ROOKIE BLUE

ALL IN ALL

Thanks for the great feedback guys! I'm sad that this story is almost over. It didn't quite turned out the way I planned but I guess it could have been a lot worse!

-o-

Part 6

When she crossed the lot, she spotted him immediately. He was slouched on the hood of the 1519 cruiser, his arms folded, his head sinking to his chest. When she reached him, he didn't even bother to open his eyes. "You drive," he said, passing around the car without looking at her. He got settled in the passenger seat.

She threw her bag on the back seat, and took the wheel. "Where to, sir?"

"Ssshhh… Don't shout, please!" he begged, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Just drive East. I don't want the sun in my face. Maybe we'll get through this day without a hitch. Try not to over think anything and your bad luck might even turn around."

"Say that again? What's your point, that I'm bad luck?"

"I'm saying that I didn't witness any of your Irish luck so far," he grinned, his eyes still closed.

"If I didn't have bad luck I wouldn't have any luck at all," she snapped, feigning righteous indignation. The patrol car left the station smoothly and engaged in traffic.

"You must have pulled out all the stops then."

She chuckled. "I'll behave," she promised.

At some point, after a few miles cruising, she realized he was sound asleep and she stopped the car in an alley.

"Sam? Sam?"

"Mmm, yeah, yeah, I'm not sleeping."

"Maybe you should drive. And teach me something."

"Today?"

"Why not?"

"Andy, look at me." He opened his eyes and shot her his best puppy stare. "I'm a mess, I'm gonna need at least a gallon of coffee just to keep my eyes open! And I'll be grumpy. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want grumpy, right?"

"You're the one who wanted to show me how it's done," she grinned. "I had no idea that you couldn't hold your liquor," she said, voice full of bravado.

"I can!" he shouted and sat up before moaning in despair, massaging his temple. "But not today," he trailed.

"I can see that." She fumbled in back of the car and throw him a bottle of water. "At least, you stay hydrated."

With that, she pulled away. Her head was still pounding. Despite her boasting, she felt weak and disoriented. She tried to concentrate on the road and potential suspects but after a couple of minutes, her thoughts inevitably drifted back to the night before.

"Hey Sam, we're here."

A soft snore echoed her voice. Great, she thought, mulling over the possibility of leaving him in his car to sleep it off. But he'll be mad at her. Madder that is. Things were difficult enough with her TO. She nudged him gently, eliciting louder snores and a few punches. "Sam!" she shouted.

He scowled. "Now what?"

"You're here Sam."

He shuddered and looked around. "Where's here?"

She patted him on the arm. "Listen, I'm going to keep your truck and drive myself home. I'll come and get you tomorrow morning. You okay with that? Do you need my help?"

It had taken him a few seconds to come back to his senses. "Want to have a last drink?" he tried.

"No thanks, I think I'll pass," she smiled. She punched his arm. "And you Sam, you need to get some sleep, and you've had enough for tonight already if you ask me."

"Good, because I don't. Come on. Just one drink," he begged. "We could talk…" He flashed her a wide grin.

"What if I take you to your word?"

She didn't plan that they'd start to argue, but they did. It was surprisingly arousing.

"That's ridiculous," he finally said. "What you need is not a good night sleep, it's getting drunk with your partner. That's exactly what we should have done that night, to get the shooting out of your system. And that's exactly what I plan we do tonight."

"Sam, it's alcohol talking, you…"

"Damn right it is McNally. You'll thank me later. Come on."

It was a stupid idea. That's probably why she had followed him to his place, -that and the fact that she'd rather be with him than without. She had missed him, and it was a great opportunity to start again from scratch.

"Okay."

He genuinely looked happy for a second. She remembered she frowned. Why would he?

While they were cruising, Sam kept his eyes closed and tried to piece together last night events. He really had to rein in the drinking. He could only remember flashes. He glanced in Andy's direction. She was driving with her eyes on the road, absorbed in her own thoughts. But even though they had only exchanged a few words since they had left the precinct, cruising together felt easy and natural again. All the awkwardness was gone. He checked his watch and realized that they had been riding for the last two hours.

"What about some coffee?" he asked gently, patting her arm.

"Oh, yes!" she sighed with relief. "This headache is killing me."

"We didn't have much sleep last night."

"Yeah, and too much to drink. But at least we're good!" she beamed. "We are. Totally worth it! But, seriously, you should consider buying another brand. My mouth tastes like sand."

"Tell me about it," he chuckled. "Best headache of my life."

She pulled over on a diner lot and killed the engine. She sat back, unbuckled her seat belt and massaged her neck. "I really could use 24 hours of sleep…" she sighed, clenching the wheel. She closed her eyes. Her hands slid on her lap. Swarek watched her as she fell asleep instantly. He sat back and went back eight hours before.

"I said, get – in – the – car –NOW!"

"M'am, yes M'am," he sniggered. He came closer, his mood boosted by an unexpected rush of adrenaline. No way she was going to force him into doing anything. He was a mere few inches from her. His hands fell on her shoulders, and he shoved her brutally against the car. He knew that it was so totally wrong but he could not stop. She was wiggling in his arms, trying to get away. Her body, her scent, the heat radiating from her, it was far more intoxicating than he had anticipated. He heard himself groan and he pinned her to the car, pressing his body against her. She went limp and he stopped. She was staring at him with a mix of fear and lust. Fear. That's exactly what had brought him back to reality. He let her go and took a step back.

"Give me my keys."

"No, you cannot drive. Please, let me drive you home."

"McNally…"

"Come on Sam," she came closer and put her flat hand on his chest, "I'm pretty sure I saw Ollie coming out the back door."

"So what?" he snapped.

"I know that you don't care about your career, but I don't plan on resigning anytime soon, so please, will you just get in the darn truck… please?"

When she stopped in front of his building, he was half asleep on the passenger seat. She tried to wake him up. "Sam, we're here."

"Where's here?" he mumbled, blinking.

"You're home, you and John," she chuckled.

He was drunk, but not that drunk. He was tired. It's been a long day. And her being next to him in her truck, that was sort of perfect. Before he had time to think it over, "Want to have a last drink?"

"No thanks, I think I'll pass," she smiled.

It had taken him some persuasion to convince her. He had to resort to saying things he was not proud in retrospect.

"I can't Sam."

"Of course you can. You simply don't want to. You afraid of getting carried away?"

"I can behave," she said with a straight face.

"Yeah, yeah, been there, seen that, done that…"

"Are you daring me?"

He locked his eyes on her. Next time he knew, she was on her couch, filling one shot glass after another.

He got out of the car as silently as he could possibly manage. Shading his eyes from the sun, he trotted up to the diner. He'll wake her with a large cup of strong coffee and they'll be good to go. He pushed the glass door. The door ring echoed in his head and a light moan escaped his lips. The diner was unusually quiet for this time of day. His eyes fanned the room. An old guy crumpled in his booth in the left corner, a middle aged woman with yellow hair in the middle. The waitress had puffy eyes and a red complexion. Oh, oh… Armed robbery in progress. Probably some addict looking for quick cash. He squared his shoulders unconsciously, his hand reaching out to his gun. He unfastened casually the clasp on his way and leaned onto the bar, one elbow on the counter, his other hand concealed by the railing, clenched on his weapon. "Morning," he cheered, his eyes intent. He nodded and put his finger to his mouth. The waitress nodded back, tears welling up.

"What would you need today, officer?" she asked. Her voice was steady enough despite the situation.

"I will have two large light coffees to go. Huh, great day today," he continued, questioning her silently. Her eyes went wide and she shot a terrified glance to the kitchen. She started to breathe heavily. The last thing he needed was a panic attack. He pointed his finger to the coffee maker and she complied in a haze. She was trying her best but her shudder made her spill most of it all over her apron. Sam was making small talk, assessing the situation. From where he stood, he had no direct view inside the kitchen. He stepped to the other end of the counter and fiddled with a basket of pastries. "Are they fresh?" he said loudly. "My partner has a poor stomach, I would not want her to be sick."

The waitress turned around, her face distorted by fear. "What you don't want is her being mad at you, Officer. Pastries and women don't agree. Skip the bagel. You take one for yourself," she insisted.

Okay. So it was only one man. He could probably take him down by himself, but he was concerned with the patrons and unsure of the waitress's reaction. "Right, you're right. She put on some extra weight already." He motioned to the back of the bar, hoping that the guy could not see him and pushed her out of his way. She nodded frantically and he charged inside the kitchen, gun in hand.