"What's going on with you and Swarek?"
Andy froze for a second, her heart pounding. She dusted off her fingers and turned her best blank face to him, "What do you mean?"
Luke raised his glass and rattled the ice cubes.
Andy suddenly remembered the jar of water, the yellow post-it with Sam Swarek written on it, sitting right there in her freezer for anyone to see. Brilliant idea Andy. You could have at least hid it behind the frozen peas.
"Secrets Andy, they don't work. They never do."
"I don't want secrets." Except this one, her traitorous mind piped up. She told it to shut up and took several steps towards Luke.
"Then tell me the truth." He turned towards her, but his face was guarded. "I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth," his voice was gentle, coaxing. It was the voice he used on suspected murderers.
"Don't do that." She held up a finger, to stop his words or her guilt she wasn't sure which. "I'm not a suspect Luke."
"Ok," His voice sharpened with anger, "and I'm not blind."
She sighed. This, right here, was what she didn't want, didn't need. Luke was supposed to be simple. He was the easy pick, the right kind of guy… but she was Andy McNally, train wreck. She should have known it would all go sideways.
"It was one night," she explained.
Luke shook his head and looked away. When his haze returned to hers his game face was gone, hurt, anger and disbelief in its place.
"I didn't even sleep with him!" I want—wanted to. She corrected herself, of course she didn't' still want to have sex with Swarek. Liar. "I—"
"Then what did you do?"
"Nothing," she couldn't meet his eyes when she lied. Sure on paper a few kisses was nothing, but it was over a week ago and she could still taste him, still feel Sam's body against hers. That wasn't nothing.
Luke stared at her for several silent seconds, his gaze willing her to say something that would make this nothing. "I'm gunna go."
"No, no Luke, please…don't ok? Don't go." She stepped towards him.
"Stop. Please." Luke's jaw was tight and his eyes filled with anger, "One night, I don't know what that means. I don't know what you're saying. But I do know it's not nothing. It's not Andy."
"Luke, really I…"
Without looking back he walked out of her apartment, slamming the door behind him.
Andy stood in the middle of her apartment, unmoving, staring at the empty space until the stove timer went off. The potatoes. Running on autopilot she drained the water and added a generous dollop of cream cheese before mashing them, with excessive vigour.
It helped some with the anger. He hadn't even given her a chance to explain. And it was all Luke's fault anyways. If he weren't so wrapped up in his work he would have been there that night and she never would have run to Sam. By the time the potatoes were nearly soup, Andy was breathing normally again. Her ability to think beyond 'he's gone' returned in a jumbled rush.
The anger dissolved into guilt. It wasn't Luke's fault, she'd wanted Sam before she'd even let Luke buy her a drink. Traci was right, she was a slut. And she'd ruined everything.
Relief was in there too. It was over. She'd told Luke, he'd walked out and she hadn't followed him. It probably wouldn't have helped. She should have done it anyway.
Beneath the confusion, anger, guilt, and fear ran a thread of hope. Maybe it wasn't all gone. Sure she'd screwed up, badly, but she and Sam had been something like friends before the blackout, maybe they could be again. Breaking up with Luke wouldn't kill her. Working with a training officer who she'd given every reason to question her judgement and hate her just a little might get them both killed.
She took and deep breath and focused on preparing dinner. She would love to throw the entire thing in the garbage, but she'd spent too much money on it to let it go to waste.
Girlfriend of the Year, she sighed. So much for that master plan. She felt a brief pulse of anger at Traci for suggesting it in the first place, but she quelled it quickly. Traci hadn't told her to cheat, or to propose a romantic night away to cover her cheater's guilt. If she were completely honest the Girlfriend of the Year campaign had really begun with the trip to Luke's fishing cabin. The trip to celebrate being reinstated after she'd shot and killed a man.
She'd killed someone.
It always came back to that.
One hot, hellish day. Three bullets. A dozen lies.
One more moth burned by an irresistible flame.
Sam went to the Penny with Jerry after shift, because drinking alone was an easy habit to fall into and a hard one to kick. They talked about nothing, because it had been a hell of a day and they were all too exhausted to do much more than down scotch and toast themselves on a job well done.
They'd found Rebecca. The story had ended happily this time.
Sam should have been elated. Instead, he felt weary. Like he'd been running forever and finally come crashing to a halt.
It was not a pleasant feeling.
He'd spent the entire day strung out on stress. Interviewing the parents, being forced to watch impotently as McNally interviewed the mother and then stuck at the station while everyone else worked to track the couple who had taken Rebecca. Finding the girl unharmed was a miracle. The relief should have been tremendous, but he was too worn out.
The last five months had been the longest of Sam's life. First his cover was blown and eight long months work was a waste. And then, as if the entire universe and all of division fifteen were conspiring against him, he'd been saddled with McNally as his Rookie to train. He hadn't liked her from the very start, but he'd never been indifferent to her. She fucked with his equilibrium and hiding that fact had become nearly impossible since the blackout.
Although after today he wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or kill her. He just hoped, as he sipped at his second glass of whiskey, that her next few assignments would pair her with someone else. He needed to get his head on straight.