A/N: Due to some wonderful and prompting reviews, I have decided to continue this as a story. Chapter 2 picks up with Andy's point of view and then we'll see where to go from here. Have a very Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and a Happy New Year as well as wonderfully happy holidays all around! Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue, but if I were to find it under the tree, I would not complain. Thanks!

Andy's POV

The hospital is overrun with people flying up and down hallways. Doctors and nurses rush back and forth and patients are wheeled here and there. Voices shout, machines beep, and footsteps echo loudly on the floor. It is a flurry of motion and sound. But everything stopped for me. I don't see the motion or hear the noise. All I can see is Sam on the ground bleeding. Sam in the ambulance, looking at me. Sam. All I see is Sam. All I am is terrified I will never see him again.

I've been sitting here since they took him in for surgery. In the chair in the corner. The only words I've really said were to Nick. I had to tell him. I couldn't stand another second of lying to him, and in doing so, lying to myself. Sam is all I want. He's all I've ever wanted.

Everyone's waiting for news. Nick is still here, as are Traci, Steve, Gail and Frank. Oliver is in his own hospital bed, hopefully still blissfully ignorant of what has happened to his best friend. He won't take this well. Where is Dov? Oh god, how could I forget? Now that my thoughts have been off Sam for almost a minute, I remember what started this whole thing. Chloe getting shot. God, how could I forget her? This is such a mess. She has to be okay. At least Dov gets to be with her. I would give anything to be with Sam right now. All I can do is wait. I never been the kind of girl that's good at waiting. So instead of just waiting, my mind continues to replay what I'm sure will become a common nightmare haunting my dreams. Sam getting shot. Being slammed back by a bullet before crumpling to the ground. The blood. All of the blood. Sam's blood. Again and again I watch it happen. Each time I wonder what I could have done differently. I wish to God it had been me. He should have shot me. For one thing, I was wearing a vest. It could have been a lot better not a big deal. I mean getting shot in the vest hurts and is scary as hell, but it's nothing in comparison, not nearly as terrifying as this is. And even if I wasn't wearing a vest, it still should have been me. Sam's too good for this.

I was torn out of my tormented thoughts by Nick shifting in his seat beside me. Again, I feel terrible about what I have done to him and what I've done to myself. I could have fought for Sam, and maybe we would have had more time together. I shouldn't of given up.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I said it to Nick, to myself, to Sam. All of them

"Don't be," Nick responded. Nick answered for himself, but I can see the compassion in his eyes. He knows. He knows me so well since we were undercover together.

Frank came soaring in then to talk to the doctor. To beg on our behalf to see Sam. To know. It's the not knowing that's killing us right now. Granted, it's better than losing him. We can't lose him. I can't lose him.

"Fine. One of you. One person." When the doctor said those words I didn't even have a second to hope before Nick volunteered me and wouldn't take no for an answer. He's too good for me also. He deserves better, but I can't help it. Sam has always been it.

And then I'm in the room with him, watching the doctors work. They know what they're doing, but I still feel so desperate, so lost. Then the all the monitors go off. They're losing him. They're losing my Sam. I'm losing him. So, I lost it.

I screamed for him. I yelled at him to come back. I ran to him and yelled and yelled and yelled. A doctor was yelling something at me, but I couldn't understand. All I could see was Sam, and all I could hear were the monitors, the sounds of losing him. And then I was being shoved out the door. I was back in the waiting room with everyone else again. I had to explain what happened. It took me forever. I could barely string words together, let alone the sentences necessary to tell them that we lost him, and that I don't know if they got him back. They all look devastated, but I can't bring myself to focus on them any longer. I'm selfish. I'm back to being trapped in my mind again. I see Sam being shot then I see him dying on the table. Over and over and over. I can't get the sound of the monitors going crazy out of my hand. Resting my elbows on my lap, I closed my eyes and covered my ears, for some reason convinced that would dampen the sound and alleviate the sight. But it's all in my mind, so everything was magnified instead.

I'm on the brink of a full blown panic attack when I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. Prying my eyes open and pulling my hands away from my ears, I see Nick kneeling before me.

"They were able to stabilize him," he said gently. "He's out of surgery and in recovery. They're going to settle him in a room and then take you to see him." I was so out of it, I hadn't even noticed the doctor that relayed the information. I don't know how to respond, so I just stare at Nick. Am I imagining this? Is it really true? I saw him die, but did they really get him back.

"Is that okay, Andy?" Nick asked. "Do you want to go see him?"

I nod slowly. I have to see him. I need to see him.

"Okay," Nick says, giving me a small, comforting smile.

A couple minutes later, I'm sitting in his room. Sam is unconscious, lying in the bed. He needs his rest. I tried to make myself content by just looking at him, watching the rise and fall of his chest and listening to his heartbeat from the monitor, reassuring myself he's really alive. That didn't last long. I needed to touch him, to make sure I'm not imagining this. I grabbed his hand as gently as I could. It's warm and for a few moments, I feel relieved. But it doesn't last long. I need to see his eyes. I need him to tell me he's okay.

"Sam, come on. Open your eyes," I said softly. I stared at his face for several minutes, looking for something, any sign that he had heard me. Nothing.

"Sam if you can hear me, please come back to me," I said, trying to sound happy, trying to trick myself into thinking everything would be okay. Did his eyelid just twitch? No, it couldn't have. My eyes are just playing tricks on me now. I'm so desperate. I can feel the tears in my eyes. It's finally happening. I'm finally breaking. It's almost surprising I haven't broke yet.

"Sam please," I sobbed. My breathes were shaking, as I was losing complete control. My world was breaking apart. Everything was coming crashing down. I need him. I need him.

I'm still staring at his face, and I swear I saw his eyelid twitch again. Hope is rising up inside of me.

"Sam please just squeeze my hand."

I sobbed harder after a moment went by and still, nothing. But then it happened. I felt a tiny squeeze. Relief rushed through my body and all the tension seemed to evaporate. He's okay. He's really okay. But worry quickly came flooding back as Sam's face scrunched up and his lips began twitching.

"I'm never letting go of you Andy. Not again." The words quietly passed through his lips before he quieted and seemed to go into a more comfortable sleep.

"I'm never letting go of you either Sam," I whispered back, squeezing his hand and smiling, finally feeling truly content. It will be okay.