Hey guys!

This story idea came to me a couple days ago and I thought it would be a really interesting one to write, so even though I'm still getting used to being back at school and have massive loads of homework, I just had to start this.

On a side note, who's excited for the two-hour season finale? I CANNOT wait, I'm beside myself with anticipation and excitement! We better get some good sexy Sandy time, or so help me...=)

Anyways, please review, they mean so much to me and make me very happy! Hope you all enjoy! xx

Sam had never believed in superstition, but half a year of knowing Andy McNally had him second guessing his original belief.

He often found himself marveling at the impossible situations she found herself in. Held at gunpoint - multiple times. Part of a hostage situation where she had forgotten to load her gun. Having her training officer get shot by a child pedophile and almost getting shot herself. Getting choked to near death by an escaped prisoner.

Sam wondered just how many mirrors Andy had broken in her lifetime to warrant that much bad luck.

And now, on top of everything that had happened to her previously, she was now being targeted by a Mexican drug cartel. Apparently gunning down one of their own didn't sit too well with the gang, even if you were a cop. Of course, Epstein and Williams were being targeted too, since they had been on patrol with Andy when it had all happened. Epstein just had his own horrible luck, and Noelle had been the one to actually pull the trigger, so it wasn't just Andy. But still, his rookie had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Typical.

So now here he was, on guard duty to make sure nothing happened to her. He didn't mind watching her at all, actually, but he thought Best would have had more sense than to assign him to protective detail for a female officer. A female officer who was his rookie. His rookie with whom he was romantically entangled with, to an extent. Frank was a good white shirt, but he seemed to lack in the personal relationship common sense area.

"I don't want you here, Sam," Andy called, her voice muffled by the door that separated the two of them.

"Do you think I want to be here either, McNally? I'd much rather be at the Penny instead of babysitting you," he said, slightly exasperated.

"Yeah, well, there's probably some beer in the fridge. Help yourself." Andy really didn't want Sam in her house, at night. Things with Luke had just been broken off a couple weeks ago, and while they were on amicable terms, he hadn't been exactly thrilled to hear that Sam Swarek would be her protective detail. She distinctly remembered him muttering something to the extent of "Swarek always has the best fucking luck", or something along those lines.

"Sam?" she called tentatively. She had forgotten to grab her clothes from her bedroom before taking a shower. She couldn't exactly walk out in the hallway with her training officer watching her with nothing but a towel wrapped around her.

"What, McNally?" His voice sounded rough, even to his ears. The sound of the running water from the shower had driven him crazy with thoughts of his rookie in there. Naked.

"Close your eyes." She realized the command sounded absurd.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Um, I kinda forgot my clothes in my bedroom. So can you, you know, not look?" Her attempts at making the situation less awkward failed miserably.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Just make it quick." Oh God, if the sound of running water had made him crazy, the mental image of her half dressed did nothing to ease his discomfort. Still, he couldn't help himself when he heard the bathroom door open. He looked in the direction of the noise, and glimpsed his rookie with nothing but a white towel wrapped around her. He quickly looked away, but it was too late. Various scenarios were already running rampant through his mind.

Andy quickly shut the door to her bedroom. Discarding the towel, she contemplated what to wear. Things with Sam had been strained since she and Luke had broken up. She knew they were in an impossible limbo - neither wanted to make the first move. And according to common sense, not to mention workplace rules, no move could, or should be made.

But it was late, and the emotional exhaustion that she was experiencing from the fallout of the past few days' events had addled her brain with confusion regarding everything...including Sam.

She pulled out a comfy, extra large Blue Jays tee shirt that came down to her mid-thigh and black underwear. It was useless to dress any other way - the night couldn't get any more awkward. She looked in the mirror, temporarily satisfied with the image looking back at her. She didn't look sexy at all. In fact, with the baggy shirt and wet hair, she almost looked like a drowned rat.

She let out a deep breath and walked out towards the living room. At the sound of her footsteps, Sam turned around, and for a split second, his mind went blank. Then a single thought emerged.

Andy McNally was breathtakingly beautiful.

With the liberal amount of leg she was showing, along with her damp hair that had just begun to curl at the ends and the slight smudging of makeup under her eyes, she looked irresistibly sexy.

Suddenly, this whole being-friends-with-a-woman thing was shot to hell. Did she even realize what she was doing to him?

"You going to bed?" he asked, his voice thick, trying desperately to maintain control of a somewhat precarious situation.

"Yeah. I'm really, really tired."

"Okay." Sam nodded, and Andy suddenly felt uncomfortable under his gaze. It almost felt like he was undressing her with his eyes...That's ridiculous, Andy. Stop it.

"So, the couch is all made up. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge, though don't expect much to be in there."

Sam smiled at her. "Thanks, McNally. Go get some sleep - " He was cut off by a sudden scream and a thudding against the front door. He grabbed his gun from where he had placed it and motioned for Andy to get behind him. He made his way to the door and looked through the peephole outside. The distorted sight of a blond woman on her phone was the last thing he had expected to see. He cracked the door open, and heard a high-pitched female voice.

"Shut up. Shut up! Are you serious?"

"Ma'am...ma'am, would you keep it down please? Some of us are trying to sleep," he said, both irritated at the inconsiderate behavior and relief that it wasn't one of the cartel's cronies come to kill his rookie. He ignored her incredulous look at his gun and shut the door. He turned around and grinned at Andy.

"False alarm," he said. Was it just his imagination, or was she closer to him than before?

"Sam..." she whispered, closing the gap between them. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. The intimate motion caught him momentarily off guard; then he pulled her closer into him, sharply inhaling as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, her eyelashes and hot breath against his bare skin setting off all kinds of sensations within him, but none were stronger than the exhilarating feeling of having her in his arms again. He closed his eyes, resting his lips against her wet hair.

Eventually, she broke away from him, her eyes heavy lidded. "Thanks for being here," she said simply.

Sam's eyes flickered down to her lips, then back up. "You're welcome," he replied, smiling softly. "Go get some sleep, Andy. If anything happens, I'll be here."

"Okay." She walked away towards her bedroom, closing the door behind her. The lack of his arms around her left her aching. She could still faintly smell Sam's familiar mixture of leather and soap.

She let out a frustrated sigh. Yes, it had been an impulsive move, hugging him, but she had needed to feel him, just one more time, so that she could finally forget the feeling of his embrace.

Problem was, Sam's touch, and the feelings it created within her, was like a drug. One time was all it needed to become addicted. Every time she found herself in his arms, or even just touching him accidentally with her fingers, she promised herself that was the last time, but it was useless, because every time created an ever bigger craving.

She turned off the lights, crawling into bed. Hopefully, with any luck, she would be able to sleep with the knowledge that Sam was in the next room.

He saw her being beaten, heard her screaming in pain. He wanted to help her, he needed to get to her, but he physically couldn't move. All he could do was watch in horror as they tortured her. He opened his mouth to yell for them to stop, but nothing came out. His eyes widened in fear as one of the men took out a gun and placed it to her skull. He heard her screaming, "Sam! Sam!" but all he could do was look on in anguish. The man turned to him and smiled sadistically.

Bang.

Sam woke up covered in a cold sweat, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in his ears. His heart pounded, his hands were clammy. The dream had been too real for him to ignore; the images felt like they had been imprinted in his mind. He flung off the covers and followed the soft glow of the hallway light to Andy's room. He quietly opened the door, and saw her sleeping in her bed. The light spilled around her, casting a soft halo around her peaceful features. His breathing slowed to normal as he gazed on her. She looked like an angel.

She was safe, breathing, very much alive. And he intended to keep her that way.

He couldn't lose her, not now, and not ever.

He didn't know how, but he was going to make damn well sure he changed her bad luck into good.