A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback. Here we take a tiny bit of a break from some of the more recent discoveries and uncover new secrets, this time from Andy's viewpoint. Is there a tremendous, perhaps excessive amount of drama going on behind the scenes? Sure, probably. But keep in mind that a) we're talking about the same show that responded to an officer's concealing of her mental illness and subsequent major screwup with a promotion (we'll get to that in a minute), and b) while an investigation like this might take months or years in reality, here in fanfic-for-TV land, things are going to become rather condensed for the purposes of the story. Enough about that; on with it. I hope you enjoy.

Andy's not privy to Sam's meeting with Gallant and his lawyer, but she figures it should be fairly straightforward. Once Dov goes in and clarifies what actually happened at the scene, the arrest report's disappearance will probably be written off as a technological glitch, and Gallant's allegations will be dropped.

Still, she lingers at the barn that afternoon just in case things turn out to be more complicated than she expects, as has been the case every step of the way so far. And she's glad she has when she sees the conference room door open in the periphery. From her seat in the bullpen, she attempts to turn toward the door subtly, but rises and heads up the stairs when only one person exits the room, walking fast. It's Dov, and he's clearly pissed.

"What happened?" Andy hisses, struggling to catch up with him as he barrels down the hallway.

"What happened?" Dov snaps through clenched teeth. "Oh, I don't know, just a complete dismissal of the facts, and all of my ethics being called into question. Swarek's, too." At Andy's imploring expression, he blows out a harsh breath and continues in a low tone. "I told them the truth – that we apprehended Gallant, and I cuffed him and read him his rights while he kept yelling that he didn't do anything. All Sam said to him at the scene was, 'Doesn't look like it. I'll meet you both back at the station.'"

Andy looks at him expectantly. "Okay. And?"

"And, they said that without a report to corroborate it, they couldn't verify the truth of that statement. Gallant's lawyer said…" He stops speaking for a moment, shakes his head indignantly. "She actually said that Swarek has so much experience convincing people to say things they don't want to say between undercover and detective work, that isn't it possible I was just going along with his story?"

"What does that mean?" Andy asks, aghast. "'Convincing people to say things they don't want to say?' Is she trying to prove that he can get people to talk, which is his job, or that… that he gets them to lie?"

"That's definitely what she wants people to believe he did with Gallant. She wants the confession thrown out, everything. And the Internal Affairs rep in there is just going along with it. Not even listening."

Of course Internal Affairs is here for this. Not that this is technically internal. She sighs. "Who else is in there?"

Dov begins ticking off names on his fingers. "Swarek, obviously. And his useless union rep, who showed up late. The IA guy. Gallant, his scummy lawyer, and Oliver. I swear, Andy, this is such a –"

"Wait, wait," Andy interrupts. "We met with his rep last night to go over everything. Sean Mitchell. He seemed to have a good handle on things."

"Yeah, well, he apparently had some unexpected obligation. So we got some scatterbrain instead. Bradley Bradley or something."

Andy groans, remembering her own disastrous representation. "Barry Bradley?"

"Yeah. Listen, Andy," he continues earnestly, "I don't know what's going on here, but it's fucked up, and I'm not gonna let it happen."

"We thought the same thing," she admits hesitantly. "But I think we're in over –" She stops talking abruptly as she sees someone walking up behind Dov.

"Epstein, McNally." Marlo nods at the pair of them as she passes, a courteous half-smile on her face. As soon as she's gone, Andy rolls her eyes.

"Why is she still here? And how pathetic is it that with all of this" – she gestures in the general direction of the conference room – "going on, she's the one who manages to ruin my day? Ugh. And I swear she looks guilty every time she sees me. What is that about? I know all her secrets already."

"Uh. Andy." Dov is beginning to seem vaguely uncomfortable.

"What?" She laughs, not entirely kindly. "Everyone does. And not just hers; they know mine, yours, everyone's. What's the best way to make a secret disappear? Bring it to 15 Division and watch it magically transform into common knowledge."

"Right, but…" Dov clears his throat. "I don't think you know all her secrets."

"Is it Sam's?"

Marlo spins her chair around in the otherwise empty office to face Andy, eyes wide. "What?" she hisses, clearly stalling for time.

Andy walks to a nearby desk and helps herself to a seat. "We've always been honest with one another, Marlo, and believe me when I tell you that this would be a really bad week for you to change tack. Is. It. Sam's?"

(The rational side of her knows that confronting her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend about a rumored pregnancy – at work, no less – is not likely to end up in the Mature Behavior Hall of Fame. But the amalgam of worry over said boyfriend and residual insecurity about their somewhat dicey past is allowing her id to prevail in this circumstance.

At least she closed the door.)

Marlo falters; looks for a moment as if she's about to speak before looking away.

"How far along are you?" Andy prompts, more calmly now.

Marlo takes a slow breath in, releases it. "Fifteen weeks," she responds quietly.

Andy does some quick math; tries to conceal the rush of relief she feels. "And, um. Not to pry or anything, but… it's safe? Like, with the meds and everything?"

"I'm pretty sure this whole conversation qualifies as prying, McNally," Marlo retorts, "but yes. I have good doctors, I'm being monitored for any risks, I have plenty of support. I would thank you for your concern, but I doubt you actually have any for me."

At that, the haste retreats and Andy starts to realize just how much of an asshole move this was. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well." Marlo shrugs, that indistinct expression of remorse returning. "We all have something to be sorry for, don't we?"

Andy's not really sure how to respond to that, or how this conversation can possibly progress further. She suspects that after how things began, she can't exactly conclude with Okay, see you at the baby shower; nor are there any appropriate questions to ask. It's absolutely none of Andy's business who the father is, especially when she's confirmed who it isn't. She's struggling to figure out how to ask Marlo to clarify what she means when she sees Marlo look out past the glass wall and stiffen momentarily. Her posture returns to normal just as quickly and she averts her eyes to the open file on her desk, but Andy follows the path her gaze just took and sees the commissioner walking through the bullpen.

"You know him at all?" Andy queries, tone nonchalant.

After a pause, Marlo cocks her head. "Sure. In a manner of speaking." She's pretty skilled at camouflaging her feelings, so when she glances down at her abdomen, Andy knows it can't be anything but deliberate.

"Um." Andy forces herself to count to ten – then starts back over again and goes to twenty – before speaking. "So what I think you just told me is…"

"That it's him. Yes. He's the –" Marlo cuts herself off, nods.

Andy scrapes herself off the floor and hears herself ask evenly, "Is it still going on?"

Marlo shakes her head. "It's not what you'd think. Or maybe it is, I don't know. He was at the IA investigation, I went through the wringer and got left out to dry, and he was kind. Sympathetic. He was the only person to acknowledge that everyone makes mistakes. We met for coffee, one thing led to another, and…" She shrugs. "When I found out, I was still on administrative leave. I didn't expect anything from him, but I thought he deserved to know. In case he wanted to – I don't know. Just in case."

"What did he say?"

Marlo wrinkles her nose. "Nothing at first. But a few days later, a messenger brought a contract. A gag order, really. If I go public, ask for a paternity test, I forfeit my right to child support. Not that he called it that; I think it said 'a monthly sum to subsidize expenses.' I didn't know what else to do, so I signed it and sent it back."

"And?"

"I was reinstated and assigned to intelligence the next day."

They sit in silence for a moment before Andy asks, "Why are you telling me all of this? Especially if you're not supposed to talk about it."

"You said it. We've always been honest with one another." Marlo closes her eyes briefly. "And… because while I was trying to decrypt the hard drives, he came in with another one. He said it was found hidden at the scene when they went through the garage, but that the IT guys had already tried and failed to crack it, so could I just bring it to evidence with the rest."

To say Andy's dumbfounded would be a gross understatement. "You think that was the bomb."

"I would bet the world on it," Marlo tells her. "I don't know if it's paranoid to think he wanted to take me out, but as it was…"

Well. That explains the guilt. "As it was, I almost died," Andy interjects softly.

Marlo leans forward, elbows on her knees. "Andy, believe me. If I had known or suspected anything…"

"I know," Andy says flatly, glancing at Marlo's desk. After a beat, she meets Marlo's eyes. "I know you didn't." All the jokes in the world about her invincibility have disintegrated in the face of this; of what so easily could have been and how precariously close she came to it.

She forces herself to compartmentalize, to tuck it away in the recesses of her mind until it's safe to let it run wild. In the dark, probably; beneath her duvet, Sam within reach. For now, she needs to focus. She draws a jagged breath and rises. "Marlo, is there any chance you made a copy of that contract?"

"Yes," Marlo replies. "It's in my sister's – my house, I moved in with her a few weeks ago. And I scanned it to save a digital copy. It has watermarks, so it's pretty obvious it's not the original."

Andy looks at her intently. "I'm gonna need a copy of that."

Marlo nods in silence.

Dov is loitering near the office door when Andy exits, attempting to look busy and failing miserably at it. He makes a veritable beeline for her. "You were in there forever. Everybody still alive?"

Andy feels herself blanch at his phrasing; shakes it off again. "Yeah, it's fine. Look, you said you want to help?"

"Yeah, sure," Dov asserts. "Anything."

She sighs. "You're doing a lot with the cameras right now, right? Is there any way you get ahold of the surveillance here, from that night? Evidence, the interrogation room..."

"I'm on it," he promises.

She thanks him, mechanically spends more time than should be necessary finishing up paperwork from the shift, and goes to change. Sam texts her while she's in the locker room to tell her he's out at the truck; she finishes up and heads to the parking lot. She registers passing Santana on her way out, engaged in what does not appear to be a particularly happy conversation with Duncan in the hallway, but it's going to have to wait for now.

Neither of them says a word as they climb in to the cab, or as they drive, or as they walk (stagger?) into Sam's house. She looks inquisitively in the direction of the kitchen, and he shakes his head; just as well, as she's not particularly hungry either.

Once they're in bed, side by side staring up at the ceiling, he breaks the silence. "IA recommended that I be put on leave."

Andy doesn't move. "What did Oliver say?"

"That until proven or ordered otherwise, he's taking the consistent story of two officers over a failure of technology and the claims of a guy on his third robbery charge. He's a good guy, Oliver."

"Mmm. Yeah." She has no idea where to begin; the soap opera she uncovered today isn't exactly something one drops into casual conversation. So she says the only thing she can think of, the thing she's been mentally screaming for hours now: "I almost died."

She feels the bed shift as Sam turns to her, apparently perplexed. She rolls on her side to face him and repeats ardently, "I almost died, Sam. And he's responsible. I know it."

"Yeah." He cups her cheek with a gentle palm. "We just have to prove it."

She remembers the contract, which Marlo – true to her word – has already forwarded to her; compels herself despite her exhaustion to wonder why Santana was arguing with Duncan in the middle of the station. It's becoming increasingly clear that they're on the verge of something colossal; even if the puzzle pieces are scattered, they're all more or less within sight. For the first time in recent memory, she can sense a ray of hope – fragile, uncertain, but real. "Actually… we might not be as far off as we thought."