Author's Note: Wow, thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter! I'm sorry this update has taken me longer than normal but I hope that you will enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

"Did you get everything?" Lindsey asked, throwing the door open and ushering Andy inside.

As Andy entered the house, she held up the two large bags of crafts supplies she was carrying, "Got it!"

"Excellent!" Lindsey said, leading her to the kitchen table. "We have to hurry because kids are going to start coming soon."

Andy followed Lindsey but before she sat down she poked her head into the living room, looking for Sam. When she didn't see him, she frowned. "Hey," Andy said, moving into the kitchen and sitting at the table. "Where's your uncle?"

"He's upstairs fixing my bathtub," Lindsey said, "It wasn't draining this morning." She scrunched her nose, "I had to stand in gross, icky water during my shower."

"That is nasty," Andy sympathized, pulling the contents of the craft bag out. "Okay, they only had yellow and red shirts in extra large, so that's what I went with."

"Do you want to be yellow or red?" Lindsey asked, holding up the two shirts.

"It's up to you," Andy shrugged and told the young girl.

Lindsey looked between the colors contemplatively. "I'll be red," she decided, handing the yellow shirt over.

"Sounds good. I got white and black felt for the eyes and then I got this orange felt for the beaks, I figured we could fold it or something to make it stick out," Andy said, configuring the felt in her hands to make it beak shaped. "I don't know, we'll figure something out."

Lindsey nodded, plugging in the hot glue gun. "These are going to be the best costumes." She picked up the scissors and then looked over at Andy. "Thanks for dressing up with me."

"Are you kidding?" Andy said, tracing a circle onto one of the pieces of white felt. "I've been looking forward to this all day."

The night before, while sprawled on the living room floor playing an intense game of Scrabble, Lindsey brought up the fact that the next day was Halloween.

"You're grounded," Sam reminded her, rearranging his Scrabble tiles. "No trick or treating."

"Yeah, I know," Lindsey said, looking at him hopefully, "But I could dress up to hand out candy, right?"

Sam was studying his tiles intently, his face screwed in concentration, when he answered, "Sure, whatever, I don't care."

Lindsey grinned broadly and then looked over at Andy, asking, "You want to dress up with me?"

Andy, happy for the distraction from the game she was losing, nodded eagerly and the two girls began throwing out costume ideas.

"Aha!" Sam exclaimed triumphantly, interrupting their brainstorming session. He laid his tiles out on the Scrabble board, "QUIRK. That's thirty-eight points and it's on a triple word score so that's…" he did the calculation quickly in his mind, "One hundred and fourteen points." He took in the blank expressions of his competitors and asked, "What?"

"Well, I think that means you win," Andy said, standing up. "Again. Are we done with this game yet?"

"No," Sam replied, his brow furrowing, "We're not done, all the tiles aren't gone."

"Oh no," Lindsey said, joining Andy on the sofa, "I think we're done."

As Sam cleaned up the game, grumbling about them being sore losers, Andy and Lindsey planned out their costumes for the following day.

Andy and Lindsey hadn't been assembling their costumes for very long when Sam came downstairs, wiping his arms dry with a hand towel.

"Hey," he said, joining them in the kitchen, "What are you guys doing?"

Andy turned at the sound of his voice and greeted him with a smile, which he returned. Lindsey just looked up at him warily. "We're making our costumes. Remember yesterday? You said we could dress up for the trick or treaters,"

"I remember," Sam assured her, observing the mess that covered his table. "So what did you guys decide to be?" He didn't even try to pretend like he remembered their discussion; after sufficiently dominating in Scrabble, which he had been roped into playing in the first place, he turned the television on and lost track of what they were talking about.

"Angry Birds," Lindsey told him, gluing an eye to her red t-shirt.

Sam's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What, like hawks or vultures or something?"

Both Andy and Lindsey whipped their heads around to stare at him, their faces a mix between disbelief and amusement. They looked back at each other and then burst into laughter. "No, Sam," Andy explained, laughing, "Angry Birds is a game. We're dressing up like the characters."

"Oh," he accepted her explanation, unconcerned with his blunder.

"You probably don't know what it is because you don't have a cool cellphone," Lindsey informed him.

"You don't have a cellphone at all," Sam responded. "How do you know what it is?"

"Well, people at my school who aren't totally lame have one and let me play sometimes. Andy has one, too," Lindsey said, pointing to Andy with her scissors.

Andy glanced up. "I can show you, if you want," she told Sam, eyeing him carefully, hoping he would play along.

At first he looked at her dubiously but then when he recognized her pointed stare, he hid a grin and agreed, "Yeah, that'd be great."

Andy quickly got to her feet. "My phone is in my purse in the foyer," she said. "I'll be right back Lindsey."

"Okay," Lindsey agreed, already reabsorbed in her project.

As Andy led Sam out of the kitchen, she tried to keep from giggling. They hadn't told Lindsey about the change in their relationship yet, since they hadn't quite figured it out themselves, and she couldn't help but feel like a teenager who was sneaking around whenever she and Sam tried to find time to be alone.

When they were out of Lindsey's view and earshot Sam grabbed Andy's hand and spun her around. He grinned as he looked down at her and whispered, "Hi."

"Hi," she replied quietly before rocking forward onto her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his. He suppressed a groan and slipped his arms around her waist, deepening the kiss as he pulled her against him.

Andy's back arched as she responded eagerly to him, clinging to his broad shoulders, completely forgetting about his niece who sat obliviously in the next room. When she broke away, Sam cupped her face in his hand and his eyes danced with amusement as he ran his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. "You look nice," he said.

She felt her face flush, still unused to the compliments he liked to dole out during their brief, private moments. "Take a good look," she instructed him, "I'm going to be dressed like a fat, yellow bird for the rest of the night."

Sam smirked as he freely let his eyes roam her body, leaving trails of heat in his wake. "I can't wait to see that," he replied.

"You sure you don't want to join us?" Andy asked, teasing, "There's a black bird and you have plenty of black t-shirts we could use to make your costume."

"Oh," Sam replied, "I think I'll stick to my decision to sit out of this year's festivities."

Andy chuckled and tangled her hands in his hair and kissed him again, simply because she could. In the four days that had passed since he first kissed her, their physical contact had been limited to stolen moments and heated goodnight kisses at her door. He was affectionate in other ways; he'd tug her to him when they were in the kitchen just to stand close to her and if they sat on the sofa together he'd find someway to touch her, either by pulling her feet into his lap or by stretching his arm across the back of the sofa and twirling her hair through his fingers.

They had yet to define what was going on and exactly what they were to each other, but Andy knew without having to be told that it was no casual thing she was entering into. She wasn't just getting Sam, she was getting Sam and Lindsey and there was a great amount of responsibility in that and she didn't take it lightly. However, instead of scaring her like the idea of commitment usually did, the idea of being with Sam made her heart flutter with anticipation of what the future could hold.

She smiled against his lips and pulled away, "So I hear you're a plumber now."

His eyes were unfocused when they met hers. "What?"

She tilted her head towards the staircase. "Lindsey said you were fixing her bathtub when I got here," she told him. "I'm impressed."

"You should be," he replied, busying himself with planting small kisses down her neck. "It was incredibly difficult and took a great amount of skill to remove that giant clump of hair."

Andy's nose wrinkled in distaste and she put her hands to his chest, pushing him away. "Okay, I'm not so impressed anymore. That's gross."

"You asked." He chuckled as he let his arms fall from around her waist, stepping back. "Should we get back in there?" he asked, nodding to the kitchen.

"Probably," she conceded. "Oh, but first can I grab your pillow?"

Sam looked at her uncertainly. "My pillow?"

She took his hand and began walking towards his bedroom. "For stuffing," she clarified. "It'll go under my shirt."

At that, Sam raised an eyebrow and grumbled, "My pillow is getting under the shirt action before I am?"

Andy just rolled her eyes as she stepped into the room. "Jealous of inanimate objects?"

"Maybe," he confessed, grabbing the two pillows off of his bed. After handing them over, he caught her around the waist before she could turn to leave his room.

He was looking at her with a funny expression and she met his gaze with wide, curious eyes only to squeeze them shut when his lips swept down to capture hers once again. The pillows that were in her hands fell to the ground when she dropped them in favor of twining her arms around his neck, lost in his all-consuming kiss.

His hands ran down her back to cup her bottom, holding her firmly to him, and he kissed her thoroughly, leaving her dizzy and breathless when he broke away.

He took a deep breath and then nodded decisively, satisfied. "Okay, we can go now."

Andy panted slightly as she brought her fingers to her lips, watching as he bent to pick up the fallen pillows. He grinned at her dazed expression and, with a hand on the small of her back, led her back to the kitchen.

The costumes were finished quickly and Lindsey and Andy pulled their respective t-shirts on over black long-sleeved shirts and black leggings. They stuffed pillows under their shirts and Lindsey giggled with delight at how closely their homemade efforts resembled the real thing.

The rest of the night was spent watching a Halloween special on television and running back and forth to the front door whenever the doorbell rang. At one point, Lindsey looked over at Andy and asked excitedly, "Hey, do you want to see pictures from other Halloweens?"

Sam interrupted before Andy could answer, "No, she doesn't."

Lindsey grinned at Andy knowingly. "He's in them," she told her, "That's why he doesn't want you to see them."

Andy laughed and looked over at Sam. "You went trick or treating?"

Sam nodded. "Every year," Lindsey verbally confirmed, walking over to the hall closet to pull out a photo album. "Except last year, when I went with a big group."

"Do you know how many freaks are out on Halloween?" Sam responded defensively. "There was no way I was going to let you and your mother knock on strangers' doors alone."

Lindsey rolled her eyes, sitting back down beside Andy. "Yeah, because there are just sooo many freaks in St. Catherine's."

"Did you dress up?" Andy asked curiously.

"If you count wearing his police uniform as a costume, then yes, he dressed up," Lindsey answered for Sam, opening the album across her lap and flipping through the pages. "But I think that was more to scare people than anything."

Andy looked across the living room to Sam, grinning at the new information. She had no trouble envisioning him accompanying his sister and niece to people's houses, probably loving every minute of it but wearing a scowl the entire time. He met her eyes and just shrugged, not bothering to make an excuse for his behavior.

Lindsey pointed out a picture to Andy. "This one's my favorite," she said. Andy looked at the picture and then cracked up; it showed Sam in his uniform holding Lindsey on his hip. Lindsey couldn't have been older than three and she was dressed up in a black and white striped jailbird costume, complete with a ball that functioned as a candy bag and a chain.

"That's hilarious," Andy agreed. She looked closer and then pointed at Sam's head, laughing, "Oh my gosh."

"The hair, right?" Lindsey said, giggling. "I know, it was so bad."

"Okay," Sam retorted, "It was very cool back then, I've told you that."

Andy clamped her mouth shut, suppressing a smile. "Your hair looks good now," she said, appeasing his ego.

His lips curled up slightly at the ends and he settled back into his chair, placated for the moment. Lindsey flipped through the rest of the photo album and had a commentary for every picture, describing details of her costume or memories from that particular night. It always surprised Sam what she was able to recall, whether it was how cold it was one night or a funny costume that she had seen. Andy listened closely and asked questions, glancing over at Sam and smiling whenever Lindsey told a story about him.

Sam noticed that Lindsey didn't offer too many details about her mom and that Andy didn't press for information. He wasn't surprised; Lindsey hadn't brought up her mother in quite some time. He supposed it was part of the grieving process; for a while she was talking about her mother and asking questions constantly, trying to process what had happened, but lately she seemed more closed off and reserved.

By the time Lindsey had finished going through the album it was already way passed the time she normally went to bed. Sam glanced at his watch and then reminded her of the time. "You have school tomorrow."

Lindsey sighed and closed the album, looking over at her uncle anxiously. "Uncle Sam?" She said, suddenly sounding nervous.

"Yes?"

"There's kind of something that I needed to talk to you about," she said. She fidgeted with her costume and continued, "Hannah Shaw's birthday is Friday."

"Okay," Sam replied wearily, already guessing where the conversation was headed.

"And today she told me that she's having a sleepover party."

"On Friday?" Lindsey nodded. "You're grounded until Saturday."

"I know," Lindsey acknowledged, cringing. "I was kind of hoping you could make an exception. It's my first birthday party here and a lot of the girls are going to it from my school."

Sam was silent, thinking it over. "I don't know Lindsey…"

"Please?" She begged, looking at him with pleading eyes.

Sam relented slightly. "I'll think about it," he promised. "But right now you need to get to bed."

"Thank you," Lindsey gushed, grinning as she hopped to her feet, happy that her uncle hadn't outright refused her request. "Goodnight Andy," she said, hugging her awkwardly over their large stomachs.

Andy laughed as she attempted to hug Lindsey but ended up being knocked back onto the sofa. "Goodnight Lindsey. See you tomorrow."

Sam was standing by the time Lindsey made it to him and she gave him a weak, half-hearted hug as he kissed the top of her head. "Goodnight kiddo," he said, "Love you."

"Love you too," she replied, padding out of the living room.

Sam watched her go and then moved to sit next to Andy on the sofa, throwing his arm over the back. Andy tried to curl against him, but they both chuckled as the stuffing in her shirt thwarted her efforts. After another failed attempt at finding a comfortable position, Andy stood and quickly removed the pillows. "Aw," she breathed, smiling contentedly as she sat back down on the sofa and drew her legs up beneath her. "That's so much better."

There was a spell of silence as Sam lightly stroked his fingers up and down Andy's arm. "Think I should let her go?"

"To Hannah's party?" Andy asked, craning her neck so she could look at him.

Sam nodded.

Andy sighed and settled back against his chest. "That's your decision," she replied, not wanting to overstep her bounds.

"I know," he muttered, his fingers stilling, "But I want to know what you think, that's why I asked."

Andy considered his words, pleased that he actually cared about her opinion. "I think you should let her go," she told him. "It's just one day shorter and it would probably be good for her to be around friends."

"That's what I was thinking," Sam admitted. He groaned in frustration and then stretched out on the sofa, pulling Andy down on top of him. "Even grounding her can't be simple."

Andy laughed and propped her chin up on his chest. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Boxer-briefs," he replied, crooking his arm behind his head.

Andy smirked at his answer. "Good to know, but not really what I was wondering."

"Oh," he said innocently, peeking down at her. "What were you wondering?"

She paused. "Is everything okay between you and Lindsey?"

"Yeah, why?" His tone was light but he had stiffened and waited a just moment too long to answer. Andy could tell that she had hit a nerve.

"I don't know," she mused, drawing patterns on his shirt with her fingers, "Things just seem tense, that's all."

She had noticed that even though there wasn't outright arguing, the relationship between Sam and Lindsey had been strained since they returned from St. Catherine's. There wasn't the easy banter or the playful teasing that there had been before.

"I'm not her favorite person right now," Sam replied, his hands wandering over her back, "I assume she doesn't enjoy being grounded."

"Okay," Andy accepted his answer. She could tell that there was more, so she prodded, "Is that it?"

Sam was quiet for a stretch, thinking. After a moment he coughed, clearing his throat, and then rolled her beneath him, cradling her head in his hand. He looked down at her and frowned. "I told you we had that fight before she ran away?"

"Yeah," Andy said. She had always wondered if there was more to it than what he had told her.

"I told you she said that I had ruined her life?" Andy nodded. "What she actually said was that I ruined her life just like I ruined her mom's life."

Andy's stomach twisted, knowing how hard it must have been for Sam to hear those words from his niece. She still recalled with sickening clarity the pained, guilty look on his face when he told her that he was the one to insist that his sister begin taking her pain medication. "She didn't mean it."

Sam squinted and the skin around his eyes wrinkled, making him seem tired and weary. "She wouldn't have said it if she hadn't thought it before." He didn't sound like he was fishing for her to disagree with him but rather as if he actually believed what he was saying.

"She may have thought it, but she doesn't believe it," Andy insisted. "She knows it's not your fault."

Sam "hmmed" and bent his head down to nuzzle her neck, nipping at the skin above the neckline of her t-shirt.

Andy sighed and framed his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her. "It's not your fault," Andy reiterated firmly.

"Okay," Sam agreed, brushing his lips against hers. She knew what he was doing; he was trying to distract her so he could avoid the conversation. Had it been anyone else, Andy wouldn't have let the issue go and would have forced them to talk to her, but she knew that forcing Sam to talk would just frustrate him and make him shut down. Telling herself that she should be thankful for the small disclosure she had received, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him press her into the cushions, deepening the kiss slowly.

Andy was vaguely aware of the hand that ran down her side, cupping her breast on its descent. She felt it pushing her shirt up and let out a soft moan when Sam's warm hand spread out over her stomach, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin that covered her ribcage.

They heard Lindsey descending the stairs at the same time and Sam sprang off of Andy, flying to other side of the couch before she could even catch her breath. A blush colored her cheeks when she saw him snatch a pillow off of the ground to cover his lap but the sound of Lindsey coming closer drew her from her daze and prompted her into action; she hastily sat up and straightened her shirt just as Lindsey entered the living room.

Lindsey looked between them suspiciously. "I just needed my book," she said, picking up a paperback from the coffee table and waving it in her hand. "I'm going to go back to bed now."

"Okay," Sam replied easily, "Goodnight."

Lindsey shot them another curious look but then turned on her heel and left the living room.

Andy blinked and looked over at Sam guiltily. "Why do I feel like I'm fifteen again?"

"Because we were almost caught making out on the couch." Sam laughed and stood up, holding out his hand. "Come on big bird," he said, "Let me walk you home."

That Friday, Sam called Andy while she was as work and asked her what her plans were for that evening. Andy admitted that she had told Traci she would meet her at the Penny but instead of sounding disappointed, Sam perked up and told her that he would see her there.

Andy arrived first and chose a high table that gave her a clear view of the door. Whenever it swung open she would look up expectantly, hoping to see Sam. When he finally did enter the bar, she bit her lip to hide a smile.

He came in with Oliver and stood just at the entrance, scanning the room, searching for her. When his gaze landed on her his eyes began to twinkle with a mischievous grin even though his lips remained in a straight line. Clapping the other man on the shoulder, Sam said something to him and then, after doging a waitress precariously balancing a tray of drinks, began walking towards her, moving confidently through the crowd.

There was another woman who noticed him; Andy saw the way the blonde's eyes had latched onto him as soon as he entered and then followed him as he walked past her. She actually turned on her stool as she watched his retreating form and frowned when she discerned where he was headed. A faint, pleased smile graced Andy's lips when she realized that Sam hadn't paid the slightest amount of attention to the other woman's interest and that he didn't even seem to notice her very obvious stare. He was focused on Andy and Andy alone.

She wasn't certain what brought on the sudden wave of nervousness; maybe it was the look in Sam's eyes or the way dimly lit room and his dark Henley shirt sharpened his already chiseled features. Maybe it was the relative unfamiliarity of being with him somewhere other than the comfort of his home. Here, at the bar, he wasn't Sam, Lindsey's uncle. He was Sam, incredibly attractive man approaching her with an almost predatory stride.

He slowed as he reached her table and lifted his arm to let it drape loosely across the back of her chair, leaning in just enough so that his chest bumped her shoulder. "Hi," he greeted her, a smug grin in place as if he could sense the butterflies that were flapping around in her belly and was proud of his ability to put them there.

Andy gave him what she hoped was a dazzling smile and turned in her chair to face him. "Hi," she flirted back, resting her elbow on the table and propping her chin in her hand.

Her knees had parted just slightly when she rearranged herself and he subtly stepped between them, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against her denim clad inner thighs with delicious friction. "Good day at work?" He asked innocently, smoothing an errant strand of hair out of her face.

She nodded, not daring to look away from his intense gaze. "Great day. You?"

"It was fine," he replied distractedly. He cleared his throat and then bent his head down to whisper in her ear, apparently done with pleasantries. "So, I told Lindsey that she could go to Hannah Shaw's birthday party tonight."

How he made a simple sentence about a teenager's birthday party sound so devastatingly sexy and suggestive, she wasn't sure. It seemed like it should be wrong, his talent for turning something perfectly innocent into lascivious innuendo, but as his breath tickled her ear and sent shivers down her spine, she realized she really didn't care.

"Good," she replied, her voice cracking. She swallowed hard, wetting her dry throat, and then tried again. "That's good."

"She's going to be gone all night," he told her unnecessarily.

"That's how slumber parties usually work," she replied, her voice wavering, much to her chagrin.

Sam grinned at her obvious discomfort and ran his tongue along his top teeth, making her wait with baited breath for what he was going to say next. He glanced away and she noticed that the muscle in his jaw tensed before he looked back at her and suggested, "I was thinking that you could come over."

There it was. The invitation.

The reason she'd been taking extra time to shave her legs every morning that week and why she, for the first time in her life, actually cared if her underwear matched her bra.

There was the slightest falter to his words, the briefest moment of hesitation that she wouldn't have caught had she not become attuned to the normal cadence of his speech. She felt a surge of confidence swell in her chest, knowing that despite how well he disguised it, he was just affected by her as she was by him.

"Oh you were?" Andy asked impishly, allowing her hand to lazily roam across his abdomen and settle just above the curve of his backside. "And what would we do if I were to come over?"

Sam suppressed a wicked grin, trying unsuccessfully to appear unfazed by her touch. "Oh, I'm sure we could think of something," he assured her. "You know, order a pizza, watch a movie. Maybe turn in early."

His fingers trailed down the line of her back and then boldly slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, splaying out over the smooth skin just above the waistband of her jeans. There was a cold draft that hit her bared skin but the warmth of his hand tempered the effect, making her shiver all the same.

"Mmmhmm," Andy hummed, pretending to consider his offer. "I was thinking we could skip the first two, if that's okay with you."

She heard him draw in a sharp breath and then he grinned broadly, his teeth gleaming. "I feel certain that could be arranged. But um," he looked at her remorsefully and nodded over to where Oliver had grabbed a table, "First I kind of promised Oliver I'd buy him a drink because he's going to have a house full of girls tonight."

"That's fine," Andy replied, flicking her finger over the top button of his shirt before spreading her fingers out over his chest. "I'm supposed to meet up with Traci and the guys anyway."

"You want to just let me know when you're done?" He asked. "I'll drive you home. Or," he amended, "To my home."

"What a gentleman you are," she teased, laughing lightly. "Escorting me to your bed."

He let out a short, choked laugh and then raised an eyebrow. "You can walk, if you'd prefer."

She knew perfectly well that he was bluffing and would probably pitch a fit if she didn't take him up on his offer. "No way," she said, smiling as she shook her head. "It's freezing outside. It'd be practically inhuman to make me walk."

He rested an elbow against the table and leaned his body in, speaking in a low, hushed tone as his lips hovered just slightly above hers. "Then let me take you home."

"Okay," She replied, speaking before she even thought about her answer. Not that it would have mattered.

"Okay," he repeated decisively, stepping back and out of her embrace despite her pout. "Just come get me when you're done."

She winked at him and promised, "I'll make it fast."

After he left, Andy brought her hands up to her face in an attempt to cool her overheated cheeks. Despite her efforts, she could not wipe the wide, happy grin off of her face and it was the first thing Traci commented on when she and Chris and Dov arrived.

"You look happy," she remarked, wrapping her arm around Andy's shoulder in a half hug as she took her seat. "What's up?"

Andy glanced over at Sam, watching as he tilted his beer bottle up and took a long, slow swig. When he lowered the bottle he caught her eye and winked and Andy felt her cheeks flush with color again.

She quickly shifted her gaze back to Traci, who gave her a funny look. Andy realized she was taking too long to answer the question. "Nothing," she lied, not quite ready to reveal the source of her happiness. She looked down at the drink in her hands and swirled the liquid in the glass while continuing, "Just a good day at work, that's all."

"That's new," Traci observed, interrupting herself to give the waitress her order. When the waitress moved on to Chris, Traci turned her attention back to Andy. "Boyd didn't give you any trouble?"

"No," Andy said, shaking her head. "He's good. I mean… he's not going to win training officer of the year or anything, but he's been surprisingly decent lately. I'm not sure what's gotten into him."

Chris snorted. "Sam Swarek's boot in his ass, that's what's gotten into him."

Andy chuckled and lifted her drink to her lips, not fully realizing what Chris had said or the way that he grimaced when Dov kicked him under the table. When his words finally registered, Andy lowered her glass and looked at him wearing an expression of confusion and alarm. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Chris, did Sam say something to Boyd?" Andy demanded. "He did, didn't he?"

As Chris looked helplessly back and forth between Andy and Sam, weighing his options and the consequences of telling Andy what Sam had done, Dov let out a low groan and covered his eyes with his hand, muttering, "Idiot."

"Chris!" Andy repeated loudly. "Tell me what happened."

"Well," Chris said hesitantly, trying to pass off the burden of telling Andy, "I wasn't the one with him, so I don't really know."

Andy's eyes narrowed on Dov, who looked away, whistling innocently. "Dov."

Her tone was direct and no nonsense. Dov realized she wasn't going to let the issue go until she found out what had happened, so he sighed and punched Chris in the arm before turning back to Andy. "We may have gone by Boyd's house," he told her.

"When?"

"A few weeks ago," he answered, cringing slightly under her glare. "Sam knew he'd be home because it was garbage day, whatever that means."

"It means I wasn't working," Andy explained off-handedly. "What did he say to him?"

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly, "He made me stay in the cruiser."

"Did he just talk to him, or was there more?" Andy asked, fearing the worst.

Dov hesitated. "He may have punched him," he admitted reluctantly. "In the stomach. Just once though."

Andy took a deep breath and looked over at Traci. "Did you know about this?" she asked her friend.

Traci was still for a moment and then she nodded guiltily.

"Traci!" Andy exclaimed, outraged. "How could you not tell me?"

"Well, you know I normally don't condone that kind of this," Traci said, straightening her spine and sitting taller in her seat, "But Boyd was jerk who needed to be dealt with." Her statement was met with a murmur of agreement from Chris and Dov. "Plus Sam warned us not to tell you and I don't really want to be on that guy's bad side."

Dov nodded in agreement and commented, "You should have seen how fast Boyd went down." He slapped Chris on the shoulder, "Good luck brother. It was nice knowing you."

Chris's eyes widened and he turned to Andy, pleading, "Please don't tell Sam I told you."

Andy was already standing up from her seat, on her way so confront Sam.

He smiled naively when he noticed her approaching. "You done already?" His smile fell as soon as she reached his table and he saw her expression. "What's wrong?"

Her demeanor was drastically different than when he had left her at her table. "You went to see Boyd?" She hissed. "How could you do that?"

Oliver's eyes widened and he turned to Sam, obviously unaware of his friend's visit to the other training officer. "You talked to Boyd?"

Sam let out an exasperated sigh and looked back to the table full of rookies. "Which one of those idiots told you?"

"It doesn't matter," Andy said, her voice getting louder, "I can't believe you would do that. I specifically asked you to stay out of it and what'd you do? You went and punched him!"

"You punched him?" Oliver repeated. Sam cut his eyes over to his friend and nodded slightly, sending Andy into another rant.

Sam was quiet, letting her yell at him. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, staring at her as she waved her arms around and accused him of making her seem weak and unable to take care of herself.

When she finally took a breath, he raised an eyebrow. "You done?"

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" She asked.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Nope," he said. "Well, other than the fact that I'd do it again in a second."

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him in disbelief. "You arrogant, son of a bitch," she seethed. "You could have ruined my career."

Sam rubbed his hand over his jaw and then chuckled mirthlessly. He stood up and pulled his wallet out of his pocket, tossing a couple of bills onto the table. "I'm out of here," he said, brushing passed Andy.

"Sam, Sammy," Oliver called out, "Come back here, man."

Sam ignored his friend and continued stalking out of the bar.

Andy started to follow him, but Oliver grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Andy, Andy, Andy," he said, "Give him a little bit of time."

"He had no right to do that!" Andy said, pointing after Sam.

"I know," Oliver held both of his hands up, trying to calm her down. "I told him the same thing."

"He told you about Boyd?"

Oliver nodded. "He was worried about you. Plus, it was Boyd, so that adds a whole other dimension to it."

Andy pressed her fingers against her temples, breathing deeply. "What do you mean, a whole other dimension?"

Oliver's brow furrowed. "You don't know about Sam and Boyd?"

Andy shook her head. "No, what are you talking about?"

Oliver sighed and got to his feet. "Come with me," he said, "There's something you need to see."

He took her back to the station and sat her down in front of a computer, pulling up Jamie Brennan's case file. "What is this?" Andy asked, starting to scroll through it.

"An undercover operation Sam and Boyd worked together," Oliver told her, sitting down next to her.

Andy read through the notes that detailed the undercover agent's capture, torture and release and felt the knot in the pit of her stomach grow. "Who's J.D.?" She asked, clicking over to the pictures. When she saw the first one, she drew in a sharp breath, "Oh my god."

Oliver nodded. "Yeah."

"When was this?" Andy asked, feeling sick as she looked through the pictures that catalogued Sam's injuries.

"Three years ago," Oliver replied quietly, still unable to look at the pictures without remembering the fear and the dread that had consumed him while Sam was missing.

"How did he get made?"

"We still don't really know," Oliver told her, "But Boyd was his handler and gave Sam some bad information. Whether Boyd did it deliberately or not, we'll never know, but somehow he's definitely at fault for what happened."

Andy was quiet, slowly shaking her head as she tried to process the information.

Oliver checked his watch. "I'm sorry, I've got to get going. My wife's going to be calling for back up soon. You want me to drop you off at home?"

Andy blinked and then looked up at him. "No," she said. "No, I'll walk."

"Okay." Oliver stood his feet and rested his hand on her shoulder before walking away. "Andy, you have to understand that when Sam thinks of Boyd," he pointed to the computer, "That's what he remembers. I'm sure when he realized that you were having trouble with him, it was all he could do not to kill the guy."

Andy nodded silently, turning back to the computer.

Oliver patted her shoulder one last time and then turned, leaving her alone.