Hey everyone!

So I'm having massive trouble with my other multi-chapter story and was seriously ready to mutilate my muse when this story came to me. I just HAD to start writing it before the new episode aired, though since I live on the west coast I get it three whole hours after all you other lucky people, though I refuse to read the spoilers on the message boards and forums until after I've seen it.

This is only the first chapter of the story. Don't kill me for the ending, there is more to come. It will probably be a three, four, five chapter story tops.

Hope you all enjoy. And thanks for all your lovely reviews and story/author alerts and favorites for the rest of my works. You are all amazing! xx

This takes place sometime in the future, like a couple months after the season ends, though they are still rookies.

When Sam had first entered the building, he had been reminded of his innate dislike of hospitals. The overwhelming smell of disinfectant; the harsh halogen lights that made everyone look like the walking dead; the constant murmur of voices and noises that was too loud to ignore. Everything irked him for reasons he didn't quite understand himself. But this trip to the hospital was different. Dislike had turned to dread.

Andy.

He hadn't been allowed to ride in the ambulance with her, despite his best attempts at threats and the almost brandishing of his gun, though Shaw had restrained him before he had had time to.

He had driven to the hospital like a maniac, taking full advantage of the lights and sirens of the squad car. He had thrown open the front doors and demanded just where the hell a certain Officer McNally was from the first personnel he had come across. An extremely flustered male nurse had pushed Sam to the very limits of his patience before Shaw had stepped in yet again and calmed things down.

So now here he was, sitting in the operating waiting room, surrounded by rookies Nash and Epstein, Officers Williams and Shaw, as well as Jerry, who had been with Nash when she had been alerted of what had happened.

He was in a room full of people, and had never felt more so alone.

He snarled at Epstein, who was hesitantly making his way towards him. The rookie backpedaled as quickly as he could.

Sam sunk his head into his hands, unwilling to close his eyes lest he see the scenario again. But the unnaturally bright light was too much for his already strained eyes.

As soon as his eyelids shut, images flashed through his mind.

"McNally, you cover me. We go in on my count of three."

"Sir, Best said I couldn't be involved in this case. Besides, even if I could be, we don't have any backup."

Sam remembered he had been beyond exasperated with his rookie at that time. She always followed protocol, and he couldn't comprehend why.

"McNally, you really want to wait until we call for backup? By that time, Tyrone will be half way to Jamaica or God knows where. As for you not being able to be involved, what kind of bullshit is that? You really going to sit back and not take down the bastard who has a personal vendetta against you? Where the hell is your want for revenge, McNally?"

She was silent, the struggle between following Best's orders and a want for self-preservation against the fear of disappointing her training officer evident in her eyes. He watched her make her decision. She looked at him, but said nothing. She didn't need to; he knew exactly what she had decided.

"Good, now that we're done being scared, let's go take down this son of a bitch."

Sam felt something wet pooling in his eyes. He didn't know what was happening. This was his fault, all his fault...

They entered the warehouse, guns drawn. He took the north and east of the building, she took the south and west. He had just begun to turn around to signal to her that it was clear when he saw a bright flash followed by three harsh bangs. She had fallen down like a rag doll, limbs limp, head lolling to the side.

"Shots fired! Officer down, repeat, officer down!"

Over and over again the scene played out in Sam's mind, like a horror movie he couldn't stop watching. Over and over and over again...

The sound of a door swinging open and shut brought Sam back to reality. He looked up through bloodshot eyes to see a surgeon in scrubs walk into the waiting room.

"Are you with Miss McNally?" he asked, his voice low and gruff. Sam nodded, his throat suddenly constricting. He swallowed.

"I'm Sam Swarek. Her partner," he answered thickly. He was momentarily confused as he looked around the room. It was empty, save for Jerry, who came and stood next to the chair where Sam was sitting. The detective introduced himself to the surgeon, but Sam's mind was elsewhere. Where was everyone? Where had they all gone?

"What time is it?" he blurted out. The surgeon's eyebrows came together for a moment before he answered smoothly.

"Almost midnight, sir." Sam couldn't believe it. He had been here for almost six hours. Why hadn't anyone come to talk to him, to tell him they were leaving, to ask him if he needed anything? He realized he had bitten off most of their heads. Jerry had probably told them to leave him alone. He was grateful for that.

He looked up at the surgeon, not bothering to stand. There was a look in his eyes that Sam had previously missed, making him suddenly uneasy.

He saw the man's mouth moving as he formed words. He saw Jerry bring a hand to his head. He felt the weight of the surgeon's hand on his shoulder. He saw the man turn and walk away, his gait unsteady.

It was only when the door swung shut behind him that Sam was able to comprehend.

Andy McNally was dead.