Hi everyone! So I had a sudden bout of inspiration for a multi-chapter story of Andy and Sam's evolving relationship after the broken Landy engagement. It would be incredibly weird, and in my opinion, somewhat wrong, if Andy suddenly jumped into Sam's arms after breaking it off with Luke. I feel like the McSwarek relationship needs to evolve in a platonic way (with, of course, the obligatory flirty one-liners) before they can begin a proper romantic relationship. So here's 'The In-Between Time'.

I hope you all enjoy! As always, please, please review. I live for them. I bleed for them. I truly love reading all of your wonderful comments.

Andy slowly peeled off her uniform, one piece at a time. Vest, shirt. Boots, pants. Undershirt, underwear. There was no need for modesty, as she was the only one in the locker room. All the other women on day shift were long gone, and the ones on night shift had already headed out a half hour ago.

Wrapping the towel stowed in her locker around her naked body, she headed towards the showers and turned the water as hot as it would go. The scalding liquid stung her bare skin, but she pushed through the momentary physical discomfort because on an entirely different level, between the emotional and psychological, she thought that the hotter the water was, the easier it could wash away the day's events.

It was amazing how life could change in ten hours.

Hour one consisted of getting coffee and a chocolate croissant, Sam allowing her to eat the flaky pastry in the car in a rare moment of conceding to her wishes.

Hour four consisted of both of them griping to each other about the lack of interesting calls. There had been three drunken disturbances and a potential domestic violence call that turned out to be nothing more than the home owners' parrot practicing its yelling routine.

And then in hour six, all hell had broken loose. What had started out as a routine check on the hot spots for trespassing by the homeless led them to discover a half-decayed body of a little girl with her skull smashed in and a rusty pipe covered in dried blood lying on the ground next to her.

The four hours after her and Sam's discovery had been the worst four hours she had ever encountered on the job. Canvassing the entire twenty mile radius, talking to the homeless that lived around there, and even the discovery of the body was nothing compared to notifying the parents, a John and Cindy Kingston, of the brutal death of their beautiful eight year old daughter.

Blinking several times to rid her eyes of the remaining tears, she allowed the water to simply rush over her for a few minutes more before turning the shower off. She struggled into her clothes after a half-ass drying job and pulled her wet hair into a loose bun. Shouldering her duffel bag, she walked out of the locker room, almost missing the figure leaning against the wall next to the door.

"Hey, McNally," Sam said in that soft voice she both loved and hated.

"Sam," she replied, adjusting the bag on her shoulder as she stood in front of him.

"Rough day."

"Yeah."

They stood there for a few moments, just looking at each other as only two people who have been through hell and back can.

"You hungry?" Sam asked. She knew it was an invitation to go out to eat, and while she wanted nothing more than to go home and drink herself into oblivion, she had the sudden urge for company. Particularly Sam's. So she nodded, agreeing to his unspoken proposal. He held out his hand and she handed him her bag, which he shouldered himself.

They walked out in silence, the parking lot almost empty save for his truck and Best's car.

"Frankie's okay?" Sam asked, pulling away from the precinct.

"Frankie's is great. They have killer burgers. And shakes."

"Their shakes are the best. Particular strawberry."

"Strawberry? Would've pegged you as a chocolate guy. You've had chocolate every time we've had shakes."

"I like to shake things up." He looked over at her with a cocky half grin, and despite the massive black cloud of despair hanging over both their heads, she smiled back.

Thirty minutes later they were seated in a booth with a plate of hot fries shared between them.

"It's not that weird McNally. Just try it," Sam urged, waving a fry in her face.

"No. That's just - ew, that's just gross! Dipping French fries in milkshakes seems weird, even for you."

"I'm pulling rank and ordering you to try it."

"Abusing the power of the badge and gun. How very totalitarian of you." She gave a cry of laughter as he smiled that infamous smile of his. "And your using your dimples as leverage. They might work on other girls, but not me."

"I'm offended you think that they just work on girls. You wouldn't believe how many times I've gotten Oliver to do my paperwork."

"Do they work on Jerry also?"

"Don't change the subject, McNally. Just try the damn thing!"

"Okay, okay! Fine, you win." With some trepidation she tasted the seemingly awful combination and was pleasantly rewarded. Sam leaned back in satisfaction at the involuntary look of happy surprise on her face.

"Told you."

"That's really good," she conceded.

"I know. It's way better than tequila to chase away a bad day."

"I'm more of a scotch girl, but even this fry-shake combo beats that."

"I know you're a scotch girl, McNally. Don't you remember last week's drinking game fiasco?"

"Fiasco? You're just bitter that I drank you under the table."

"Let's recap the event, shall we? I drank Epstein under, you drank me under, and Shaw drank you under. So you don't get to gloat."

"Oh, but I do. I took you down. Again."

"Again? Hitting me where it hurts, how very...Peck of you."

"Still blocking the shift from three days ago from your memory?"

"Who knew that riding with her would be worse than riding with you? Freaking trial."

"Hey, when duty calls, duty calls."

"Did Callaghan use that excuse on you when he subpoenaed you?"

"First off, he didn't subpoena me, because that would mean I was an uncooperative witness. And secondly, Callaghan doesn't get to tell me what to do anymore."

"Like he ever did in the first place."

"I'll drink to that." She lifted her tall glass of chocolate milk shake and clinked it against his.

"You settled into your new place okay?"

"Yeah. It's still not even half unpacked, but whatever. It'll get there."

"I heard it took you five months to hang a picture up in your old place."

"It was four."

"You ever need a handyman, you know who to call."

"You talking about Shaw or Best?"

"Funny, McNally. I'm serious though."

"You better be, because I'm half tempted to take you up on your offer."

"I'll bring the scotch." He smiled at her, and the smile she returned faded as the thought of that little girl reached the front of her mind again.

"McNally, don't." Sam's smile also faded as he took in her sudden change in demeanor. "Don't feel guilty. You can't hang on to this or it will eat you alive."

"Like my dad?"

"Like your dad. It's good to grieve, it's good to mourn, to remember. But not to obsess."

She took a deep breath and nodded, knowing he was right, but not wanting him to be. "I know."

"Good. Now, drink up. Whoever gets a brain freeze first doesn't have to pay."

"Like you'd actually let me pay."

"That's true. It's a hypothetical incentive though."

"How about hypothetical manners?"

"Not a chance. My mama raised me too well. The man always pays."

"I think I would've liked your mum."

"Yeah, you would've. She would've like you too."

She watched him dip another fry in his shake. Broken engagements, dead little girls, even the inability to properly unpack - all those things were somehow manageable with a friend. And Sam Swarek was a wonderful friend.