Oh the day of her fathers funeral, Andy didn't speak very much. She suited up on her own, having gained the strength in the amount of time since his death, but the ceremony brought back all of the grief she tried to suppress. She knew she'd always be grieving in some way but it was still fresh enough, it was difficult to function without it. She said the eulogy, which was rather traditional, but that was the same reason she was able to hold it together. Rosie stood in the back, watching with reassuring eyes. When the bells rang, tears streamed down the entire teams cheeks. Andy's eyes were glossy but she refused to let a tear escape, knowing what it was like to not be able to hold it back.

Most of the members of the funeral processions didn't attend the burial, which included Rosie, seeing how he'd never met the man. Once it was over, as people spread about the lawn, traveling to their vehicles, Andy glanced back frozen a dozen feet away, watching as they removed the device used to lower his coffin. She turned back all of the way before completely freezing, oblivious to everything but the grave.

Her friends stayed a few feet away, questioning if they should come back for her and guide her away, or if it was better to let her watch, bur Robert didn't question in. Andy didn't need to see dirt piling on top of her fathers body, separating them more.

"Andrea," her said, woefully, trying to get her attention as he approached, but there was no sign she'd heard him. The closer he got to her, the further he got from anything he felt about their breakup.

"Andy, come on," he tried again, this time placing a hand on each arm. She gasped, jumping and turning to him, startling him as well. "Sorry," he said quickly, holding onto her shoulders as she looked around, wildly. "You're okay, it's okay," he told her, attempting to calm her down. "Come on." She looked back towards the grave again, taking one last glance as Robert wrapped his arm around her shoulder and guided her away, holding her hand with his free hand, her grief acting as a pass for this level of physical intimacy.

Rosie picked her up at the station and brought her straight to the gym. He didn't make her speak this time. She had no words, just a strong urge to hit. She thought about how cruel it was for the world to work in such a way that her father, who saved so many lives died because of it. With one last hit, tears began streaming down her face. She ripped off the gloves and dropped them on the bench, turning away to take a deep breath, holding a hand to her forehead. Rosie, seeing she needed a minute put their things back into his bag before he stepped up behind her, planting a kiss on the side of her head.

Tears fell the whole was to his apartment until she climbed into the shower, where they turned to sobs. Locked outside, he couldn't do anything.

"Hey," he said softly when she appeared in his kitchen eyes red but dry, dressed in shorts and a hoodie. He'd always seen her dress for the job or to go out when she was in Miami. But she didn't look any less beautiful in a baggy sweater with wet hair. He poured her a cup of tea and slid it over to her.

"You don't have to hide your grief from me."

"I'm not." He didn't fight her on it, but he was very good at speaking to her with just his eyes. All it took was a look. "You've got enough going on with the lab and the trial. You came to the funeral, you took me to the one place I could actually deal with."

"I want to do that. I want to be there for you." She smiled a little in response before saying,

"Yeah, I'll only allow that if you shower." He laughed lightly, glad to hear her sound like herself.

"It's a deal."

-

"Jesh, wouldn't wanna go up against you in a fight," Jack exclaimed in the gym one morning shortly before their shift began. "You been practicing."

"Little too much."

"Is that why you're never home?" He teased, only to feel the punching bag push him back when her foot met it. "Seriously, though. What'd you move in in record time?"

"So, I've been crashing at his place. We were apart for four years!"

"And who's fault is that?" She kicked again, slowly and less forceful so that she could hit him lightly instead of the bag. He reached for her leg and just missed. "I'm just saying, Marcos took you badge, he didn't have to take your boyfriend."

"Best friend. And he didn't take my badge, I made a choice-"

"He took your badge."

"Well, now I've got a shinny new one. Fancy turnouts too. Besides, I'm glad I moved here. I mean, who would keep you in check if I weren't around," she teased.

"You certainly keep me on my toes around here," he commented, receiving an eye roll in return.

"Oh don't get all sweet on me, now. I don't wanna feet bad when I pummel you."

"Oh, I'm not boxing you."

"Awe, why not?"

"I can't hit a lady."

"Don't worry, I'll be doing all the hitting."

"Yeah, that's not happening," he stated, heading towards the exit. Andy was barely alone before another man made his way into the room, though he didn't initially announce his presence. For a moment he just stood near the door, watching as she worked out her inner demons at the expense of the punching bag.

"Don't wear yourself out," he finally drew her attention, sure she wouldn't pick up on it herself. She turned back, breathing heavily, surprised to see the man behind her anywhere but a hospital bed. She glanced at his cane and then back at him.

"Chief, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be recovering?"

"Well, my doctor says I should be up and moving for a faster recovery. I thought I'd come down and check on nineteen."

"Well we haven't burned the place down. Figuratively of course. Literally would be... kind if ironic," she trailed on, trying to replace the awkwardness with words. "Very ironic, actually."

"It would," he said, saving her from her own babble.

"How are you feeling? When will you know if it worked?"

"I'm doing better a lot better than I was. I knew it would hurt but I had no idea."

"One of those pains you can't understand until you've felt it."

"Exactly."

"How- how did you handle it?" She asked, trying not to pry but wanting answers. He knew exactly what she was asking.

"I did take morphine. The first two days." Andy didn't look disappointed him him but she did seem concerned. "I'm clean again. Went to a meeting last night."

"That's good, that's good. But didn't that hurt?"

"Like a son of a bitch," he said, laughing awkwardly. "But it's looking like it worked." She smiled at the last piece of information, relieved.

"That's great, Robert," she replied, not even realizing she used his first name, but he didn't mind.

"You take up kickboxing?" He asked, eyeing her gloves and the bag behind her.

"Old hobby from back when I was blue. I'm a little rusty, I could use some pointers," she said, not quite ready to end the conversation either and having seen him box before.

"Sure," he replied, making his way all of the way into the room. First, he watched her and gave her a verbal correction before stepping up behind her, finding words wouldn't be sufficient. He held onto the cane with one hand, wrapping a hand around her to align her with his good hand, in the process, pressing himself against her back as he explained, slightly distracted.

Andy took a deep breath, listening to him the best she could before finally growing tense and uncomfortably stepping away from him. His hand slid from her and she turned back towards him, saying,

"I should get a jump start on some of my chores," she told him before starting past him towards the exit.

"Andy." Her name tumbled out of his mouth without a sentence attached too it. She stopped in the threshold, turning back to hear him. "Nothing," he said after a moment, completely unsure of what he was planned to say when he got her attention.

"Looking forward to having you back, chief," she said, her words formal but her tone friendly. She walked off to the showers, thinking the conversation was over. Robert didn't plan to bring it up again, however when he found her standing before him in his office hours later, he felt a stronger urge to address their undefined relationship.

She answered his question about an incident she'd witnessed formally, relieved when he shut the folder and she was free to go. Just as she placed her hand on the doorknob, his voice stopped her before she could turn the nob.

"What was that in the gym this morning?" She let go, turning her upper body towards him but keeping her feet planted facing the door.

"I'm sorry?" She asked, playing dumb and acting casual, like it wouldn't be a long enough conversation for her to fully face him. At least she hoped.

"You ran out of there like the roof was collapsing."

"I had somewhere else to be-"

"You can't be around me." Andy sighed, turning back towards the door and looking down at her feet. "Look, I'm done being mad. I want to be friends but if you don't-"

"You touched me, Robert," she cut him off, shaking her head in disbelief that she was actually telling him this. "I didn't just stop feeling for you. Things that I don't wanna feel for the person I'm not with and when you touch me, I can't ignore them. And I have to. At least until they go away."

"You need time." She looked back at him again.

"Yeah."

"Time might help me too," he admitted, admiring her honesty, and feeling compelled to be honest in return.

"Friends down the road?" She asked, hoping they could get back to that.

"Friends down the road," he repeated with an assuring nod. She smiled back for a moment before turning and exiting his office.