ROOKIE BLUE (isn't mine)


I'm trying something new. This is only a prologue, tell me if I should continue with this one. Like always your constructive criticism is most welcome! Post Take Down.



It had been a good day. No sexual abuse, no battery, no B&E, nothing except for the occasional speeding tickets and a minor brawl between drunk junkies looking for trouble. Their shift was over before they knew it. Sam Swarek had managed to go through his late paperwork with efficiency and now he was in the bullpen waiting for Andy McNally. It always took her like forever to change, but he was in no hurry. Ever since their impromptu undercover operation, they have been partnered again more often than not. All the awkward between them had finally faded. Every morning ever since, he had looked forward to spending another day with her. He knew that he was a fool to pursue any kind of agenda with his former rookie but he had come to terms with it. He was helplessly in love with McNally. She was hopelessly involved with Callaghan. That was just the way things were. No need to delve into that.

The more time he spent with her, the more he was smitten, but it felt good nonetheless. As long as it lasts, he thought, checking his watch for the umpteenth time. Today it seemed to take her more than her usual half hour to get back in her civvies. He had watched Peck and Diaz scurrying down the hall, engulfed in their private bubble. Dov had babbled away with Oliver Shaw, probably heading for the Penny. Traci had left the locker room on her own, since Noelle was on duty leave for a week, hauling her oversized colourful bag and she seemed to be in a hurry. He was alone in the bullpen. And he was getting impatient.

Maybe she left before when he was still in the locker room… He came closer to the Detective's room and peaked inside. Jerry was talking on the phone, Callaghan was standing still before a board of photographs, McLoughlin sipping on his coffee, eyes locked on the files fanned out on his desk. He took a step back and hid behind the stairs when he saw Frank Best getting ready to leave his office and retreated swiftly to the women's locker room.

What in earth could take her so long? He knocked and entered without waiting for an answer. The room was empty. Her locker was the only one still open. He walked in, and heard water running in the showers. "McNally, shall I come in and rub your back to speed things up?" he said, standing in the doorway. His only answer was the water dripping on the tiles. "McNally? You in there? Andy?"

He sighed, pondering what to do. Pricking up his ears, he stepped in and took a look inside. She was in the last but one stall. The water was flowing steadily from the shower-head but he detected no movement. "Andy, you okay? Andy?" He was rewarded by a faint moan. "Andy, I'm coming in!" He rushed to her. She was seated in the corner, her back against the tiles with her hands clenching her knees, bathing in a pool of blood. His eyes literally bulged out. He shut the tap and crouched by her side. Swapping the bath robe from its hook, he enveloped her and hugged her fiercely. She collapsed against him like a ragdoll. "Are you hurt?" he whispered, dialing 911, his eyes never leaving her. She shivered and shook her head. "No," she managed to say. "Oh, Sam, I lost my baby," she stuttered. "I lost my baby," she burst into incontrollable tears and grasped his jacket.