Author's Note: This is the next to last chapter (of the main story - there will be an epilogue) and I really can't believe how far its come. I definitely would not have made it without the support from you guys... thank you so much for your reviews and feedback!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

"You're like, oddly proficient at this."

The temperature was starting to drop and it was nearing dusk; the colors of the day were muted as darkness began to set in. Andy stood on the sidewalk with her mittened hands wrapped around a warm mug of hot chocolate, watching Sam balance on the top step of a ladder to reach the awning over his porch.

"Funny, you said the same thing last night," Sam replied, smirking down at her. Andy had just taken a sip so she swallowed the drink in her mouth and returned the gesture with a smirk of her own. "You keep making comments like that," he said, turning away from her, "And I'm gonna start taking it personally, McNally."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You're gonna take it personally that I find it strange that you're good at putting up Christmas lights?"

"Why is it strange?" Sam asked, the hem of his jacket riding up as he stretched out to his right.

Andy immediately noticed and grinned into her mug as she ogled the way the lean muscles of his abdomen shifted and flexed beneath his bared skin.

"McNally?" Sam's voice broke through her reverie and she glanced up to find him watching her, his eyes dancing with amusement and his lips twitching with a grin. She knew that he must have caught her staring but instead of busting her on it he just repeated himself, sounding like he was fighting a laugh, "Why is it strange?"

Andy shrugged, trying not to act flustered. It wasn't like she had never caught him staring at her before and when she did he was totally unrepentant, usually just kept right on staring. "It just seems like something you'd be too cool for, that's all."

"Shows how much you know," he scoffed, punching the staple gun into the edge of the awning. "I've been hanging Christmas lights since before Lindsey could talk. Probably since you were wearing those day of the week underwear."

"Oh, my mistake," Andy granted, rolling her eyes. She watched him quietly for another moment, shuffling back and forth on her feel an in attempt to stay warm, and then asked, "Is it the power tools? Is that what does it for you?"

"A staple gun is hardly a power tool," Sam told her, stepping down off the ladder so he could move it to the side. He held the aforementioned stapler out to her. "You want to give it a go?"

"Nope, I'm good here," she said, holding up her mug.

"Suit yourself," he replied, climbing back up. "Listen, speaking of Lindsey… are you planning on getting her something for Christmas?"

"Already got her present," Andy boasted, proud of herself. "Yours, too."

Sam looked down at her, confusion lining his forehead. "When have you had time to go shopping?"

"It's called the internet Sam," she replied, teasing. "You should try it some time, you'd like it. No lines, no waiting, no human interaction. Delivers right to your front door like Chinese food. I can show you if you want…"

"I know how to use the internet, McNally," he grumbled, scowling.

"Uh huh, okay." Andy grinned, not fully believing him. She took a sip of her hot chocolate and then asked. "Have you gotten Lindsey's present yet?"

Sam sniffed and ran the back of his hand under his nose. "Not yet."

It was a fairly typical Sam answer – vague but loaded. Like there was something he couldn't, or wouldn't, bring himself to confess. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on the day) for him, Andy was getting pretty good at interpreting the subtext. "Don't know what to get her?"

"Something like that," he admitted. His easy tone was forced and suddenly he was punching the staple gun with a little more strength. Vague but loaded, again. "It just seems more important this year, you know? To get her something she'll like."

"Yeah, I know," she replied softly, nodding even though he wasn't looking at her. She waited for a stretch to see if he was going to say anything else and when he didn't she hesitantly offered, "Well, I can help you figure something out."

"Alright," he accepted with a nod, completely casual and noncommittal again. Whatever moment they were just having was obviously over. "If you want."

"Yeah, sure," Andy replied. Then, nosily, she pried, "Have you gotten my present yet?"

"Like I'd tell you that," he said, snorting lightly. "You'd probably snoop all over the damn house trying to find it."

"Would not," she claimed, clicking her tongue behind her teeth.

"Would too. I bet your dad had to lock your presents away," Sam mused.

It was Andy's turn to snort. "My dad used to pick up my presents along a six pack at the convenience store after he worked the Christmas day shift," she said, chuckling gently to soften the revelation. "I've got a whole box of dinky Toronto collectibles and like, combo flashlight-radios sitting somewhere."

Sam blinked down at her, like for a moment he had forgotten that her childhood hadn't exactly been rosy. "That… sucks," he eventually muttered.

Andy just shrugged. Growing up she'd always been envious of her friends who had normal Christmases with their normal families, but as she got older she'd realized that everyone had their own problems and she'd moved on. She wasn't bitter. "It was what it was. He'd come home, we'd open presents and then we'd camp out on the couch and watch The Christmas Story. It was our own little tradition."

Sam was quiet again, purposefully not looking at her, and Andy guessed that something she'd said had struck a nerve. He was just finishing up the awning, stapling the last little bit of the string of lights in place, so she changed the subject. "How are you gonna get the roof?"

"Uh, well…" Sam leaned back, squinting up at the second story and considering her question. "I think I'm just going to climb up there."

"You think?" Andy repeated dubiously, not totally on board with the idea of him scaling the side of the house. "I thought you said you've done this before?"

"I've hung lights before," he corrected her, stepping down the rungs of the ladder until he was on the ground again. "In St. Catherine's. Lindsey wanted 'em and Sarah was terrified of heights so…" he broke off, shrugging.

"Oh." Andy really wasn't sure what to say to that, a whole lifetime of traditions that just… weren't the same anymore.

"Yeah," he said, flicking his eyes over to meet hers. There was something in his look, like he knew what she was thinking, but before it could get too meaningful he glanced away. "And I usually help Oliver with his. Guy'd probably break his neck if he tried to do it on his own."

"Ah, well," Andy muttered distractedly. "That's nice of you."

He didn't respond as he moved the ladder to the corner of the house and effortlessly boosted himself up on to the awning. From there he could easily reach the roof, but it was slanted and he was wearing these ridiculous old-man slippers that she teased him about all the time but he refused to take off. One false move and he would go sliding right off.

"Sam," she called up to him nervously, worrying her bottom lip as she tried to gauge the distance between him and the ground. If he fell he would break a leg, no doubt about it. "I'm not so sure about this…"

"It's fine Andy," he assured her, testing his footing. He stood up, knees bent slightly to keep his balance, and looked back at her. "But you know what?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna need you to come a little closer." Andy did what he asked, taking a step towards the house. Sam watched her, crooking his fingers in direction. "Little closer, little bit more… no wait." He held his hand up. "Back up. There. That's good."

"It's not like I'm gonna be able to catch you if you fall you know," she huffed with exasperation. "You'll crush both of us."

"Yeah, I know," he said, winking down at her. "It's just that I can see straight down your shirt when you're standing there."

Andy dropped her jaw and made a noise like she was offended, but in the end she just laughed and stayed where she was while he finished up the lights. Her view wasn't all that bad either.

They only got to work together a couple of times a week; Andy picked up a hodge podge of shifts when she transferred divisions and was working some mornings and some afternoons. Eventually they had their this is how we're going to behave at work conversation, which mostly consisted of coming up with a loose definition of what "being professional" meant and agreeing not to draw attention to themselves one way or another, but overall it seemed to be working.

Andy rode with Oliver one afternoon, which was odd since he and Sam usually had the same schedule. When she'd asked him about it, he'd told her he had to switch shifts so he could go to Isabella's Christmas party at school.

"Did you go as Santa?" she asked, teasing at first. When she saw the look on his face she burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh, you did, didn't you?"

"Laugh now," he told her, grumbling good-naturedly. "We'll see who gets a lump of coal in their stocking."

"No, no, I can see it," she continued, heedless of his warning, "Cheeks like roses, nose like a cherry…"

Oliver grinned. "Oh yeah? Little round belly like a bowlful of jelly." When she raised an eyebrow he told her, "I read that poem to my girls every Christmas Eve."

Andy laughed again, shaking her head. "Well I wasn't going to go there."

They settled into a comfortable silence, driving up and down the streets on their beat. The radio was quiet, for once. "The calm before the storm," Oliver had told her earlier. "Don't jinx it."

They grabbed dinner-to-go from a hot dog stand and as they were walking back to the cruiser passed a by Christmas tree display in the window of a second hand store, homemade paper snowflakes plastered against the glass. "Hey," Andy said, pulling open her door, "What do your kids normally get you for Christmas?"

Oliver waited until they were buckled in to answer. "Sweaters mostly, couple of button ups. Maybe a pair of jeans. I think Zoe uses Christmas to update my wardrobe every year, her incredibly subtle way of telling me that she hates my clothes," he said fondly, holding his hotdog out in front of Andy until she took it from him. When she did, he checked the rearview mirror and then maneuvered them back out onto the street. "Last year Hannah got me one of those coffee mugs with the moustache on it." He glanced over at her and took his hotdog back, steering with one hand. "Why?"

"Just trying to help Lindsey think of what to get for Sam," she said, watching in awe as Oliver inhaled the hotdog in three big bites and then licked his fingers clean. "He's not the easiest guy in the world to shop for."

Oliver balled up the foil wrapper and dropped it into the well on the driver's side door. "Let me guess," he said. "He doesn't want anything, he's got everything he needs and she doesn't have to get him anything but anything she does get him will be fine."

"Yeah, pretty much," Andy replied, her mouth full. She finished chewing, swallowed, and then continued, "The worst part is that I think he actually means it."

"He does mean it," Oliver claimed, reaching for his soda. "Sammy's a simple guy."

Andy knew what he was saying – it wasn't an insult to Sam, just a statement of fact. "Yeah," she acknowledged, tilting her head from side to side, "But she doesn't want to just not get him something, even if that's what he wants. And, you know, it's just… different this year. For them. It's different."

She didn't elaborate because she knew Oliver understood.

"Yeah," he replied quietly, nodding contemplatively. "Let me think about it and I'll get back to you."

It was quiet again for another stretch, an awkward tension hanging between them. A dull ache settled in Andy's stomach – a hollow, helpless feeling that she wondered if Oliver got too whenever he let himself really think about Sam and Lindsey and what they must be going through.

Oliver hesitantly broke the silence. "Hey, uh, how's he doing?"

Andy sighed and rubbed her forehead. "He's… " she wasn't really sure, honestly. On the surface everything was fine, but she knew that wasn't what Oliver was asking about. "I mean, I think he's doing okay but he's just quiet, mostly. He doesn't really ever talk about her, not to me at least."

"He doesn't talk about her to anyone," Oliver said softly, reassuringly. "It's not just you."

Andy gave him a small half smile. "I think he's worried about Christmas," she said. It actually felt good to talk to someone about it, someone that knew what was going on and cared as much about Sam as she did.

Oliver nodded. "I'm sure he is."

"It's their first one since Sarah and I know it's gotta be tough." Suddenly she wanted to tell Oliver everything that was going on. Everything that she'd been keeping track of because she couldn't tell anyone else. "Part of me was expecting him to just shut down and ignore Christmas but he's like, doing the complete opposite. He keeps thinking of all these things that he needs to do and then he has to do them right that very instant… like the other day he hung Christmas lights all by himself and then last night at like eleven he drove to the store because he had to get candy canes for the tree. I don't know…" Andy said, chewing on her lip as she thought about it. "It's like he's worried that if something's missing then Lindsey will be reminded of what's really missing." She had been working it out in her head as she rambled on and when the realization came to her she paused, that awful hollow feeling sinking in her stomach even more. "Yeah, I mean… I guess that's what it is. I don't even know if he knows that that's what he's doing but that's definitely…" she swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. "That's definitely what he's doing."

Oliver was quiet, nodding along.

"And he's not sleeping, he wakes up during the middle of the night all the time." It came out before she could wonder if it was awkward to admit that she was aware of Sam's sleeping patterns and she felt a faint blush color her cheeks when Oliver raised his eyebrows. Crap, she had just assumed that Oliver knew about them but maybe she was wrong. "I mean…"

Oliver looked over at her and rolled his eyes, not unkindly. "It's fine McNally. So… he's not sleeping…" he prompted her back to the previous thread of conversation, circling his hand.

He wasn't sleeping. She had woken up several times during the last few weeks to find him awake and staring at the ceiling, one hand tucked behind his head and the other absently running up and down the line of his chest.

The first couple of times she had tried to ask him if he was okay, but he'd just blinked over at her and assured her he was fine before either telling her to go back to sleep or grinning and waggling his eyebrows, drawing her over to him.

Either way – she never got an answer out of him, so she'd stopped asking. Instead, she just scooted over to curl against him and throw an arm over his chest, not saying a word. Most of the time she would just feel him start to trail his fingers over her, either down to the dip in her back or across her arm, but a couple of times he'd rolled her beneath him and stared down at her with this absolutely intense, haunting look before slipping a hand between them and leaning down to kiss her.

"Yeah," Andy said, almost croaking the word out. She swallowed again. "I mean no, he's not sleeping. And it's just… On one hand he acts like he's got everything under control but on the other hand…" she broke off, considering her words. "I guess I'm kind of waiting for that moment when he doesn't have everything under control. Does that make sense?"

She wasn't sure when that moment was going to be or what was going to cause it – when she'd gotten shot she'd been truly worried that he was going to lose it, which was why she'd tried to downplay the whole thing, but he'd called her out on it and had pretty much been a champ throughout the entire situation – but she felt like there was this underlying tension in Sam that was just going to snap at some point.

Oliver nodded. "It makes sense."

"I don't know. I think I'm just worried because I don't know what's going on in his head," she admitted. "I can usually get Lindsey to talk to me but not him, not about this."

"Well, Sammy's not much of a talker," Oliver shrugged. "If he's gonna open up it's going to be in his own timing. You can't force it."

Andy picked at the cuff of her jacket. "Yeah, I know. It's just frustrating. I just want to help… I just, you know, want him to let me help."

"I get it," Oliver told her. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Andy, I want you to know something." It was unusual that he called her by her first name and his tone was way more serious than she normally heard from him. "Zoe and I were talking about it last night – and she's always worried about Sam, even before everything with Sarah and Lindsey, she thought he was going to be alone forever and that he was going to go so deep undercover that'd we'd never see him again – but anyway, we were talking about it and uh… " he glanced over at her and flashed a quick, cautious smile, "Well, we decided that we're glad he's got you."

Andy let out a surprised laugh, embarrassed but a little pleased. "I'm not really sure I do all that much…"

"Trust me," Oliver interrupted her, holding up a hand, "I've been friends with Sammy for fifteen years. You do a lot. Just being there, by his side, it's… it's a lot, Andy. More than he'll probably ever tell you, because God knows he'd have trouble stringing that sentence together."

It was probably very high school, but getting the seal of approval from Sam's best friend, and someone she respected very much, did funny things to Andy's heart. "Thanks Oliver," she said, smiling.

"Plus, and this is just from me, the less time my wife spends worrying about, and therefore thinking about, Sam Swarek, the better."

Andy laughed again. "Aw, Ollie, you know Zoe only has eyes for you."

"Yeah, well… I've seen the way that Swarek charm works on the ladies." Andy's eyebrows shot up and when Oliver realized what he'd said he coughed and added, "Not recently, obviously."

"Uh huh…" Andy murmured, smiling.

They lapsed into silence again, comfortable this time, Oliver concentrating on the road in front of them and Andy watching the buildings that flew by, keeping her eye out for anything that looked suspicious.

"Books on tape," Oliver said out of nowhere.

Andy turned to him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Books on tape?" she repeated.

"For Christmas, for Sam. I know it sounds strange," he acknowledged. "But I think he'd like a book on tape."

"And why do you think that?" Andy asked skeptically.

"Whenever Sam rides by himself or when he goes undercover, he always listens to books on tape," Oliver told her. "Moby Dick was the last one. It's the weirdest thing."

That was certainly… new.

"Huh," Andy said, chewing on the inside of her cheek, "I'll uh… I'll keep that in mind."

Oliver nodded once. "You do that, rookie."

A few days later Andy found herself plopped in front of a computer for the majority of the day, searching through traffic camera photos for one Jerry's cases. She was seriously considering the possibility of having to hold her eyelids open with her fingers when she felt a warm hand on her back.

She jerked around, startled, to find Sam standing behind her. "Hey," she greeted, stretching her arms over her head with a yawn. "I thought you were on patrol with Traci?"

"Yeah, I was," he said quietly. He hitched his thumb behind his shoulder and then asked, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Yes, please… anything to get away from this computer," she said, standing up from the desk and following him out of the bullpen. "I've been looking at grainy black and white pictures all day, I think my eyes are going to be totally shot by the end of shift. Hey, do you want some coff… Ummph."

Sam pulled her into a viewing room and his thumb hit the lock as he pushed her back against the door, his lips descending on hers before she even had time to think about it.

It took Andy a second to respond – illicit making out around the barn was definitely not something that occurred regularly, or at all. They had a fairly general hands off policy that they had both been abiding by, save for one minor incident a couple of mornings earlier.

They were sitting by one another during parade – Sam had pushed Andy's chair out with his toe and Andy had slid a cup of coffee across the table to him – when Andy remembered the little stunt that Sam pulled at the Penny after her last day at twenty seven. She glanced around, making sure they were decently hidden from view, and then slipped her hand onto Sam's leg just above his knee, rounding her fingers to the inside of his thigh. His elbows were planted on the table and he didn't react, at least not at first, so she slid her hand higher, brushing her thumb lightly over the material of his uniform. His breath hitched on the inhale then, like he was just waiting to see what she was going to do, but she paused and left her hand where it was for a moment.

Sam cut his eyes over to her but she kept her gaze straight ahead, pretending to be listening to whatever Jerry was going on about. It wasn't until Jerry asked Sam a question that she slid her hand all the way up, brazenly cupping him through his pants before removing her hand completely. He choked out an answer, probably more out of surprise than anything, and when everyone turned their attention back to Jerry he looked over at her, eyebrow raised.

"You alright there, Swarek?" She asked innocently, grinning broadly and handing him her water bottle. She couldn't tell if the smirk he was wearing was from amusement or pride. "Need some water?"

So, the hands off policy was more of a suggestion than an actual rule, but that didn't stop Andy from whining when Sam backed her against the door. "Saam, someone's gonna notice…" she protested weakly, laughing as she half-heartedly pushed against his chest. He was insistent though, his hands cupping her face and his mouth sloppy and demanding against hers, kissing her thoroughly. Eventually she relaxed back against the door and threaded her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull, pulling him closer to her.

He kissed her like that for a couple of minutes, deep and possessive but not hurried, like he needed to reacquaint himself with the inside of her mouth and the column of her neck. Andy wasn't quite sure what was going on – his hands, for the most part, stayed at her face or at the curve of her waist so it wasn't like he was feeling her up or angling for anything more, but his whole body was pressed flush against hers, like he couldn't get close enough.

She didn't entirely mind the midday affection (she didn't mind much, actually, when it came to him), mostly just protested for show, and when he finally did draw back she let out an unhappy sigh and dropped her head against his shoulder. "So," she breathed, smiling a little and smoothing her hand over the solid muscles of his chest. "When you ask if we can talk you really mean make out in interview one. Duly noted." She raised her head and looked up, expecting him to be grinning down at her like he'd won some sort of bet.

The expression that she saw, however, was way too serious and troubled and immediately her brow furrowed with concern. It was one of those looks he got late at night, when his brown eyes went black and intense. "Hey," she said quickly, getting her hands on the sides of his face and pushing back so she could see him. "Everything okay?"

Sam blinked and the intensity was gone, replaced by a vacant stare. "Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse. He grinned quickly and cleared his throat, repeating, "Yeah, everything's fine."

Andy eyed him warily, wondering for half a second if she had imagined the look he had given her. She couldn't have though, because behind his carefully schooled blank expression his eyes were still stormy and dark.

He smiled again, breaking eye contact and twirling the ends of her ponytail between his fingers. "Just wanted to see you, that's all."

"Okay," she replied hesitantly. He hadn't stepped back at all and was still right up against her – she could feel his warm breath on her forehead. "Hey, I um…" she trailed her hands up the back of his arms and slipped underneath the short sleeves of his shirt, scratching her fingernails lightly over his biceps and shoulders, "I thought of what you could get Lindsey for Christmas."

"Oh yeah?" He was quiet, just stroking through her hair with one hand while the other circled her waist and settled at her back.

"Yeah," she said, tilting chin up so she could look at him. "I've been looking at the pictures all morning and it reminded me of how much Lindsey likes to look at her photo albums and she mentioned this photography class that she wants to take next year, so… I was thinking she might like a camera."

She watched his throat work as he swallowed. "A camera?"

"Yeah, not one of those dinky little point and shoot things, but like a good one for a beginner," she said. "I can ask Dov what kind he'd get."

His expression went grave again, the crease between his eyes deepening. "Um, yeah," he muttered, closing his eyes and pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead. He waited a second and then opened his eyes. Andy couldn't read his expression and he was refusing to look at her, gazing past her to a spot on the wall. "That's a good idea. I've uh…" he dropped his hands suddenly and took a step back, away from her touch. "I've got to get back out there."

Andy stared at him, totally confused by the way he was acting and more than a little worried. "Sam…" she said, her mouth gaping open. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Positive," he replied crisply, twisting the doorknob and hastily making his way out of the room. "I'll see you after shift." The door closed behind him, leaving Andy alone.

Frozen in her spot, she blinked and looked at the door, wondering what in the world that had been about.

She found out what it had been about later that afternoon in the locker room.

"Hey," Traci said, looking up from the bench when Andy walked in. "Have you seen Swarek today?"

Andy untucked her uniform shirt and started working the row of buttons down the front. "Yeah," she answered, scowling down when she accidently popped a button that had been hanging on by a loose thread for weeks. "I saw him earlier. He was acting super weird though, did something happen?"

Traci nodded. "Yeah, Andy…" she hesitated, glancing around. There were two women changing a few lockers down from them, officers that Andy didn't know yet, so Traci turned towards Andy and lowered her voice. "This morning we got called to check on a woman who didn't show up for some important work presentation."

Andy stopped pulling off her uniform and looked up at Traci, dread already gnawing at her stomach. She guessed immediately where the story was going – of all the rookies, Traci was the only one that really knew about the situation with Sam's sister. Andy figured that Jerry had filled her in at some point. She cleared her throat and forced herself to ask, "And?"

Traci pursed her lips and shook her head. "It was bad, Andy," she said quietly, obviously affected by what she had seen. She shot a glance back at the women and then continued, her voice cracking with emotion on the first word, "She um, she slit her wrists, Sam found her in the bathtub… " She broke off and blinked rapidly, ducking her head. Andy could see her eyes get red and teary, but she took a couple of deep breaths and finished. "Yeah, it was bad."

Andy gulped. She wanted to go right then and find Sam and get her arms around him in the tightest hug she could manage, but something was stopping her. Instead, she asked, "How was he at the scene?"

"Stoic, as always. Freakishly calm actually, followed procedure to the letter," Traci answered.

Complete emotional disassociation. That was what he did when he knew he was on the verge of losing it – Andy had only seen it once, but she knew that's what he did. He'd be so calm and controlled that it was almost eerie.

"Andy… the woman was a mom, three kids," Traci told her. "There were Christmas presents already under the tree."

Andy let out a sharp breath. "Jesus, Trace, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Traci nodded, weakly at first but then with more confidence, "Yeah, I'm going to be fine. I mean, it hit close to home for a lot of us but…" she trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

Andy knew what she was trying to say without saying. "Yeah, I know."

"Anyway, I just thought I should tell you," Traci told her, stuffing the last of her things into her bag. "I knew he probably wouldn't."

He hadn't told her, but he had come to find her. In the midst of it all, he'd sought her out. That had to mean something.

"Thank you," Andy said sincerely, reaching out for her friend. The two women hugged for a moment and then Traci sighed and pulled back.

"I've got to go," she said, hauling her bag over her shoulder. "I've got to pick Leo up from daycare."

Andy nodded. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye," Traci said, exiting the locker room.

Andy dropped down to the bench and let her head fall into her hands. She took a couple of deep breaths and then continued getting undressed, pulling off her boots first and then unbuttoning and unzipping her pants. As she changed her clothes she tried to imagine what was going on in Sam's head; she wanted, more than anything really, for him to talk to her but at the same time the idea of it scared her – the actual weight and responsibility of a person's grief was a tremendously frightening thing.

Sam was waiting for her outside the locker room when she finally got it together enough to go home. "Hey," he said, smiling as he took her bag from her and reached for her hand.

Calm and cool, like nothing was different. When Andy swallowed her throat felt like sandpaper. "Hey," she replied cautiously, letting him lead her out to the lot. "How uh, how was your day?" She tried to sound casual, like she didn't know.

He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing quickly in suspicion, but she just gave him what she hope was an easy smile. "It was fine," he answered, nothing giving her anything. "Yours?"

Andy shrugged and then looped her arm through his when the cold blast of air hit them. "Boring, mostly," she said conversationally. "I found the car that Jerry was looking for so you know, that was good."

Sam smiled and opened her door for her, waiting until she was settled to slam it shut. They made small talk on the way home – nothing important or deep, just their normal bickering over what radio station to listen to until Sam gave in and Andy won out, as usual. She was slowly but surely replacing all of his presets with her own.

If Traci hadn't said anything Andy wouldn't have known anything was different. She briefly considered the option that he was totally fine and completely unaffected by the call that morning. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility – he was, as he'd informed her once, a big boy. However, even if that was the case, and she had trouble believing it was, she still wanted to hear it from him. Wanted him to tell her that he was okay.

She didn't work up the nerve to talk to him until later that evening. She had been sitting on the couch debating with herself about which was more selfish – bringing it up and making him talk about it or acting like she didn't know anything so she wouldn't have to deal with his reaction.

Lindsey, who until that point had been sprawled out on the floor whining to Andy that she needed to study but really really didn't want to, apparently found some motivation and pushed herself up. "Call me when dinner's ready," she said, disappearing down the hallway.

Andy glanced around the living room – her gaze falling on the twinkling white lights of the Christmas tree – and then got to her feet.

Sam was in the kitchen, pushing vegetables and chicken around in a skillet. He didn't notice her in the doorway so she watched him for a minute, his comfortable and confident movements, before clearing her throat and making her presence known.

He looked over at her and his lips curled into a half smile. "Hey."

Andy blinked. "Hey," she replied, her voice ragged.

Sam looked concerned. "You okay?"

Andy nodded and then, before she could talk herself out of it, crossed the kitchen floor and came up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist. He must have known immediately what was going on because his muscles tensed beneath her hands, his whole body stiffening defensively. The only sound in the room was the oil popping in the skillet but instead of rushing to fill the silence Andy just pressed her lips against his shoulder and ran her hands over the soft material that covered his torso, giving him the chance to be the one to talk first.

Eventually he exhaled deeply and the set of his shoulders relaxed. "Did Nash tell you?"

Andy nodded against him. "You wanna talk about it?"

He tensed again. "About how that woman really fucked up her kids' Christmases from here on out?"

She tried not to flinch as the chilly tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine. "Sure."

"No," he replied sharply, turning the burner off. "I don't."

"Sam…"

"I don't want to talk about it Andy," he repeated firmly.

She sighed and dropped her head into the dip between his shoulder blades. He smelled warm and like himself, the Old Spice soap he used mixed with the faint scent of his deodorant. "Okay," she agreed quietly. There was absolutely no use in pushing the issue.

Sam let her hold him like that for another moment – she would have put money on the bet that it was more for her benefit than his own comfort – before disentangling her arms from around him and moving towards the refrigerator. "I've got to finish getting this ready," he said coolly. "I'll call you when it's done."

He was dismissing her, was what he was doing. Putting some space between them. She nodded and told herself not to take it personally as she slipped out of the kitchen without another word.

She didn't dare bring it up again – didn't really have the chance, actually, with the way that Sam actively avoided being alone in the same room with her. It was almost enough to make her want to roll her eyes and tell him she'd see him in the morning, but… just the fact that he was reacting at all, even if his reaction was to give her the cold shoulder, was progress. It felt like a challenge, actually, like he was testing her to see if she would stick around.

She could be just as stubborn as he was, so she wasn't going anywhere.

Not long after they had finished eating, Lindsey declared that she needed a study break. A Charlie Brown Christmas was on TV, which provided a decent distraction for the rest of the night even if Andy barely paid attention to it – before she knew it Charlie and the gang were singing about angels and the ending credits were rolling.

Lindsey said goodnight and made her way up to her room. Andy glanced over at Sam. "Do you want me to go home or – "

His eyes snapped over to meet her gaze and he looked panicked in the half a second it took him to school his expression into neutral detachment. "You can do whatever you want," he said, rising from his chair. "I'm going to bed."

When he turned to walk away Andy rolled her eyes behind his back – she knew it was childish but he was just so incredibly aggravating at times – but then followed him to his room.

He didn't look surprised when she joined him in the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face and when she climbed into bed beside him he lifted the covers for her. It wasn't until she scooted over and put her arm out across his chest that he spoke again.

"Not tonight, Andy."

Which – first of all, if she was trying for something she would have aimed a little lower than his chest, and second, his breathing was labored and his voice was heavy and thick in the darkness and something about his tone just didn't settle right.

Like his mind and body were in conflict.

Like he really really wanted to, but for some reason wouldn't.

Andy decided that she'd had enough. She rolled on top of him, straddling his lap, and when he groaned and tried to boost her off she grabbed his hands and pinned them up by his head.

"McNally…" he tried to get out of her grip but she leaned most of her weight onto her arms and was able to keep him where he was.

"Sam," she replied calmly. "Look at me." He sighed but did what she asked. "I know what you're doing, okay? You're trying to shut me out. And if you don't want to talk about Sarah or about that woman this morning... that's fine, I'll respect that. I don't like it," she told him adamantly, "I want you to talk to me and let me in and tell me everything that's going on in that head of yours and let me like… help you, but if you really can't do that… I'll respect it."

"Andy, just…"

"And if you really don't want to have sex with me tonight, that is totally fine. I am fine with just sleeping here with you, but do not," she wiggled her hips down so she could brush against him, eliciting a soft groan, "Do not lie to me."

It wasn't like she thought that sex was going to heal Sam or anything like that, but until that point it was the one part of himself that he had shared with her unguardedly; she didn't think she could handle it if he started building up walls there, too.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall back against the pillow. "Andy…"

"Look at me," she demanded again. Pleaded, actually. She needed to see his eyes.

His neck bobbed with a gulp but after a moment of indecision he set his jaw and opened his eyes again. Andy had to stop herself from gasping at the pain that shone bright from behind his lashes.

"Okay," she said, nodding slowly. "Listen to me, okay? If you don't want to, that's fine. But if it's something else… if you're afraid…" she broke off, staring intently at him. There was something there, something that looked less like stubbornness and more like fear. Quietly and seriously, she promised, "No matter what you say or what you do, you are not going to make me think any less of you. You are not going to scare me and you are not going to break me. And I trust you, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

He was absolutely still for a moment and then she watched as his resolve crumbled and his fingers came up to fist in her hair and tug her down to him, covering her mouth with his own. He was rough - he bit at her bottom lip and along her jaw and the hold he had on her hair was just this side of painful, but Andy really couldn't have cared less. If he wasn't going to tell her how he felt at least he could show her.

She kissed her way across his face, down to the spot behind his ear that always got a reaction. She nibbled on it and then when she swiped her tongue over it, gentle and soothing, he growled and rolled them over, covering her body with his own. His weight was warm and heavy and she opened her legs wider so he could settle between them and get himself right up against her. When she rolled her hips up he gasped and bit down on her shoulder, "Shit…. Andy…"

His voice was so low and ragged and… needy that she almost didn't even recognize it. She yanked at the hem of his undershirt until he took the hint and pulled back just enough for her to get it off of him, throwing it to the ground before spreading her fingers out over the familiar lines and ridges of his chest. When she looked back up at him he was peering down at her, eyes ablaze and searching for permission. "You okay?" he asked, the question coming out strangled.

"Yeah." Andy nodded quickly and ran her hands around to his back, digging into the muscles there. "Come 'ere."

Bending his head, he kissed her light and friendly, like he was trying to hold back, until she hooked her legs around his waist and rocked against him. He buried his face in her neck, stifling another groan. "I'm fine, Sam," she promised, doing it again. "Let's go, come on."

The fragile hold he had on his control broke and suddenly he was murmuring against her neck and his hands were everywhere, calloused palms rough against her skin. The pace that he set was frantic and maddening; he pushed her t-shirt up, not even pulling it all the way off, and made quick work of her underwear, dragging it down her legs before moving back up her body. She was desperate to keep up, pushing his boxers as far down as she could reach before he took over and kicked them the rest of the way off.

When they were both rid of their clothes she pulled him down to her, his warm skin searing her own, and cradled the angled line of his jaw in her hand. "Is this okay?" she asked, kissing him quickly. His forehead lined with something – worry, maybe, or something else she couldn't read – and she brought her other hand up to his face. "Hey, come on. I mean it, you're not going to hurt me or scare me or any of that. I trust you. Let's go."

So. Sam went.

He flipped her over like she weighed nothing at all and was warm all along the length of her back. He hesitated for just a second and she knew he was going to ask if she was okay or if she was sure, so she pushed herself back against him preemptively, cutting off his question. When he finally started moving she felt a small thrill of victory kindle in her stomach.

It quickly replaced by a whole host of other feelings; anger, sadness, loss and others she didn't have the time or thought capacity to process. Andy fisted her hands in the sheets and buried her face in the pillow, trying not to make too much noise.

She knew it would be hungry and emotional but just… the level of desperation and rawness was unexpected.

She didn't expect it to leave her completely heartbroken.

When it was over Sam dragged her around to him and kissed her for a long time, both of them calming down. "You okay?" he whispered.

Andy nodded and curled her body against his side, wanting to get as close as she could.

"I hate her sometimes," he told her later, stroking his fingers up her back. "Sarah. For what she did."

Andy pushed herself up to her elbow. Sam was staring at the ceiling, holding his breath as he waited for her to respond. "I know."

Sam sighed and nodded once, quiet again. Andy rested her head against his chest, scratching her fingers through the hair there and just waiting for anything else he might want to say. She could hear his heart thumping behind his ribs.

"The camera is a good idea," he said finally, yawning. "For Lindsey. She'll like that."