A/N: Hello peoples. I'm going to be honest, I'm not too pleased with this chapter. I think too much is packed into it, but what you gonna do? Enjoy.

Songs that accompany this chapter are
- Hold You In My Arms - Ray LaMontagne
- Lovers In a Dangerous Time - Frazey Ford
- Carnival Town - Norah Jones

Monday was... the calm after the storm. If you could call emotional unrest calm. Andy couldn't find it in her to leave her room.

It rained. Sam didn't come over. And he didn't call either. Andy hadn't noticed just how much she needed or wanted him coming over till he didn't.

Sunday had started out so well is the thing, but it ended so badly. For all of them. She wasn't surprised that he stayed away.

Sam grilled burgers while Ruth and Andy sat on the porch, drinking wine and talking about the town gossip. Ruth told her stories about the crib ladies' and how they'd gotten themselves in a bit of a bind with the ladies from the rotary club over a rumour that one of the women had been having a torrid love affair with her gardener.

Sam had done an impression of the infamous subject of the rumour and told them he'd met the guy she was supposedly sleeping with, providing Ruth with ammo to bring back to the cribbage ladies. She went inside to call Patty and Andy stood up to check out the steaks, standing next to Sam.

"You know, you're really not helping them. They seem to get into enough trouble."

"It's harmless McNally, I promise. Besides, it keeps them from talking about me."

Andy laughed and took a sip of her wine, eyes still lock on Sam's.

"You hear all that?"

"Ooooh yeah. Cecelia has a dirty mind." He insisted, making Andy laugh again.

She pushed his shoulder and he didn't take his eyes off of her till she was just smiling again. Her eyes flitted away after a few moments of silent staring and she slowly made her way inside, looking back at him only once.

Soon enough they were digging in and still chatting, when the phone rang, causing things to take a turn for the worst.

Ruth stood, still laughing at the story Sam was telling them about his friend Oliver and the first and last time he went undercover in a sting, and answered the phone with a smile.

But it dropped after only seconds, and she turned her entire body away from the table, insisting that she'd call back in a hushed, secretive tone. That now wasn't a good time.

Maybe if Andy didn't have a nagging voice in the back of her head she might've kept quiet, but the phone call made her wonder if she was right.

"Who was that?" She asked seriously, causing Sam to look at her curiously.

Ruth sighed and took her seat at the table, leaving her fork where it lay, and placing her hands in front of her.

"Andy maybe we should-"

"Who was it?"

Ruth looked at Andy, her darling granddaughter, her ducky, and closed her eyes.

"Claire."

Andy's eyes turned hard and Sam equal parts wanted to leave them to talk alone, but couldn't find it in him to stand. Not with the storm raging behind Andy's eyes, and the hurt she wasn't able to keep off of her face.

"You still talk to her?" Andy asked, looking as though she felt betrayal in that reality.

"She calls every few months, Andy, she hasn't been here in years, I promise. After she moved-"

"After she left! After she abandoned us!"

Ruth sat still letting Andy correct her, waiting for a break to reply.

"Yes. After she left you, she came here for a couple of weeks while I tried to convince her to go home, back to you. And when she told me she had decided not to, I asked her to leave. Andy-"

"And then you cut me out too!"

On Tuesday afternoon, Andy sighed and pulled the stairs up once she reached the attic, closing herself in. Her room, the attic, it didn't matter, so long as she was isolated.

It was too chilly out, after a week of sweltering heat, it turned wet quick. Ruth had turned off the heat in the midst of the wave, so this morning they woke to a chill. Andy pulled her cardigan back onto her shoulder, and the sleeves to cover her whole hands and she made her way to the bay window overlooking the front of the property. The empty driveway. But as she stepped in front of it, a breeze came in and she closed the opening right away.

She wished she'd made tea, but that would mean going into the kitchen. There was no way she would risk seeing Ruth.

She sat on the bench for a brief second to just take a breath. Last night was a nightmare after that call. All the things that were said with Sam sitting right there. All the things that were said once he was gone, which were worse.

How she'd reacted, maybe, wasn't quite fair. But neither was the overwhelming realization that her mother was keeping in touch with her old life. Just not her.

Andy sighed and wiped the tear that had fallen when the thought came flooding back and hit her like a ton of bricks. She'd shed enough tears over her mother these last few years.

She looked around the attic at all the old furniture and boxes that had accumulated over the decades and saw the boxes marked 'Andy' towards the front of them. If Sam was going to be away while the rain stayed, and she needed to stay away from her grandmother, the only pass time she could come up with was sorting through her stuff in the attic.

The old cuckoo clock, forgotten on the floor amongst her grandmothers things, chimed when it struck two o'clock, breaking her out of her reverie.

With heavy lidded eyes that she felt must still be puffy, she went towards them, and pulled up a stool. Settling in for a long afternoon.

"Andy that wasn't-"

"It wasn't what?!"

"My choice!" Ruth yelled back this time, pleading with Andy to listen.

Andy's shoulders sank considerably, and her face softened in surprise before twisting up with confusion.

"What?"

Ruth looked as though she wanted to take it back. Their eyes were locked and to Ruth, Andy looked ten years old again.

"After your mom, Tommy asked me to stay away for a little while. He didn't want you to be reminded of her when you were with me. I sent you cards, I tried calling, but your dad... He was the one who wasn't ready."

Andy stood from her chair on unsteady legs and took a turn away from the table.

Ruth's eyes then found Sam, who's jaw was clenched and eyes were focused on his plate as he tried to think of a course of action. For every turn the conversation took, Sam wasn't sure how to interject. He thought he may have been forgotten, for how still he was sitting.

"So that's it? It's his fault you haven't seen or spoken to me in ten years?" Andy asked, no less angry, only now more distinctly betrayed.

"Ducky-"

"Don't! Don't, you're just as bad as her. She left me, and you let her." Andy accused, losing it a little more.

It was clear she was trying so hard to keep control but was losing hopelessly.

"Why couldn't you make her stay?" Andy asked, voice cracking as she took steps backward, leaving the room before either Sam or Ruth could stop her.

Ruth sunk into her seat, burying her face in her hands for a brief moment, before looking to Sam, who finally looked back at her.

"I think it's time to call it a night." She said sadly.

Sam reached for her hand and squeezed it gently, offering her a look of sympathy, before standing himself, and walking to the door.

Andy pulled her old Jays jersey from a box and she held it over her heart for a moment, trying to rationalize what her father had done. But she couldn't.

He kept them apart for a decade, because he was worried that she'd feel the loss of her mother all over again. She was only losing another mom. She could've had the shoulder she was missing if he hadn't done that.

But Ruth didn't try hard enough either. Ruth didn't drive down to her, she didn't insist that Tommy let them see each other. She just rolled over. And Andy was the one who paid the price.

She threw the jersey into her 'keep' pile, and broke down the box, leaving it with the others. She had only a couple left, so she dragged them over to the cushioned seat in the window, and made camp over there. The rain kept up and it was colder there, but the light was better, and it made her feel a little less dreary.

Half way through the box, she heard an engine coming up the driveway and the gravel crunching under tires. She looked down to see a silver truck slowing to a crawl and then stopping.

She felt her heart rate dip and then pick up considerably, and her eyebrows drew together as she wondered why he'd come on a day like today. He couldn't get much done in the rain.

She watched as the windshield wipers stopped when he cut the engine, but he didn't get out right away. It was a minute or two before she saw the door open, and he had a leather jacket pulled up high enough to protect his head from the water. He disappeared under the porch awning, and she pulled herself away from the window so she would hear him knock on the door.

She heard the muffled voices two floors below her and feet moving through the house, Sam's heavy boots. Then she heard nothing for a while. She assumed they'd gone somewhere and sat down so Andy went back to looking through her box, pulling out old books that she used to read with Ruth. Her vintage Nancy Drew collection.

She was smiling over one of them, flipping through the worn pages when the hatch to the attic was pulled down and it creaked and groaned. Andy shut the book, and put it back in the box and smoothed her hand over her chest and stomach before realizing she was wrapped up in a warm, bulky cardigan.

She heard whoever was coming start climbing the ladder, and she took a peek out the window to see if she'd missed Sam leaving somehow. But when she looked back to stairs, it was his head she saw approaching.

"Hi."

"Hey." She said, smiling just a bit. "What are you doing up here?"

He crawled onto the floor, then pulled the hatch up behind him before standing, and she watched as he shrugged off his jacket.

"Thought maybe you could use an extra set of hands."

"You were a sports fiend weren't you?"

Andy looked up from her box to see Sam found the one with the photo albums. Her baby albums, their trip albums, her school photos, sports photos...

"Yeah, yeah. Always had scrapes on my knees." She mumbled, pulling out old toys for the donation box.

She kept piling them up, and when she went to reach for the packing tape, she saw that Sam was staring at her.

"What?"

"What's going on with you?"

Andy brushed off the question with a huff and went back to taping the box. "Like you don't know."

Sam pushed the box away and rose up onto his knees, leaning back on his haunches a little, hands resting on his thighs.

"No - I don't mean just yesterday. You've been quiet for a while now. Kind of on edge. That's not you. This past week..."

She shrugged her shoulders in resignation but he kept watching.

"I don't really want to talk about it."

Their eyes met for a brief moment and he saw that Andy looked older than she had Sunday night. She looked so much older, so much more jaded.

"Well we've got to talk about something. You can't keep everything bottled up."

"Your job teach you that?" She asked, implying that he kept plenty of things to himself too.

He tipped his head, acknowledging that truth, but she knew it wouldn't deflect the focus.

"You do what you have to do to keep from losing yourself."

"You think I'm losing myself?"

"I think, you have something you need to talk about it. Whether it's your mom, or Ruth, or why you came here. I'm here. If you want to." He said, recognizing that it was time to pull back a bit. So leaned forward again, and began pulling more albums out.

She relaxed, and looked him over again. She didn't know what she was looking for - a flaw maybe. Because he came back. He came back and was spending a day with her, for no other reason than to be there with her.

A sigh escaped her, and she pushed the box away and sat herself on the window sill again.

"Is Ruth mad at me?" Andy asked quietly.

Sam sat back again, and then eventually stood and made his way over to where she was sitting. She was hugging one knee to her chest, with the other folded underneath her. He moved a pile of old clothes that were next to her, and took a seat, back leaned against one of the windows.

"No."

"Disappointed?"

"Nope. No, she's just worried. Says she hasn't seen you in almost two days." He admitted, not down playing anything. "She wondered how you've been eating."

"Very late at night." She laughed, still a little too quietly.

"She really wants to talk this out with you." He said, pulling at the worn bottom of her jeans, trying to animate her more.

"So you're our mediator? She call you here to wear me down?"

"Uh, no. She wasn't expecting me." He said quietly. "I just- Wanted to make sure you were okay."

Andy swallowed, hoping it would help settle the feelings that were evoked when he said it.

"Really?"

"Well, we're friends right?" He asked, smiling widely, hoping she'd do the same.

But she only nodded. And it made him concerned again. She noticed it and she tried a closed mouthed smile quickly, but it left too soon.

"I'm not known for making good choices." She said after a while, her chin resting on her knee.

"What, like, life choices?" Sam asked, confused.

"No, more like choices in company. Who to trust."

Sam's hand that had been toying with the bottom of her jeans slipped a little and grazed the bare skin of her ankle, before falling away completely.

"Andy you can trust me."

"No, I know, I didn't mean you." She laughed, seeing the obvious worry on his face. "I trust you."

He nodded, but was still waiting for her to elaborate.

"I did something really stupid at the end of the semester. Like - insanely idiotic."

"What did you do?"

"I... broke into the school pool, with one of the guys on the swim team."

Sam sputtered a laugh and Andy's eyes flew to his, more than a little angry.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's just, that's not that bad, Andy."

"It is for me, I don't do stuff like that. And we were drunk, so that was a whole other thing. Look, we barely escaped getting kicked out." She said, flustered and a little pissed at him.

Sam nodded his head, considering all the variables.

"So your dad sent you to your grandma?"

"He says he 'doesn't know who I am anymore'. Which is rich coming from him."

Andy toyed with her sleeves again, a nervous habit, knowing that she shared a little too much.

"Yeah, I heard he'd been going through a tough time. I'm sorry."

"I guess he thinks I need a maternal force in my life." Andy offered, trying to get off the topic of Tommy. "He thinks Ruth can 'fix' me."

Sam watched as her face twisted with left over resentment and knew instinctively that there was always more going on in her head then she let on. All these different things coming up to the surface were overwhelming her. The work she wanted to do with him, it was a distraction.

Ruth was right, she did need a confident right now. Something more than Ruth could offer; that would take time. But he could be here, for whatever she needed.

"I'm sure that's not it. I bet it was hard for him, going to Ruth, admitting his mistakes." Sam assured her.

Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, Sam's hand had wrapped around her ankle and was rubbing circles around the bone.

"But then why didn't he tell me?" She asked.

Sam let go of her ankle, and instead tugged on her upper arm until she moved, legs dropping from the seat, and her sitting right next to him.

"You'll have to ask him."

She nodded in understanding, and leaned her head against his shoulder, exhausted from the conversation.

"Was this your plan all along? Come up here, make me spill my guts to you?" She joked, looking up to see his face was inches away from hers.

"I'll never tell."

She could smell him where she sat, and his cologne reminded her of the forest, pine-y, fresh. She could see from his small smile that he had four dimples by his mouth, two on each side. His eyelashes were full and thick and framed his big dark eyes perfectly. She wanted to touch his jaw, to feel that smooth line, but she had to stop herself. She couldn't take much more happening that day. She was conflicted enough.

"Thank you, Sam." She whispered, telling herself it was time to pull back.

"Any time, McNally." He said in a gravelly voice.

He didn't move, and she was stuck. She silently begged for him to pull away. She willed him to move first. Just as she was going to try to say something, ask what he was doing, his hand moved to her chin, catching it before she could pull away in surprise.

"Andy..."

And just as his face came closer, and her eyes finally closed, anticipating the inevitable, the cuckoo clock struck four.

It wasn't long after that Sam left, leaving Andy sitting in that nook, still wanting to feel his lips on hers. That was the closest they ever came, and now, now they'd both know that it was something they had to talk about. What would happen tomorrow if he came?

Eventually it grew dark outside, and her stomach rumbled. She could hear that Ruth had made dinner a couple of hours ago, and the smell of garlic overtook the whole house. She even knew that she had long since come upstairs and retreated into her bedroom. Andy knew she was in the clear. But it wasn't that simple.

She opened the hatch, and light from the hallway poured into the attic, hurting her eyes. She squinted as she pushed the ladder down and descended, rubbing them when she finally touched the ground.

Two days she shut herself away. But she couldn't hide for the rest of the summer.

She walked down the hall to Ruth's bedroom, and tapped gently on the door.

"Gran?" She asked, voice unsteady.

It took a few seconds for the response to come, but it did. Equally as tentative, and a little breathy.

"Yes, Andy?"

Andy opened the door to see her grandmother in her big chair in the corner, book in hand, reading glasses on. Ruth put the book down slowly as Andy came further into the room, not slowing down.

"Andy, what is it?"

Andy stopped only when she was standing right in front of Ruth, and looked to her feet.

"I'm sorry."

Ruth stood slowly, pulling her wrap more securely around her as she took a step toward Andy. She placed her hand under her chin, and tipped it up until she was looking at her grandmother.

"No, Ducky. No." Ruth said, seriously, putting a hand on Andy's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Andy shook her head, but before any more words were spoken, Ruth pulled her into her arms, just like she used to when she was a little girl. One hand cradling her head, the other around her shoulders, keeping her close.

They stayed in Ruth's room for a couple of hours, sharing the chair. Ruth let Andy settle into her side and play with her hair without objection, as she told her about the last few years of her life. About what happened the night she broke into the school.

"Andy, you've never been reckless like that. What happened?" Ruth asked, when Andy had finished explaining.

"What do you mean, I just told you."

All Andy got was a pointed look in return.

"He told me he loved me. And that he wouldn't let anything happen. And I believed him." She admitted, smiling sadly.

Ruth kissed Andy's forehead and stroke her head again, wishing she could've been there for that heartbreaks that came before.

"Well, honey, trial and error. You never know who's going to break your heart before it's too late. I wish I had something better to say... but, that's the truth."

"Yeah, what would you know about heartbreak Gran? You married the perfect guy."

"Oh darling, your grandfather was an excellent man, but he was far from perfect. He was just perfect for me."

"You're so cheesy."

"You eat it up. And I won't pretend I'd never had a date before him, for God's sake I was already a young woman when we'd met, I had a few boyfriends my dear."

Andy snorted a laugh and Ruth pinched her side.

"A real heart breaker, huh Gran?"

"Oh yes, a real femme fatale." She laughed in agreement.

There was a wonderful quiet moment where their laughter died and Andy might have nodded off, but then Ruth spoke again.

"I missed you, Ducky." Ruth whispered, hugging Andy tight.

Andy's hand wrapped around her grandmothers forearm and she kissed her hand that was closest to her.

"I missed you too."