A/N: Well... this is it. I hope you've enjoyed the story. I must commend Ben Bass (and perhaps the directors of Rookie Blue), his face speaks a million words even though the script might not. Quite honestly, those little flashes were the inspiration behind each chapter.

Side note: Aldermere mall (from "Heart & Sparks"), to my understanding, doesn't actually exist. Oliver name checked it, but I think it is a fictional location. Thus, I'm not entirely certain I'm even spelling it correctly. If it is a real place and I've spelled it incorrectly, please let me know!

-6-

When Andy tells him she loves him, he's ill prepared. He silently curses himself for not seeing it coming earlier; she'd been acting strange and secretive all day. He wants to return the gesture, wishes he can, but he's promised himself that he won't. The secrets of his family come first and being in a serious relationship only complicates things. The end result can only be painful for the both of them.

To his surprise, she smiles past his silence and laughs. She doesn't care that he won't return her overture. He'd have figured she'd get mad or at the least, annoyed. She's far from either and it gives him pause and he begins to reconsider his choices.

Weeks later he thinks he's ready to tell her everything: About his life growing up, his dad, his sister, his mother… and he begins to think that maybe everything will be okay if he does tell her that he loves her. He thinks she won't run, that she'd be the support he's always wanted; the functional in his disfunction.

He never gets his chance to tell her though because Jerry dies and a terrible pain curses through his body. He feels his friend's death in every way and it dawns on him that he wasn't there when his friend needed him most. Every fibre of his being burns in anger when he realizes that a simple decision cost him his best friend.

When he sees the bruises on Peck's face and the cuts on her lip and forehead, he's faced with the cruel reminder that it could have been Andy, but for a terrible twist of fate. And it hits him hard.

His stomach twists remembering the shootings at Supernova and at the Garrison Park rec center. He recalls the gut wrenching fear he had when he thought she'd never get out alive from the laundry mat at the Aldermere Mall. The what-if of it all frightens him to the core. With Jerry's death it dawns on him that where Andy McNally is concerned, he has been terribly, stupidly foolish.

He makes a hurried decision that he will never be careless with his heart again. He packs away his feelings for her like a box of discarded clothing and shuts her out almost immediately. She's quick to notice and eventually calls him on it. The compartmentalizing of his emotions allows him to be direct when he tells her that they can't be together. When she questions him, he finds an excuse that is somewhere between "I'm a broken mess" and "I couldn't bear it if anything were to happen to you." When he suggests that they could one day be friends again, it sounds hollow even to his ears. She tearfully refuses to accept it; she wants to fight for them, to work through it.

Like her declaration of love to him, he's again ill prepared. He doesn't expect her reaction, it doesn't go as he'd figured and he's left speechless. She's crying before him and it takes everything he has within him not to make it right again. But it's fight or flight. He makes a sacrifice and chooses the latter and climbs into his truck. He's a coward in that moment and knows it.

…

His emotions in the weeks that follow are difficult to control and they bubble to the surface when he sees her, panicked and holding a grenade, in the basement of the Royal York. He realizes almost instantly that he'd been fooling himself and that she'd been right about him. When his hands steady hers, he knows that he's ready to die for this woman. And it's then that he wishes there were enough words in the world for him to say what he wants to say and enough time to say it all.

But time runs out before he can find the words.

…

Change or die. It runs through his mind like a mantra. He knows he needs to change himself, that he needs to let go of the fear and insecurity if he wants to make things better.

The only reason he holds on tight is because he doesn't want people to get hurt. Of all people, he doesn't want her to get hurt.

It has to count for something.

Because. He raises his fist and raps it against the wooden door.

…

Andy pulls a batch of cookies from the oven and places the pan on the counter. She burns the tip of her fingers when she grabs a hot chocolate chip cookie and stuffs it in her mouth. It's a little too hot, and she fans at her mouth, willing the heat to subside.

A knock sounds at the door and with a full mouth, she opens it. Her eyes widen when she sees who is before her.

"Thaaam?" She hastily swallows and tries again. "Sam? What are you doing here?"

"Are you eating?" He asks with a smile. He stays in the threshold of the door even though she's motioned him through.

"Cookies," she says sheepishly. "Just eating my—" she stops herself, pursing her lips shut. "Just cookies," she corrects.

"I brought something for you," He hands her a shoebox. "I should've showed it to you a long time ago."

She takes the box in her hands. Its edges are worn and there's a layer of dust on its lid. She gingerly wipes the dust away. "What is it?"

"My life." His answer is simple and he watches her as she looks up from the box, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"It's everything. Everything I should have told you." He clears his throat. "About me, that is. It's all there."

"In the box?" She looks back down at it, her touch becoming more gentle as she presses at a torn edge.

He nods. "I want you to look at it. There's articles, photographs. Anything… everything you want to know, I'll tell you. It's a mess, but…" He pauses, eyes fixated on Andy. "I'm a little bit messy too."

She's stunned. She moves her head, nodding ever so slightly. "We are." She's a bit breathless and her words betray the fact. "I mean, we both are. Messy, that is," she says, clarifying.

"I'll leave you with it then."

"No!" Her voice is hurried and she grabs his arm. "Stay. I want you to stay. Please." He searches her face and there's something in her eyes that he can't quite define. He yields and closes the door behind him, following her to her sofa. She takes a seat, but he's too nervous to sit and leans against some shelves instead.

Andy lifts the lid to the box and carefully pulls the pieces of Sam's life out. He's shaking and hides the fact by tucking his hands into his pockets. The room is silent but for the low hum of the refrigerator. It's been months since he's looked in the box and he's half forgotten what it contains.

She carefully touches the photographs of his father, taken from inside the family meeting room at Maplehurst. He can tell she recognizes the location, there's a particular uniformity to prison layouts. There's a newspaper clipping that asks for information on an attack on a thirteen year old girl at Rouge Park. The death certificates for both of his parents. She sees the yellowed, typed withdrawal papers from summer camp and a list of Sarah's medications which Sam has long since memorized.

Andy picks up his father's obituary, cut from the Toronto Star and she runs her finger across the date listed and looks up at him. "July 15th," she whispers. He nods. He knows she knows about the date and he awaits the questions. But none come, instead she gently begins putting each piece back into the shoebox. Everything he's wanted to say all along is squeezed into that one little shoebox.

At long last, she says, "Thank you."

A part of him wants to leave, to gather up the remnants of his tortured life and walk out the door. But he can't. There's one last thing that he needs to understand. There's one last thing that he needs to fight for.

"Why because?" He asks. His words are so softly spoken that Andy's unsure she heard him at all.

"What?" She looks up at him from the sofa, confused.

"This morning you wrote because on the coffee cup. Why?"

"I—," she becomes silent, unable to answer the question. Her eyes fall to her hands and she occupies them by squaring the shoebox to a corner of her coffee table.

Sam takes a step toward her, hands still in his pockets. "Why, Andy?" He asks again. "I need to know."

She draws in a deep breath, steadying herself. "Because— Today. I just. I knew." She shakes her head. "I know. I figured after last year…" Andy looks up at him and he sees that look again in her eyes. The look that says that there's a million more things she means to say, the look that tells him that she's lying. Not about the date, probably not even about the intention behind the coffee, but about the meaning of the word.

"Okay."

She knows he sees through her lie and her face reddens. Sam so easily unnerves her and she stands to shake the nervousness away. "I made some cookies, did you want any?" Andy says awkwardly, changing the subject. She moves past him toward the kitchen, but he stops her when he says, "Because… I pushed you away."

Andy feels suddenly light headed and her heart leaps into her throat. She swallows hard and turns to face him. Shaking her head, she says, "No. Because… I ran away."

He moves closer toward her, his eyes black, his body mere inches from her own. "Because… I've been so stupid."

She shrugs her shoulders. She's never thought he'd been stupid, but she does want to ask about Marlo. She doesn't dare though. The air is charged between them and she's afraid of it dissipating. It's the closest she's felt to him in months and she feels as though she's barely holding on.

"It's over." His voice is barely above a whisper and she's not sure she hears him right. Thinks maybe that it's a figment of her imagination. That maybe she's misunderstanding him, misunderstanding the context. Thankfully he repeats himself, reassuring her. "Because… it's always been you."

His fingers lightly caress her cheek and she leans into the touch. She thinks to herself how much she's missed him and missed this.

Sam's hesitant, he doesn't want to press any more than she's willing. His body is taut and he's pretending he's more confident than he feels. When she leans into his hand, it's the confirmation that he'd been waiting for and he relaxes. He opens his mouth to say the words he's been bungling since the day he met her.

"Because… I…I…"

Her hand clasps over his and she finishes for him. "Because I still love you."

Sam nods. Relief washes over him and in a whispered voice, he agrees. "Because I still love you. Too."

There's a brief second where the air feels thick and neither is able to breath. The second passes and all hesitation, all worry disappears. Arms become tangled, lips intertwine and bodies press together. It's familiar and hurried; desperation and longing rocks them both.

She winds her arms around him, pulling him closer. He's hyperaware of where her fingers are, they clutch at his hair, pull at his t-shirt. He eagerly digs his fingers into her waist, inches them up her spine. It is as though their hands are possessed. She gasps as his hot breath meets her neck and she can feel him everywhere. When he hears her, he fists the fabric of her shirt, willing himself to keep grounded.

The back of her legs meet the edge of the sofa and they tumble upon it. In seconds it's skin, lips and a melee of limbs which tangle, sending decorative pillows to the floor.

Hours later, the glow of the sunrise through Andy's apartment window awakens Sam. He feels a warmth against him and finds Andy curled into him, asleep. Their clothes are strewn across the floor and under her coffee table. He smiles sleepily and pulls the sofa throw tighter over them. He presses his lips to the top of her head, grateful that there are now a thousand less words that need to be spoken and a thousand more yet to come.

He runs his hand along her bare shoulder and thinks for once that maybe July 15th isn't such a terrible day.

.:FIN:.

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