DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I ALSO DON'T OWN THE STORY TITLE, WHICH IS A WONDERFUL SONG BY TRACY BYRD
THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO ALL OF THE COLLIN/BABY LUCY FANS THAT READ MY OTHER STORY. ESPECIALLY AFROZENHEART412 AND BRINCHEN 86. INSTEAD OF DOING FUTURE CHAPTERS IN I'D COME FOR YOU, I'D THOUGHT I'D DO A FEW THIS WAY INSTEAD. JUST SOME FUN LITTLE ONE SHOTS!
ALL READERS ARE WELCOME!
Somewhere Out There
"Somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight
Someone's thinking of me and loving me tonight
Somewhere out there someone's saying a prayer
That we'll find one another in that big somewhere out there
And even though I know how very far apart we are
It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star
And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby
It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky
Somewhere out there if love can see us through
Then we'll be together somewhere out there
Out where dreams come true."
-Somewhere Out There, Linda Ronstadt and James Ingram
Lucy's POV: April 15th, 2032
I'm immersed in a pink and white paradise.
Eyes closed as I rest my head back against the cushion behind me, I rock in time to the soft ticking of the clock mounted on the dresser on the far left side of the room. The wood of the chair is cold against the rear of my thighs, and the braided carpet below tickles the bottoms of my bare feet as I propel myself back and forth, back and forth. Keeping time with the not only the clock, but the steady, rhythmic beat of my heart and soft breath emanating from the tiny body clasped tightly and protectively in my arms.
This nursery is my sanctuary. The only place I feel calm and relaxed while my world feels as if it's crumbling down around me. With it's ballerina pink walls accented by white crown moulding - and both the star mobile and matching light fixture mounted on the wall; items my mom had used to decorate my own bedroom twenty-two years ago- I always feel as if I'm basking in the presence of a princess. One who's stunningly beautiful -inside and out- and who effortlessly commands my heart and makes me stand at attention with even the slightest of movements. Who sleeps within a golden cradle a top the finest lace and most luxurious of satin, and who captures the souls of all whom lay their eyes upon her. That room, with its cherry wood sleigh crib covered in white bedding adorned with hand-sewn pink rosebuds, is her palace. And I am her loyal servant.
A soft sigh captures my attention and opening my eyes, I cast an adoring gaze downwards. Three week old Tatum Colleen Flack -her middle name a play on her daddy's first- is everything I'd ever dreamed of and more. When I'd found out that I was pregnant, only three short days after moving into our cozy two bedroom home located on the grounds of Marine Corps base Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, I'd immediately began to wonder what my unborn baby would be like. Boy or girl? Would they have their daddy's silky black locks? Or my thick honey blond curls? Collin's brilliant blue eyes? Or my soulful brown? Would they have his tall, strong, solid build, or would they be petite and dainty like me?
Truth be told, Tatum is everything that is wonderful and beautiful about both of us. She has the loose curls, but they're coal black. She has my dainty, pixie like nose, but her daddy's baby blues. She was gifted with my delicate chin, but Collin's beautiful lips. She possesses his long fingers and toes, but my feisty temperament. But one thing that she does have that is all daddy? His ferocious appetite.
I smile tenderly at my daughter, then cast my glance towards the pewter framed photograph that is mounted above the crib. Her daddy, my Prince Charming, the love of my life. Regal in his dress uniform. The navy blue of his tunic, with its gleaming buttons, showcase his sparkling eyes, and the snow white of his hat compliments his perfect, gleaming teeth. He's tall, dark and extremely handsome. And he's all mine.
We'd married straight out of high school; our parents, aunts and uncles -who are really colleagues of my folks and uncle Donnie's but who we love like family- and grandparents attending the small ceremony at a tiny church in Flushing, Queens. My daddy had cried when he gave me away, and I can still feel the tender kiss he'd placed upon my cheeks after raising my veil. Afterwards, we'd had a dinner in Papa and Nanna Flack's backyard, where Collin and I had our first dance to an old Keith Urban song. If I close my eyes, I can hear the strains of Only You Can Love Me This Way -which had also been Uncle Donnie and Auntie Breezy's first song at their wedding years ago- and feel the weight of Collin's hand on the small of my back as we twirled underneath the white lights his grandfather had strung in the surrounding trees.
Two months later, we'd both started our courses at George Brown. Collin had deferred his acceptance for a year so we could go together, and while I'd studied English Literature -I am proud to say that I've made quite the name for myself and have published several children's books- my new husband had worked towards his masters in chemical engineering. He was smart like Auntie Breezy, but streetwise like Uncle Donnie. Not once had he ever been pressured by his parents to become a cop. Even though, with a name as famous as Kennedy as far as the NYPD went, there had been unspoken desire by many that he continue in the family business. After all, Papa Flack was a legend, and Uncle Donnie was now the NYPD Commissioner. Silent hope had been that if Collin hadn't wanted to follow directly in his dad's footsteps, that he would at least become a forensics ace like my parents.
Collin had joined the Marines instead. To be just like our beloved Papa Mac. My husband is big and strong and brave just like his daddy. He's loyal and tenacious, and he serves his country, and his family, with pride. I'd banded together with Auntie Breezy -I still call them Auntie and Uncle, even if they are my in-laws- and my own mom however, when he'd expressed interest in being an infantryman. We'd begged and pleaded with him to try something safer, but Collin had steadfastly refused. Being stubborn is apparently an infamous Flack trait.
Then he was deployed to Kuwait only three months into my pregnany, and I'd been devastated. Letters and the occasional email just don't cut it; I still sleep in his clothes and clutch his pillow to my chest. Both my mom and Auntie Breezy had taken turns coming to visit during the remainder of my pregnant. A difficult feat, considering I have three younger brothers at home and Collin has two siblings of his own. My dad had been the one staying with me when I'd gone into labour. Who'd held my hand and couched me through every gruelling step. Who'd cried when he'd cut the cord and then had been presented with his tiny granddaughter. During the months when I'd still been carrying her, I'd sent Collin many an ultrasound picture along with detailed letters documenting how I was feeling, how the baby was doing, and where she was developmentally in-utero. And two days after her birth, Collin had been allowed to contact me via the internet, complete with real time kisses and hugs over the web cams on our respective computers. We'd named our daughter together, and he'd gushed about all of her hair and her impossibly small feet and hands before having to get back to duty.
"I love you Lucy-Loo," he'd said, fighting tears.
"I love you too, Collin-poo," I'd returned, giggling through my own tears at the use of our long standing, if not completely silly, nicknames.
I miss him. So much I can barely breathe sometimes. And my heart aches when I look at that picture and I worry about what dangers he's facing. About how he's being shot at and putting his life on the line to help make the world a better place. It helps to know, when I look out the window and gaze upon the stars, that we're sleeping underneath the same big, black sky. That we're breathing the same air and we're functioning on the same earth. That maybe, just maybe, he's looking up at those stars and that moon at the same time and thinking about me in return. I pray to God that he's not scared. And that he knows that Tatum and I are here waiting for him. Albeit impatiently. I wonder, as I look down at the precious life we'd created together, our miracle, when I'll feel my husband's kiss again and when the next time will be where I get to lose myself in his strong, protective embrace.
"You can't hold her forever, Luce," Auntie Breezy's voice pipes up from the doorway. She and my mom, best friends for nearly twenty-three years now, are here on a joint visit, and I am loving every minute with them both. I know Collin's mom misses him just as much as I do. And that she worries about him incessantly. Just as he does with her. Her health is always first and foremost on his mind. While the cancer is in remission -for the second time in four years- there's always that fear that it will come back. And that this time no amount of chemo and radiation will work and that she'll slip away from her first-born son. That something will happen to her while he's too far away to return in time to say goodbye.
I give her a smile. Her long red hair is long gone; she constantly sports vibrant and cheerful patterned scarves on her head.
"I was thinking about her daddy," I say. "And telling her how much he loves his little princess."
Auntie Breezy gives a brilliant smile of her own, although her sadness does manage to poke through just a little. And she crosses the room and standing before me, holds out her arms.
"That he does," she sighs. "But you know what? Even princesses need their sleep."
I nod in agreement, then hand my baby to her adoring grandmother. With tears blurring my vision, I watch as Auntie Breezy carries Tatum to her crib, cooing and smiling at her the entire time as she strokes those black curls softly, and delicately places my daughter in her bed.
My eyes fall on Collin's picture once again, and my heart nearly shatters.
I miss you, I think, and placing two fingertips over my lips, hold them out towards his image.
I miss you like crazy.
I know it wasn't long, but I just wanted to do a little something for all of you who'd been asking if Collin and Lucy ever get together! If you'd like to read more about them, just let me know! And shoot me some ideas of moments between them, past, present or future, that you'd like to see!
Much love, BEG 75
