Hey guys!

So I'm actually pretty disappointed at the way I wrote the last chapter. I let my emotions during that time get the better of me, and while that's a great thing when writing a one-shot, it's not such a good thing when writing a continuing story.

I've been really quite stuck on where to take this story, so I decided that before I mess it up any more, I would end it. So this is the last chapter. I'm quite happy with the way it turned out, against all odds.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it! Please review, I live for them! And thanks for putting up with the extremely long wait between the last chapter and this one. All the reviews, all the favorite stories and alerts you guys have done for this story have meant so much to me. I am truly, truly grateful for all your support.

Enjoy! xx

At first, the sensation of her lips against his took Sam off guard. After a second of hesitation, he kissed her back, taking a hold of her waist. He pulled her into him, tangling a hand in her long hair. She clung to his shirt, her fingers splayed across the material. The alcohol that had been consumed by both of them mingled with their kisses, creating a heady taste that neither one of them wanted to end.

As fantastic as it was, Sam soon realized that her kisses were too hungry, too needy. They weren't romantic, they were desperate. Even though he was drunk himself, he couldn't bring himself to take advantage of this situation, as much as he wanted to. He gently withdrew from her embrace and took her by the shoulders, pushing her back slightly.

He could see she had been crying. He glanced down at her hands, and noticed a deep red stain in her right palm.

"Andy, you're bleeding," he said, taking her hand. He inspected it, seeing an ugly gash that went deep. "You're going to need stitches. What happ..." He trailed off as he looked back up at her. She was drawing in ragged, uneven breaths as the tears slid down her face.

"Andy, Andy, shh, it's okay...I'm here...don't cry." He drew her close to him, half aware that he had held her more times in the past month than he had in the previous seven.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whispered, her body shuddering uncontrollably against his.

"It's okay." He didn't know what she was apologizing for, but the less words he spoke, the better. They stayed like that for a little while longer. Eventually, Andy pulled away. She looked at Sam.

"You wanna talk?" he asked. She hesitated for a moment. She couldn't keep it inside any longer. There was no where else to run to...except to Sam. She nodded.

"Okay. You wanna go get some coffee?" he asked. They didn't need any more alcohol, that much was certain.

"Sure," she whispered hoarsely.

They made their way outside, Sam carefully guiding Andy towards his truck. He gently lifted her up, handling her like a fragile doll, setting her down on the hood.

"Stay here," he ordered, disappearing into the interior before quickly emerging with a first aid kit. He took out disinfectant and gauze. The cut wasn't as deep as he had thought it had been at first glance.

"You going to tell me how you cut yourself?" he asked, as he slowly, gently, began cleaning her wound. She winced at the stinging sensation caused by the disinfectant.

"I don't know. I don't - " She began hyperventilating, overcome by the raging emotions inside her.

"Shh, calm down. Everything's fine." He applied a thick ointment over the jagged cut. Silence ensued. He looked back up at her. "I'm all ears Andy. Whenever you want to start."

She realized he was waiting for her to speak. About what though? He knew Connor's story. He no doubt had read the case file, so he knew all the particulars of what had happened. Of how she had failed. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to prevent more tears from falling. Would she ever stop crying?

"I couldn't bring him justice. I couldn't bring him closure." She was talking barely above a whisper, and Sam had to strain to hear her. He began wrapping her hand with the white gauze. "I had one thing to do - identify him - and I couldn't do that." She choked back a sob.

"Andy, it's not your fault. You know that, right? You didn't kill Connor." Sam was using his calming voice he used on traumatized victims, because he honestly didn't know how else to deal with what was happening.

"I should have stopped him from getting out of the car! I should have ran after the guy. I should have done something different. Anything different. Something different..." she started to repeat herself, murmuring too softly for Sam to catch her words. He finished wrapping her wound, taking his now free hand and bringing it to her chin. He tilted her face towards his.

"Andy, look at me. This isn't helping. Beating yourself up isn't going to bring your cousin back. You need to stop feeling guilty. It's not healthy. Would Connor want you to feel like this, to act this way? No, he would want you to live your life. To save people who can't save themselves, like he did. And you're doing that. That's why you became a cop."

Sam realized her breathing had slowed down and become more steady. "He would be proud of you, Andy. You're carrying on his legacy." He stopped talking as a small smile came over her features.

"Do you realize you're using your victim advocacy voice on me?" she asked with a shaky laugh. He smiled back at her.

"Well, this whole comforting someone while off-duty is something new to me. I'm not getting paid, for one." He winked to let her know he was kidding.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. How about that coffee?"

She shook her head, her eyelids suddenly becoming heavy. "I'm really tired. I just want to go home and go to sleep. Besides, if they wake up and I'm gone, it's going to be hell."

"They? Who else is over at your house? The entire precinct?"

She tried to smile, but a yawn escaped instead. "Just Dov and Chris. And Traci, whom you put on watch. What did you think I was going to do, kill myself?"

All traces of smile disappeared from Sam's face. "You're in a bad place, Andy. I mean, just look at you now. I didn't want anything to happen to you." His frankness surprised both himself and her. A silence settled that wasn't entirely awkward.

"Come on. Let's get you home," he said, breaking the stillness of the night. He took her non-injured hand and helped her into the truck.

The drive was quick. They drove in silence, Andy trying to fight off sleep for a little while longer; Sam trying to think of an encouraging thought to give her.

He pulled up to her apartment and put the truck in park. They looked at each other, each struggling to say the right thing.

"Thanks Sam. For everything." It was the only thing that seemed appropriate to her.

"You're welcome. You need anything, you come to me. Anytime."

He looked so sincere that Andy couldn't help but lean over and kiss him on the cheek. His eyes widened slightly as her lips grazed his stubble. She got out of the car. Sam watched her until she disappeared into the building before driving off, a smile playing on his features.

She was glad that in her previous break down, she had forgotten to lock the door. She quietly slipped in, stepping over the still-sleeping bodies until she found her previous position between Dov and Traci.

She was just laying down when a voice broke the quiet.

"You go to see Swarek?" Traci said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine. I'm sorry I woke you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay sweetie. Wake me if you need anything."

"Alright."

As Traci drifted back to sleep, Andy was struck by the truth in her words. Everything was fine. It wasn't fair, it wasn't just, and it wasn't perfect. But somehow, in the span of two hours, she had gone from drowning in her darkest place to feeling somewhat normal. All because of one conversation with him.

And with that thought, she too drifted off to sleep, a smile on her face. For the first time in over a month, no nightmares came.

One month later.

"Hey buddy," Andy said as she placed the daffodils beneath the gray headstone. "Sorry I haven't been here in a while. Things have been...crazy."

She thought back to the events that had unfolded after that night with Sam. Jamal Lincoln was never charged with the murder of Connor McNally, or the attempted rape of the unknown woman. But he had been sent back to prison for breaking his parole with the ounce of coke. Apparently he had disrespected a prominent gang member while incarcerated. Andy didn't know the details and didn't want to. All she knew was that Jamal was no longer among the living.

She had come to terms with Connor's death. Instead of burying what had happened deep inside, like she had five years ago, she had dealt with it openly. She had seen a psychiatrist for a little while, and while that had helped, the vast amounts of time she had spent at the firing range had been a more successful therapeutic route.

"I'd like to think you're proud of me," she whispered, tracing the engraved name with her fingers. "I really hope you are."

She didn't say much more, instead just sitting by his grave, lost in thought, tracing and retracing the name.

After a while, she rose back up. "Bye Connor," she said, touching the tombstone for a final time. "I'll come again soon."

She walked back across the cemetery to where a silver truck was parked. A man was leaning up against it, his arms crossed. As she approached, he straightened up.

"You okay?" Sam asked, closing the space between them. She smiled up at him.

"Yeah. I'm perfect." She kissed him softly, blushing slightly as he moaned and drew her closer, deepening the kiss.

"It's been one week, McNally. Where would you like to go for our anniversary?" He grinned down at her, gently stroking her cheek.

"How about your place?" she said coyly, taking his hand in hers.

"I like the sound of that." They got in the car, Sam driving slowly until they got out of the cemetery, where he applied the gas liberally.

Gold and red leaves fell from the maple tree above Connor's grave, signaling the changing seasons. A stirring wind rustled the daffodils at the foot of the tombstone.

Winter was coming. A new season, a new chapter of life.

Just the way Connor had always liked it.