So Written

Writes, cooks, yaps, loves

Fic: ‘Too Good to be true’

***WARNING; CHARACTER DEATH***

A/N; This is just my mind running off after reading all the speculations I read all over the web about the tragic thing happening further along the season.

I have written this from Sam’s point of view and I got the name for Andy’s mother from the ABC website.

I really need to thank Enits3 and KitKat2012 for being my trampoline to bounce ideas off and RookieBluefan89 and DeeDee920 for editing last minute, as I wanted to get this out before Thursday in case Amazon pulled another early release-stunt on us. (I feel like I am among few that still haven’t seen 3.04.)

And Margie? I wouldn’t even have gone along without your encouragements after first couple of paragraphs!

Disclaimer; I do not own the rights to Rookie Blue, although I wish for it every day.

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My stomach churns and my heart shreds to pieces as I watch the man in my arms exhale his last breath. I can’t believe it has come to this. Him, just giving up so easily on the new life he tried so hard to create. All those meetings, all those internal struggles to stay sober. For what? Back to old habits. Old habits that have pushed him to the grave.

We’ve all feared this was going to happen at some point; ever since Claire showed up in Toronto. Jumping into Andy’s life. Into Tommy’s life. Into my life. Into our life. A one-way ticket to destruction is what she’d been carrying in her purse. Never let us doubt her goals for even the slightest moment. Bonding with Andy McNally. Making up for lost time.

Within a day, Tommy picks up the bottle again. We’re all there when it happens. All the three of us can do is watch. The first sip looks innocent, the second shows how dependent an addict will always be on their vice; recovered or not. Tommy McNally the alcoholic returns to us that second. We witness the relaxing and calming effect. Claire has no idea, doesn’t see it, there is no way she can know about the battles Tommy McNally has been fighting ever since she left.

It takes one simple look between Andy and me for us to realise that we are both thinking along the same line. Please don’t let this happen to him. To us. Please God, don’t let him fall off the wagon. Back into the deep.

It’s that same unfaithful evening Claire tells us that she wants in. In on Andy’s life. She doesn’t ask, just demands. As if there is no way this woman is taking ‘no’ for an answer, even though we try. Well, I try. I try for Andy. I try for Tommy. I try for myself. I don’t care what this woman wants; she lost a chance to have a say when she left Andy and Tommy. With the arrival of this woman, Claire, all the alarms have gone off and there’s only one thing I want to do. The thing I do best; protect.

That night, when we go to bed, Andy curls up in my arms and cries herself to sleep. It warms my heart, the way she only shows me her vulnerable side, and that doesn’t happen very often. But it’s bittersweet, because there’s nothing I can do to take away her anguish; I feel it too. All we can do is keep an eye on Tommy.

Two days later, Andy drops by Tommy’s for lunch and finds him passed out on the sofa. Numerous bottles of Scotch scattered across the coffee table. Empty. First thing she does is call me. She tries to stay strong for me. But I can hear the heartbreak in her voice, the quiver she’s desperately trying to cover up. I flip on the cruiser lights and speed off towards Tommy’s apartment.

Devastation hits me as I walk into the living room; the telltale smell of an alcoholic burning in my nose. Not knowing what pains me most; Tommy’s state, or the heartbreak in Andy’s eyes. I guess it’s a tie. I start picking up the bottles, gently asking Andy to call her father’s sponsor, Jake.

Jake comes over immediately, and together we try to clean Tommy up. We need to remind him of what’s at stake. Of what he is throwing away. Of how good life can be without the alcohol. He doesn’t need to forget bad things, because there is nothing to forget. He just needs to realise. Realise that no matter how hard Claire will try, Andy will never stop loving him. No matter what Claire will say, no matter how she tries to bring down Tommy, how hard she tries to be included in Andy’s life. Andy will never forget that Tommy’s been there for her all those years.

Together with Jake we come up with a plan. A plan that involves Andy and I working different shifts. So, it’ll need to be cleared with Frank first. The idea is that Tommy is never left alone, so that he can’t go on another bender. Jake, the sponsor, will jump in regularly too, so Andy and I can spend time alone together once in a while. Because keeping Tommy on track will be taking up all our free time.

It’s that same afternoon when Claire strikes, and succeeds, in clawing Andy into her life. An album full of baby photos is all it takes. It’s a natural reaction; of course Andy wants to know all about her past. Who wouldn’t? Claire is the only one who holds the answers to the all the burning questions that Andy has about her past. Those answers are the final hook in her lure.

It takes some persuasion from my side, but after a good talk, Frank agrees with the switch in our schedules. He’s known Tommy for a long time, and like us, he is worried about the former detective. Together with Frank, we also decide to keep it from our colleagues; there is no need for them to know.

The first couple of days we struggle with a reluctant Tommy. Apparently he slams the door on both Andy and Jake a couple of times. Apparently, and thankfully, he is too scared to slam the door on me. After a few days he just accepts, starts drinking water and soda instead of Scotch, and tries to eat regularly again.

After a week of progress we decide to ease up on the ‘Tommy-watch’. Instead of someone being there permanently, either Andy or I will be there during dinner and the first hours of the evening. Jake assures us he is just a phone call away and we can ask for his help whenever we need to.

That night is the first time since Claire’s arrival that Andy seems relaxed. I can tell by the way she moves around the house, humming and dancing. She hands me a beer, grins lazily and leans in for a kiss. All I do is enjoy the sight of her moving through the house. Carefree, like a child. All that I can think of in that moment is how much I love her. I can feel a smile growing on my face. We have been through so much together; life brings so many uncertainties. The only thing I am certain of these days, is that I am in love with her. Head over heels.

Three days later my whole world, our whole world, crumbles down.

It’s my turn to stay with Tommy while Andy works the evening shift. Around dinner, I realise there is barely anything in the fridge. Tommy grudgingly confesses that he hasn’t been out to get groceries for a couple of days now. An alarm goes off in my head; self-neglect is one of the first signals of alcoholism, after all. After a quick search in all the standard hiding places we know of, I find no reason to worry for now.

The minute I return from the grocery store, I can sense that something is wrong. Tommy McNally is facedown on the sofa, his cheeks a strange shade of purple. I can feel my heartbeat picking up and the adrenaline kick in as I start to panic. I take a minute to scan the room and my eyes widen when I see the bottle of sleeping pills that the doctor prescribed for Tommy’s insomnia.

It’s empty and a quick calculation in my head tells me that it shouldn’t be. I yank my phone out from my pocket and hit speed dial two, 9-1-1, and ask for an ambulance while struggling with what I need to tell them. I know there will be police presence too, and all I can do is hope that Andy hasn’t heard anything over the radio.

Time seems to slow as I start trying to resuscitate Tommy, waiting and silently pleading for the ambulance to arrive quickly. Doing everything I can to keep the man, who is so important to Andy, alive. By the time the paramedics arrive, it’s too late. Tommy McNally blows out his last breath in my arms.

A minute after the paramedics come in, the police arrive. Everything is a blur. I register the yelling and moving around and all I can do is sit still and hold on to Tommy.

“LET ME IN!” I hear a familiar voice scream and a second later, I notice her long brown ponytail bobbing through the door.

I rise to my feet as she closes in on the one scene I don’t want her to see. I try to stop her and block her view, but she takes one look at the lifeless body on the floor. It’s all she needs. The next time she looks at me, her eyes are full of hurt. And accusation. I read her immediately. She blames me.

“He DIED!” she yells. I can hear the panic in her voice as she chokes out the words. “He died on your watch! You were supposed to keep anything from happening.”

I shake my head slowly and make an ill attempt to hold her as she bats away my arms.

“You were responsible and he died, Sam. He died because of you,” and with those words Andy McNally runs out of the apartment, out of my life.

My head’s spinning out of control. I stand there, lost, wanting her to scream at me. Hit me if she needs to. Take it all out on me. Wish she’d just let it all her emotions go instead of running away. I want to chase after her, beg her not to leave, but I know the attempt will be futile. Things will just get worse if I do.

It’s only a few seconds later that Jerry walks into the room with one of the bottles of water Tommy has been drinking from.

“Sammy, did you know these bottles contain Vodka?” he asks carefully.

There is nothing else to do but look at him, my eyes wide with shock.

“And together with the amount of pills he took, it must have been lethal. Don’t need a tox-screen for that,” Jerry finishes.

I drop my head, hiding my face in my hands and let the tears stream freely. She’s right. I am to blame. I disappointed her. The assignment was simple, protect Tommy from himself. And I could not fulfill it. I let her down. Hell, I let myself and Tommy down, too.

Tommy McNally died. On my watch. I should have known things were too good to be true.

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Please don’t be shy and let me know what you think!

*SoWritten

Fic: ‘Locker Room Affairs’

This is a fic I started back in September, when my Rookie Blue withdrawals were at it’s worst. It has given me lots of grief, as I never intended for it to become a 30k+ story. After a hell of a ride I finished it yesterday and posted the last chapter on FanFiction.net. I have taken some liberties with this fic, as it’s a spun off of episode 2.03.

Synopsis;
After Luke has been shot, Sam finds Andy in the Locker Room. This story tells what happens after that little encounter and takes you through various events in their life.

I will only link to it from here, as it contains M-rated sections, and is not suitable for young eyes. Please take this into account when clicking the link.

Locker Room Affairs

*SoWritten

Fic: ‘Pillow Fluff’

A/N; Well, I am not big on celebrating Valentine’s day… But I have been working on this little fic to overcome my Locker Room Affairs block.

The topic was suggested to me by SVUgirl (check her montages on youtube! They are great…) and I really had fun writing it.

Many thanks go out to SVUgirl for the great idea, deedee920 for her very fast last minute editing (THANKS SOOOO MUCH!!!) and The Man for cooperating on research for this fic.

Disclaimer; I don’t own Rookie Blue in any way, shape or form.

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He felt a dull thud to his head, causing him to launch himself into a sitting position. Still a bit drowsy with sleep after waking up so suddenly, he confusedly took in his surroundings. A hotel room. Right…

A soft giggle alerted him to the fact that he was not alone and another soft fluffy thing hit his head as he turned around to look at the source of said giggle. He. Should. Have. Known.

“McNally…” he growled reaching for the pillow that had just bounced off his head.

There she was, his beautiful partner, sitting on her knees, a daring, mischievous look in her eyes. – He hadn’t seen her this relaxed for a long time. – Holding another pillow over her head, ready for another…

*Whack*

She giggled. Again.

“Andy,” he growled again, “I’m trying to sleep here.”

“Well…” throwing him a smile that said she was aiming for… “I’m not old man.”

He grabbed the pillow from her hands. – Thing is, they are in a hotel room. And in hotel rooms, especially the ones with two luxury double beds like they were staying in, there were many pillows. – So… she just grabbed another one.

This Rookie… Not only do I get stuck with her in a hotel room with her wearing nothing more than a pair of MY boxers and MY shirt. She wakes me up, throwing pillows at me. How did this happen?

A sting gone bad had caused them to not be able to get home, so they checked into a hotel after a short phone call with Vice. Not a shabby place, because they had portrayed a yuppie couple, but a fancy hotel with, as he had just found out, many pillows in the rooms. She hadn’t been as prepared as he had, which resulted in her wearing his clothes to bed.

This is like torture… She’s finally single, I’ve been pining for her for ages. But the past weeks have been hell. Frosty, that is… Hardly on speaking terms and now this UC comes along…

*Whack*

His train of thought was broken by another pillow being flung at his head. She was just not going to give up. If she wanted to behave like a child he’d give her a taste of her own medicine.

He grabbed a pillow and flung it at her, she caught it midair and started giggling like a seven year old, as her eyes roamed his bare chest.

“You decided to join in old man?” she teased.

He tried to reach for another pillow, but Andy quickly gathered all the pillows together and put them behind her.

For a moment he just sat there, contemplating what to do. In order to get a pillow he would have to fight her. Yeah, that’s why they call it a pillow fight. Scratching the back of his head, he got up from his bed and took the two strides over towards her. He was met by her goofy grin, her eyes twinkling with mischief. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest in anticipation.

“You do realise that for me to participate I will need at least one pillow. Right?”

“Yup.”

“So are you going to give me one?”

“Nope.”

“So you want me to…”

“Yup,” she replied before he could finish his question, grinning, “bring it on!”

Whatever…

He dove towards her, trying to grab a pillow. But she beat him to it, throwing herself over the pillows, while trying to smack him in the head with the one she was still holding. It was then he let all his inhibitions go. Grabbing her arms as he flipped her over, he pinned her to the bed. The skin that showed as his shirt rode up her body distracted him, but he quickly gathered himself.

Grabbing two pillows, he was quick to hide behind the other side of her bed. He smacked her in the head the second she turned around. The fire in her eyes was lit as she jumped on the bed trying to fling another pillow at him. He blocked it with his arms.

Climbing onto the bed, he noticed her staring at his shirtless body. Again. He took her moment of distraction as an opportunity to tackle her, pinning her down on the bed; pressing her wrists in to the mattress above her head.

“You ready to give up yet?’ he asked, daring her with his eyes as she was struggling to free herself from his hold. “McNally….” drawling out her name.

She was panting heavily, her eyes, big and questioning, staring at him. Sam was hovering over her, the feeling of her underneath him sending waves of wanting through his body both uncontrollable and undeniable. He took an even stronger hold on her wrists. She bit her lower lip in anticipation. He wanted nothing more than to…

“Kiss me,” she whispered, so soft he had to really focus on what he was hearing. And even then he wasn’t sure.

I’ll just take my chance.

He dipped down, pressed his body into hers and softly touched his lips to hers. Tentatively. Trying to read her reaction to his forwardness. When she didn’t object he put more pressure on the kiss. He felt her mouth opening the minute her whole body went limp. Left foot running up his calf, right leg pressing into his side.

“Sam,” she managed to breath out while he moved his lips along her jaw.

He stopped, the questioning tone of her voice startling him, and looked up at her with confusion in his eyes. Had he misunderstood her? He pulled back, looking at the headboard.

“You don’t…?”

She quickly pressed her index finger to his lips, silencing him.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“What took you so long?”

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A/N; Thank you for reading! Please do not hesitate to review. I thrive on reviews.

And, once again; thank you The Man for having a pillow fight with me. It made it so much easier to visualise while writing!

Happy Valentine’s day!

 

Shawesomeness

So, by now you must realise that I have fallen in love with Rookie Blue from the first minute of the first episode. I was, no am, hooked. But hey, the show is on hiatus and all we have now is reruns of season 1&2 and spoilers from the set of season 3.

Now this show is full of great actors, and that is an understatement. And were I am obviously rooting for ‘McSwarek’ I am head over heels in love with the character Oliver Shaw. His timing, his actions, his words, his eating habits. Everything. Impeccable!  Matty B Gordon does a great job portraying Officer Oliver Shaw. There isn’t an episode I don’t laugh at something Oliver does or says.

This fall, while watching a rerun with a couple of other fans, I came up with the idea that we need a ‘Shaw greatest moments’ extra on the season 2 DVD/Blu Ray. Which we did pitch to both Tassie Cameron (executive producer of Rookie Blue) and Matty B Gordon himself through Twitter.

Anyway, this week I ran into a video made by another fan (and she makes great vids, just saying), full of Shawesomeness (I’m taking my liberties with words again…) and I thought I’d just share it with you. It’s kind of what I picture the bonus feature to be like (only shorter, because she could only use so many clips in the vid.)

Full of #Shawesomeness (and yes, I also gave it a hash tag on Twitter… Obviously…)! And to be honest, there are many more clips that could have been used!

(And in case you aren’t following Matty B Gordon on Twitter, you really should! He’s hilarious. After all it was his #shawisfighterpilot tweet that inspired GrownupPhan to make the video.)

Fic: ‘Breakfast’

A/N; I wrote this little ficlet while trying to escape writers block for another story I am writing. It is AU, but you know… My story! I can write what I want.

I asked svugirl to make a video to accompany this story and she did an amazing job! Thank you SOOOOO much!

This is also the first fic I have published on here before I published it on any other site.

Disclaimer; Sad to say, still don’t own Rookie Blue…

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Turning over to snuggle a little closer against the warm body lying next to me, I let out a sigh. Last night’s events running through my head like a movie. Every movement is printed in my memory, every word memorized, every touch still burning on my skin. This is not what I wanted, but I’m enjoying it. A lot. I know it’s wrong, but I just can’t help myself. This feels good; this is how it’s supposed to be. He turns in his sleep, spooning me. The arms around me feel familiar, my memory taking me back in time. Back to yesterday…

I had to run to catch the train, when I miss my connection I almost start to cry. For weeks I have been looking forward to this dinner. This dinner could change my life. For years I have been stuck in a relationship that I don’t want. Only the fear of being alone is stopping me from ending it.

The minute I run into him my heart reopens. That one special piece of my heart is revived. I can only think of one thing, him. I want to know how he’s doing, if there is still anything left between us, but I’m also scared to leave the safety of the life I have created. The safe life that is making me unhappy. The safety of not being alone.

As soon as I have plucked up the courage, I pick up the phone to make a dinner date. That date is today. I’ve spent most of the afternoon in front of the mirror, wanting to look my best. When my boyfriend comes home from work, he hardly notices, walking past me with a lack of interest. We say our goodbyes, no kiss, and I leave.

I know I’ll only have to walk a short distance once I get off the train. It’s long enough to make me nervous. Very nervous. Finding his street is not a problem and when I reach number 43, I knock on the door. I have never been as nervous as I am now. My heart is thumping in my chest and my hands are sweaty. I don’t want to ruin my dress, but I’m pretty sure my knees are about to cave in.

It feels like ages for the door to open. The minute I set my eyes on him, I feel myself melting away. Again. He still has that effect on me. The smile, the eyes, everything is just right. Stepping inside I allow him to take my coat. My eyes following his every movement as he hangs it in the wardrobe.

“So, what’s for dinner?” I ask him.

“Pasta. You want a glass of wine?”

I nod as I follow him into the kitchen. The kitchen is long and very narrow. Every time he passes me he gets so close, my body reacts. Goosebumps, my heart skipping a beat. I know I should not be feeling like this, but I can’t help myself.

There is some heavy flirting while he is cooking. He touches me, lightly, every time he passes me. Every now and then I hug him, looking for contact. Physical contact. His body feels great, firm and safe. He is taller than I am and I feel safe being with him. I keep looking up at him, expectantly. The ball is in his court. It’s wrong for me to kiss him, but if he kisses me? I’ll be a willing participant. Not saying a word, I leave the next step up to him.

During dinner we talk about his sudden disappearance a couple of years ago. I tell him how it made me feel, him leaving without telling me, or anyone for that matter, a thing. He tells me why he left. Guns ‘n gangs needing him to go deep cover. He has been back to ‘normal’ for a couple of weeks now, still taking some time of to re-adjust to life.

I tell him how the past years have been for me. How it took a while for me to adjust to life without him, how I have always kept an eye out for him. Hoping, in a way, that I would be busting him again. How I would have loved to jump him in an alley and try to kiss him. Again. He smiles as he recognises his own words.

He wants to know if I’m happy with my life and for a minute I am in doubt. Should I answer him in all honesty? That he hasn’t been off my mind for one single day. How somehow I always kept up the hope of him returning to us. To me. I just tell him that I am fine. He understands. It’s code he recognises from when we still worked together.

He tells me that he has missed working with me. How there were days he thought the case would never be made and considered quitting, wanting to wear the uniform again. Wanting to work the streets. With me by his side.

“I love working with you.”

Nobody had expected the assignment to take as long as it did. Least of all the white shirts. But he was good, so good he penetrated so deep into the organisation that the whole operation turned in to a way bigger thing than ever was intended.

The openness of our conversation is, in a way, shocking me. Things are said that we would never have said before. Maybe we have matured? Maybe the time apart has made us capable of saying things we never thought we would ever say to one and other.

As I am washing up the dishes I feel his body against mine. His arms around me. His mouth against my neck. I turn around and wrap my arms around him. My phone ringing interrupts the moment. I decide to pick up anyway. It’s my boyfriend calling to ask if I’m enjoying myself and what time I think I’ll be home.

His timing annoys me. He has no idea of the fire I’m playing with. He thinks I’m just having dinner with a friend. He knows nothing about my hidden agenda. He doesn’t even know I am unhappy in our relationship. It’s my best kept secret.

I end the conversation, feeling a little guilty. The tension that’d just built up between us is gone. We continue where we stopped. I’m washing up and he dries. We stick to flirting, innocent flirting. Does he realise what I want? Why I came?

Once we are done washing up we take the bottle of wine and our glasses to the sofa. He sits down and I cuddle up against him. We talk and talk. Without us noticing we finish off the bottle of wine.

The conversation is good. Serious. Relieving. Finally I can vent my frustrations and he actually understands me. I understand him too. We finish off the next bottle of wine, the quality of the conversation decreasing due to the amount of alcohol consumed. Less serious, more flirtatious.

I take a look at my watch. 2.30 AM.

“Well, I have missed the last train,” I say as I refill our glasses.

He tells me he’ll be taking me home when he has finished his glass. I move in closer to him and give him a hug. Crawling into his lap, I run my fingers through his hair and I feel his goosebumps. He runs his hand over my back, rubbing circles.

“I don’t want to go home,” my eyes are begging him to keep me here. To not take me home.

“I don’t want you to go,” he sighs.

I look up at him, staring him straight in the eyes. That’s when it happens. He touches his lips to mine and I feel the butterflies in my stomach.

“Stay? Please?” he asks with a certainty. His voice is hoarse. His eyes showing what he isn’t saying.

For a minute I doubt myself. I can’t do this. It’s wrong. Cheating is not a word in my vocabulary. Then I look up at him and nod.

“I’m staying.”

He gets up from the sofa and leads me to the bedroom. When we reach his bed our lips lock together. Passionately. We undress each other like it’s never been any other way. It feels good. Very good. Better than I could have ever imagined. All of a sudden I remember what making love should feel like. Finally. After all these years. I’m enjoying every minute of it.

Finally, after all these years.

~

“Good morning,” a voice mumbles in my ear. I look at him, his eyes still half closed.

“Good morning,” I whisper back softly as we find each other again. Lying against this, his, body is what I want, but I still feel a flinch of guilt.

“Don’t over think,” his familiar and comforting voice tells me. “Everything will be fine. We’ll talk later. After, breakfast first.”

He’s carrying a five star breakfast when he returns from the kitchen. The tray is filled with a warm croissant, my favourite flavoured yoghurt, coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice. All my favourite things.

Is it a coincidence? Does he remember? Was he counting on me staying? Had he hoped I’d stay? I notice my phone flickering and grab it, a text. “Where are you? I’m worried. X” I press answer and reply; “We have to talk.”

I turn back to face him, looking at the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen. He hands me a glass of orange juice.

“Stay. Be mine.”

After all these years there is only one thing to say. With the best feeling in the world, my grin reaching from one ear to another, I answer his question.

“Yes! There is nothing I want more,” and for a moment I don’t think about the consequences, everything that needs to be taken care of. I’m enjoying my breakfast, the company and the feeling of being with him.

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And the video svugirl made to accompany this story (please take a moment to like the video or leave a comment on YouTube.);