A/N: I'm such a liar. This isn't the final part. APOLOGIES. But I've really been trying to not make you guys wait so long between updates since I put this off for six months already. So, here's another snippet of what I have done so far. More apologies for my inconsistent chapter lengths. But enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: The only thing of Rookie Blue I own is the signed cast pictures they sent me in December. Everything else belongs to them.

Chapter 4

He wants to shove Luke Callaghan's face into a wall.

He doesn't know where that sudden overwhelming desire even came from just that it's now sitting in the pit of his stomach and clawing its way up to his chest, burning and visceral and absolutely not because of McNally. Only yeah, it kind of is; he just hates himself a little for admitting it.

Because goddamn, when the hell did he become such woman over something like this? Something like what? a voice singsongs in his head, daring him to put a label on whatever unnamed thing it is he's feeling.

Alright, so he's interested. Sue him. Last he checked he was still allowed to be interested. But a rookie? That just spelled all sorts of trouble. And a rookie with a homicide detective boyfriend? Even worse. And a rookie with homicide detective boyfriend and who also happened to burn him on her first day? Well, that was just…

Yeah, he hates himself.

But it's so much easier to hate Callaghan instead so he spends his days dutifully avoiding all contact with the blond detective as much as possible and envisioning a hard right hook wiping that smug look off his face. They've never exactly been buds—because even before McNally, Callaghan somehow managed to rub him the wrong way at times—so the change goes unnoticed by the detective who just nods their customary greeting whenever they do manage to pass by before throwing a winning grin at McNally. She eats it up of course, doesn't see the blond boy wonder for the player that he is but hey, if she wants to do the whole "I can take care of myself" thing then who was he to stand in her way?

So, he lets her, acts like it makes no difference to him if she's knocking boots with Callaghan when really the thought is slowly gnawing a hole through his head and making him see green. And the fact that she always seems to have that stupid loopy grin on her face whenever the detective looks her way isn't helping things in the slightest.

So, yeah, he really wants to shove Luke Callaghan's face into a wall.

...

He's beginning to think that she keeps doing that thing with the radio just to piss him off.

Two minutes on a station before switching over to the next. Exactly two minutes. Seriously. He counted once. Okay, he tried to but the woodpecker currently residing in his head had decided to pick up tempo and he lost it somewhere after 75 seconds. But still.

Two minutes.

He certainly doesn't remember her being this irritating yesterday. Although to be fair, he hadn't been battling the hangover of his life yesterday either. Not for the first time that day, he silently curses Jerry and his insistence that they bring out the cheap alcohol to raise the stakes during the game last night. Loser of each round took double shots of the foul-tasting vodka with the unpronounceable name they had dug up from Jerry's mini bar.

They went seven rounds. He lost over $3,000.

Beside him, McNally's hand once again flicks over to the radio and the last notes of Pearl Jam's "Just Breathe" is cut off and replaced by the same jarringly upbeat tune he's heard at least four other times already, the girl repeatedly asking someone to call her maybe or something to that effect. He'd ask her to stop—McNally, he means—but just the thought of moving his mouth to say the words drains his energy so he just grits his teeth and shuts his eyes to it all.

A voice crackles over the receiver, says a few words, and McNally is merciful enough to answer it on his behalf. A moment later, she's making a left on the next cross street and pulling over to the curb. He blinks open an eye at that and promptly groans at the sight that meets his gaze out the window.

As it always is during this time of the year, the skate park on Windham is swarming with people. It's never been an official competition but ever since it started 12 years ago by a local skate shop looking to attract more customers, the City's Board-X Games have been an annual occurrence and a cause for the skaters of Toronto to descend upon the city's largest skate park for a weekend of good-natured rivalry. Of course, it was not without incident and there had been more than a handful of clashes over the years as the event grew in popularity, clashes that fell on the officers of the 15th to mediate as the park lay within the division boundaries. This year, however, Boyko had decided to step things up and ordered hourly drop-ins in an attempt to dissuade any possible conflicts between the skaters.

Apparently, another hour had passed and they were the closest car to the park.

McNally cuts the engine, then, and for the briefest of moments he considers simply staying in the car and letting her do a quick round of the park. But the latest incident of the B&E suspect who had been in the house McNally assured him was clear and who then pointed a gun at his unarmed step-father is still fresh in his head and he has absolutely no desire to once again explain to Boyko how a routine check went sideways so he grudgingly opens his door and heaves himself out of the car.

It takes a few seconds for him to orient himself, the cheers of the crowd rattling every neuron of his brain, his darkest sunglasses doing absolutely nothing to shield him from the sun's unrelenting brightness, but he eventually gathers enough coordination and willpower to push away from the car and follow McNally into the crowd.

They work their way through the park, McNally issuing gentle warnings to those tempting illegality, him dragging slightly behind her wishing to be anywhere else at that moment. She attempts to engage him in small talk but he honestly doesn't have the capacity to reply so he says nothing and merely grunts at her instead at which point she finally gets the message and continues their patrol in silence.

They're walking by a group of hand rails being crowded by a few dozen competitors when she stops suddenly.

"Nate?"

One of the skaters, a young man who had just finished his run of the rails, kicks up his board and turns to her. "Can I help you, officers?"

She takes a step towards the skater but standing still isn't working so great for Sam so he shuffles over to the side to lean heavily against a lamp post.

"It's Andy."

The man squints, wiping the copper hair escaping from under his helmet out of his eyes, before the realization hits him. "McNally? Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you!"

She laughs. "Is it the hair or the uniform?"

"Both." He grins, comes forward to hug her, and a twinge of jealousy flares in Sam's stomach. "So, you're a cop now?"

"Yeah. Started a month and a half ago. This is my training officer actually. Officer Swarek." She jerks a thumb in his direction and he manages a slight nod in greeting.

From there they launch into accounts of their lives since they last saw each other, leaving Sam at the mercy of the cheering crowd around him. His eyes flick over to the pair and sees the familiarity between them, the redhead playfully ruffling McNally's hair with a heavily tattooed arm, her shoving him lightly on his chest. A muscle jumps in his jaw as he watches until he's just about had enough of all of this, crowds, sunlight, and skater punks alike.

"You about ready to do your job now, McNally?" he growls, pushing off the lamp post and walking away without another word.

Hasty good-byes are exchanged behind him and a second later he feels her jogging after him and stopping at his side.

"We skated together back in high school," she says after a moment as they work their way through the sea of people. "Used to hang out a lot at the skate park down by the waterfront."

Yeah, he really doesn't want to hear this. "I'm sorry, I must've forgotten the part where I asked how you know each other."

"Yeah, like you aren't the least bit curious about how I know a guy like him," she replies, rolling her eyes.

He clenches his jaw to suppress a groan and shoots her a look. He can't deal with this right now. Not in the condition he's in. "The only thing I'm curious about right now is how long you can go without talking and how fast we can get out of here. So, can we just keep the reunions to a minimum and get back to the car?"

Something flashes in her eyes but it isn't anger. Disappointment maybe? Although he has no idea what she'd be disappointed about. Whatever. It's gone before he can get his head around it and she's mumbling a "Yes, sir," and picking up her pace. Watching her part the crowd in front of him as he trails sullenly behind, he frowns, regret tugging uncomfortably in his chest. Okay, so maybe he was a little snappy with her. But he really can't be having civilized conversations at the moment, not when he can feel his pulse in the back of his eyes and all his thought processes are currently being devoted to keeping himself upright. And Skater Boy really hadn't helped anything either.

Still, he knows he's being an ass and McNally really hadn't done anything—besides the radio-hopping—to deserve it. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He'll apologize back at the barn.

A/N: Is Sam being frustrating or what? Haha but I felt this scene was necessary to demonstrate something. And I know some of you wanted Luke gone but I honestly love the tension and conflict he causes Sam. Rest assured though, he won't be sticking around even if this is mostly sticking to canon. And at this point, I won't say the next part is definitely the final chapter because I honestly don't know. But it will come! Sound off in a review! :)

Oh, and a little shameless self-promotion. I jumped on the bandwagon and joined twitter (purely to interact with my fandom worlds. Only one of my friends knows I have one haha). So, feel free to follow me and vice versa. User name is in my profile. :)