AN: Okay, time to let this baby fly the coop! This chapter takes place many months after the last one. Really hope that you've enjoyed the journey – as sketchy and rough as it has often been. Thankyou to all who have followed and favourited - and even bigger hugs to those who have dared to review.

AN2: I also thought it was important for me to say…very carefully… that the 'story' of Sam (well, my version of it) has been left purposely vague (I want to dig deeper there some other time soon ;) I hope in the meantime, you are left feeling happy enough with the tie in the bow of this Sam/Andy AU.

Disclaimer – I do not own Rookie Blue.

32 weeks...

32 weeks of this ritual that every single time has Andy feeling a whole lot like she is holding his life in her hands.

(She knows the timeline for sure because she's been marking the dates. It's not like they don't talk any other time….it's just…well, there are still times when they both clam up. The weekly razor ritual has become their own private sign: a commitment to one another that they won't give up without out a fight).

….

Unless they're on shift, it's always a Sunday - like the first time. The times that it's not, they just switch it to the next or nearest day. It's mostly early morning... well, early-ish. Usually it is a breathtaking follow-up to some heavy-duty make-outs in bed.

Sometimes he has shaved the night before, sometimes not at all for more than 2 days.

(A thing she's noticed: his shaving habits are as up and down as his moods – whether those moods be inflicted by her…or more often, himself).

The one thing though in this past 32 weeks –no matter what happens before or after – he gifts her this time to ask anything she wants…or for him to say anything he thinks he should say.

Every week has been a new revelation. Mostly it's been serious, other times it's done nothing but make her laugh.

In the first 7 weeks, it was all about Sam the cop.

(Stilted stories that started out lightly – the real early ones giving her a snapshot of his rookie days. He deflected a lot; most of the accounts involved how either Jerry or Ollie had somehow - and very - royally screwed up. But. The truth about Sam always appeared in there – somewhere – too. Things she knows now: he's been shot at a lot, but seriously hurt 3 times. One of those – he was brought back from the dead and subsequently pulled out of his deepest UC.

He told her the time Brennan hurt him didn't count – that sure, he had nightmares, but it was outweighed by the fact that he felt something else too…something that was …different… and bigger than pain).

The next 11 weeks revealed Sam - the brother… and son.

(Andy was introduced to a whole new type of silence before each of these damned stories begun. He started on replay, giving Andy merely the facts about Sarah that she already knew.

The week after that was nothing short of Sam rambling – a mix of 5 second vignettes that spanned Sam and his first 16 odd years –

Andy's head felt like it was in a sideshow, her stomach swooping like a vaudeville act swinging with each of his turns. He gradually slowed down, week after week… enough for her to fit a few pieces of the puzzle together…or at least leave them somewhere to bring them out later, and gently probe him for the next 60 years -

- She actually has met his family now – well, the few that are left).

Another 6 weeks were taken up giving her what she felt necessary …. about what Sam's self-confessed 'uncommittable years' –

(she confesses embarrassingly to feeling violently ill about the fact that he actually had loved before –apologised profusely when she nicked his top lip.

She only managed to just hold it together when he told her that she, without question, was like nothing or no one that he'd ever met.

That was that day he told her that she was "the one"-

She cried hard all that day, told him of how fucking stupid and sorry she was to ever, ever, ever, have put him on ice).

The past 8 weeks Sam turned his stories to them.

(Confessions just for her: she took his breath away the moment she tackled him; he fell in love with her the day he got over himself.

He gave her everything – even the stuff she couldn't bear to hear.

One week into this phase Andy began adding her voice to the stories –

Finally, finally, together, they began to reveal and revere the facts that were… them).

…..

Their ritual today continues - as it always does - with a hand-holding walk to the deli down the road.

(The shave this morning was quiet and gentle…. Each recounting their individual and mutual versions of the day Jerry died…

Andy decided to leave enough stubble to start Sam a goatee -

Sam had stopped to inspect briefly afterward. He smirked but didn't say anything, just planted a playful swat on her behind).

They stop at the deli to get their supplies - then continue along to the park that's not far up the road.

It's a stunning day for a breakfast picnic, actually – and Andy spots the perfect patch for them under a tree.

They set themselves up on the cool grass, sitting super-close with the bagels and coffees perched near their crossed knees.

They chat about what the week holds in general – poker, yoga, girls-night, work, and stuff – then Andy lays back and prompts Sam "okay, time to shut up".

(She likes this part of the ritual too. He lays back shortly after, both of them closing their eyes –he takes her hand in his and they spend the next 10 minutes or so just listening to the rest of Toronto go by. Andy often drifts in to an almost sleep thinking about plans).

She wakes up this time to Sam peering down at her – he's basically on top of her with his knees planted on the ground either side.

(Sometimes they push the PDAs to…well, on a scale of 1-10, possibly an 11 of inappropriate in other peoples' eyes?).

She smiles up at him, noticing what's in his hands. Two double scoop ice-creams - each in its single waffle cone. As per usual: double-choc and pistachio - the flavours alternating as to which lands on top.

Sam grins back at her and swallows as he watches on – clearly noticing her licking her lips.

The ice-creams are just starting to drip… but she can't get the stupid grin off her face. (It's the way he looks a little off balance – like he's about to topple over and create cold carnage between the two of them).

Andy holds her hand out, reaching for one.

"Uh-uh-uh," Sam shakes his head, all of a sudden looking like he might just let them melt in his hands unless she gives him what he's after.

"Fine." Andy gets on her elbows as best she can - tries to lift at least a part of herself off the grass, enough to pucker up her lips in his general direction… "pretty please".

She's got her eyes closed and is wondering what's taking him so long when she hears him sigh.

"Not until you say yes." Sam's breathing is shallow – almost like he's holding two grenades. But. The tone in his voice…. Now, that's something she can't quite detect – like something she's never heard before from him. Gentle? Cautious? Determined? Nervous? Frustrated? Enamoured? Humoured? Genuine…

Whatever… Andy thinks (but doesn't say). She opens her eyes to roll them at him, grabs at his right hand to pull at least one of the ice-creams toward where she wants it.

She stops suddenly as it heads toward her nose.

On top in chocolate sauce she sees the scrawly but legible letters: An M, and an E

Andy looks away slowly from the confectionary to peer up at Sam, head cocked and all. "Taking up calligraphy in some spare time that I don't know about, Swarek?"

Sam shakes his head, points the second one carefully in her direction – like he's holding a gun.

Andy looks at it.

And looks closer.

(Oh, for God's sake. She can hardly make out what's written on it – it's so small… and runny by now).

She brings it closer – inspecting it now like it's some horrific crime scene.

Shit.

MARRY?

Does that actually say…. MARRY? (She means to ask him, but is currently suffering from brain-freeze).

For the life of her – really - Andy cannot fucking breath.

They become some perfect snapshot of time standing heartbreakingly still. Her hands are hooked around his wrists - the ice-creams perched precariously in his hands. She's not sure how he's managing to hold them both in an upward position – he's taking a lot of her weight…

Their eyes are locked, neither one budging - aside them biting their own lips.

Andy opens her mouth, finally convinced she can get the right noise to come from her throat. But just as she does it, Sam loses his balance; toppling on top of her and mashing the ice-creams into her hair.

Andy squeals at the cold as it reaches her ears. Sam's practically a dead weight on top of her, attempting to stifle his laugh in her neck.

She uses every ounce of strength to flip them, catching his hands to pin them above his head.

Andy drops her face over his, flicking her hair to ensure the icy mess is shared. She's laughing hard at his squirming when he finally pulls from her grasp.

He gets a hand to the back of her head and pulls her face closer again. His lips are on hers as he finally says it: "I love you, Andy. Marry me".

Andy kisses him…hard…furiously nodding her head.

She comes up for air a lot of time later, clamps his face in her hand, and stares at him like he's some kind of miracle when she says it to him… and then the world…"Yes, Sam"….

"Oh. My. God. YES!"

End.

Thanks again for reading, see you all soon!