stiffened and he glanced back into the detectives' office just in time to see Callaghan and Rosati return to their desks. They both had small, secretive smiles on their faces and looked quite pleased about something.

Lindsey followed his line of vision. "That's her!" she hissed, keeping her voice low.

"Did they see you?"

She shook her head frantically and her curly hair bounced to her shoulders and in front of her face. Pushing it aside so she could see him, she whispered, "No. They were too… busy… to notice me."

Fierce anger exploded in his chest and he muttered under his breath, "That mother fu…" he stopped himself before he finished the word, remembering that Lindsey was standing right beside him. He could practically hear Andy admonishing in his head.

"You can say it," Lindsey encouraged him, "It's not like I've never heard it before."

His eyes swung back to meet hers and even though his stare was intense, she could tell that he wasn't really seeing her and that his mind was elsewhere.

"Uncle Sam?" she said, waving her hand in front of his face.

The movement drew Sam from his daze and he cleared his throat, making a harsh guttural sound. Had Lindsey not been there he would have taken great pleasure in marching right back into the office and absolutely leveling Callaghan. He felt confident he could come up with a few choice words for Rosati as well. His fingers itched to be clenched into a fist and adrenaline surged through his body, propelling him forward.

He had to get out of there before he did something he knew he would get into serious, serious trouble for.

Instead of giving in to what he really wanted to do and heading back into the office, he put his hand on Lindsey's back and guided her out of the station, ignoring her protests until they were outside.

As if on auto-pilot, he opened the passenger's side door for her and helped her inside, essentially lifting her into the cab of the truck as she fought against him and demanded that he confront Luke. He made sure she was safely tucked into the seat and then swung the door closed before rounding the front of the truck and climbing in on his side. He stuck the key into the ignition but before he turned it over, he took a deep breath and looked over at his niece.

"Lindsey," he said, interrupting her very vocal hysterics. "Lindsey, I'm not going to go back in there."

"But you have to!" She yelled. "You have to do something!"

He shook his head firmly, "Lindsey, I believe you, I promise you that I do, but I am not going back in there."

Lindsey flung herself back into her seat and crossed her arms in front of her chest with a heavy, exasperated sigh. She stared straight out the window, ignoring her uncle.

Sam studied his niece for a moment and then started the engine and pulled out of the station. The ride home was filled with heavy, tense silence that pounded in his ears. As soon as they pulled into the driveway Lindsey threw her door open and shot out, sprinting towards Andy's house.

Sam threw the truck into park and then jumped out, following after Lindsey. "Where are you going?" He yelled, even though he had a pretty good idea.

"I'm going to tell Andy," she hollered back, not even bothering to turn around.

"No, you're not," he said, reaching her and grabbing onto her book bag to slow her down. At some point he was going to tell Andy what Lindsey had seen, he just needed time to think about the best way to handle the situation. He wasn't sure what that was yet, but he knew that it was NOT having Lindsey storm over there with the news. "This is none of our business Lindsey."

She spun around and looked at him with fire in her eyes. "It is our business, she's our friend."

"No, she's not. Not anymore." He remembered the night before, how Andy had drunkenly ranted that she wanted him out of her life.

"Maybe she's not your friend but she's my friend and I'm going to tell her!" Lindsey declared, spinning around.

Sam caught her around the waist and hauled her back, lifting her off the ground.

"Put me down!" she cried indignantly, kicking her feet and struggling against him.

Sam easily carried her up the steps to their house and after he pushed the door open, he set her inside. "Go to your room," He instructed, pointing up the stairs.

Lindsey's eyes widened with outrage. "No!" she yelled, fighting against him once more as she tried to get out of the house. He stood his ground, physically blocking the front door, and she eventually gave up, her ferocious strength fueled by her anger giving out. With one final shove to his chest she yelled, "You can't do this!"

"Lindsey," he said, trying to keep control over his voice, "Just calm down."

She pushed away from him, moving into the foyer, and furious tears sprang into her eyes. "You're trying to ruin my life just like you ruined mom's!"

Sam froze immediately at words as crippling guilt pooled in his stomach. He forced himself to swallow hard, pushing the lump that had risen in his throat down in an effort to keep from becoming violently ill. "Lindsey…"

"I HATE you!" She screamed, storming up the stairs to her room and slamming her door closed with such force that the pictures on the wall shook.

Sam stood at the base of the stairs, immobilized. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until his lungs began to burn and even then he had to tell his brain to let him breathe.

His knees gave out and he lowered himself down to the steps, his head falling into his hands. His body was shaking with anger and regret and shame and he forced himself to take slow, controlled breaths, willing his body and his emotions back into submission.

He could hear Lindsey sobbing in her room, but he couldn't summon the strength to go and comfort her. He was probably the last person that she wanted to see anyway.

Through the window he could see the sun setting and the rays of colored light that bounced between the buildings on the street. It wasn't until it was dark outside that he finally pushed himself up and off the stairs.

Lindsey didn't say a word to him for the rest of the night or the next morning as she got ready for school. Her hurtful words still rang in his ears and although he knew they were said in anger, in the heat of the moment, that knowledge did little to dull their sting.

After a terrible, nightmare-ridden sleep, Sam went through the motions of his morning, exhausted and numb. He showered but didn't feel clean and made coffee that he couldn't taste and that did nothing to ease the pounding in his head. Instead of fixing Lindsey's lunch like he usually did he scrimped together a couple of bills and handed them to her on her way out the door.

Lindsey took the money from his hand but wouldn't look at him. She was about to step out onto the porch when he realized he couldn't allow her out of the house with the way things were so he quickly enfolded her in his arms and whispered that he loved her.

He heard her take in a shaky, quivering breath but she remained silent, refusing to return the sentiment. He released her, letting her run to catch her bus.

Later that afternoon, Andy had been home from work for a little over an hour when someone began to furiously pound on her door. She rushed to open it and found Sam pacing on her porch.

"Is Lindsey here?"

"Yeah, I've got her locked in the back room." Andy rolled her eyes, not sensing the seriousness of his question. "No, she's not here."

He glanced back at her and she was finally able to get a good look at him. His eyes were cold and grave, his expression was stern and the muscle in his jaw was jumping erratically. She quickly realized that something was very, very wrong so she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "Sam," she asked, her brow furrowing, "What's wrong?"

"Lindsey didn't come home from school today. She was supposed to be home," he checked his watch, "Almost two hours ago." Panic flooded Andy's eyes and he rushed to tell her, "I'm fairly certain she ran away."

She pushed the front door open further and beckoned him inside while asking, "Why would she run away?"

"We had a fight," he told her, stepping inside her house. "Another one." He licked his lips and then admitted, "She's pretty upset with me."

"Did you call the school?" Andy asked, closing the door behind him.

He nodded. "She was there for classes all day but she told her bus driver she was taking a taxi home, like she did yesterday. She must have forged a note or something," he thought out loud, trying to figure out the steps she had taken in his mind, as if it might give him some clue as to where she was.

"Did you call Oliver?" She suggested, "Maybe she went to the Shaw's house."

"I did, she's not there."

Andy ushered him through the house and they both sat down at her small kitchen table. "Did you call the cab company?"

"Do you know how many cab companies there are in Toronto?" He replied harshly. She blinked, chastised, and he hastily apologized, "I'm sorry. I called a few, no luck. I don't even know that that's what she really did."

"Okay," Andy paused, trying to push aside her anxiety and go into cop mode. "Well, did you call into the station?"

"It hasn't been twenty four hours, Andy,"

"Yeah, but…" her forehead scrunched, "It's you. I'm sure they would do something. Call Best or… or…" She racked her brain, trying to think of officers that her friends had mentioned, "Call Noelle. They'll understand."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long sigh. "Yeah," he said after a moment, "You're right." He pulled out his cellphone to make the call and at that exact moment, his ringtone filled the air.

A wave of sheer terror washed through Sam as he stared at the unknown number, suddenly fearing the absolute worst. His mouth went dry so he swallowed a couple of times before anxiously answering. "Hello? Yes, this is he." Andy held her breath, trying to fight the images that were running through her mind, until he flashed her a smile, letting her know that Lindsey was okay. "Okay. Okay," he nodded. "Of course. Thank you." He paused, listening to the person on the other end of the phone. He motioned for a pen and Andy quickly searched for one and handed it over. "I'm on my way," he said, scribbling an address on his hand.

He ended the call and dropped his head, letting out a choked sob of relief. Andy reached over and rubbed his back, patiently waiting for him to speak.

He finally lifted his head and looked at her. "She's in St. Catherine's," he said, standing up. "That was the mother of one of her friends there."

"She took a taxi all the way to St. Catherine's?" Andy asked, scrambling to her feet to follow after Sam.

"Guess so, I didn't ask." When he realized that Andy was shrugging her coat on he stared at her in disbelief and asked, "What are you doing?"

She stared back at him, her expression matching his. "You don't think I'm going to let you go alone do you?"

"It's fine, Andy," he insisted, moving towards the door. "I can handle it."

"Well, I might believe you if your niece hadn't just run away," she retorted, immediately regretting her words when she saw the way his shoulders slumped in defeat. Her hands flew to cover her mouth and she looked at him with wide eyes. "I'm so sorry," She apologized, "I didn't mean that."

He didn't look at her right away and but when he did her heart clenched, incredibly burdened for the man. "No," he said quietly, "No, you're right."

Andy shook her head, "No I'm not. I know you can do this, just…" she pleaded with him, "Just let me go with you. Let me help you."

"It's going to take almost two hours to get there," he weakly protested. "It'll be late when we get back."

"I don't care," she replied, determined. "Please. I want to go."

After a long stretch he nodded slowly and then allowed her to lead him out to his truck.