The Patently Long Author's Note: It's been a long-time coming, readers. It seems every time I attempt to dictate a writing schedule, real life gets in the way. The delay was due in part to family on-goings (now resolved) and was complicated by the widespread login problems of the site itself. Sadly, maintenance issues are equally as annoying for writers as they are for readers. Thanks for your patience during this interim!

About This Chapter:

Much like the previous chapters, each of these "firsts" can read as a separate episode, but with a greater story arc. Be forewarned, the term "epilogue" may be deceiving: This chapter in its entirety is three times my usual length, yikes. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy (maybe find a comfortable chair?).

The following scenarios can follow whatever timeline you so choose.

Finally... If artistic license has given my anything, it's a justification for putting Sam Swarek into every conceivably cheesy, delightfully fluffy, wedded bliss scenario. Sorry about that. (Or, more aptly: Sorry I'm not sorry.)

A notable debt of gratitude is owed to dcj for her words of encouragement and inspiration. Thanks!

DISCLAIMER: Eighteen chapters later, I still do not own Rookie Blue. (Appropriate credit due to Rory Gilmore, from whom I borrowed the line, "You jump, I jump...")

EPILOGUE.

First kiss.

"My dad's watching," she said through clenched teeth. "Don't forget that, alright?"

"Really? Because I was intent on scarring my nieces for life. Some tongue action, maybe some light groping," Sam teased, gently squeezing her hand.

"Shhh," she shushed him, fighting back a smile. "We're supposed to be paying attention. This is our wedding, genius."

"Good thing I remembered to show up," Sam ribbed, tilting his mouth toward her ear. "The most important part is over, anyway. You're stuck with me."

"Stuck?" she mouthed, quirking an eyebrow.

He nodded, a wide smirk on his face. "Stuck."

They were interrupted by a loud voice, his amusement barely concealed. "You may now kiss your bride."

Leaning in, Sam whispered, "Well, I guess that's that."

She smiled, wrapping a hand around his neck and tugging him forward. "Good thing I don't want to go back."

First dance.

"Hey," he greeted, leaning heavily against the doorframe of the hotel's private lounge. His hands in his pockets, he eyed her with an affectionate grin on his face.

"Hey," she echoed softly, a giddy smile on her face. "Trace is just helping me…" She motioned to the back of her dress, waving at the soft yards of fabric and fussing with her veil nervously.

Removing the pin caught between her teeth, Traci bustled Andy's train, smoothing the fabric neatly. Winking at her best friend, she squeezed Sam's arm and silently slid past him, out the door.

"Not sick of me yet?" Andy prompted, carefully sitting on the settee and adjusting her dress.

"Give it time," Sam teased, crossing the room and dropping on the sofa next to her. "So how long 'tll I have you all to myself? No receiving lines, no grand entrances, no cheers and catcalls from Fifteen's Finest?"

"Not soon enough," she said with a grin, threading their fingers together. "They should be calling us to enter the reception soon. Cocktail hour's almost over."

He nodded silently. "I'm glad you wore your hair down," he said quietly, thumbing her cheek and brushing a few loose strands behind her ear. "Looks nice."

She smiled, closing her eyes and resting against his shoulder.

"Tired?" he asked, stifling a yawn himself.

"Yes," she admitted readily. "Excited, obviously. But I wouldn't mind if it was just me and you now, you know?"

"Mmm," he murmured in solidarity, agreeing. "I know what you mean." He turned his head to look at her. "Hey, uh. Wanna do something for me?"

"I'm not taking off this dress, Sam," she said, her eyes still shut but a grin on her lips.

"Not that," he replied, rolling his eyes. He nudged her with his shoulder. "Not yet, anyway."

"Then what?" she said, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze.

"Okay, you know what we said about the first dance?"

She grimaced, running a finger over his wedding band. "You mean when you decided to be a stick in the mud and wouldn't do a spotlight dance?"

"Hey, an all-couples dance is the clear winner," he maintained, shrugging his shoulders. "You really wanted to be the center of attention for four-plus minutes on a dance floor? I don't think so."

"It's tradition," she whined, wrinkling her nose. "Tradition is important."

He stared at her, his eyes dark and inscrutable. After a long moment, he spoke, dismissing her petulant tone. "You're right. You're important, too," he offered casually.

She smiled reluctantly, the corners of her mouth tugging. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

Sam stood, pulling her up and releasing her hand. Digging in his jacket pocket, he pulled out an iPod and popped it into the dock Traci had set up moments before on a sidetable.

"I changed my mind," he said. "Minutely, I should add, so don't get your hopes up."

The soft strains of music filtered through the speakers and Sam turned toward her, offering his hand.

"Marriage is about compromise, right? You're getting your dance, and I'm… Well, uh, I'm saving face," he admitted, an amused grin twisting his lips.

"You planned this," she said, half-accusingly, half-admiringly.

"Maybe," he hedged, fiddling with the volume. "You in?"

She narrowed her eyes, assessing his posture. "Yeah." Standing, she laced their left hands together, sliding an arm around his shoulders. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Good," he murmured with an approving nod. Trailing his hand over the bare skin of her shoulder, he let his palm rest on her lower back.

They were silent as they swayed together, keeping time to the music until the beat changed. Humming quietly in her ear, Sam spun Andy out and back in with a quick flick of his wrist.

Andy grinned into his shoulder, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. "You're an old romantic, aren't you?"

"Nope, just old," he replied easily, his eyes dancing as he pulled her closer.

"You sure this isn't an assault on your ears?" she asked. "Doesn't sound like progressive rock to me."

"I'm getting a little more progressive with my tastes," he said, shrugging. "Just don't tell anyone."

She grinned, silently crossing her heart and zipping her lips.

After a long moment, he stepped back, releasing her. "You ready to go face the crowds?"

"Yes," she affirmed, threading her fingers through his hair. " Just one thing I have to do first..."

Pushing up on her toes, she brought her lips to his, kissing him deeply. Her movements were slow and languid – warm, soft and unhurried. After several long moments, she broke away with a grin, murmuring against his ear, "Time you got a proper kiss, anyway."

He lowered his lips to her bare shoulder, biting playfully. "If that's a precursor of what's to come, I'll take it."

Smiling brightly, Andy tugged him toward the door. "So, uh. Is today the day you admit the universe had a plan?"

He shrugged. "I don't know who's responsible for all this, but when you figure it out, send 'em a gift basket with my name on it, will ya?"

"Sure," she said with a wink, gripping his hand tightly. "Only because it'll have my name, too."

First embarrassment.

"So this one," Oliver cackled, slapping Sam on the back, "is glowering in my backseat, fit to kill or – I don't know, maybe worse. He was on the streets for eight months." He has one hand on the mic, another on a tumbler of scotch.

"And this one," Oliver jerked a thumb in Andy's direction, "This one's beaming like she took home the blue ribbon in the elementary science fair." He guffawed loudly. "How do you catch a fleeing criminal? Hypothesis: Hit him low and hard, force the knees to buckle. Conclusion: Hey kids – It works."

He shook his head affectionately. "Rook doesn't even have her radio switched on, but she's dragging two grown adult males to the cruiser, cuffed together. Unbelievable."

He tipped his glass in Sam's direction. "You thought one afternoon of being cuffed by this girl was bad, Sammy-boy, now you're shackled for life."

"That's nice, Oliver," Andy said, making a show of rolling her eyes. "Real nice."

"And you, McNally," Oliver continued squeezing her shoulder with his free hand. "Well, we're all glad you came to your senses, settled down with a nice boy like our Sammy here."

"We have a quota for moping at the barn, and he hit it – When do you think, brother? Third, fourth week after she burned you?"

Sam shrugged noncommittally, wrapping a hand behind Andy's chair.

"Anyway," Oliver said, forging ahead, "We all knew this coupling was inevitable. Only took about four near-crises, a dozen forced silences, some painfully public fights, and a stint at the firing range to get here. The copper's life, folks." He paused meaningfully, looking at Sam. "She's got a license to carry a gun, you remember that, brother."

He cleared his throat, waving his arms dramatically. "We all thought Sammy was saving himself for Jerry, but I guess they had another thing coming with this rookie class. I'll be honest, the teacher/student thing is a little prosaic for my taste." He shrugged. "Zoe and I are old-fashioned that way, but Sammy here? He's living proof – You don't really know a woman 'til you've seen her knee a perp and fire a semi."

He grinned widely, his teeth gleaming. "John sweep didn't hurt, did it Sammy? Drooling like a puppy over this gal, but trying to mask it underneath cool professionalism, that's our Swarek."

"Oh, god," Andy muttered, covering her face with her hands. "He couldn't be a little bit nice today? Everyone we know is in this room."

"The more embarrassed you get, the more fuel you're gonna give him," Sam said, setting his jaw and staring straight ahead. "This is Oliver's way of showing his love, I promise."

"But night after night, he offered her a ride home. Sammy's persistent – Ever the martyr, ever the tragic hero." Oliver grinned, lowering the mic for a second. "Bet you wished you accepted that ride a long time ago, eh, McNally?"

"What kind of toast did you give at his wedding?" Andy whispered admonishingly, her cheeks burning. "The only reason he's not getting more graphic is because there are kids here."

"Yeah, be grateful for that," Sam muttered.

"But I jest; I jest. I love these two like my own – Family is family, and that's what these two are to me. Fine coppers, fine friends, and a fine-looking couple, don't you agree?" He paused, allowing the crowd to cheer. "Well, Andy's half of the pairing, anyway."

He waited for the din to die down before raising his glass. "I guess it's true what they say: Love knocks you down. And if you don't wind up hating the person that bowled you over, you're bound to love 'em, right?"

"To Sam and Andy. May their years be blessed with health and happiness, and may they serve each other as faithfully as they've served the streets of Toronto." He saluted them with a grin, but not before adding some choice, parting words.

"And for the love of God, may your kids take after Andy in looks and temperament."

First morning together.

"Mm," Andy said, stretching languidly and burrowing underneath the covers. She smiled against her pillow, stifling a giggle and squeezing her eyes shut.

A warm, rough hand skimmed over her thigh and wrapped around her waist. She opened her eyes slowly, sliding her left hand on top of his. Lacing their fingers together, she brushed her thumb over his knuckles, humming happily.

"Good morning," Sam murmured, his voice gravelly with sleep. "How you feelin'?"

"Exhausted," she answered honestly, "In the most delicious way possible." She flipped over, running a hand across his whiskery cheek. "Also, it's possible that my limbs won't be entirely functional this morning, but I'm okay with that."

"That right?" Sam queried, grinning. "You must've had a hell of a workout last night."

"Marriage will do that to you," she said. She stretched again, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "It's possible my spouse may be partially responsible."

His eyes flickered to her face, and his smile grew. Moving fluidly, he rolled on top of her, balancing on his forearms as he stared into her eyes.

"Hey," he greeted softly.

"Hey," she repeated, running her hands up and down his bare chest.

"So, uh. We're married now," he said, choking out a laugh.

"Yeah," she said, shaking her head. "You're like… my husband," she said in a stage-whisper. "Bizarre."

"Is it?" he replied with a grin. "Because it's been on my 'normal' list for a while now."

She trailed her knuckles over his vertebrae, rubbing up and down in a familiar, soothing pattern. "I'm happy," she finally said, quiet and subdued. Biting her lip, she raised her eyes to meet his. "Like really, insanely happy, Sam."

He nodded silently, working a hand through her tousled hair and tugging gently.

"If every morning is as good as this one, I'll die a very happy woman," she said, a serene look on her face. "If I would've known it was like this, I probably would've married you a long time ago."

"That so?" he said quietly, pressing his lips to her throat. "Consider the bar set, then. You know how competitive I am; I'll be itching to break that record."

"Well, count me in," she added, giggling as she ran a hand through his hair. "I'll be an active and very willing participant."

He nuzzled her nose, brushing her lips with his own. "Good." Grazing his mouth over her ear, he nibbled at the tender skin and spoke quietly. "Your time starts… NOW."

First vacation.

"Ohmigod, why haven't we done this before?" Andy said, dropping into a lounge chair and flipping her sunglasses over her eyes. "Smell the air, Sam. Fresh and salty and perfect. I love the beach." She inhaled sharply, curling her toes in the sand. "Seriously, how have we not done this before?"

"You got me," Sam answered, his gaze fixed on her tiny white swimsuit. "I've been asking myself that all day."

Andy grinned, leaning over her armrest to tap Sam's chin playfully. "Careful there, dearest, you've got a little something…" She broke off, stifling a laugh.

"Dearest?" Sam said, raising his eyebrows infinitesimally. "That's what you're going with?"

"Well," she said teasingly, shrugging, "You have an affinity for sweetheart; it's only fair I get something, too."

He hummed noncommittally, snapping his towel at her as he settled into his own lounger.

"But seriously," she said, scooting out of the towel's arc. "Why haven't we done this before?"

"Honestly?" Sam said, reaching for his beer. "Because we're devoted civil servants who collectively get paid very little. The free time we do have, we usually spend being homebodies, enjoying takeout and each other, or visiting our families within reasonable driving distance."

"That was almost poetic, Swarek," she laughed, kicking his chair. "Thanks for that visual." She popped up from her chair, moving toward him and straddling his waist. "You have a way with words," she said seriously, her small grin belying her words. "I can't believe you didn't write your own vows."

"You asked," he said by way of defense, running his hands over the back of her legs. "I just answered."

She smiled, rolling off him and snuggling into his side. "I'm glad our honeymoon is our first, real get-away-from-Toronto kind of trip, you know? Makes it special, I think."

He ran a hand through her hair, mussing it affectionately. "Yeah, I think so."

"I could lay out in this sun all day," she said, running a hand over his bare chest. "You want to? I mean, technically it's our time, we can do whatever."

"Depends," Sam said, his brow creased. He tugged at the strings of her bikini bottom. "Do I get to reapply the sunscreen?"

He smiled, anticipating Andy's eye roll. "I'm kidding." Sighing, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, before adding, "Well. Mostly."

She laughed freely, linking their fingers. "I am going to need some help with my back, so... I'll give you the green light, dearest. I'm on cloud nine today."

First introduction.

Slipping into the bar unnoticed, Andy scanned the room for Sam. Spotting him on her second pass of the bar, she stealthily approached from behind, crooking an arm around his neck. Her free arm slid around his body, resting on his abdomen, as she nipped at his ear.

"Hey there, stranger," she greeted. "Long time, no see."

Sam sucked in a breath, swirling the beer in his hand without turning. "Sorry, ma'am. I'm a married man now. My wife would not approve of this licentious behavior."

"That right?" Andy questioned, her teeth grazing his jaw.

"That's right," he confirmed, his tone lively as he tilted his head towards her. "She's got a gun. You don't want to mess with her, I promise."

"I can hold my own," Andy maintained, resting her chin on his shoulder. "But thanks for the warning, copper."

"How was your massage?" he asked, breaking character and signaling the bartender.

"Amazing," she sighed, plopping into a seat.

"Yeah? I still think I could have done that for you."

"I know exactly what you could have done, and trust me, that was not it," she said with a laugh. "How was your beer?"

"Excellent," he said, sliding a drink her way. "Little lonely. Glad to have company now."

"This is much classier than our first bar/inn rendezvous, I'll give you that," she said with a smile, catching his train of thought. "I'm glad we traded the pool table for a hotel pool... I fared a lot better today."

"I'd say so," he teased, rubbing her shoulders. "Anyway, late dinner reservations tonight, so you wanna order something now to tide you over?"

"Reservations?" Andy questioned with a sly arch of her brow, pretending to be impressed. "Is that a thing we do now?"

"Part of the package deal," Sam said with a grin. "You know, marriage. Tax breaks. Legal weight, property rights, dinner reservations; it's all in the fine print."

"Who knew?" Andy replied, flipping through the bar menu. She looked up at him, her eyes full of mirth. "Guess we've both been missing out."

They had been at the bar for nearly an hour when a voice greeted Sam, loud and booming.

"Swarek?" the voice questioned. "Sam Swarek? That you?"

"Jacobsen?" Sam returned, swiveling his stool. "It's been a long time, brother," he greeted, his tone jovial. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Destination wedding, if you can believe it," he said, clapping a hand to Sam's back. "My sister-in-law is getting hitched on the beach this weekend."

"Small world," Sam said, whistling through his teeth. "Small world."

"And who's your friend?" Jacobsen asked, nodding warmly at Andy.

Sam shook his head, snapping out of his reverie. "Sorry, Andy - Sweetheart, this is Paul Jacobsen. We went to Academy together; Toronto was just his gateway to RCMP. Paul, this is my wife, Andy."

"Wife? You don't say," Paul said, a touch of incredulity in his voice. "Pleasure to meet you, Andy," he added, doffing an imaginary cap. "Never thought I'd see the day when this rogue copper settled down."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said good-naturedly, slapping him on the back. "First time for everything, brother. The sun still sets in the west."

Paul motioned to the bartender, ordering another round before sliding onto a barstool. Turning to Andy, he gave her the once-over. "So tell me, Andy, how'd a pretty thing like you get saddled with this Lone Ranger?"

"Hey, even the Lone Ranger had Tonto," Sam interjected. "Everybody's got a friend somewhere."

"Is that what I am?" Andy said with a teasing smile, leaning into the arm Sam had draped across her chair. "Nice, Sam." She turned to Paul, explaining, "I mean, we weren't friends at the beginning. I may have, uh, burned him." Her cheeks flushed lightly, and she forced a shrug. "While he was in deep cover."

Paul let out a bark of laughter. "So there's a good story here, huh?"

"I was a rookie," she said, wrinkling her nose. "It was my first day, if that helps."

He guffawed, his shoulders shaking in amusement. "There is a story, I can feel it." Tipping his beer toward Sam, he pointed at his watch. "Well lucky for you, I've got some time while my wife hits the salon. I can sniff out newlyweds like fresh paint, and I'm itching for a good story, coppers."

Two hours, a detailed backstory of their relationship, and a very colorful recap of Sam's time in the Academy later, Andy and Sam bid Paul a good night, opting to wander down to the beach.

"That's the first time…" Andy broke off, beaming. "I mean, it sounds silly, but that's like… The first "official" time you've called me your wife. To another person," she said in a hushed whisper. She traced patterns on his palm as they sat, shoulder-to-shoulder on the dock, watching the sun set. "It's nice, you know? The permanence of it all."

"Hey, I'm ready to shout it from the rooftops," he said, his light tone belying the seriousness of his words. "You want a blimp, some sky-writing, you just let me know."

"I like it," she concluded, thumbing his jaw tenderly. Throwing her legs across his lap, she leaned against his shoulder. "I like it a lot, actually."

First homecoming.

"Sure this isn't too antiquated for you?" Andy questioned, fussing with their suitcases as Sam fumbled for his keys.

Sliding the key into the lock, Sam rolled his eyes in the door's direction. "Aren't you the one always preaching a sermon about the importance of traditions?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She paused, smiling brilliantly. "You sure your back can take it?"

"You never let up, do you?" he asked gruffly, spinning on his heel. Threading his fingers through her belt loops, he gripped her waist, resting his forehead against hers. "We gotta do something about that, wife."

"You secretly like it," she insisted, thumbing at his jaw. "Besides, everyone knows I married you for your body."

He snorted, releasing her. "Yeah, okay." Unlocking the front door, he stepped inside, dropping their bags in the foyer before returning to the porch stoop.

"I'm just kidding," she stage-whispered, threading her fingers through his hair. "I married you for your money first, then your body."

"Right, right," he drawled. Sliding one hand behind her back, he bent forward, scooping her up by her knees and cradling her to his chest.

She clasped her hands around his neck, giggling and burying her face in his shoulder. Attempting to regain her composure, she swallowed, meeting his gaze.

"It's just, uh..." she broke off, succumbing to another fit of giggles. "This position seems remarkably familiar. Have we been here before?"

"Funny," he said dryly, hoisting her up further. "We're not in a crappy cover apartment, for starters."

She ran a hand across his jaw, rubbing the light stubble. "Hey, don't knock the place where it all began. Those were some nice digs for an ex-con. And J.D. was a perfect gentleman."

Sam threw back his head, laughing. "Well, I wouldn't call him a perfect gentleman. He bought you one beer before taking you to bed."

"You're right," Andy said with a slight frown. "Damn. I should have tried to work him for potstickers or loaded nachos or something."

He brushed his lips against her temple, grinning. "Hey, don't sell yourself short. You're worth at least one shrimp cocktail."

"Is that right?" she said, cocking an eyebrow in silent challenge. She pursued her lips, shrugging. "Well, I'd be inclined to believe you, except…"

"Except…?"

"Your secret's out, Swarek," she sing-songed, waving her left hand. "I'm worth a ring."

He grinned broadly, going after her bottom lip. "I can't deny that."

Carefully stepping over the threshold, he carried her into the house and deposited her by the stairs. Kicking the door closed with his boot, he smirked, gauging her response. "That work for you?"

"Not really the same thrill as the first time," she said speculatively, pulling back and frowning. "Ah, well. I guess it's hard to compete with those life-and-death scenarios."

She forced a beleaguered sigh, taking a seat on the stairs. "A week in, and we're already struggling to keep the spark alive."

He cocked an eyebrow, staring solemnly until her façade broke and she grinned. Yanking his t-shirt off, he stalked toward her, a predatory gleam in his eye. "I'll show you spark."

"Is that a threat?" she asked, giggling as she wormed away from him.

Scooping her up, he walked briskly toward their bedroom. "No." Pausing in the doorway, he skimmed his nose across her jaw, nipping at the taut skin. "It's a promise."

First car.

"It's automatic."

Sam spun around, his brow furrowed. "I thought that's what you wanted. We can look at manual transmissions…"

"No, silly. It's automatic…" She looked at him, raising a brow and waving her hand. "Systematic... HYDROmatic..."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, narrowing his eyes. "You're ridiculous."

She smiled brightly, circling the hood to stand in front of him. "Maybe. So what do you think?"

"I think the price point is ridiculous for a car with 96,000 kilometers on it. And the tires need to be replaced."

"Anything else about Harvey?"

"Harvey Who?"

"No, that's what I want to name him." She grinned at him, jerking her thumb toward the engine. "He's my first car; I have to name him."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Um, no you don't. You're not sixteen. And anyway, everybody knows that cars are always girls."

"Nah, I like Harvey," Andy said with an unrepentant shrug. She wrapped an arm around his waist, eyeing the car speculatively. "He has character. Besides, it's good to have another man in my life. Keeps you on your toes," she pointed out.

Sam shook his head in vague incredulity, amused by her hard sell. "You really like this car?"

"I really do."

He blew out a huff of air, running his hand over the hood. "We've test-driven about a million of them already; I guess… Well, I wouldn't mind selecting one. The safety rating is pretty good, so that bodes well for you."

"I might take offense to that statement if I wasn't so excited," she said, flouncing across the parking lot. "Jabs about my driving or otherwise, I won't let you bring me down."

"Yeah, well, this purchase has been a long time coming. You sure this is your draft pick?"

Andy clapped her hands eagerly, a blinding smiling on her face. "Yessir. You think it's a decent bargain if we can get them to throw in new tires?"

He made a show of sighing dramatically, his thumb hooking through her belt loops and drawing her close. "We can always try. Who am I to deny my wife?"

She winked, pushing up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "That's what I like to hear."

First team victory.

"It's days like today I love being a cop, you know that?" Andy said, tipping back on her chair at the Penny. "There's a peace that accompanies closure, and I'm glad we were able to give it to that family."

She paused thoughtfully, glancing at Sam. "It was good to work together again, in close quarters. Like the old days, you know?"

"Hmm," Sam intoned noncommittally. "Let bygones be bygones, as far as I'm concerned." He grinned, resting his arm on her chair and rubbing his knuckles across her lower back. "Future's got far too many interesting prospects."

"You don't miss being partners?" Andy asked, genuinely curious.

"You mean do I miss hunting down escaped convicts and potential werewolves and charging through incinerated laundromats?" He shook his head. "No, can't say I miss that."

She ignored his jabs, picking at the label of her beer bottle. "I miss it sometimes," she said wistfully. "Not my stupid, rookie mistakes, but the thrill of the chase, you know?"

"Thrill of the chase, huh? What chase would that be?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Back then, you and I were chasing two different things."

"Shut up," she laughed, punching him lightly in the arm. "I miss us, Swarek and McNally in the field... You jump, I jump, Jack."

"Is that how you remember it? Because I'm pretty sure it reads: Andy disregards instruction and gets herself in a bind; Sam swoops in to save the day."

"Right, right," she drawled, raising her eyebrow in silent challenge. "You walked out of Hill's restaurant and the Landry op all by yourself, I forgot."

He barked out a laugh, earning several quizzical looks from the new batch of rookies at the next table.

"I'm kidding," he admitted with a tiny grin. "I do miss it, you know."

"I know," she said sassily. "I'm pretty miss-able."

"Peters is a pain in my ass," he muttered softly, bottle to his lips. "Peck's caustic bite with Epstein's gung-ho attitude, I swear. It's this weird hybrid, what a nightmare." He set his bottle down, waving his hand in silent acknowledgment of Oliver's 'Darts!' rally cry.

Squeezing past Andy's chair, he flipped her ponytail. "What I wouldn't do for my old rook..."

She grinned, nudging him in Oliver's direction. "Yeah, there's not much you wouldn't do for your old rookie, huh?"

He shrugged, his lips twitching as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Good thing we have a solid fallback. Partners in every sense, right?"

First blizzard.

"All that work we did," Andy whined. "All that salting and shoveling, and the ground's covered again."

Sam shrugged, guiding her away from the front window. "Less work for tomorrow. Don't want you breaking your back when this stuff freezes."

"Annoying, that's what this is," she said with a pout. Kicking her foot against the carpet, she sighed. "At least we can go out and play in the snow, that's something."

"Snow? That's where your mind is when we have an opportunity like this? Timely, that's what I'd call this storm," he said, his lips trailing down her neck. "We don't have to be back on-shift until Tuesday afternoon, so by my watch, we have just over two days to do as we please."

"Do who we please," he continued, working his mouth over her collarbone, light nips and gentle kisses. His voice was a soft murmur against her skin. "Please who we do."

His arms tightened around her waist and she felt his grin against her neck.

"Mmm, that could be nice," she agreed, shifting against him. She tilted her chin up to catch his eye, pushing him back toward the kitchen counter. "But you're gonna go stir-crazy if we get snowed in."

"I can think of a few things to pass the time," he said knowingly, sliding the zipper of her hoodie down.

She caught his wrist, squeezing it lightly. "Sometimes you have the humor of a fifteen year old boy."

He shrugged, unperturbed. "Lucky I last a little longer, huh?"

"Oh, god," she said, rolling her eyes and pushing his shoulder. "None of that, please."

He nipped at her lip playfully. "If I hold the jokes, can we move right to the main event? Because baby, it's cold outside."

"You…." She grinned indulgently, amused. "That's on the agenda, 'kay? Just not until we've been out in the snow," she insisted, scampering toward the stairs. "I'm getting changed and you should, too."

Grinning, Sam followed her to their room. "You're awfully hot when you're bossy."

"Just when I'm bossy?" she asked, rummaging through their closet before settling on a turtleneck. Discarding her t-shirt in lieu of a camisole, she pulled the turtleneck over her head and pushed her arms through its thick sleeves.

"Mmm. Not just when you're bossy. That turtleneck is definitely doing it for me," he teased, watching her from his perch on the bed. "You're always after me for my old man jeans… I didn't even think they made turtlenecks anymore."

"Desperate times…" she trailed off lightly. "Besides, my Under Armour is in the wash."

"Mine, too," Sam said, pursing his lips and feigning sorrow. Patting the bedspread, he motioned her over. "Come warm me up; I'm fresh out of turtlenecks."

"Nice try, Swarek," she laughed, digging through her drawers for a pair of sweatpants. "We may be married, but I still gotta make you work for it every now and again."

"Is that what this is about? You want me to do all the work? I can do that," he said with a grin. Standing, he pinned her against the dresser. "I'm a team player, I promise."

"Snow first," she argued insistently, her tone wheedling. "Then we'll see about warming up."

"Bed, snow, bed?" he bartered, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "I'll make it worth your while. We can build a fort in here," he offered, his tongue swiping over his lips. "I'll even shovel the second round of snow."

"I was gonna make you do that anyway," she teased, sticking out her tongue and scooting from under his arm. "Desperation doesn't suit you. Buck up, copper."

"It's not that I dislike the snow, alright? I'd just rather spend some quality time with my wife on our day off," he countered. "That too much to ask?"

She studied him for a long moment, releasing a huff of air. "Sam Swarek, I swear to god, you're lucky I'm a pushover..."

He grinned triumphantly, bounding after her. "Turtleneck is the first casualty of this blizzard." Grabbing the hem of her shirt, he tugged her arms up. "Nice break from our usual workday routine, right? You gotta admit, this is way better than paperwork."

He smirked, sliding his hands underneath her camisole. "Way better than snow, too."

First pregnancy.

Propped against the pillows near the headboard, Andy stared at her bedroom ceiling, listlessly tracing circles and patterns over her abdomen.

Baby.

She wished Sam were home. She wished she had talked to him as soon as she had begun to suspect.

Rolling her shirt up, she gazed at her belly. It didn't look different. Flat planes and a muscled core. She tried to imagine what it would look like in a few months, swollen and round.

It didn't look different, sure, but it felt different. She didn't know how to explain it, exactly. The knowledge of the life growing inside her, tiny and fragile, this inconceivably concrete expression of her and Sam's love…

Whoa.

She hadn't studied biology since high school, and her head swam trying to remember all the details. Twenty-three pairs of chromosomes. Half Swarek. Half McNally.

Baby, she silently repeated. We made a baby. And it's here, inside me.

"Hey little guy," she said softly, smoothing a hand over her bare skin. Her brow furrowed, and she bit her lip. "Well, actually I don't know if you're a guy yet. But you could be. A little guy that looks like his daddy." She rubbed gently. "Or you could be a little girl." She paused, a slight frown crossing her face. "God, I hope you get my eyebrows."

Hearing the key in the front door, she sat up abruptly, bounding off the bed.

"Sam?" she called into the darkened hallway.

"Yeah?" he answered, his voice muffled. "Kitchen."

Heading down the stairs, Andy entered the kitchen, sliding onto a barstool. Sam was crouched in front of the fridge, packing vegetables into the crisper. She eyed him carefully, taking a few deep breaths before turning to the countertop.

Digging through the bags that littered the island, she was distracted by a tote bag with a decidedly floral scent.

"Flowers?" she said, startled. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Why'd you get flowers?"

He shrugged. "Someone once told me that sickness is about coaching your body and mind back to health." He smiled, standing up to dig through the cabinets for a vase. "Apparently flowers is step one. If you don't have a pollen allergy, I suppose."

"Speaking of, you feelin' any better?" he asked, his fingers trailing across her waist as he slid past her toward the sink, flipping the faucet on and filling the vase with water.

She bit her lip, reaching for the kitchen scissors to cut off the lower stems of the flowers. "Yeah, uh. Well. There's kind of a story to that, I guess."

"Is that right?" he queried, sliding the vase toward her. "Macking on Diaz during break? I know he was down for the count earlier this week; Ollie swears there's a 48-hour bug going around."

An unbidden smile crossed her lips, and she elbowed him gently. "Yeah, that's totally it."

He reached into the last canvas grocery tote, pulling out a package of gummy bears. "Well, sick or not, I know you love your sugar rush." He flipped the package toward her. "Even got the Black Forest kind, 'cuz I know you're a snob."

She smiled softly, ripping the bag open and popping one into her mouth. "Better than therapy, I swear."

"Good," he said, rolling up the grocery bags and tucking them in the pantry. "So. This story…?"

"Right," she said, her voice a touch hesitant. Closing the package of gummies, she fiddled with her ponytail nervously. "So, um. Remember that blizzard back in January?"

He turned toward her, grinning lasciviously. "Yeah, how could I forget? Never been so happy to see half of Toronto shut down. Two full days of uninterrupted time with my wife."

"Yeah, well." She moved to stand in front of him, giving him a weak, watery smile. Gripping his wrist, she lifted her shirt and brought his palm to her abdomen. "We, uh. We might be a little bit of a cliché."

His brow furrowed as he stared at her belly, before lifting widened eyes to her face. "Are you…? Did we…?"

She nodded slowly, the corners of her lips tugging. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

He looked at her in stunned silence.

Her smile faded infinitesimally, and she worried her lip, gauging his expression. "I was going to wait to take the test, but once I did the math – you know, since that day – and I just… I just had to know, you know? And I didn't want to raise your hopes, but I wanted you to be a part of it and I'm sorry I took the test but we can go to the doctor's together, right? I just don't want you to be mad, like I left you out of something; I swear, I didn't mean to, Sam. Are you mad? God, this is supposed to be a happy thing and I'm already ruining it; I'm so sorry…" she rambled frantically, waving her arms.

"Mad?" he said, his voice hoarse, rough with emotion. "Mad?" he repeated to himself, almost incredulously.

He rubbed his jaw, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. "Sweetheart, I'm the furthest thing from mad."

"Really?" she said timidly, wringing her hands.

"Really," he said, a growing smile illuminating his face. "Andy, I… A baby? How could I be anything but happy?"

She smiled nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he affirmed with a laugh.

She blinked furiously, her shoulders trembling.

"Andy…" he exhaled softly, opening his arms. "C'mere."

She stepped forward, burying her face in his shoulder. "It's not, like, too soon for you?" she said in a muffled voice, running her hands across his lower back.

He pulled back, staring at her. "Hey," he said, his voice quiet but strong. "I love every part of you. I have for a long time, and no part of this is 'too soon,' alright? You and me, remember?"

He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "Well, actually… You, me, and the baby makes three," he said with a chuckle, his voice soft and low in her ear. "I couldn't be happier, Andy, I swear."

She relaxed into his arms, sighing quietly. "Me neither."

They stood in the kitchen for several minutes, enveloped by the stillness within the house, before Andy broke the silence.

"No more hypotheticals, huh? No more, 'When we're parents...'." She looked at him, eyes wide in amazement. "Dude, there is a baby inside of me."

"Crazy, right?" Sam said, his lips twitching. He cocked an eyebrow, shaking his head. "Well, we've got a few more months to prepare for this guy's arrival, dude." He slid a hot palm underneath Andy's shirt, rubbing her stomach gently. "Lucky we're a good team. Parenting is all about teamwork, right?"

"Yeah," Andy said with a small grin. "That's one thing we probably shouldn't be competitive about."

"Fair," Sam agreed, lacing their fingers together. He swallowed, his eyes focused on hers. He let out a deep breath of air as he spoke. "Love you, McNally."

"Love you, Swarek," she echoed, her eyes crinkled with happiness. "Wow. Just…wow. We should make that doctor's appointment; check everything out…" She trailed off, a grin overtaking her face. "After that, I guess there's just one thing left to decide."

"Yeah?" he prompted teasingly, cradling her head in his palm. "What's that?"

She smiled, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "Who's gonna be good cop and who's gonna be bad cop?"

First freakout.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Swarek," the tech said kindly, gliding the ultrasound wand over Andy's exposed stomach. "You're having a baby girl."

Andy gripped Sam's hand tightly, inhaling sharply. "Girl…" she breathed on the exhale, amazed. Turning to Sam, she smiled nervously, her eyes full and wide. "We're having a girl, Sam."

He nodded silently, overwhelmed by emotion that accompanied the news. A girl…

He had jokingly (well, almost jokingly) said to Andy that he wouldn't know what to do with a boy. Between the Shaws and his nieces, the only diapers he'd changed had been female, and he wasn't sure how to clean, uh... Well. Boy's parts.

Andy had laughed openly at that statement, whispering in the darkness while they were lying in bed together. "Pretty sure you have those same parts, Sam," she giggled. "You'll figure it out."

After several debates and a heated discussion about learning the baby's sex, Andy's penchant for planning won out. They had waited until her appointment at 26 weeks to find out, which brought them to the present moment.

A girl, his mind repeated on loop. A girl.

There was an upside to this news, sure. His familiarity with the diaper situation, for starters. He could handle changing a girl, and he already had mountains of experience with tying hair bows and buttoning dresses and lacing saddle shoes. He was a seasoned veteran at tea parties and sleepovers and girls-only clubhouses, so upon further reflection, there were some definitive pluses.

But girls were a whole different ball game as they grew up.

Dates and dances and makeup and boys and periods and pregnancy and…

Damn.

"I know it's your specialty," Andy said ten minutes later, calling him back to reality as they drove back home. "But let's try not to overthink it, alright?"

He glanced toward the passenger seat, shaking his head dubiously. "How can you be so… eerily calm about this?"

She smiled, her voiced laced with humor. "I already had my 'Am I going to be a bad mother?' freakout, remember? You issued a much-needed reality check." Her gaze softened, and she rested a hand on his thigh. "A girl. A baby girl. It's something to be excited about, Sam."

"I am excited," he said defensively. "I just…" He exhaled, rubbing his face wearily. "I'm overthinking it, I guess."

"It's a little early to be worried about teen pregnancy," Andy said with a sympathetic nod. "I think we've got a few years yet."

He recoiled, shaking his head as a shudder ran through his body. "I wasn't…"

"Don't try to tell me that wasn't going through your head," she said mock-sternly, a smile on her lips. "I can read you like a book, Swarek."

He cleared his throat, resting his forehead on the steering wheel as they pulled onto their street.

"We're gonna be okay," Andy said confidently. "You and me, remember?" She gave a lopsided grin, squeezing his knee. "Even if you're one of those crazy dads who doesn't let his daughter date until she's twenty-five."

"Hey, I am not going to issue some archaic rule like that," Sam said, raising his hands in surrender as he cut the engine and popped the door open.

"Oh, yeah?" Andy questioned, arching an eyebrow. Sliding from her seat, she circled the hood of his truck and met him on the driver's side.

"Course not," Sam said. He shifted on his feet, reaching out to graze his knuckles over her stomach. "When the time comes, we're gonna handpick her husband, and they can date after they get married."

"Oh, brilliant," Andy deadpanned, her tone wry. "Maybe if we're lucky, Dov will have a kid soon."

At Sam's horrified expression, she burst out laughing, one hand clutching her stomach as the other flew to her mouth. Her attempts to stifle her giggles were less than successful.

"I'm teasing," she finally managed to get out, her eyes dancing. "Although I wouldn't mind if Traci has another boy. Leo's a little too old…" She trailed off, laughing. "But then again, who knows? If Leo becomes a cop, maybe even a training officer, by the time this one," she pointed at her stomach, giggling, "Graduates from Academy, there might be a legacy to fulfill at Fifteen. Girls take after their mothers, right?"

"You're a nut," Sam said darkly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're too easy to rile up, Swarek," Andy countered, her tone light as she poked him in the ribs. "Look at it this way: We can start shopping for specific things. Outfits, bedding, maybe a few toys… It's nice to know the gender, and that way we can plan ahead." She took a breath, laying a comforting hand on his chest. "This is good news, I promise."

He nodded silently, covering her hand with his own.

She spun on her heel, gently dragging him up the walkway to their porch. "Although I refuse to paint the nursery pink, so don't get any ideas. I'm partial to that soft, mint green, and I'm not changing my mind," she called over her shoulder. "Got it?"

He smiled begrudgingly, stopping short on the porch. "Got it."

As Andy moved to unlock the front door, he stared at her, unblinking. Swallowing against the lump of emotion building in his throat, he reached for her waist.

"A girl," he said softly, subdued wonder in his voice.

"A girl," Andy repeated softly, a smile enveloping her face as she turned toward him.

"I bet she'll be real pretty like her mom," Sam said casually, brushing Andy's hair behind her shoulder.

"I bet she'll have a terrible sense of humor but some really cute dimples," Andy replied with a quick grin, "Just like her dad."

"This is probably the first of many subsequent freakouts," he admitted, running a hand through his hair anxiously.

"As long as we take turns being the crazy parent, how about that?" Andy offered, pulling him inside the house with a gentle smile.

"Deal," he said, exhaling. He met her eyes, his voice sure and sincere. "Deal."

First remodel.

"How you doing, hotshot?" he said, bracing an arm against the door and passing her a water bottle.

"Good," she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Her hair, knotted on the top of her head, drooped with the force of her movements, slowly unraveling. "Starting to get somewhere, I think," she said breathlessly.

He swept his gaze over the room. "Hard to believe this was a guest room a few weeks ago. Looks good."

"Yeah," she said with a relieved laugh. "I think it does. That's more than can be said for me, anyway." Dropping her brush, she wiped excess paint on her coveralls. "Whenever you see a woman painting in those home décor magazines, she has these cute, face-framing tendrils of hair, artfully arranged to look messy. I just have the straight-up, sweaty mess."

He pulled her chin up for a kiss. "Good thing I don't mind you sweaty."

She curled a hand around his jaw, leaving behind a mint green imprint of her forefingers. "Thanks, hon."

His lips curved into a smile as he pulled back. "Hon?" he parroted.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm testing it out. Still haven't found a name I'm sold on."

"Just Sam is fine," he said, his mouth twisted in amusement. "I'll answer to it; I promise."

She waved her hands airily. "Nah, one of these days I'll make a decision. By our twenty-fifth anniversary, definitely."

He shook his head, looping his fingers through her belt loops as he stood behind her, eyeballing the trim. Leaning forward, he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Walls look nice. I'm glad you went with green."

"Well, you couldn't live with pink walls in your house, could you?" she teased with a smirk. "She took a sip of her water, capping the bottle tightly. "Thanks for all the work you did up here last night; I never did get a chance to compliment your work."

"I didn't do much," he said, dismissing her praise. "Just glad we're getting somewhere with this nursery business."

"Yeah, well I'm glad tools are your self-professed area of expertise. I'll stick with my paints and primers, maybe pound a nail or two and hang a picture." She squinted against the bright light streaming through the window. "I've got the eye, you know."

"Yeah, that's what I've heard," he said, his tone laced with amusement.

She grinned, tilting her head to look up at him. "What do you think of the stencils?"

"I think this little girl is lucky her mom is so crafty," he said, tapping lightly on her belly. "Andy, they look great; they really do."

"Think she'll like them?" she asked, relaxing into Sam's chest.

"She'll love them," he reassured her, tracing the stenciled pattern on the wall. "And you know what I love? That we're remodeling, and not moving an entire house."

"Helps to have a planner in the family, doesn't it, Swarek?"

"You got me there." He smiled into her shoulder. "Hey, uh – I'm glad we've made this our place, you know? I didn't want it to just be my house that you moved into. I wanted it to be ours. Our home."

"Watch yourself, Swarek," she teased. "You don't want me falling back on some hokey line like, You're home for me, Sam." She giggled, scrunching her nose. "You never know what'll come out of my mouth with these hormones."

"That's where you're wrong," he said with a grin, spinning her around. "I never know what'll come out of your mouth, period."

First bout of jealousy.

"I can't believe the nerve of that girl."

"Andy, sweetheart. She's a waitress. It's her job. She's paid to be attentive and friendly."

"Yeah, and you know who else gets paid to be attentive and friendly? Whores," Andy snapped.

"Andy…" Sam began soothingly, tossing his keys on the counter and reaching for her.

She shook off his outstretched hand. "No, she just had to fawn over you. Simpering and giggling and thrusting her chest in your face every time she refilled the water glasses. Never mind my presence, or my ring, or my belly, stretched and swollen with YOUR CHILD inside."

"Sweetheart…"

"She was blonde," Andy spat out, her words dripping with venom. "Blonde and busty and perfect. She probably rescues puppies and reads to the elderly and volunteers at soup kitchens on the weekends."

"Andy…" Sam interrupted.

"Don't tell me you didn't check out her ass," Andy continued, waving her arms hysterically. "She had a great ass; there's no way you didn't notice, I can't even-"

"Andy," Sam repeated patiently, quietly. "That has to be one of the most ridiculous statements you have ever made."

"Meanwhile, I have to play the good little wife. Desk duty isn't enough, cut off from all the action? All day I'm stuck at the barn, as BIG as a barn, while you're out there, catching the bad guys." Her voice raised in pitch, and she threw her arms in exasperation. "I'm sure you'll have lots of great stories for Little-Miss-Perfect, because if you want action, look no further. I'm sure she's dreaming of all the sexy things she can do to you, right now."

"ANDY!" Sam interjected gruffly, startling her into silence.

She looked at him, blinking furiously, hands on her hips.

"Hey," he said softly, lowering his voice and edging toward her. "I don't have a passing thought for that girl, alright?"

"Yeah, right," Andy sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

"You know what?" he prompted quietly, moving to stand behind her, sweeping her hair off her back. He dragged his mouth across the column of her neck, planting hot kisses and nipping the smooth, tanned skin. He grinned into her neck before lowering his lips to her collarbone.

"This?" He swept a warm hand across her belly, rubbing in gentle circles. His left hand gripped her hip, and he pulled her closer. "Sexiest thing I've ever seen."

She leaned into him, grumbling softly. "Don't feed me a line, Sam; I swear..."

"It's not a line," he said firmly. Catching her arm, he turned her body to face him. Running a hand across her jaw, he tilted her chin up with a brush of his knuckle. "Hey, look at me."

"It's not a line," he repeated softly. "Fourteen years on the force before you came onto the scene. Fourteen years, and you were the only distraction." His lips twitched, and he ran a hand across her shoulder, down her arm, trailing to her stomach. "You ruined me for all other women, McNally."

She crossed her arms, pouting, but he could sense her annoyance was slowly dissipating.

"I only have eyes for my wife," he added lightly. "Hot cop with a gun. Can't ask for more than that."

She grumbled again, a low, raspy noise in her throat. Sam smiled at her reaction, recognizing its form – More for show than actual sentiment.

"That waitress?" Sam continued, wrapping his arms around her. "Bet she couldn't handle a gun, or run a sub-six mile, or tackle a perp after chasing him for eight blocks on foot."

A begrudging smile appeared on Andy's face, even as she fought to conceal it. "I can't run a sub-six anymore."

He smiled, wide and genuine, as he thumbed her bottom lip. "I think you get a pass when you've got another human being in tow."

Sam's eyes were alight with mischief when he spoke again. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I stiffed her on the tip?"

Her brow furrowed and her eyes widened, large and brown. "Really?"

"Really," Sam confirmed, resting a warm palm on her stomach.

Andy pulled back, running a hand through her hair. "But, I mean… Waitresses make, like, nothing. I worked part-time during college and I hated those assholes who stiffed. They're usually the most demanding tables, acting all entitled and..."

Sam broke in, shaking his head and biting back a smile. "Suddenly you're concerned about her well-being…?"

Andy bit her lip, her forehead creased in worry. "Well, maybe she really relies on those tips, you know? I did in college."

He nodded minutely, skimming a hand across her jaw and tugging on her ear. "And usually I agree with you – stiffing a waitress is unacceptable. But, uh. Maybe she shouldn't flirt with a married man. Especially when that man pointedly turns down her advances," he said reasonably, shrugging his shoulders.

Andy nodded, a bit forlorn. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right."

"I meant what I said, you know," he murmured in her ear. "You're really sexy like this."

She smiled half-heartedly, her body sagging as she leaned against him heavily. "I'm sorry. God, I'm such a cliché. I told myself I wasn't going to be like this; I wasn't going to be one of those crazy pregnant wives."

"You're not any crazier than you were to begin with." Sam grinned easily. "I married you. I knew what I was getting myself into."

She pouted, wrinkling her nose as she rested her head on his chest. "Don't tease me. I'm probably going to cry."

He slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close with a hidden smile. "Well, we can't have that."

"I'm huge," she said, cupping her stomach. "My hormones are wacked out, and I'm tired." She looked at Sam through heavy lashes, her shoulders slumping. "I'm so tired, Sam."

"I know," he said, stroking her hair. "You're a champ, you know that? You're allowed to have bad days; god knows you've been patient about everything else. I know desk duty isn't easy. You're making a huge sacrifice, and I love you for it."

She nodded into his chest, sighing. "It's a sacrifice I want to make," she explained. "I know I complain, but, like… I wouldn't change the circumstances, you know? I'm excited for this baby, and a couple months of desk duty isn't gonna change that." She exhaled deeply. "Sometimes it's just… a lot. But it's worth it. It is," she finished firmly.

"I don't deserve you," he said lightly, his eyes boring into hers.

"I'm pretty sure I'm the one that just threw the hissy fit, Sam," Andy replied with a groan, rolling her eyes and shoving his shoulder. "I hope you deserve more than irrational hormones."

He hid a grin, eyeing her speculatively. "Every part of you," he asserted, "Remember?"

"Remember…?"

"I love every part of you," he clarified. "Good thing we're both a little irrational."

First babyproofing venture.

"Damn it!" Sam's voice echoed through the house, and Andy heard the loud, solid thunk of what she presumed to be a boot, slamming against the kitchen cabinetry. "I can't open this motherfu-"

"Hey!" she interjected loudly, dropping her magazine and standing, balancing with the help of the couch's cushioned armrest. Placing one hand on her lower back, she shuffled to the doorway of the kitchen. "We said we were going to work on the language thing."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly unfurling his clenched fist. "Andy, the baby's not even here yet."

"We have to practice." Andy stared at him reproachfully, placing her hands on her belly as if she were soundproofing it. "And she can hear you from the womb, dumbass."

"How is dumbass any better than…?" He sighed, dropping his head and rolling his neck. "You know what? Forget it."

"I can show you how to open it," she said gently, sliding an arm around his waist. "Move over."

Crouching, she lowered herself into a seated position on the floor. "See? You just pinch these two sides at the same time, and slide the lock over the plastic teeth. It's really easy; you just have to get the hang of it."

"You gonna explain to me why we need to babyproof this thing," – he leaned against the countertop, motioning to the recently unsealed cabinet – "Five weeks before she gets here?"

Andy stifled the desire to roll her eyes. Instead, she spoke carefully and quietly. "We have to get used to locking up dangerous things, Sam. There's dishwashing detergent and Lysol and cleaning supplies under there. All of those are poisonous to small, inquisitive fingers."

He shook his head. "Even if she were here, it would be months before she could even attempt to get into one of those cabinets. It's not like we're sticking her in a crib full of toxins and telling her to have at 'em, Andy."

"It can't hurt to be prepared," Andy argued, folding her arms over her chest as she felt her temper rise.

He shook his head in disbelief, reaching for the detergent and filling the dishwasher. "Yeah, okay."

"I just want to be in the habit," she said crossly, stretching her legs in front of her. "I'm just trying to be a good mother; you don't have to be all grumpy because of it."

"You're more prepared for this then you think you are," he mumbled when he had locked the dishwasher door, sliding onto the floor next to her. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry; I'm not trying to be short with you…"

"Your baiting would suggest otherwise," she said, feeling petulant. Eyeing him speculatively, Andy took a deep breath. "You wanna tell me what's got you in this mood? Because last time I checked, I'm supposed to be the hormonal one."

Annoyed that his tension from work had propelled him into this argument, Sam sighed heavily, staring at his hands. When he spoke, the fire had gone from his voice.

"Shitty day on patrol. Bad case, bad day, and I... I just worry sometimes, okay?" He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. "It's not an excuse, but I'm still pissed about it, and I..." He swallowed, studying his hands. "I'm sorry."

Andy nodded silently, watching him. "You wanna talk about it?"

He stared at the wall before nodding in assent. "Later, alright?"

Her gaze softened as she took in the circles around Sam's eyes. "Okay." She scooted across the floor, reaching for his hand. "You're allowed to be annoyed, you know. We don't have the easiest job in the world, I know that. You don't have to walk on eggshells around me just because I'm pregnant."

"That right?" he said thoughtfully, tangling his legs with hers. He gave her the barest hint of a smile, eyeing her from his peripheral. "That's, uh, good to know."

"Hey," she said quietly, seriously. "I mean that. I just don't want you to shut me out, okay?"

"I know." Scuffing his foot against the tile floor, he nodded toward the cabinet. "Babyproofing is a good idea; I didn't mean to knock it earlier."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Is that what you actually think, or is that what you're going to say to placate your pregnant wife?"

"What's that?" he replied quickly, ignoring her question and cupping a hand to his ear. "Did I mention I love you recently?"

"Not recently, but you do have this pattern… You always get a little sentimental when you're trying to cover your tracks, so…" She shrugged, her eyes dancing. "You dig your hole well; you just have to learn that it takes a lot to fill it."

His shoulder relaxed, and he smirked at her comment. "Never had a problem filling it, sweetheart," he said with a wink.

She wrinkled her nose at him, aiming a kick at his ankle. "That was bad, even for you."

He heaved himself off the floor, straightening. "Well, how 'bout I make it up to you?"

"I might let you do that," she said breezily. "What exactly do you propose?"

"Mmm," he mused, pensive. "Back rub? Tepid bath?" He extended a hand toward her, offering to help her off the floor. "One of those makeout sessions you've been so fond of in recent weeks? You can pick which base we get to," he teased.

She adopted a stoic face in the wake of his enthusiasm, folding her arms across her chest. "You're probably going to need a crane to get me off the floor, you know that, right?"

Sliding an arm around her back, he hefted her to her feet, bringing them nose to nose.

"Richer, poorer, sickness, health, even if you need a crane," he murmured. "You're stuck with me, wife."

She pushed her hair behind her ears, pointedly avoiding his gaze. "You really like calling me that, don't you?"

"Yeah," he said solemnly, his eyes dark and serious. He skimmed his hands over her body, eventually twisting their left hands together. "Yeah, I really do."

She felt the corners of her mouth pull, but she suppressed the smile, studying his eyes. "You sure you want to wait 'til later to talk?"

He nodded minutely. "Yeah," he said squeezing her hip. "Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks."

She sighed softly, releasing the breath caught in her lungs. "Okay."

Stepping back, she reached for hand. "Back rub it is."

"Yeah?" he prompted, his lips twitching suspiciously as he followed her down the hall.

"Yeah," she confirmed, an unbidden smile appearing. "And then maybe some making out; we'll play it by ear."

First lullaby.

Dropping his keys on the small table in the foyer, he shrugged off his coat and poked his head into the kitchen. "Andy?" he called, his gaze roving the room.

Furrowing his brow, he circled the living room before heading upstairs, wondering if she had succumbed to her recent trend of late-afternoon catnaps. Rubbing his jaw, he smiled to himself, silently devising the best way to wake her up.

The sight that greeted him at their bedroom door stopped him short.

He watched Andy from the doorway in quiet wonder. Oblivious to his presence, she cupped her stomach and sang quietly, rubbing the taut, bronzed skin with gentle fingers. Closing her eyes, she swiped her thumb across the expanse of her belly, a small smile on her face.

"Are you singing to the baby?" Sam asked several minutes later, his words carrying softly across the room.

Andy glanced up in surprise, eyes wide. "Hey. I, uh – I didn't think you were home yet."

"Got off early," he said, shrugging his shoulders. His eyes roamed the room, settling on the hands that clasped her stomach tightly. He quirked an eyebrow. "So, you sing here often?"

"Maybe," she hedged, fussing with the duvet. She pursued her lips, suppressing a smile. "I want her mother's voice to be familiar, okay?"

Sam grinned warmly, pushing off the doorframe and walking inside. "No, I get it."

Andy studied him closely, trying to gauge if he was teasing her. "Don't think I haven't heard you talking to her, those early mornings when you think I'm still asleep."

"You hear that?" Sam said, taking a seat on the bed next to her.

"Yeah," she said, her chagrin fading. "It's cute. I, uh… I like it. I think she does, too."

He nodded thoughtfully, running a hand over her belly. "I like it, too."

She rested her hand on top of his, gently stroking his thumb. "You can talk to her now," she offered. "Um, if you want to, I mean. Mum's the word on my end." She twisted her hands, averting her gaze.

He chewed his bottom lip for a long moment before rolling onto his stomach, lifting her shirt up. Lowering his lips to her stomach, he spoke softly. "Hey there, baby. You, uh… You got a pretty great mama, you know that? I bet… I bet you're gonna be a stunner like her."

He paused, leaning back for effect. "Your mom's a planner, you know? It'd be great for all of us if you arrived on time," he continued. "Don't make us wait too long, alright?"

He pressed his lips to her warm skin, grinning. "It's hard to peg if you're gonna be more Swarek or McNally…" he trailed off. "But, uh. Listen: No time and space, got it? We want you hear as soon as possible." Tugging the hem of her shirt down, he smoothed the fabric. He raised his eyes to Andy's, his lips twitching. "We're good on the father-daughter chats for now, I think."

She nodded quietly, her lips carrying the barest trace of amusement.

"Sam?" she said a moment later, a note of anxiety in her voice. "We're ready for this, right?"

He flopped onto the bed, propping his hands underneath his head. "I don't know if anyone ever feels ready," he answered honestly. "But I know there's no else I'd rather have with me." He turned on his side, locking eyes with her. "No one."

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yeah."

"No, I mean it," Sam said, his tone even but thick with implication. "We've talked about this before, Andy. It's different with you; it's always been different with you." He ran a hand down her side, gliding over her t-shirt and sweatpants. "Whatever we're doing, we're doing it together, okay? We back each other up."

"Partners?" she offered timidly, a small smile on her lips.

"Partners," he affirmed. "Whatever you need to get off your chest..." He let his words dangle, sensing the tirade of emotions swirling in the air.

"I'm terrified," she finally admitted with a shaky laugh, breathing deeply.

He reached for her hand, exhaling as he gripped her wrist. Catching her eye, he flashed a brief, roguish smile. "Me too. But I guess... I guess that's what makes it fun."

First birth.

"I was this close to having you cut off my bangs," Andy admitted, spreading her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "Nothing was helping; not the bobby pins or the headband or anything. I needed them off my forehead, like, yesterday, and I was getting desperate."

Sam pressed a kiss to her temple, grinning. "You did good, sweetheart, so good."

"I swear, every stupid freakin' sitcom on TV makes it seem like your water breaks and you're popping out the kid twenty minutes later." She grimaced, shutting her eyes. "Nobody ever says twenty-three hours."

"Yeah," Sam said, laughing. "I think the whole labor and delivery squad got that memo when you yelled, 'I am not making a day of it.'" He slid an arm around her shoulders. "Good thing she's cute, huh?"

"The cutest," Andy echoed, sighing. "She's perfect, Sam. I mean, I guess every parent thinks that, but I'm not even being biased, you know? That is one gorgeous baby."

"Yeah," he said, smiling softly. "She really is."

"I'm not sure I have this peaceful, motherly aura surrounding me, though." Andy clucked her tongue impatiently, fussing with her hospital robe. "I think I was too sassy in the recovery room."

"I'd respectfully disagree," Sam said teasingly. "You were spirited. It's in your nature."

"Yeah?" Andy prompted. "You think it will be in her nature, too?"

"Definitely," Sam confirmed, yawning. "I hear obstinacy is genetic on the mother's side."

"Good thing she has such an even-keeled father, huh? No temper in sight," Andy said wryly.

She snuggled Maeve closer, fixing her tiny, striped pink cap. "We did a pretty good job, don't you think?"

He traced the baby's fingers gently, a smile on his lips. "Solid effort. I think that's a dimple, right there," he said, pointing to her cheek. "Sarah will be proud."

"You should call her," Andy suggesting, stifling a yawn and burrowing into his shoulder.

"I texted a while ago; I'll call in a bit," he said. "I want to spend some time with my girls first."

She smiled, gingerly passing Maeve to him. "Hold her, will you? I'm gonna close my eyes for just a minute."

"Gladly," Sam said, accepting the tiny bundle. He leaned in, brushing his lips across Andy's forehead. "I don't care what you say; you definitely have that glow," he murmured.

"It's funny, right? You think you know what love is, and this…" Her eyelids fluttered. "This just blows all your notions out of the water."

"It's different," Sam conceded, eyes flickering between Maeve and Andy. "But I think I won on all counts."

First sleepless night.

Andy sighed, muffling a groan against the smooth cotton pillowcase. "Seriously. Seriously. If I were a baby, I would sleep all the time. Why doesn't she get that memo?"

Sam rubbed his face wearily. "I got more sleep when I was undercover, playing a strung-out addict." He turned on his side, looking at her through bleary eyes. "I'm not kidding."

Andy hmm-ed noncommittally, tangling her legs with his. "Who's turn?" she yawned, shifting.

"Mine." He heaved himself off the mattress, cursing softly and running a hand through his hair.

"Language," Andy mumbled, shutting her eyes and curling into a ball. "Bring her in here, okay?"

"No, I'll just leave her in the bassinet, crying," he mumbled irritably. "C'mon, Andy."

Too tired to roll her eyes, Andy burrowed into the pillow, silently bargaining with the universe for some much-needed shut eye.

"I honestly thought it would get better," Sam said from the doorway, cradling Maeve in one arm and rubbing his jaw. "I mean, that first night home I heard every creak and shudder in this goddamn house, but she slept so well. I thought we lucked out with an easy baby, a baby that wanted to sleep and eat all the time."

"She's a good-natured baby," Andy protested, reaching for her. "She's just a strange breed of night owl, I think." She yawned, slipping her top off. "Besides, we've never been the 'easy' couple, have we? Makes sense that our kid has her own stubborn streak."

"Yeah," Sam huffed. "Stubborn in spades."

Sighing, Andy leaned against his shoulder, adjusting her grip on Maeve. "At least you can drink coffee," she mumbled. "What I wouldn't do for a steaming cup of dark roast…" she paused wistfully, shaking herself. "But we'd just be exacerbating this problem," she said, motioning to the baby. "Keeping her up at all hours, not just the nighttime ones."

He closed his eyes briefly, his arm tightening around her waist. "Good thing she's cute, huh?"

"Yeah," Andy said, her words swallowed by another large yawn. "Good thing."

First playdate.

"Man, look at those curls," Oliver said, gesturing to Maeve. "They're cute at that age, brother, there's no denying."

The baby was lying on her stomach underneath a free-standing mobile, laughing at the antics of Oliver's youngest. Liv, who was enamored with Maeve, alternately clapped her hands and hid behind a throw pillow, playing peek-a-boo.

"You ever think about more?" Sam asked offhandedly, his eyes following the girls' movements.

"Looks like Liv would sure love that, huh?" Oliver said, shaking his head. He shrugged. "You know my rule, brother. Whatever the wife wants, the wife gets."

"Why do you ask?" he said, popping a cookie in his mouth. "You thinking...?"

"We've got our hands full with this one," Sam said simply, gazing at Maeve with an affectionate grin. "But... I don't know, another one might be nice down the road." He was silent for a moment before coughing, clearing his throat. His voice was laced with the signature Swarek cockiness when he spoke again. "Can't let these genes go to waste, you know what I mean?"

"Hah," Oliver choked out through bites of his sugar cookie. "If you say so."

He swallowed, washing down the cookie with a sip of water.

They were quiet for several minutes, content to watch the girls play.

"It's nice, though, huh?" he prompted, avoiding Sam's eyes. "This dad thing?"

"Yeah," Sam echoed, his voice rough. "Really nice."

First separation.

"I miss her," Andy said softly, staring at the ceiling. "What's it been, like four hours? And I'm already a wreck." She pinched the bridge of her nose, glancing at her watch. "Sam, how am I gonna last overnight? Or a whole shift away from her?"

"I think this was supposed to be the practice round," Sam said patiently, his hands sweeping over the bedspread. They were both fully clothed, laying on top of the bed, a champagne bottle - three-quarters full - sitting on the neighboring nightstand. "She's in good hands, sweetheart."

Andy bit her lip, swallowing thickly. "I just... If we were together, even mundane errands would be nice, you know? I like when she comes to the grocery store or the dry cleaners or for walks around the park."

"I know," Sam said, sliding an arm around her shoulders. "You'll still have time for that; you and I can work out a schedule, okay?"

"What if she doesn't sleep through the night?" Andy said, reaching into her pocket for her phone. "What if Sarah has problems?"

Sam's hand shot toward her wrist and slowed her movements. "Sarah has both of our cell numbers, and we're five miles away, Andy. She can call if she needs to, and we can get home if we need to." He released his grip on her wrist slowly. "She's done this before, you know. Twice."

"I know," Andy said miserably, pouting. "She's an angel for offering, I know that." She sighed, rolling onto her side to look at Sam. She bit her lip, sorrowful. "I'm sorry for being a fun sponge on our anniversary."

"You're not a fun sponge," Sam said charitably, running a hand down her side. "You miss Maeve. It's okay, I miss her, too."

"I just... It's gonna be so hard to go back to work, away from my baby for so long. What if she doesn't like daycare?" she asked worriedly.

"It'll get easier," he promised. "And she's not going to be there around the clock, okay? Don't worry."

"But what if we don't like this set-up?"

"Then worry." He grinned, stretching his arms. "I'm kidding. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. We have other options, you know? Fewer hours, different shifts...Frank will understand; he has a kid." He threaded his hand through her hair. "We'll make it work."

"Think Sarah would consider moving to Toronto?" Andy asked, half-seriously. "Abby's in school now..."

Sam chuckled, flopping onto the pillow. "She probably would, if you asked her. Sarah loves 'em at this age." His smile widened. "Our kid would be spoiled rotten, though. And our nieces might miss their mom."

"They could come too," Andy protested weakly. "We have some great schools here; we'll buy a house with a couple different stories and divide the levels by family." She broke off, closing her mouth when she saw Sam's teasing smirk. "What? It could work," she added defensively.

"We'll be okay," he said calmly, brushing his lips across her temple. "She'll be okay, too. She's a very good-natured baby. Rolls with the punches," he added with a wink. "Although if I had to guess, she didn't get that from her mother."

"Saaam," Andy whined, draping an arm over her eyes dramatically. "C'mon."

"This is how people do 'normal,' McNally. We're just have to figure out what works for us." He ran his tongue over his teeth, eyeing his wife slumped on the bed. After a moment's hesitation, he reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out his cell.

"If I give you this..." he said with a grin, "Two minutes. Two minutes on the phone with Sarah, and that's it, okay?"

Andy popped up from the bed, new life breathed into her. "Yes!" She reached for the phone eagerly. "Two minutes."

First word.

"Sam? You seen my badge?" she called down, her footsteps thundering down the stairs. "I'm supposed to swing by HQ this morning."

"Nope, sorry," he said from his seat at the breakfast table, glancing over the morning paper. Next to him, Maeve bounced in her swing, clapping her hands eagerly.

"No? No badge anywhere?" She let out a frustrated sigh. "I can't go without my badge, Sam; I need my badge."

"Badd."

At that, Andy stopped short, her eyes whipping to Maeve. "What did she just say?"

"I don't know," Sam said bewilderedly, his forehead creased in concentration. "Maeve, honey…" he prompted, running a hand through her dark hair.

"BADD," the baby repeated emphatically, banging her fist on the tray of the swing.

"I think she just tried to say badge, Sam," Andy whispered. "That was badge, right? I mean, she's missing a few consonants, but…" She trailed off, crouching in front of the swing. "Good girl. Oh, my good, smart girl… Look at you, sweetie!"

Sam shook himself from his reverie. "She's been babbling for a while, but I'm almost sure…" He paused abruptly, his expression changing as a slow grin overtook his face. "Actually… You know, uh… That word could have been badge, but it also could be construed as 'dad,' if you think about it."

"She did not say dad," Andy said, straightening. "That was definitely not dad."

"You sure about that?" Sam prodded, shrugging his shoulders. "Because that sounds like jealousy talking, not mommy."

"I'm not jealous," Andy stated, flouncing across the room. "How could I be jealous? She didn't say dad." She huffed out a breath, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. "I think I know my own daughter, Sam."

He grinned behind his mug of coffee. "I'm just saying, it could've been dad."

"Well, you're wrong," she said calming, ripping her bagel into small pieces. "She wasn't even looking at you when she said it." Squaring her shoulders, Andy tossed her hair behind her. "I thought we weren't gonna be competitive about parenting, anyway."

"Who's being competitive?" Sam queried. "I'm simply stating the facts."

"It wasn't dad," Andy said firmly, tossing the rest of her bagel in the trash with a scowl.

"Fine, fine," Sam said, throwing his hands up in mock-surrender. "It wasn't dad."

Andy nodded sharply, glancing at her watch. "I have to go, anyway. Guess this means I'm going without my badge." She wrinkled her nose, sighing heavily. "Hope it won't be an issue."

"Badd," Maeve repeated, clapping.

"That's right, honey," Andy cooed, pressing a swift kiss to Maeve's head. "Badge." She shook her head, laughing. "Our kid's first word would be badge."

Turning on her heel, Andy kissed the top of Sam's head. "Love you," she murmured, before adding, "Don't even let that thought cross your mind. It absolutely wasn't dad."

"It wasn't dad," Sam echoed in a defeated tone. He waited until Andy was out the door, the key turned in the lock, before he lifted Maeve from her seat and spoke again.

"Doesn't mean we can't practice, does it, Miss Maeve? DA-add. DA-add. Dad."

First steps.

"C'mon, sweetie," Andy coached from the living room floor. "You can do it, pretty girl."

Sam surveyed in judgment, pointing to her chubby legs. "I don't know; she looks a little shaky. Does it still count?"

"Sam," Andy drawled, letting out a huff of air. "Of course it counts. We're not issuing a field sobriety test."

"So serious, wife," Sam said, a grin tugging at his lips. "Can we maybe not project our competitive natures on our kid? Not yet, anyway."

"Hey, I had to listen to Traci brag about how quickly Lucy learned to walk for weeks. If Maeve can learn faster, more power to her."

"She'll walk when she's ready," Sam replied, unflappable as ever. "Don't you think?"

Andy frowned, rocking back on her heels. "Yeah," she conceded finally, exhaling. "I guess you're right. We don't want to rush her if she's not ready."

"I mean, I wouldn't mind if our kid beat Jerry's," Sam added, his eyes alight with mischief. "But it's not necessary."

She wrinkled her nose at him, tossing her hair bossily. "Don't deny it, Swarek, you want this as bad as I do."

"I do," he maintained with a grin. "I'm just decidedly less vocal about it."

The past few weeks had been an exercise in patience for both parent and child. Maeve had successfully pulled herself upright, holding onto various pieces of furniture to move about the room, but she had yet to take any steps without assistance from inanimate objects or her parents' steadying hands.

"Come to Mommy, sweetie," Andy prompted gently, her arms wide open. "Let go of that couch cushion and just steppppppp..."

"Sam," she said, waving her arm at him. "Get the camera; this is gonna be the day, I can feel it."

"That's what you've said the last three times, Andy," Sam said, barely suppressing an eye roll, hefting himself off the couch.

"I know what I said, Sam; I just think-" she stopped abruptly, her mouth a soundless 'O.' Grabbing Sam's sleeve as he walked by her, she squeezed his arm, whispering, "Sam."

He spun on his heel in time to see Maeve release the couch cushion, balancing on her feet. With her arms outstretched, she took three small, shaky steps.

"Sam -"

"I see, I see," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Maeve swayed on the fourth step, pushing her butt backwards as she landed in a seated position with a dramatic oomph. She didn't cry, she just looked around, bewildered and blinking furiously.

"Oh, sweetie," Andy squealed, bending forward to scoop her up. "What a brave girl." Peppering Maeve's cheeks with kisses, Andy held her close, tickling her gently.

She walked over to Sam with Maeve on her hip, the light in her eyes dancing. "Sam." She bit her lip excitedly, a smile threatening to burst onto her face. "She did it. She really did it."

"I saw," he said, his voice laced with pride as he skimmed a hand over Maeve's head. "She's a go-getter, this one."

"You wanna get the camera? See if she'll do it again?"

He nodded, his smile wide and bright. "Sure thing. Right after I text Jerry."

First revelation.

Closing the front door behind her, Andy kicked off her shoes and hung her jacket on the hook by the door. Her ears perked up at the sound of a faucet turning off upstairs, and discarding the stack of mail on the desk in the foyer, she climbed the stairs quietly to investigate.

As she rounded the corner upstairs, she was greeted with the sight of her husband bent over the tub, giving their daughter her nightly bath.

Andy leaned against the doorjamb, silently watching as Sam hummed a tune to Maeve, splashing her legs with a washcloth and tickling her tummy. One hand held her steady in the tub, while the other reached blindly for a towel on the countertop. Gingerly cradling her, he dried her off, swinging the hood of the towel over her head.

Andy's eyes followed the muscular planes of his back, lifting and moving until Maeve was a compact, terrycloth bundle against his bare chest. Maeve's wide brown eyes peeked over his shoulder, and Andy found herself waving at the baby, a soft smile on her lips.

Maeve's enthusiastic greeting – Mama! – disrupted his reverie, and Sam swung around, breaking off mid-hum.

"Hey, you," he said, startled by Andy's appearance. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Andy said slyly, her grin becoming more pronounced, then, "Watching." Pushing off the doorframe, she straightened.

He chuckled, bouncing Maeve lightly, and leaned in to kiss her hello. "See something you like?"

"You caught me." She grinned. "And now I need to un-see it, before my eyes send a message to my ovaries and I jump you later tonight."

He ducked around her, pinching her hip. "You won't hear me complaining."

She laughed knowingly, pleased. "Somehow, I didn't think I would," she said.

"You're home early," he commented, padding back to Maeve's nursery, Andy in his wake.

"That's because I keep up with my paperwork; I don't pawn it off on some poor rookie," she replied airily. "You should try it sometime."

"What's the point of having a rookie, then?" he said with a grin. "Free secretarial work."

She popped the drawer of Maeve's dresser open, fishing out a pair of pajamas while Sam changed her into an overnight diaper. They worked in tandem, silently, each pausing to smile at the baby and coo a few words.

When she was bundled for bed, Sam laid Maeve in the crib with a bottle, touching her head gently as he pulled away. With a quick flash of his teeth, he rested a hand on the small of Andy's back, guiding her into the hallway so he could quietly close the door. When they were out of earshot, he whispered, "Does that mean we can have dinner together?"

"Done and done," Andy said with a quiet sigh. "I'm starved. And it would be great to talk to you. I feel like we haven't really talked in ages."

An hour later, plates and glasses carefully arranged in the dishwasher, Sam and Andy took a seat on the living room couch. Their conversation began with outlining their days, turning eventually to the topic of parenthood.

"I really love being a mom," Andy said quietly, her dark hair splayed across Sam's lap as she lay curled on the couch. "It's not easy... But at the end of the day, it's the most important thing to me. More important than being a cop, even." She ran a hand over Sam's knee, her breathing even and quiet. "I didn't think anything was more important to me than being a good cop, but this? This is a game changer," she answered honestly.

"It suits you," he said candidly. "Motherhood, it suits you. Probably has something to do with that lion's heart." He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. "You're the happiest, the most natural I've ever seen you, when you're with her."

"I guess..." she paused, shifting in Sam's lap and meeting his eyes. "I guess our pasts don't really define us, not if we don't let them. We learn from them, and make the best of it, and..." she trailed off, her words hanging. Threading her fingers through his, she squeezed his palm. "I should thank you. I never thought I could be a good mother until I met you, Sam. Until we got together, and you... I don't know, you had faith in me."

"Me?" Sam said with a low laugh. "I think you're giving me too much credit, Andy."

"I'm not," she said, shaking her head. "You believed I could do so many other things," she said simply. "You were always pushing me in the field, but you never doubted that I was capable. When we started talking about kids, there was carry-over; trust me. You believed in me, and I don't know... It gave me the courage to believe in myself, I guess."

She sat up, wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you for that," she murmured in her ear. "Sam, I don't know what else... Thank you," she whispered.

He pressed his lips to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. "Your love is thanks enough, Andy." He pulled back, his dark eyes boring into hers. "I'm so lucky to have you, sweetheart, I am."

"How 'bout you?" she said after a long moment. "How do you feel?"

"About being a dad? It's, uh." He paused, reaching for her hand. "Best thing I've ever done," he said finally, blowing out a breath. "Hands down."

"Yeah?" she asked, her smile growing.

"Yeah," he said, mirroring her slow, lazy smile. "You gave me the most beautiful baby girl in the world, Andy."

She tilted her head, thumbing at his jaw before nodding in agreement. "Can't argue with that logic. We should send in a headshot to, like, Gerber or something. That baby could be a model."

She felt the rumble of laughter in Sam's chest and grinned, pulling back to stare at him.

"Think we should give it a go again?"

His eyes widened infinitesimally, and he ran his hands over her thighs in long, soothing strokes. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "I mean, we've had a hell of a lotta firsts together, Sam. Everything has been fresh and exciting, but that's what the future is, right? An abundance of firsts, if you're just willing to take the chance."

She smiled, her hands wrapped around his jaw as she leaned forward, bumping their noses together. "I love you," she said quietly. "I want this. With you. Always."

"Besides," she added conspiratorially, whispering against his lips. "Maybe it's time to try some 'firsts' with a 'second,' you know?"

FIN.

I am, as ever, indebted to my readers. Thank you. It's hard to believe that this idea started as a brainstorming session for a oneshot, and now, 100K words later, I'm marking this story "complete."

Anonymous reviews are once again enabled, and I sincerely hope that readers will leave a parting thought or two. Your remarks on the last chapter were a true delight to read, and I'm so grateful.

Thank you for sticking with me, and happy reading in the future! - AB