Title:
Satellite
Characters:
Don Flack, Lindsay Monroe; brief Gavin Moran
Prompt:
#2, Daddy Issues
Word
Count: 1,168
Warnings:
Mild language.
Disclaimer:
The names of all characters contained herein are the property of
Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS and Alliance
Atlantis. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are
used here without permission.
A/N:
I love fanfiction, man.
Satellite
He thinks maybe he knew that he was in love with her the time they went to Massachusetts. They went down the Cape and he thanks God for Mac letting her take the weekend off. The beach was absolutely glorious and throughout the day they didn't swim much at all. At night, though, Lindsay curled into his side and Flack pointed to the sky.
"Look, Linds. It's the first star."
He could feel her turn her head to see, and then she said, "It's probably just a satellite."
And that's when he fell in love with her. As Flack thinks back on it now, he's sure of it. Satellite, save my life.
He remembers what his father used to say, how success has a thousand fathers but failure is an orphan. Fuck, his father used to say that all the time. And Flack used to worry all the fucking time whether today would be the day that he'd bring about that failure, that one little thing that would cause his father to look down at him and shake his head.
Flack never tells Lindsay when he does something wrong. The other day he forgot to call Stella like he said he would, and he won't tell Lindsay because all he can think about is "success has a thousand fathers" and inside he's thinking "I have just one."
Sour grapes make bitter wine. His mother used to say that. She'd always say that after he had another fight with his father, after he'd ask her why the fuck she was still with him when she knew about all the other women. Now, years later, Flack can only guess as to what that means. He guesses that maybe his mother was just saying that you have to try.
But where his father is concerned he can't. He can only think 'Good God is that going to be me in a few years?' And inside he hopes to hell it isn't. Danny tries to convince him sometimes that he's a good man, that he's something worth fighting for. But in the end it turns to Danny trying to convince himself, and Flack leaves him to it. What Flack has to worry about these days is Lindsay.
He wants to ask her to marry him.
She's beautiful and kind. Compassionate and sensible. She gets cold when it's 70 out. Her hair falls a different way each day, and it's the most wondrous thing he's ever seen. Not in a corny way, like some B-rated movie, but in a good way, like a man in love. And Lindsay knows everything about him, he can just talk to her and it's okay. Flack's never had that before and he knows he's not likely to come by it again—at least not in this lifetime.
He knows that his father met Lindsay one day. He doesn't really care but sometimes he wonders what Lindsay thinks of his father. Flack knows what he thinks and it's nothing good. He knows that he'd rather leave Lindsay than become his father and…well, and be that to her. Spend the whole marriage chasing monsters instead of realizing what he has right in front of him.
Lindsay tells him one night three days into this new dilemma that she loves him and no matter what he thinks, she always will. She says she knows she's not what he's gone for in the past (and ain't that the truth, she's not blonde and leggy and brainless) but she'll never leave him, and she'll never hurt him. And what's more, Lindsay says, she'll never stop loving him.
The next day Flack calls Gavin and they meet in Sullivan's. It's a cop bar and he sort of feels bad for bringing Gavin there but it's the only place he could think of on such short notice. They haven't talked in months, something that's both their faults. Not since Hector and all of that fucked up shit, he can't—won't—remember.
When Gavin asks how his father is, he answers the way he always has: "Just about the same."
In truth he has no idea how his father is, having not talked to him in years; he's heard word around the station but Flack could really care less. It doesn't speak volumes about his morals or his family life (maybe it does, if he's honest with himself) but he never wants to be his father and the only way to keep that at distance is to keep his father at distance.
"Gavin, I don't know what the fuck to do. I wanna ask her to marry me but at the same time I've got my own issues to sort out."
His friend takes a long sip of his beer and considers Flack at length. A few moments pass before Gavin speaks.
"You're a good cop, Donny. Good man, too. And you ain't your father. You're more'n half the man your father ever could be. You got yourself a good woman here, from what I'm to understand, and I'm sure she knows the same."
Two months and a week to the day of meeting Gavin at Sullivan's finds Flack in a hospital bed, healing from being caught in an explosion. The hole in his abdomen is fine, there should be some scarring but at least he's fucking alive. A lot more than can be said about some of the other poor fucks caught in the building. Some of the people he didn't get out. He blames himself—what the psychiatrists call survivor's guilt—and when Lindsay comes to see him he turns his head away.
"Don?"
He doesn't answer her and he guesses she's fucking pissed at him because she throws a glass and it shatters against the floor.
"I'm pregnant, Don. With your baby. And I'll be damned if I'm gonna give it up."
He repeats a few of those words in his head, mainly "pregnant…with your baby." And it's not so bad as he imagined it to be. He kind of likes the thought of it. But at the same time, the worry appears and Flack remembers his father. If anything his father was his biggest failure.
"I want this baby because it's ours, Don. Not for some fundamentalist religious reason. It'll be a beautiful baby and we'll be great parents."
Flack sits up in his hospital bed, considers his country girl with her wavy hair and soft smile.
"Parents."
"Great ones," Lindsay says firmly.
"Okay," Flack says, still unsure but knowing that Lindsay will help him make it through.
Her hand finds his and a smile—one of her sunniest, he notices—makes its way across her face. Words come out of her mouth, something about names and having the baby in Montana and meeting the parents and the wedding. But right now all Flack can think of is that maybe, just maybe, with Lindsay he won't turn out to be like his father. He'll turn out to be something else entirely.
