The flashing red and white of a fire truck were the first thing Sam noticed as they made their way back to the crash site. The fire department had never been so welcome. He'd hated leaving Andy alone with the driver, but there had been no choice. When the smoke hit his nostrils, relief was replaced by a knot of cold fear in his stomach.

Shaw!" He called over his shoulder, "Take Elliot." He handed the little boy off to Oliver, barely glancing at his friend. She was nowhere to be seen. The cold fist tightened around his stomach as he rounded the burnt out shell. If she'd been in it... "Andy!" He called, acrid smoke burned his eyes but still there was no sign of her. "Andy!"

And then she was there, saying him name and smiling her beautiful smile. Relief crashed over him like a wave.

He closed the distance between them in two short strides.

"I'm okay." Her voice was breathless, almost giddy. "I got her out like just before it went up."

Sam shot another look over his shoulder thanking God and anyone else he could think of that Andy hadn't been in it when it went up. "If I'd know the car was going to catch on fire..." His eyes ran over her body, checking for any hidden injuries.

"No it's okay. The medic says she's going to be fine."

"Should've radioed." Sam's heart was still thudding a little too quickly in his chest and he had to fight an irrational need to shake Andy and tell her she was never to do anything like this again. She was a cop; danger was part of the job. It didn't mean he had to like it, but he had to accept it.

"You were miles out, and," her tone turned teasing, her smile warm, "y'know, the car was on fire I had that whole thing to deal with." She sobered, "You get the boy?"

"We found him, yeah."

If possible she grinned even harder than before, "Good"

Sam scanned the scene. It was chaotic, they always were, but there was really nothing he or Andy were needed for. Their part, except the unavoidable paperwork, was done. He met Andy's gaze. The expression in her eyes wiped the smile off his face and robbed him of breath. Almost without thought, he leaned towards her. She leaned in too and for a glorious second he thought they might kiss, but then he realized where they were and his common sense and self preservation kicked into high gear. He straightened, already feeling a pang of regret. She'd been so close. So close he could almost taste her.
Andy smiled and stepped past him, out of range before he could form a single word to ask her to stay.

Not that he had a clue what to say. He was going deep cover again in a few short weeks. Now was not the time to try and win her. He could only hope she wasn't engaged to another man before he saw her again.

He didn't expect her to wait for him, but he has spent too long waiting for her. It was time to move on. Before Andy, all he'd wanted was guns and gangs and now here was Boyd, practically begging Sam to do what he loved most about being a cop. It was an offer he couldn't refuse.

o o o

"Hey Banjo," Andy crooned, running both hands over the silver tabby's silken back. Andy had never had a pet. Her mother had been allergic and Tommy had never been home long enough to care for a goldfish, let alone a cat. She scratched absently as the cat purred away. "Who's gunna take care of you, now huh?"

Banjo rolled to his side completely oblivious to the fact that his owner wouldn't be coming home ever again. Andy sighed. She'd done everything she could, but it hadn't been enough.

She looked around the apartment. There was a half loaf of bread on one counter, a pencil rested on a music stand below a half-written song. All signs of a life interrupted. She picked up the bottle of 'really good champagne' Leslie had been saving for when her music was perfect, until her life was perfect.

You gotta save the good stuff

Why?

Sam's question rang in her head. Why indeed. The reasons were less clear this evening than they'd been in the morning. Saving the good stuff meant you always had something to look forward to. But tonight, standing in a dead woman's apartment holding the good stuff in her hands, it suddenly felt like saving the good stuff meant a life of the gross candy and a lot of wasted good stuff.

So, if future you hooking up with Sam Swarek?

That morning she'd said no. She'd only been single for five weeks, she needed to find a condo to buy, she wanted to prove herself at work, and she would have time to think about relationships, about Sam, when she'd fixed the mess her life had become. But then Sam announced he was going deep cover for God knew how long, and Leslie died, and her ten year plan wasn't so important anymore. For once, Andy was going to have the good stuff first and deal with the rest later.

She reached for her phone. Butterflies flying dizzy circles in her stomach, she pressed speed dial 2.

o o o

Sam tossed his unopened mail on the table by the window. He would deal with that later, tomorrow maybe, when he had the brain power to care. Tonight he was exhausted. They'd found Elliot and he was safe, but now an estranged father would be going to prison for kidnapping and vehicular manslaughter. It was hard to feel good about that.

His phone rang, unnaturally loud in silent room. Sam answered without looking at the call display.

"Sam," Detective Boyd's voice was tense, "You sober?"

Sam snorted, "Yeah."

"Good. We need to move tonight."

"What?"

"That UC gig, we got word that Brennan is pulling a crew together. If we don't get someone in, we're going to miss our window."

Sam's exhausted brain fought to follow the detective's rapid speech. "When?"

"You're still in?" The relief was palpable.

"Yeah." As he said it, sealing himself in for weeks or maybe months of living a new identity, far away from everyone he cared about, an image of Andy, inches away, eyes serious, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils, flashed across his mind and he felt a pang of regret. It was very possible he was ruining his best shot with her, but it wasn't in his nature to pass up this kind of opportunity. Sam wasn't a planner, he didn't save the good things in life until later, he grabbed opportunities like this one with both hands and, no matter how he felt about Andy McNally, Sam wasn't ready to give up who he was. He'd been doing that too much in the last eight months.

"How soon can you be ready?"

Sam did a mental calculation of the things he had to take care of before he could leave, "Give me half an hour?"

"Okay, I'll pick you up. Don't worry about Frank or your place, we can have someone take care of all of that tomorrow."

Sam nodded even though Boyd couldn't see. "Alright."

He ended the call and for a moment his fingers hovered over the keypad. He thought of calling Andy, but stopped. He'd told her about the undercover assignment, she would find out the rest soon enough. He refused to admit to himself that if he heard her voice, if there was any sign she wanted him to stay, he might not be able to walk away.

o o o

The butterflies in Andy's stomach did not stop fluttering the entire drive. She pulled in front of Sam's house and killed the engine, pausing to check her hair in the rear view mirror and then laughed at herself. Sam had seen her covered in soot, other people's blood, and at the end of a ten hour shift in 40 degree weather, he wasn't likely to complain if her hair had frizzed a little from the light snow that had been falling off and on all day. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the street.

There were no lights on in Sam's place, but that wasn't really unusual. Sam's TV was in a room near the back of the place. Andy knocked on the wooden part of the door and stepped back, resisting the urge to check her hair yet again.

There was no answer. She pulled out her phone and hit speed dial, it went straight to voicemail. With a frustrated sigh Andy sank down to the porch. Trust Sam to choose tonight as the night he stayed at the Penny until all hours. Well, she could wait. She'd never known Sam to be out of touch for long.

Twenty minutes later, Andy was frozen to the core and still hadn't heard a word from Sam. She checked her watch, it was almost ten. She rose to her feet, telling herself it was alright, they had three weeks, they could be together tomorrow, but not quite believing it. She hit Sam's number one last time, "Hey Sam, you're not home so I'm headed back to my place. Call me when you get this. See you tomorrow."

A/N: Apart from the very first section, this fic was written on an airplane, and I'm now sitting in a Starbucks parking lot uploading it from my netbook. Thank you Starbucks for the awesome free WiFi! Move is going great so far, but still internetless and mostly surrounded by boxes. I won't get to see this week's ep until probably Monday so please no spoilers in the comments :D