Author's Note: Thank you all for the wonderful feedback on Chapter 15! I tried to get this chapter out sooner but it felt too rushed and I wanted to give it the effort it deserved. I hope that all of you who celebrate Thanksgiving had a wonderful holiday! Get ready for another healthy helping of angst and fluff... Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

"So Oliver kept watching 'em parade into booking, eyes kind of bulging out and asking if he was getting punked, but," Sam shook his head, laughing, "Nope, they were honest-to-God Cher impersonators, not an ID to be found in the group of 'em. Took him three days to get everyone sorted out."

Andy giggled against him and when he looked down all he could see was the top of her dark head and the moonlight reflecting off of her bare, shaking shoulders. "I'd have paid good money to see that," she said, her fingers absently stroking through the hair that sprinkled his chest.

She sighed and then propped her chin up so she could look at him. A look passed over her face, like she had a funny thought, and then she grinned and levered herself up to kiss him, laughing against his lips.

"What?" Sam asked, pushing her hair out of her face but leaving his fingers tangled in the dark strands, settling his hand at the base of her neck.

"Just picturing Oliver in a Cher wig," Andy answered, "Singing Turn Back Time at the coppers' karaoke night."

Sam chuckled along with her and she found herself reaching up to smooth out the wrinkles around his eyes. "I bet for a price you could make that happen."

"What do you think it would take?" she asked like she was seriously considering the idea, her forehead scrunched. "Like a dozen doughnuts maybe?"

"Throw in some coffee and you'd probably be in business."

"Pimpin' out your best friend," Andy scoffed, clicking her tongue. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Sam grinned quickly and then his hands clutched at her side, pulling her fully on top of him. "Oh yeah," he agreed seriously. "I should probably be punished."

Andy just laughed, throwing her head back, and then pushed herself away from him. "Later," she promised, rolling to the other side of the bed and pulling the sheet along with her.

"Hey," Sam said, his easy laughter giving way to a confused frown. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just gonna go home to sleep," she told him, leaning over the edge of the mattress to grab her discarded shirt. "I don't want to be here when Lindsey wakes up."

Slinging one arm behind his head, Sam spread his free hand out over her warm back, feeling her muscles shift as she sat back up. "You're working early shift tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, why?" Andy answered distractedly, concentrating on flipping her shirt to the right side before pulling it over her head. She felt around under the sheets and then shimmied her underwear up her legs, letting the waistband snap against her skin.

Sam was quiet, thumbing the dip at the base of her spine. "I'll set an alarm," he said eventually. "You can go home in the morning before she gets up."

Andy paused, still as could be, and then slowly turned to him, a lazy, knowing smile spreading across her face. "You asking me to stay?"

Sam's lips twitched with a grin but he rolled his eyes, "I'm saying you don't have to rush off."

"Uh huh," Andy said, grinning impishly before crawling over to him. He watched her with a smirk as she threw a leg over his hips and then braced her arms on either side of his head, settling down against his lap.

He bent his knees, cradling her, and his hands travelled from her shoulders down to the slight curve of her waist. She was staring down at him, grinning in a way that unnerved him, like she was about to make him do something that she knew he would hate but would probably do anyway just because she asked. "McNally…" he groaned, chuckling nervously.

She folded her elbows and lowered herself down, her lips right above his. "Sam," she whispered, tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip, "If you want me to stay, you just have to ask."

Sam's eyes were fixed on her lips and his throat worked as he swallowed hard, making a sharp, ragged noise. After a moment, his dark gaze flicked back up to meet hers and she raised a delicate eyebrow, waiting. Cupping a hand to her cheek, long fingers brushing smooth, bronzed skin, he murmured, "Stay."

Andy's face lit up as she closed the distance between them. "Okay."

"McNally?"

The first time Sam said her name Dov looked over him, surprised he had actually given away whom he was talking to, not that Dov hadn't guessed. Then, even from where he was sitting, he heard a loud popping noise and Sam flinched, pulling the phone away from his ear for half a second, before calling, "Andy?" After a moment Sam repeated himself, and edge of panic in his voice that Dov had only heard a handful of times before, "Andy?"

Dov didn't have to know what was happening on the other end of the line, though from the noise he heard he could draw a couple of conclusions, but the look on Sam's color-drained face was enough to fill his stomach with cold dread.

"Sir," he said hesitantly, "Sir, what's happening?"

Sam ignored him, which wasn't exactly surprising, and Dov watched as Sam almost visibly slipped into copper mode; the tense set of his jaw and the no nonsense, training officer voice, the one Sam used when he needed to gain control over a situation. It was practiced and controlled and authoritative and could calm people down while simultaneously making them trust him enough to do exactly what he told them to do without argument.

"McNally!" Sam demanded firmly, like maybe by using that voice Andy would have no other option but to respond simply because he was telling her to.

Apparently there was no response because Sam jerked the squad car into a loading zone and started muttering to himself, his fist against his forehead and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Sir," Dov tried again, trying to keep his voice steady. "What's going on with Andy?"

Sam looked over at him with a blank stare, like he had forgotten that his rookie was even in the car. He blinked and then recognition filled his eyes. "Listen to that," he said, tossing the phone over to Dov, "Tell me what you hear."

The line hadn't gone dead and Dov could hear noises in the background, something that sounded like a person sucking in deep, strangled breaths and someone else yelling words that he couldn't make out.

"I can't… I think I hear someone breathing and..," Dov shook his head, "I don't know, I can't tell what the guy in the background is saying."

"Yeah," Sam said, messing with his radio. "Keep listening, tell me if you hear McNally."

"Sir… was she…?"

Sam's dark eyes flicked over to meet his. "I don't know," he replied tightly. "I don't know."

Dov just nodded, feeling a warm, sick lump rise in the back of his throat, and then turned his attention back to the phone while Sam switched through the frequencies on his radio. He could still hear someone talking but then there was a sharp crack, like someone had kicked the phone across the floor, and the voices became more distant.

"Damn it," Sam muttered, jerking the transmitter off of his belt, "Damn it."

"What's…?"

"Boyd's not answering his radio," he said.

"Just call into dispatch," Dov suggested. "Get 'em to tell you where she is."

Sam looked up, blinked, and then did exactly that.

Dov felt like the smartest freaking copper on the entire planet.

Or he would have, at least, had Sam not looked like he was actively fighting to keep himself from going absolutely out of his mind.

Sam quickly found out Boyd and Andy's location and was informed that an ambulance had already been called to the scene. It took them nearly twenty minutes to get there, which was impressive considering that they were clear across town, but it felt like hours. They rode in silence save for every sixty seconds when Sam asked Dov to get an update. They learned small details along the way, bits and pieces of information that Sam hoarded like lifelines and processed as the muscle his jaw twitched and jumped.

Sam drove with a sort of purpose and focus that was intense even for him; eyes fixed on the road, mind navigating traffic patterns like a labyrinth three steps ahead of where they were. His whole body was taut with tension, every movement restrained, as if he might completely unravel if he gave up even the slightest modicum of control.

The scene was crawling with police officers when they arrived and there was already an ambulance parked outside of the gas station.

Boyd met them at the car before they were even fully out of it. If he was surprised to see them there, he covered it well. "Swarek… Sam…" he said, standing in front of the other man to physically block him from moving forward. "You can't go in there man, it's a crime scene."

"Where's McNally?" Sam asked, dodging Boyd and anxiously surveying the area in front of the rundown gas station, looking for a dark brown ponytail.

Boyd jutted his chin out to the ambulance. "She's fine, she's getting checked out by paramedics now…"

Before Boyd finished his sentence, Sam was on the move with Dov at his heels. "What were you thinking, letting her go in there in the first place?" he called angrily over his shoulder.

"I was thinking I wanted some coffee," Boyd said, hurrying to catch up. "Chill out buddy, it's not like I purposely sent her in there…"

Sam shot Boyd a loaded look.

"Whatever man," Boyd said, picking up on the nonverbal insinuation. "You know I didn't. Look, Sam, stop… she's talking to my staff sergeant now, give her a couple of minutes."

Sam took another couple of steps but then actually did what Boyd asked and stopped, having finally caught sight of Andy. The wave of relief that flooded through him the instant he laid eyes on her very much alive form was so tangible that he thought his knees were actually going to give out. He put his hands on his hips, ducked his head and sucked in a couple of deep breaths. When he looked back up he asked, "What do you know?"

Boyd studied him for a second and then hesitantly pointed to a young guy in the back of a cruiser, seeming legitimately concerned that Sam might go over and haul the kid out and maybe take a couple of swings at him. "Twitchy sixteen year old kid, high on something, probably coke, held up the gas station with his older brother's .22. McNally walked in, spooked him, took three in the vest. Kid tried to run out the back but we got him got about two blocks down. Still had the gun on him."

Sam nodded slowly, his chest still visibly expanding with every breath.

"That's gotta suck," Dov chimed in uselessly, just needing to say something. "Aggravated robbery and attempted murder of a police officer… what a day."

Both Sam and Boyd glared back at him, so he clamped his mouth shut, chagrined.

Boyd narrowed his eyes at Sam. "How did you even know this was going down?"

"I uh…" Sam squeezed his eyes closed, fighting off a pounding headache. "I was on the phone with her when it… when she…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He looked over to where Andy was seated inside the back of the ambulance, lifting up her shirt so the paramedic could apply some sort of salve to her ribs. "I was on the phone with her."

"On the phone with her?" Boyd repeated slowly, a glint in his eye. "She didn't mention that. What?" he asked sarcastically, flicking a glance between Andy and Sam, "Were you guys setting up a babysitting gig or something?"

Behind him, Epstein let out surprised snort at the ballsy dig and then quickly tried to cover it with a cough. Sam's hands clenched at his side but through some form of self-control he didn't realize he possessed, he managed not to deck Boyd right then and there. He took another deep breath and then turned back to Boyd. "She okay?"

"Yeah, she's got a couple of bruised ribs. Counter's about twenty feet from the door and the gun's a piece of shit. It could've been…" he broke off at Sam's hard stare. "Well, you know."

Sam nodded. "Anyone else?'

Boyd shook his head. "Some lady spilt coffee all over herself, but everyone else is fine."

Over at the ambulance, the staff sergeant patted Andy on the shoulder and then turned to walk away. She followed him, watching him go, and her gaze landed on Sam. Sensing her looking at him, Sam turned around. A flicker of surprise crossed over her face when they made eye contact, like maybe she genuinely thought he was just going to wait around and find out what happened over stir fry that night, but then her features relaxed and her shoulders slumped and even though she looked like she was miserable and in pain, she seemed relieved that he was there.

Sam made his way over to her and gestured for the paramedic to give them a second when he reached her.

"Sam," she said immediately, "I'm so sorry, I dropped the phone and then I couldn't get to it…"

Because he had to do something with his hands to keep himself from doing what he really wanted to do – he really wanted to get her somewhere alone and see for himself that she was okay – he reached one out and placed it on her shoulder. The contact, as innocent as it may have appeared and as completely unsatisfying as it was, was enough to keep him going, keep him professional.

"Andy, it's fine," he assured her. "It's fine. You okay?"

She nodded and her face started to crumple a little bit, like she was going to cry, but then she blinked and took a deep breath and straightened her spine. "Yeah, I'm good."

Sam nodded towards her stomach. "Let me see."

She tried to argue with him, stretching the hem of her shirt lower. "Sam, it's really nothing, it's fine…"

"Let me see," he repeated firmly.

She sighed heavily, glancing around, and then scooted closer to him, tugging on his arm. Sam realized what she was after and angled his body to block her from the others' view.

Closing her eyes because she didn't want to see his reaction, she took a deep breath and then rolled her shirt up to the edge of her sports bra.

Sam's grip tightened on her shoulder as he took in the ugly purple and navy bruise that was beginning to bloom across her ribcage. He shoved his free hand in his pocket to keep from reaching out and smoothing his fingers over it. "Shit, Andy…"

Her eyes snapped open and she quickly lowered her shirt. "Sam, it's just… it's not as bad as it looks."

Sam chewed on his bottom lip. "You going to the hospital?"

"No, they said I'm fine."

"They said you're fine or you told them you were fine?"

Andy narrowed her eyes. "I'm fine," she said, not really answering the question.

Sam stared at her, thinking. "Okay," he said slowly. "I'm going to go and get the truck and then I'm going to take you home."

She was shaking her head before he finished. "I've got to go back to the station," she told him. "There's a ton of paperwork I've got to fill out and I've got to…"

"Nope," he responded, shaking his head with equal fervor. "You can do it later."

"Sam," she raised her eyebrows and her mouth was set in a tight, challenging line. "I have to do my job. I don't want to go home yet." He was still looking at her like he didn't believe her, rubbing at his jaw. "I'm fine," she insisted again, covering the hand on her shoulder with her own and giving it a little squeeze.

He was silent, a dozen different reactions playing across his face, but then he finally agreed, "Okay."

Andy let out a breath. "Okay."

"But," Sam said, "Call me when you finish up and I'll come get you."

"I will," she promised, knowing it wasn't a battle she was going to win.

Sam stared down at the ground for a couple of seconds and then looked back up at her. "I'm glad you're…" he paused, clearing his throat. He could feel Boyd watching them and for the one-hundredth time wished they were somewhere, anywhere else, away from the prying eyes of their coworkers. "I'm glad you're okay."

It sounded terribly inadequate, but it made her smile. "Thanks for um… driving all the way out here."

Sam let out a choked laugh, she was absolutely ridiculous sometimes, and then shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, you know, I didn't really have anything better to do."

Andy lips curled into a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah," she nodded. "I'm sure you were probably just bored."

His radio began to chatter, Oliver asking where the hell he was, and he quickly switched it off. "I've uh," he coughed and glanced around, noticing that Epstein was talking into his radio and sending pointed looks in his direction. "I've got to go."

"Yeah, I know," she said, her smile fading.

Sam looked at her - in spite of all of her bravado she looked so small and fragile in the back of the ambulance and all he wanted to do in that moment was gather her in his arms. Instead, he squeezed her shoulder again and took a step back. "Call me," he instructed. "I mean it."

Andy nodded. "I will."

Sam ducked his head to meet her gaze and with a final look, he turned to leave. He nodded to Dov, who was waving at Andy, and the two of them made their way back to the squad car.

"Hey, Sam…" Boyd called after his retreating form. Sam was already at the cruiser, fingers closing around the door handle. "I, uh, I'll leave the phone call out of the report."

Sam set his jaw. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said quickly. Because he couldn't just end there, he added, "If she wasn't talking to you there would have been some other shiny object to distract her."

Sam yanked the car door open and fought the urge to make a comment about how it might be a good time to cut Andy some slack, deciding not to push his luck. "Thanks."

Boyd just shrugged and then responded with a healthy dose of self-awareness. "I'm not always a complete asshole."

Sam nodded sharply. "Right," he said, lowering himself into the driver's side. Sticking the keys in the ignition, he began, "Epstein…"

"I know Sir," Dov interrupted, pulling his seat belt across his body. "Not a word. You don't have to worry."

"No, that's not…" Sam shook his head and started the ignition. Before backing out of the small parking lot he paused and turned to his rookie. "Good work today. You were smart, keep your head on straight."

Dov felt a swell of pride in his chest at the unexpected praise but fought, somewhat successfully, to keep his expression neutral. "Thank you, sir. I uh… just did what I was taught."

Sam's lips twitched with the faintest of smiles and he just nodded as he threw the car in reverse.

Later, long after her shift normally ended, Sam tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of his truck as he waited for Andy in the parking lot of the twenty-seventh division. He had grown increasingly agitated at home as the hours ticked by, waiting for her to call, and was just about to take matters into his own hands when the phone finally rang.

She emerged from the sally port and scanned the lot for his truck. Spotting him, she hiked her bag higher on her shoulder and began making her way across the pavement, moving slowly and instinctively favoring her right side.

Sam jumped out of the truck, taking her bag from her when he reached her despite her protests.

"Sam, I can get it," she tried to tell him.

"I know you can," he replied, swinging it over his shoulder and taking her hand. "I got it though."

He tossed the bag into the bed of the truck and by the time he turned back to her she had already opened the passenger's door and was climbing in.

"McNally," he said, grabbing hold of her elbow to help her up. "Would you just let me help you?"

"I got it," she insisted, which would have been more believable had she not winced as she sat back into the seat.

Sam waited for her to get settled before asking, "You okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded once. "Just sore." Sam watched her for a moment, his eyes travelling the full length of her body, until she shot him an irritated look. "I'm fine, Sam. Let's go home."

He drove quietly and for once Andy didn't ramble to fill the silence. He wanted to hear her talk, wanted her to tell him everything that happened leading up to the shooting and everything that happened afterwards, but she just leaned against the door, her breath fogging up the cold window.

Sam found himself glancing over at her ever so often, just checking on her. He tried to tell himself that she was being so quiet simply because she was exhausted, not because she was shutting him out.

"You've got to stop looking at me like that, okay?" she snapped, not even bothering to look over at him. "You're going to freak Lindsey out."

"How am I looking at you?" he asked naively, fingers opening and closing around the gearshift.

"Like I'm about two inches away from death," she told him. "Cut it out."

Sam snorted derisively, starting to get irritated with how flippantly she was brushing off the events of the day. "You were about two inches away from death, if those bullets had been any higher…"

"But they weren't, okay? Look, can you just not…" Andy huffed. "I don't want to scare Lindsey so can you just chill out for now and I promise I'll let you do your whole overprotective bit later?"

His eyebrows jumped and his jaw clenched. "Overprotective?" he repeated slowly, quiet and with an edge. He licked his lips and then cleared his throat, "Is that what you think I'm being?"

She met his gaze and held it for a couple of seconds before her eyes reddened and she blinked rapidly, like she was on the verge of tears, and looked away. "I know why you're acting like this, okay?" she said. "Because I was on the phone with you when it happened."

"McNally, that's not even…"

She continued, ignoring him. "If it had been anyone else you probably wouldn't think twice about it but because it was you and… " she paused, hesitating, but then forged ahead, "You know what? Let's be honest… because it was basically booty call, you're feeling about ten different kinds of responsible right now, which you are not. So please just stop, just… stop. I am fine."

He was silent the rest of the way home, chewing on the inside of his lip to keep himself from saying something that he might regret. It wasn't until he pulled onto their street and parked the truck that he finally looked over at her. "You think I'm acting this way because I feel responsible?"

Andy rolled her eyes and started to unbuckle her seatbelt. "Sam, just…"

"You don't think there's any other reason that I might be concerned about you?" He asked, turning and reaching his hand out to stop her.

She sighed and then brushed him off. "Let's just go inside."

Sam gulped, watching in disbelief as she started to exit the truck. "McNally, what in the…?" She slammed the door, cutting off his question.

He slumped back in his seat, stewing with frustration, and then hit the steering wheel a couple of times before climbing out to follow her inside.

Lindsey met them in the foyer, skidding to a stop and catching herself from throwing her arms around Andy. "Are you okay?"

Andy dropped her bag to the floor with a heavy thud. "Yeah," she said, plastering on a fake smile. "I'm fine." She worked the buttons on her coat and shrugged it off, holding it out. Sam took it from her without even thinking. When she bent over to pull her boots off he grabbed her hand to steady her, not even thinking about that either.

Lindsey's eyes were wide and frightened. "Uncle Sam said you got shot."

Andy shot Sam a look that he didn't quite understand, like maybe she was mad at him for telling his niece what had happened, and then turned back to Lindsey. "I got hit in the vest," she said, throwing her arm around the girl's shoulders and leading her into the living room, leaving Sam standing alone in the middle of the foyer. "I'm just bruised, that's all…"

He took a second to hang up their coats and kick Andy's bag to the side before following. "Lindsey," he said, coming up behind them, "It's time for you to go to bed."

Lindsey whipped around to look at him. "You said that I could stay up," she alleged, her voice squeaking.

"I said that you could stay up until Andy got home," Sam reminded her. He nodded over at Andy and then jerked his thumb behind his shoulder towards the stairs, "She's here and you've seen her, so now its time for you to go to bed."

Lindsey looked over at Andy for support but thankfully Andy just shrugged and smiled. "I'm here. I'm fine," she said, dipping her head so she could meet the girl at eye level. "Go to bed."

"You're going to stay here tonight, right?" Lindsey asked, a thread of nervousness in her voice.

Andy immediately glanced over at Sam and narrowed her eyes suspiciously, as if he might have been the one to put Lindsey up to asking her to stay.

Sam just rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly, surprised and a little offended that she had automatically jumped to that conclusion. And, to be honest, more than a little aggravated that she was acting like her staying over wasn't a forgone conclusion.

"Lindsey," Andy said, turning back to the girl by the shoulders. "They caught the guy that did it. No one's gonna hurt me."

"I know that," Lindsey replied, "But it's just…I mean, you shouldn't be alone, right?" She looked back and forth between her uncle and Andy, sensing the discord between the two. "You can sleep in my bed if you want," she offered. "I'll take the couch."

"Oh no, that's okay," Andy said. "You don't have to do that. I'll be fine."

Lindsey eyed her warily. "Okay," she agreed. "But you'll stay here, right?"

Andy glanced back at Sam, her eyes searching for direction one way or the other, as if he might actually tell her she couldn't stay. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah sweetie," Andy answered, "I'll stay here."

"Okay," Lindsey nodded. She stepped forward and carefully circled her thin arms around Andy, careful not to hurt her. "Goodnight."

Andy squeezed the girl tightly, ignoring the sharp pain in her side. "Goodnight."

Lindsey took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling, and then stepped back. She quickly hugged Sam and then made her way up to her room.

Andy and Sam regarded each other a couple of tense, quiet moments. "Did you eat?" Sam asked finally, his default question.

"Yeah, at the station," Andy answered, turning her back to him to cross the room.

"Okay," he said, rooted in his place as he watched her carefully lower herself down to the sofa, sitting first, supported by the arm on her good side, and then swinging her legs up and lying back. "I'm gonna get you some ice."

"I don't need ice," Andy told him, stretching out and trying to make herself comfortable. She shook her hair out over the armrest and hugged a pillow to her body, unconsciously splinting her ribs. "I'm fine."

Ignoring her, Sam went into the kitchen anyway and pulled out a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. He returned and lifted her ankles with one hand so he could sit down at the end of the sofa, letting her feet come to rest in his lap. "Put that on your stomach," he said, tossing her the bag of peas. She started to open her mouth but he held up a hand, stopping her. "And don't argue with me about it."

She grumbled under her breath but did what he asked. "There," she said, molding the bag to her side. "Are you happy?"

He really had no idea what he had done to piss her off. "Oh yeah," he replied sarcastically, "Because I'm the one with the bruised ribs."

Andy sighed and slung her arm over her eyes. "You didn't have to tell Lindsey what happened."

"What?" he asked, his forehead wrinkling. "Why wouldn't I tell her?"

"Because it's just gonna scare her and make her worry," Andy said. "There was really no reason to put her through that."

Sam ran a hand over his face and then stretched an arm out along the back of the couch. "So you what, exactly? Wanted me to lie to her?"

Andy lifted her arm slightly to peek out at him. "Not lie," she argued. "Just not even bring it up."

Sam let out a sharp laugh. "Have you met Lindsey?" he asked. "Do you really think that would have worked?"

Andy just covered her eyes again and groaned.

She had shoved her feet between his thighs so he curled his free arm around the bottoms of her legs and rubbed his hand up and down her denim-covered shin. "Look, Andy," he said gently, "You were hurt, there's no reason to…"

She groaned again. "Sam, I am fine."

Sam's hand stilled on her leg. "How many times are you going to say that today?"

"What?" she mumbled into her arm.

"That you're fine," he repeated. "How many times are you going to say that?"

Her chest expanded with a deep breath and she lowered her arm. "Well I am fine, so… " she insisted stubbornly.

"Well, it's too bad for you that I've taken a couple in the vest before," Sam told her. "And I know that popping a couple of Advil doesn't make everything okay."

"Sam…" she pressed her fingers to her eyes. "Can we just not make a big deal about this?"

Sam's eyes widened incredulously. "Not make a big deal – Andy, you were shot today, or do you not remember that?"

"I remember," she muttered. "But really…"

"Look," Sam interrupted her, "Whatever it is that you're trying to accomplish, you need to knock it off."

She opened her eyes and blinked at him. "What?"

"Whatever you're trying to accomplish by pretending like you're okay," he clarified. "I understand why you'd want to do that with Lindsey, but not with me." He thought back through the car ride home, the way she'd brought up the phone call. "Are you embarrassed? Is that – because you were on the phone with me?"

"What? No. I'm not embarrassed…"

"Because you shouldn't be," he told her. "You shouldn't be, you didn't do anything wrong. There was no way for you to know what you were walking into."

"I know that."

"Then what is it. Andy? Seriously, I don't understand why..."

Andy scratched at the upholstery of the couch with her finger, not meeting his eye. Finally, she spoke. "You've had enough to deal with, okay? You've been through… a lot." She sighed and shook her head, "You shouldn't have to worry about me."

Sam nodded slowly, finally understanding what was going on; why she was being so insistent that she was fine.

"So, you think that… what?" he asked, deciding to be blunt, "I can't handle you being hurt because my sister killed herself?" Andy's eyes flew to meet his and he found the answer he was looking for. "That's what it is, isn't it? You think that because of Sarah, you need to protect me from this."

"Sam…" she sighed but didn't try and deny it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that the fact that she was trying to look out for him even though she was the one that had gotten shot was so totally McNally; always looking out for other people and always downplaying her own problems. That thought, however, was overshadowed by how completely livid it made him that she felt she couldn't be honest with him.

"Okay, well, first of all, you being hurt… it doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're hurt and there's no sense in trying to act like you're not. You telling me not to worry and acting like everything's okay doesn't make me worry less, it just pisses me off," Sam told her truthfully. "And you saying that you're fine," he shook his head, "That doesn't reassure me and make me think you are actually fine, it makes me think you're full of crap."

"Okay…" Andy tried to get a word in, but he was on a roll.

"I don't need you to be pretend to be strong because you think I can't handle it. Was I terrified today? Absolutely. You…" he broke off, feeling an unexpected lump in his throat choke off his words. Finally, he cleared his throat and continued. "I heard you McNally, I heard you get shot. Of course I was terrified. But I can handle it. I'm a big boy."

"I know you are…"

He cut her off again, "And I'm not concerned about you because I feel responsible, okay? I'm concerned and worried and want you to tell me what's going on because I care about you."

By the time he was finished, Andy was looking at him with wide eyes and an expression that he couldn't read. She looked so tired and so unbelievably young that he couldn't help but feel like a jackass for just exploding on her like that.

"Okay," she said softly. She sat up, pushing herself up gingerly, and then stood to her feet.

"Andy," Sam said. "Wait, come here…"

"I'm going to go take a shower," she told him, looking down at the ground. When her eyes flicked back up to meet his she asked quietly, "Do you, um… do you want to come with me?"

"Andy… " He did. He definitely did, but the last time they had taken a shower together he'd ended up having to swing by the store on the way home from work and pick up a new curtain liner – polyester, less likely to rip when someone grabbed on to it.

A faint blush colored Andy's cheeks at his expression. "No, uh. Not like that. I just…" she sighed and raised her shoulders in a half hearted shrug. "Well, it hurts to lift my arms."

It was a sort of peace offering – her asking for his help. "Yeah," he said, getting up from the couch. "I'll come with you."

He followed her back to his bathroom and helped her remove her clothes – pushing her jeans down her legs because it hurt to bend over and then carefully getting her shirt off without making her hold her arms up. It was a new experience, undressing someone for a purpose other than seeing them naked.

There was something very distressing about seeing her standing there naked and vulnerable, so he quickly shed his own clothes and then turned the shower on, pulling her close to him with a hand wrapped around to her back while he futzed with the water temperature.

"Come on," he said, supporting her as they climbed into the tub.

She gave him a quick little dirty smirk when she noticed the shower curtain but other than that remained still and quiet as he backed her underneath the warm spray of water. He lathered a wash cloth up and ran it from her shoulders down to her fingers and then over her chest and stomach – mindful of the sickening bruise that cover her left side. She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut when he barely touched her there. He watched her face the entire time and when she opened her eyes again he could tell by the set of her jaw that she was biting off a reassurance.

When he bent down to get her legs he felt her fingers gripping at his shoulders, steadying herself.

She held him around the waist and rested her head against his chest when he did her hair and he tried not to think about how good her warm, wet, soapy body felt against his as he rinsed the shampoo out.

He couldn't tell if it was because she really needed the help, if it really did hurt that badly to lift her arms, or if she was just letting him do it because she knew he wanted to - he suspected it was more the latter - but either way it didn't matter.

When she was all clean he tilted her chin up with his hand, thumb stroking at her bottom lip, just waiting to see what she would do. She let out a noise that Sam took as permission, so he ducked his head to kiss her, slow and lazy, tension leaving his body in waves as his lips moved against hers.

Her hands wandered over his back, pulling him against her so tightly that he was afraid she might hurt herself. He stopped himself from stepping back, from putting some space between them, wanting to give her whatever she needed.

The water started to cool and Andy pulled back first, resting her forehead against his. "You ready to go to bed?"

Sam nodded, reaching behind her to shut the water off. He got them both dried off, spending time to squeeze the water from her hair, and then knotted her towel at her sternum to keep it up. "Do you want something to wear?" he asked, nudging her into the bedroom.

She shook her head slowly and draped her towel over a chair before climbing into his bed. Sam watched her wiggle in between the sheets and when she was settled she looked up at him expectantly. "You coming?"

Sam blinked. He had an idea of how he wanted the night to go – he wanted her to get some sleep, mostly – and a very naked Andy sprawling out in his bed, looking at him like that, wasn't really conducive to those plans.

She must have sensed his hesitation. "Come on," she said, holding out her hand. She crooked her fingers insistently. "Come on."

He studied her for another minute until she raised an impatient eyebrow. Finally, he dropped his towel and when he pulled on a pair of boxer-briefs she rolled her eyes but didn't say anything.

She pulled him to her as soon as he crawled in the bed, arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body and her mouth over his before he was even under the covers.

"Andy," he murmured against her lips. "It's okay, let's just go to sleep…"

"I don't want to go to sleep," she insisted, kind of frenzied, warm mouth moving across his face. "I just want – "

She was pushing down on his shoulders so he had a pretty good idea of what she wanted. "Okay… okay…" he said, gently rolling them over. He braced himself up on his forearms and took a moment to look down at her. "Are you sure? Because, Andy, we don't…"

"Yes," she practically hissed, her toes coming up to work his boxers over his hips. She winced again but kept going, so he put his hands on her face to stop her.

"Okay," he said, "But just… just slow down, okay? We'll do this if you want but just… don't hurt yourself. You don't have to prove anything." He wasn't sure where the words came from but they seemed to work. Her movements slowed and her hands came up to tangle in his hair. "Okay?"

She nodded once, eyes open and clear as day even in the darkness of the room.

"Okay," he repeated, kissing her softly. He moved slowly down her body, taking him time, pressing his lips in a trail down her neck, nipping lightly at her collarbone, and then down between her breasts.

Her hips started to arch up but he put a hand on her belly to keep her still, keeping his pace slow to give her every opportunity to stop him. He made it down to her ribs, to the ugly bruise, and stared at it for a moment before brushing his thumb over it lightly, just barely touching it. His hand crept higher, up and over her breast, until he felt her heart pumping away under his fingers. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, warm air against her stomach, and her skin prickled with goosebumps.

He kept going, moving down, until he heard her. "Sam?" her voice was shaky and small.

He pet his hand down her leg, drawing it up over his shoulder, "Mmmhmm?" he murmured against her skin.

He heard her take in a deep breath, sucking in air in erratic gulps, and then she admitted, "It was really scary."

He froze for half a second, his whole body stilling as her words rocked through him. He swallowed hard and then pressed a kiss right below her belly button before crawling up to hover over her, careful to keep his weight off of her.

She looked broken; chin quivering and tears streaking down her face and back towards her ears, a far cry from the bossy, stubborn expression she'd worn five minutes earlier.

"I know it was, sweetheart," he said, brushing away the wetness for the corners of her eyes with the pad of his thumb. He kissed her gently, drawing it out for a moment, and then whispered again. "I know it was."

She let out a deep breath, her chest falling as she pushed the air out with a trembling huff. "It hurt so bad."

"I know," he soothed, stroking her cheek.

She sniffled and then twined her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Sam could feel her wet eyelashes brushing over his skin and his slid his hand between her back and the mattress to help hold her up.

Eventually his shoulders started to ache from supporting his weight and hers, so he carefully rolled them to the side. She curled against him immediately, legs entangling with his and thin arms wrapping around him, sharp elbows digging into his back. Her breathing was ragged and he could feel her tears against his neck, but she didn't make any other sound, just held on to him.

He held her until she fell asleep, pressing kisses against her forehead, trailing his fingers lightly over her back and whispering into her ear. Eventually her breathing evened out but her hold never loosened.