A/N: This is my first fanfic. I'm not usually a first person writer so this was an experiment for me. Let me know what you think-be gentle!
I do not own Rookie Blue. If Sam's for sale, though, let me know. :)
I can't sleep.
I know this because I've been trying for almost two hours. Two hours of tossing and turning. Cleaning my small apartment seems pointless as it's clean. Let's face it. I'm not here very often and I'm a basically neat person anyway. I have no doubt that a party is raging at the Penny and yet that sounds unappealing too. All I can do is sit in the dark and stare.
My mind wanders with a sort of blank aimlessness that allows me to think about everything and nothing at once, not settling on anything long enough to mull. And yet something is eating at me. I pretend I don't know what's making me restless but I do. I just don't want to acknowledge it because I'm afraid of what will happen if I do. It has a name.
Damn it. As soon as I think his name I'm overwhelmed with feelings. Goose bumps break across my skin like a wave crashing against the beach. My insides are quaking as the shock of the night's events wears off. I imagine his dark eyes, that dimpled smile, the sound of his voice, the feel of his arm around my waist, his mouth on mine.
Oh man, I'm in sooooo much trouble.
And you know what got me into all of this shit? My stupid friggin bad luck. I swear I'm cursed. I've been in a lot of really big things since my training started. Not because I'm shit-hot at my job but because I'm just a shit magnet. I'm really thinking about getting it tattooed on my forehead. Like a warning label for the innocents who have yet to figure out they should run if I'm involved in something.
The big bust was no different.
It started because yes, yet again, I fucked up an undercover op. Of course I did. Why wouldn't I? I'm Andy friggin McNally. It's, like, my specialty. Just ask Sam Swarek.
I would have gladly crawled into a hole and died if it hadn't been for the jackass otherwise known as Boyd. Cursed I may be but an easy-to-intimidate pushover I'm not. It's hard to be intimidated by a moron desperately needing a shave and haircut. He thought because I'm a rookie that he'd have the upper hand. Until Jerry started sticking up for me. Then Sam. Then me myself, asking how the hell I was supposed to know Gabe was part of an op when clearly Boyd the Jackass couldn't keep up with his own guy. And God bless Diaz for trying to stick up for me too, even if it was painfully lame and he got a what-the-hell look from Jerry that almost made me burst into laughter right there.
And what my astonishingly bad luck couldn't wrap up my mouth finished. What about me? Why can't I be Edie? Blindingly stupid. And still, I know without a doubt that I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Sam was sticking his neck on the line to clean up the goat rope of a mess I'd made. How could I not do the same for him? He's had my back since the beginning. Even that first day when he hated me for wrecking his big career break.
I'm not sure how I knew I'd be able to handle this op after screwing up the hooker roundup. Like Jerry said, I couldn't give that shit away. Although Gail didn't seem to have a problem, did she? Heh. The dishonesty and honest to God disgust I felt standing there was hard to overcome. And it was humiliating to have Sam watch me fail so miserably. This was my chance to redeem myself and being his girlfriend seemed a whole lot less…dishonest and most certainly not disgusting.
Twisted right? I mean, I'm with Luke. I've agreed to move in with him. And yet every time I catch sight of Sam I have to pray my underwear doesn't spontaneously combust.
I can't scrub the night of the blackout from my brain. Yeah, I got the drop on him. He didn't know I was going to practically attack him, push him into the wall and have my way with him. But it didn't take long for him to become a very active participant. Time and again his mouth descended on mine, hot and open, ready to devour me whole.
Luke and I have a very…satisfying sexual relationship. He's sweet and considerate and occasionally he can be adventurous. But if I'm being totally honest with myself, what I feel for him is vanilla compared to what I felt for Sam that night. I've tried to tell myself that it was the overwhelming emotions of the shooting that made it so mind blowing but I know that's not the case.
Something about Sam just turns me on. The cocky grin. The swagger. The way that he treats me as an equal. I don't know what it is. He just looks at me and I know.
And the knowledge is terrifying to me.
Luke loves me. I know he does. He's a good man. But his passion is his job. Not that it isn't for everyone on the force but it's all consuming for him. Not me. Not us. I'm just…an accessory to his career I think. He practically blew me off until the night of the shooting. I was just a rookie. Easy come, easy go. A new girl every cycle. That's Luke. Not because he's a playboy but because he's too dedicated to his job to ever fully dedicate himself to a relationship. And then I changed things by killing a serial killer and saving his latest victim. Suddenly my popularity was proportionate only to Luke's interest in me.
The fact that he shut his fucking office door in my face was not lost on me. Fucker. Man, that went all over me. And then suddenly he's all concerned boyfriend again, volunteering for the cover team. It bugged me. I can't lie. But then I thought maybe Sam was right. Maybe it was a sign of devotion and concern for me. But now? In the dark of the night after the adrenaline has long faded and I'm alone (again), I'm beginning to wonder if my initial suspicions weren't correct. That he volunteered because it was a potentially big op with a great chance of failing based solely on me. Was he protecting me or trying to protect his career and reputation from the potential fallout if I screwed up?
I can't seem to reconcile these two sides of Luke I see. Which makes me question why I'm with him. Am I really moving in with someone when I can't understand what motivates him to be with me? What if I had fucked up the op? Would he have greeted me with that golden boy smile and big hug? I just wasn't sure.
And then there's Sam. It always comes back to Sam.
He just does something to me. That night of the blackout I needed him. I wanted him on me. In me. We were like gasoline and a spark. Thrust together we just ignite. Every time. He didn't coddle me that night or treat me with reverence or like I was a stupid girl playing at something she had no business poking at. Sam is a strong, passionate man and he was going to give and take what he wanted. And in that moment we were equal. I didn't have to worry about fragile egos or faking it til I made it. I was all woman to him and we could devour each other in a wholly enjoyable experience. That is not how I feel with Luke. There's no edge. No desperation. And if I'm honest with myself, no equality.
I know that Luke mistakes my inexperience with ignorance. Sam does not. Sam gets that the sum of my life experiences are more than most people can shoulder. He doesn't see our age gap as an issue or my inexperience in law enforcement as a sign that I'll never rise much above what I am now. In fact, Sam is often the kick in the ass I need to believe in myself.
It was him looking me in the eye in the mirror that brought me out of my giggly, embarrassed school girl fit in the locker room. His eyes roaming over me approvingly when he walked in that told me I looked fierce. Although, I did thoroughly enjoy flashing him an almost indecent proportion of cleavage and telling him I could be way cheap. I was hoping to shock him a little. Throw him off balance a bit. But not Sam. A) I'm not sure there's anything I could throw at him that would shock him. And B) he already had his game face on. That gave me confidence. He wasn't overly concerned so I wasn't. If he thought I was going to screw the proverbial dog, he'd've been up front about it.
He only furthered it in the car when he restated almost verbatim what I was thinking about not being a little girl who needs her hand held. It's unsettling when he does that shit but it happens all the time. He just knows me. And then he looked me in the eye and in a tone that brooked no room for disagreement he told me that I was ready. Two simple words. I was still in a state of disbelief but it opened me up enough to admit that I was terrified. And like a little boy he flashed that damn deadly dimple (say that three times fast!) and told me that's what makes it fun.
Have I mentioned that I'm in soooooo much trouble?
It was easy to fall into the role of Edie. I was kind of in the zone—in cop mode. It was easy to think on my toes, easy to pretend that Sam, or rather Gabe, and I were madly in love. It was easy to have him touching me, holding my hand, kissing me. I was a little awed by Sam as Gabe. He played the part so well. His voice was different. He had that stupid scumbag laugh that almost made me crack up the first time I heard it. We made a good team in there. I can say that with confidence.
I wasn't worried about my inexperience when I volunteered to go with Angel to pick up the heroin. But there again was my dumb luck and big mouth creating a bad situation. Angel wanted Gabe and Sam was quick to agree. It wasn't lost on me that when he agreed to go with Angel it was Sam's voice, not Gabe's, that came out. I knew the idea had been a stroke of genius just as certainly as I knew that Sam would have come un-fucking-glued if I'd left with Angel unarmed. In that one moment he was well and truly scared. It didn't last long.
And then there was the kiss. Our roles were reversed and I was starting to get a bad feeling about sending Sam off with Angel, unarmed and away from where I could offer any help. In fact, it was all I could do to hold back my protest. Edie wouldn't protest. Andy wanted to scream her head off. Sam pulled me to him, his hands on my face, his thumbs tracing my cheek. Our whispered conversation was for our ears only and I'm pretty sure even Sam wasn't really paying attention. His dark eyes glued on my mouth said it all. Even scared out of my mind and surrounded by drug trafficking bad guys, his nearness was heady.
The man is so potent he ought to come with a caution sign.
I tried to talk him out of it which was, of course, pointless. He asked if I was sure. I knew that if I said no that he'd blow the whole deal. Right then and there. I couldn't do that. I couldn't allow us to fail. Sam already knew my answer. I have no doubt he could read the mix of misery and certainty on my face because when I said the deal wasn't done, his 'oh, okay' was pretty much proof that his mind was on what was already coming next.
I couldn't help it. I didn't care. I knew I could play the kiss off as Edie later if I needed to, although I knew that Sam would never throw it in my face. I leaned into him ever so slightly and just like the first time his mouth descended on mine, hot, open, and ready.
I can't quantify how that kiss made me feel. So many emotions were roiling through me at that point that I couldn't pin any one of them down. Still can't. There was a familiarity to the kiss, a bit of desperation, passion. It was all Sam and Andy and an acknowledgment that this could be the end for one or both of us and neither of us could part without letting the other know how we feel. We might not be able to look each other in the eye and say 'I need you' on a regular day, but at that particular moment with both our lives on the line? It was the only thing we could do.
The kiss was over just as quickly as it had started. His eyes were on mine as I wiped my gloss from his mouth in an intimate and totally unplanned fashion. I don't know why that particular move is so shocking to me compared to the kiss but it was my natural reaction—territorial and…couple-y. At that moment he was my mine, not Edie's. The spark in his eye said he knew as much and it wasn't lost on me when he bit his bottom lip, no doubt in search of the lingering taste of our kiss. I knew that's what he was doing because I did the same thing when I rolled my lips, pretending to redistribute my lipgloss. Like I really gave a flying fuck if my lips looked okay when my partner was about to walk into the unknown.
I was desperate. I called to Angel and, with my eyes on Sam, I told Angel I couldn't let Gabe leave without his gun. Angel was delighted and so was Sam. He gave me that cocky little wink and grinned at Ricky as he took the revolver. It wasn't much but it might keep him alive long enough for help to get to him. He touched my chin on his way back by, blowing me a kiss. I couldn't help but smile into his eyes. Another intimate Sam and Andy moment, so fleeting that to Ricky and Angel we appeared exactly as we were supposed to—a couple in love. Sam even went a little over the top, blowing me another kiss as he walked out with Angel. His way of reminding me that the terror made it fun and he was having a ball. I couldn't help rolling my eyes at him, telling him without words that I thought he was an idiot (in a completely affectionate, you-better-not-get-killed-or-I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass manner).
When they walked out, the desperation was back. Now all I could do was wait for the call. It already seemed like eons and they probably hadn't even left the parking lot. I had to trust that Noelle, Boyd, and Luke would do what they needed to do to keep Sam safe. While Ricky might be armed he smelled of Oliver's fresh paint. He was new to the game and just as nervous, if not more, as I was. I got him talking pretty easily and when he said Bergen was in town, my heart stopped. My ears began to buzz. As soon as Bergen laid eyes on Sam his cover would be blown and he'd be dead. He had no idea he was walking into a death sentence.
Before I had time to even comprehend, I was on my feet and moving. Ricky's voice, panicked and over-loud, stopped me in my tracks. I should have been terrified for myself when I turned and saw him holding the gun on me, but I wasn't. I was terrified for Sam and one way or the other—dead or alive—I was going to get him help. I practically dared Ricky to shoot me, knowing how hard it is to face someone down the barrel of a gun, how hard it is to actually pull the trigger. I counted on that knowledge as I turned and left the building, squeezing my eyes shut in silent prayer that I was quick enough to save Sam. It comforted me to know that one way or another the op was going to be blown. Either I was running out there and ending it myself or I'd be shot and they'd have to end it, assuming our covers were blown.
I couldn't just stand idly by and allow Sam to walk into a death trap.
As soon as I hit the cool air of the outdoors I began to run, cursing my hooker boots. As soon as Boyd came around the hood of the car I began to scream my head off. Every second counted and I knew Sam didn't have many left. Noelle was on the radio as the words were tumbling out of my mouth. I saw my fear for Sam mirrored in her face. I've always admired Noelle but she will always have my gratitude and respect for what she did that night. She and Sam are close and like me, she was going to do everything she could to save him.
The car ride was terrible. I still don't remember much of it. Just that it seemed to last forever and the word's 'shots fired' ringing through the silence, the sound of automatic weapons in the background. I remember Noelle leaning into me, yelling into the radio, but I couldn't tell you what was said. My mind was in some sort of suspended animation and all I could think about was the goofy, aren't-we-having-a-blast smile on Sam's face when he blew me that last kiss.
Everyone piled out of the car when Boyd came screeching to a halt. I was slower, terrified of what I would see. They had one person dead. It could be Sam. My Sam. My TO. My partner. My fucking 'buddy'. My whatever the hell he was. None of those terms spoke to what he really is to me. If he were dead I would die too. I know I'd never recover from that. How could I, knowing I'd sent him to his death? I was quaking with fear, almost certain I was going to throw up as Boyd and Luke moved toward the tarpped body. His voice, my name, had me spinning as they uncovered Angel.
And there stood my Sam, same stupid grin on his face. I stood rooted to my spot, my emotions overwhelming me. I wanted to throw myself at him, hold him so tight that he couldn't breathe. I wanted to yell at him and curse him for scaring the shit out of me. I wanted to kiss him and tell him that I was glad he was okay and that I couldn't live without him. But I did none of those things.
Lights were back on, things were going back to normal.
Sam, with his sense of honor, took his leave and sent me back to Luke. Maybe I imagined what happened in the Mermaid. Maybe I saw what I wanted to see. I was relieved when I turned back to Luke and I had to tell him thank you. I knew he was the reason I was allowed to stay in the lounge with Ricky and without that extra couple of minutes, we wouldn't have known that Sam was walking into a trap. He gave me that beautiful Luke look and I put my arms around him and asked him when we were getting our keys.
I'm so conflicted. I know that Luke is a stand-up guy and while he might be over-dedicated to his work, he's pretty much perfect. I know that I can have a good life with him. What I don't know is what it will do to me. What will I give up to continue faking it for the rest of my life? It's not a chore to be with Luke but I find that I have to be different when I'm with him. Not totally me. I temper my words and actions, I bite my tongue. That's not who I am. And while Luke should be exactly what I need, should I really be smothering my natural self to tiptoe around his delicate pride? And do I want to be with someone I feel the need to protect in such a manner? I play a role when I'm with Luke and I'm beginning to think I'm not okay with that. It's not faking it til I make it. I do have feelings for Luke, but not deep ones. He deserves someone who's going to understand his dedication to his job and who's willing to be what he wants her to be. Someone who is as genteel as he is and who would embrace his ideal of life. I don't fit naturally into that role and it's not fair. To me or him.
And what about my feelings for Sam? Sam scares the shit out of me. He's a one and done sort of guy. I know that any kind of relationship that happens between us will be deeply passionate and it scares me. Because to allow yourself to fall into a relationship means that you open yourself up to crushing heartbreak—the kind that leaves people pining for a lifetime. Can I do that with Sam? We're police officers. We put our lives on the line everyday. What if he was killed? What if I was killed? And let's face it, it's not like cops are known for their steady and lasting relationships. Just ask Dov. Or Chris.
I think in the beginning my fear was that he'd eventually grow tired of me and leave, taking my heart with him. After six months with him, I can see that wouldn't be the case. Sam has been devoted to me even when my own boyfriend wasn't. The stuff with my dad taught me that. Sam was fiercely loyal to me and dad while Luke was just furious. And yet I'm still hesitant. I'm still scared.
Something about Sam holds me back. Maybe it's because I know he's gone through hell watching me be in this relationship with Luke. Maybe it's because I'm afraid of hurting him. Maybe I'm just chickenshit. I don't know but it's agonizing. All I want is Sam. I want his arms around me. I want his words of encouragement and advice. I want him to tell me what to do and that it's going to be okay.
And I can't have it. Because this has to be my decision. I have to make the choices. I have to decide if I stay with Luke and have a perfectly boring but decent life with a really good guy who's on his way to being a white shirt or if I risk it all for Sam. Luke is the easy answer. If I had no Sam Swarek in my life, Luke would be the answer and I'd be fine with it. But there is a Sam Swarek and he was holding my heart long before I realized he ever had it.
Do I keep fighting this pull? Do I keep hurting a good man? Yep, Luke's one of the best. But so is Sam. He might have a bad boy label but he personifies what the badge means. Choosing him would mean that I was taking the path less travelled. It would be tougher, probably close to impossible sometimes, but the reward was so much greater.
See? See why I can't sleep? My brain is all over the place. My phone is next to me on the nightstand and I want so badly to pick it up. I want to call him. To hear his voice. To assure myself one more time that he's okay. But I won't. I can't. Not until I make my decision. I have two good men in my life and I'm not willing to hurt either one anymore.
What do I do? Who do I choose?