A/N: I didn't intend to expand Drowning into anything else.. but 108 left a larger mess in my brain than 107 so here we go...

Free Fall

"Heard you had quite a day," Oliver Shaw slid his beer glass onto the bar top by Sam's elbow before taking a seat.

Sam cringed. This was one of those days he would rather not remember. From the decision to buy McNally a coffee- extra milk, extra hot- to baiting Callaghan, beating Callaghan, to letting his bruised ego get in the way of his job as her Training Officer... Not a single choice he'd made all day had been right.

"You look like hell," he turned to Shaw and tried to smile like his world wasn't imploding.

"Back at you." Oliver held Sam's gaze for a few seconds. "Seriously though, what's going on with you Sammy?"

Shotgunning the remainder of his whiskey Sam looked around the mostly deserted penny to make sure no one else from 15 was in hearing range before speaking, "You were right."

Oliver was not the gloating type. He simply nodded and signaled for two more drinks. "McNally?" He asked, though he was pretty sure that was the only possibility.

Sam nodded. "Yeah." He rubbed both hands over his face. "I am an idiot."

"It wouldn't be a rule if it didn't happen."

"Right, and how is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's not. I'm just saying, you're not the first."

They sipped their whiskeys in silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Sam's thoughts were infuriatingly one track tonight and he went over the entire day's events for the tenth time.

McNally's first day back since the shooting, the first time he's seen her since that night when he'd fallen asleep with her head buried against his chest and woken to her note, There's something I have to do. He'd thought she meant breaking it off with Callaghan, not running straight back into the blonde detective's waiting arms. So he'd broken it off with Monica once and for all and brought Andy coffee, an offering, an invitation, a piping hot beverage that landed in the trash. To think he'd been worried Callaghan would know that Sam was the reason Andy was breaking it off, God he was an idiot.

"What are you going to do?" Oliver's question broke through Sam's thoughts.

Sam shook his head. He had no idea. His feelings for Andy were getting in the way of his job. But if he requested a different Rookie he would have to explain why, and that was not a conversation he wanted to have. Ever. Which left him with only one option. "Nothing. I'm her training officer, besides she's uh.. she'd involved with Callaghan."

"Which explains why you tried to kill him in retrain today," Oliver's smile took any sting of accusation out of his words. "Seriously Sammy, this is me. What are you going to do?"

"Get very, very drunk." Sam replied, signaling the bartender to bring him another.

Luke was exactly what Andy needed. The kind of good guy who always seemed to evade her in the past. He had a good job which he loved, he didn't push her or pressure her, he let her have her space, and he was thoughtful, when he wasn't wrapped up in a case. He was a good kisser and the sex was warm and delicious and made her feel safe. He was the kind of man mothers wanted their children to find and hang on to.

So why was she sitting on the front porch to Luke's fishing cabin staring up at the night sky while her naked boyfriend slept inside? Wishing she'd never suggested getting out of Toronto for the night. Wishing she'd never let Luke buy her that first drink. Thinking of how Sam's kisses sent a hot trail of fire from her lips to the base of her spine.

Sam.

Sam was exactly what Andy didn't need. He was her Training Officer – against the rules. He was guarded and jealous with a temper and a tendency towards violence. He was everything Andy didn't want… so why had she run to him? Why was it, when she was in trouble, his was the first voice of reason she sought out? Why did his mouth feel so right on hers?

The memory of his lips against her throat, his hands on her skin, his hips pressed against hers set her heart beating double time. Sam was everything she shouldn't want. And he was everything she craved. She wanted to let the fire that burned in her at his touch consume her. But when the lights had come on and reality had reared its ugly head she'd done what she always did she over thought and then she ran.

Andy had always had tragic taste in men. She blamed her mother. What teenager growing up without a mother wouldn't use men just to feel. The sad thing was, she thought she'd outgrown it. When she told Traci she was done with the wrong men, she'd meant it. She really thought Luke was the answer. She was an idiot.

And now…

Andy sighed and pulled her sweater more tightly around her shoulders. Now she had crossed a line she never wanted to. She'd buried her pain in Sam. And now when she looked him in the eye she could see the pain mirrored back at her. She'd buried her pain in him alright. She'd handed it off to him and he shouldered it. She hated and loved him for it.

Mostly she hated herself.

She watched a falling star burn brightly for half a second before sputtering out near the tree lined horizon.

Her world was crumbling. She didn't know when the first crack had appeared, but the shooting last week had knocked the last stone out from under her and catapulted her into a freefall. Selfishly she'd reached out for the first solid thing her fingers could find, Sam.

She'd barged into his home, let him take her to his bed and then pulled away. She'd confided in him and let his strong arms be her anchor while she cried herself to sleep. For a brief, glorious moment in the predawn when she woke feeling grounded and optimistic she'd allowed herself to believe she and Sam could do this. She'd scribbled a hasty note, she didn't even remember what was in it, and walked out of his apartment with every intention to end things with Luke. Less than a block away, doubts had crept back in and by the time she reached home and found Luke asleep on her porch with a cold cup of coffee beside him she knew she couldn't do it.

It wasn't a proud moment. It was cowardly and cruel. Her stomach churned with guilt as she kissed Luke awake and led him up to her apartment. If it was Sam's face she saw when she closed her eyes, she would never admit it.

Luke was a good guy. And so she stayed, hoping that if she faked it hard enough the butterflies in her stomach would learn to flutter at the sight of him, her skin would learn to crave his touch and her traitorous heart would learn to sing his name. Fake it 'til you make it.