DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI: NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA ROSS

A/N: CHECK OUT THE NEW POLL ON MY PROFILE! CAST YOUR VOTE! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF A DIFFERENT SAM HOOK UP!

The Final Straw

"I found God
On the corner of first and Amistad
Where the west was all but won
All alone, smoking his last cigarette
I said where you been, he said ask anything
Where were you?
When everything was falling apart?
All my days were spent by the telephone
It never rang
And all I needed was a call
That never came
To the corner of first and Amistad
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you?
Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
In the end everyone ends up alone
Losing her, the only one who's ever known
Who I am, who I'm not, who I want to be
No way to know how long she will be next to me."
-You Found Me, The Fray

Mac looked up from his paperwork as his office door swung open, offering up a tense smile as Samantha poked her head into the room. Before she had the opportunity to open her mouth and ask if it was alright to disturb him, he motioned for her to enter, then nodded towards an empty chair parked in front of his desk.

"Do you want me to…"

"Close the door," Mac instructed, finishing the sentence for her.

Sam gave a small, barely audible sigh and did as she was told. She knew that what had gone on downstairs in the squad room had been completely uncalled for and disgustingly unprofessional. That not only should have Flack never kissed her like that in front of his superior officers and colleagues, especially at a time when their every move was being scrutinized, but that she never should have responded she effortlessly and eagerly. That she should have composed herself from their earlier incident and simply gone back up to the lab as if nothing had ever transpired. That time apart would have probably done more good then engaging in a PDA while at work. That walking away would have meant more work on her part at the end of the day to set things right in her relationship again, but would have spared her the reaming out she knew she was about to endure.

But when affairs of the heart were involved, all of that was easier said then done. Love had a way of screwing with your head. Or turning a highly educated, dedicated and independent woman into a pathetic pile of mush. It broke your heart and made you walk on clouds all within moments of each other. It made you realize that despite all the times the person in your life drove you insane, you simply couldn't fathom an existence without them. That walking away from them wasn't an option. Because you'd rather spend your life partly miserable with them, then your life completely miserable and alone. That the one person who drove you insane was also the one person that made you the happiest.

And who put up with your shit with no reservations or regrets. Who looked at you as if you were the most important people on earth. That they'd never loved anyone as much as they did you. And with one simple kiss, let you know that they couldn't imagine their life without you in it.

So she was ready to face the consequences of that kiss. Because that one kiss had saved her life. It had made her realize that this was the man she was going to spend her existence with. That he loved her regardless of how wild and crazy she got sometime. That he could push past the mountains of personal baggage and accept her the way she was.

She slipped into the chair and crossed one leg over the other. Clasping her hands over her knee, Sam fought with herself to remain calm and composed. It wasn't her first time being called into Mac's office. The first had been over the Chief Sinclair email. Mac had been furious that she hadn't mentioned it to anyone. Especially her direct superior. Sam's argument had been that she could handle things like that one her own. She didn't need anyone fighting her battles for her. She had kept the message to herself in hopes that it would never happen again. She had given the Chief the benefit of the doubt that he wasn't the slimy prick he came across as. Her plan had been to wait it out. To see if any other emails came through. And if they did, to save them and then report the sonofabitch to the proper people.

The James Bond wanna-be's had screwed that plan all to hell. And before she knew it, Mac was hauling her ass into his office and all but shoving a copy of the email in her face.

Mac was intimidating. There were no two ways about it. He had a steely resolve and cold and often callous demeanour that scared the living shit out of her. He was a great boss however. Fair, yet iron-fisted. He ran the lab like a well oiled machine and expected nothing but the best from his people. And it was rare that he didn't get it. You respected him, and he passed it back. You stepped on his toes and questioned his authority and you may as well write out your own pink slip.

"How did things go with IAB?" Mac asked. "I was worried about how things might have went down."

Sam blinked. Taken back by the simple question. Concern for her well being was the last thing she had expected from her boss. She knew he was furious about what had gone down. That he was using up valuable people and valuable hours re-checking tests results that should have never been in question in the first place. And she was certain that Whitmore had already made a beeline to his office about the incident down in the squad room.

"I held my own," she responded after a couple of minutes. "I came out of it relatively unscathed. Although I don't think Lieutenant will be sending in for a membership to my fan club anytime soon."

The corners of Mac's mouth twitched as a smile threatened. "Without getting into what went on or what was said between the two of you, I want you to know that I saw the pictures. And if you feel that you need to talk to someone about it, I can put in a request to get you some time with a department counsellor."

Sam waved it off. "I can deal with stuff like that on my own," she said.

"It's a pretty traumatic thing," Mac reasoned. "Someone violating your privacy like that. Violating you, in a sense."

"So there's some amateur porn of me out there," Sam shrugged. "I can't do much about it now. I'm hoping it doesn't circulate on the internet or anything like that. I hope that Martino sent them to the department and it's going to end there. But I don't need to talk to anyone about it. Sure it sucks and it makes me sick to my stomach to think someone spied on me and Don at intimate times, but it happened. Nothing I can do about it."

Mac nodded slowly, considering her words. "The offer is on the table if you ever change your mind," he told her.

"Thank you. I appreciate it. But I can deal with how I feel on my own. Don and I can deal with it. Together. It's a personal thing, right? Those pictures involve our personal life. So we can cope with it in our personal life."

"I get concerned when your personal life starts affecting your professional one," Mac said casually. "These photographs, showing up on Inspector Whitmore's desk? They clearly crossed the line that you and Flack so adamantly vowed to uphold."

"Well in our defence, we didn't exactly know someone was taking sex pictures of us," Sam retorted. "We're adults in an adult relationship. We didn't think someone was spying on us. And we certainly didn't have any control over Martino sending those pictures. Don said he yanked him in and threatened him and everything. Martino promised those photos would never get out. Well I guess we know what his word is worth."

"Regardless of what you did, or didn't know, as a member of the NYPD, you're expected to uphold a certain level of standards," Mac informed her sternly. "And those photos clearly suggest that…"

"That we're two adults in an adult relationship," Sam butted in. "What Don and I do in the privacy of our own homes, is no ones business. And Martino had no right whatsoever to violate either of us by taking those pictures while we were behind closed doors."

"One of those photos was taken on a public street," Mac reminded her.

"Like I'm the first girl in the world to ever give someone head in a car?" Sam asked snidely. "Give me a break. Other people are doing far worse things in alleys and in school playgrounds and public bathrooms. I'm sorry that those pictures got out. I'm sorry someone felt that my sex life was worthy of such attention. But Don and I are the victims here. Do you know how we feel, Mac? How dirty and violated you feel when you see yourself like that?"

"And Martino will hear about it," he assured her. "But if he was hired by a client to investigate you…"

"Of course he was," she snorted. "Zack hired him. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out."

"…then there's not much that can really be done about it," Mac finished. "The only thing we can look into is if there were any copies of the pictures made and then convince him to toss them and destroy either the negatives or if it was a digital camera, erase the memory card."

"And what do we do about Zack?" she asked. "He's in New York City. Living here and working here. He's a US Marshal now. What do we do about him?"

"That's a bridge we'll cross if and when we get to it," Mac responded. "For now, my main concern is what went today. First, let me tell you that Danny went and re-tested everything in ballistics and all of your findings were accurate."

"Was there ever a doubt they would be Mac?" she asked. Visibly hurt by the lack of confidence he had in her. "Or did you think that I'd purposefully screw up an investigation? That I'd lie and cover something up?"

Mac sighed heavily and leaned forward in his chair. Laying his forearms on top of his desk, he clasped his hands together tightly and fixed his eyes on the young woman in front of him. "Let me make something very clear to you, Samantha. I'm on your side. And I'm a very powerful ally to have. I never once suspected you or accused you of any wrong doing. So do yourself a favour and get that chip on your shoulder the hell off of there and listen very closely to what I have to say."

She held up her hands in surrender and leaned back in her chair.

"I hired you because of your education and your experience within the Phoenix PD. I hired you because all of your superiors praised your skills, especially in ballistics. They all spoke highly of your integrity and honesty and hard work. Three things that I value greatly. However, in hiring you, I also overlooked some glaring negativity against you. I was warned to exercise caution when bringing you aboard. I was told about your attitude problem and your anger management issues and your seemingly startling lack of respect for anyone in authority. Yet I ignored all of that and I still employed you. Don't make me regret my decision or make me have to hear I told you so from other people."

She didn't respond. She sat there silently and nervously, her eyes locked on her boss.

"You've been an asset to this lab," Mac continued. "The team loves you. You're tenacious and reliable. Victims' families adore you because you're empathetic. Almost to a fault sometimes. Perps underestimate you and other cops trust you with their lives. But don't think for a second I'll tolerate what your bosses in Phoenix did. Understand me?"

She nodded.

"Understand me?" Mac repeated firmly.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"I never once doubted you or Flack," he told her. "I've known him for a long time and I trust him explicitly. And I knew neither of you would do what IAB is accusing you of. And as for what Kendall told Inspector Whitmore, IAB and myself…"

Sam sighed heavily and fought the urge to roll her eyes at the sheer mention of Kendall's name.

"…I don't care what did, or didn't happen in the ballistics lab between you and Flack," Mac finished. "If it didn't happen, then I'm glad that the two of you managed to stay professional and focused on the task at hand. And I also apologize for Kendall making something like that up. But if it did happen, I'm disappointed in both of you and I expect it to never, ever happen again. Am I clear?"

Sam nodded.

"On top of all that, Inspector Whitmore informed me of an incident that took place between you and Flack downstairs. What the two of you did was unprofessional and I hope nothing like that happens again while you're on the clock."

"It won't," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

Mac nodded in satisfaction. "I have to tell you that Inspector Whitmore was very adamant about having you either switched to a different shift or removed from this lab altogether."

Sam's eyes widened.

"That won't be happening. At least not this time. I am convinced that it was a one time thing. A moment between you and Flack brought on by the stress of the day. But if it happens again, I will indulge the Inspector and split up the team. Understand me?"

"Loud and clear," she said.

"You know, Samantha. I thought the worst when Flack came to me and told me about your relationship. Because I was worried about the affect it would have on your job, and I worried about the drama it may cause within the lab. And both of you promised that you were both more then capable of staying professional. And something like this…this tarnishes any happiness I had for both of you."

"I'm sorry, Mac," she said sincerely. "You're right. About what you said earlier. It was a moment. It won't happen again. But in our defence, it was just that. A moment. We've never crossed that line before. And we're also not the only couple in this place."

"I understand that. But…"

"And I love Danny and Lindsay to death, but they've had enough drama to do all of us. Their relationship problems caused a lot of issues in the lab. Tension, gossip. Evidence left out."

Mac nodded in acknowledgement of the fact.

"But not once were they threatened with being separated from the team. Yet something happens once between Don and I, and it's the end of the world. It's like the sky is falling or something. And I just can't quite wrap my head around why it's such a massive deal."

"Well maybe it's because I expect so much more from the two of you. And maybe because sexually explicit photographs of Danny and Lindsay weren't delivered to the department."

"But that's our private life!" Sam argued. "Off the clock! And that asshole Martino violated us! Do you think we wanted pictures like that taken of us? We didn't want that and we didn't deserve it!"

"No one said you did," Mac retorted. "All I'm saying is…"

He was interrupted mid sentence by a loud knock on his office door and glanced over to see an apologetic Stella looking in at them. He waved her inside.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mac," Stella said. "But the department finally relented on allowing Flack and his dad in the room with Melanie while she's being questioned. And Flack Sr is apparently asking for you to run the interrogation."

"Call downstairs and tell them I'll be right down," he responded.

Stella gave a small nod and offered Sam a sympathetic smile and a light squeeze on the shoulder and left the office.

"I'm hoping that something like this will never happen again," Mac said dismissively to Sam, as he pushed his chair away from his desk and stood up.

"Well I certainly plan on putting curtains on my windows to avoid anyone taking any more dirty pictures of me," she sighed, getting to her feet as well.

"No repeats of what went on downstairs," he told her, as they walked to the door together. "I expect both you and Flack to tow the line."

"I hope he's going to get a chewing out too," Sam commented, as Mac opened the door and motioned for her to step out into the hall ahead of him.

"I'm sure Inspector Whitmore will haul him into her office," Mac said. "But it was my job to talk to you. And I hope that it didn't go in one ear and out the other."

"Of course not," she responded. "I'm sorry things had to come to this."

"We all make choices and actions that aren't for the best," he said. "It's how we deal with and accept the consequences that matter the most. Now I could use your help in trace for the rest of the day. They're swamped. If any ballistics evidence comes in…"

"I'm on it," she chirped and headed down the hall. "You can count on me, Mac," she said, smiling over her shoulder.

He returned the smile with a tense one of his own before turning on his heel and going in the opposite direction.

I sure hope so, he thought.

Melanie Flack hadn't gone down without a fight. When uniform officers had arrived at the rat and cockroach invested dive apartment she called home, she'd been in the midst of getting high on meth -her current drug of choice- and pounding back a bottle of Jack Daniels. They'd kicked her door down when she began warning the officers she'd either do harm to herself if they came into her apartment, or do physical damage to them. So they'd smashed their way in, guns drawn, and unceremoniously tossed her face first onto her dirty living room floor and cuffed her. She'd been dragged out of the apartment kicking and screaming. A psychotic, out of control mess tossing out profanities and racial insults. Spewing hatred and issuing threats about having the officers' badges because of what her last name was. Laughing as she told them her father and brother would never stand for her being treated like a common criminal.

Flack thought being treated like a common criminal was better then what his sister actually deserved. When he'd stepped into the room and saw her sitting at the interrogation table, one hand cuffed to the arm of her chair as her other hand -trembling uncontrollably- nursed a black coffee, he felt physical ill. Her hair was lank and dull and clung to her perspiration soaked face. Her skin was grey and her cheeks sunk in. She looked like a hooker brought in straight off the street in her barely there skirt and tank top and knee high leather boots. Drugs and alcohol had taken a once vibrant and beautiful young woman and turned her into a hallow, pitiful excuse of her former self. And he didn't feel sorry for her. She'd turned down the offers of help several times. The only thing he felt, as he slid into a chair across for her, was the utmost disgust and pity.

"How did things go earlier?" their father asked, as he pulled a take out cup of coffee from the carry tray in front of him and slid it across the table towards his son.

Flack shrugged and nodded his appreciation as he picked up the steaming beverage. "Best to be expected I guess. Last I heard, IAB was satisfied with what Sammie and I told them and her evidence was going to be allowed. Mind you, they made another CSI go over everything with a fine tooth comb to make sure she wasn't covering anything up."

"They honestly think she'd do something like that?"

"Apparently they don't have much faith in the crime lab," Flack said as he sipped his coffee. "I mean, in a way, I can see where they were coming from. But some of the things that were brought up…" he shrugged. "There was just no reason for some of that stuff."

"Personal stuff?" his father asked.

Flack nodded. "Sam and I are going to have to work through them on our own. Away from work. This place is like poison on the best of days."

"Best to keep personal relationships far away," his dad sighed. "Work will wreck it before it even has the chance to really get off the ground."

"Yeah…and sometimes the people who are the closest to you are guilty of that too," Flack said, staring pointedly at his sister.

"Is that all you care about?" Melanie asked. "Your life? You can't even come in here and ask how I am?"

"I know how you are, Mel," he replied. "And it makes me sick. You really think you could get away with shit just because of who you're related to? You didn't think we'd find out you were involved? How stupid do you think we are?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" she asked snidely.

Flack smirked. "You're the one sitting there looking like a crack whore. Not me. So just keep it shut until Detective Taylor gets here."

"Oooo, you and your big threats," she mocked. "You're just so scary. I am just shaking in my boots here."

"You should be," Flack told her. "You fucked up huge, Mel. You're going to go away for a long while this time. No more get out of jail free cards. Two people died today. One was a complete stranger. A good Samaritan who was coming to your aide because he thought some guy was going to start beating on his girlfriend. How long have you and your buddies been running this little operation? How many people have you fucked over?"

"I didn't do anything wrong," she hissed. "Your threats don't work on me, Donnie. I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm not going to let my big brother bully me around like he did when we were growing up."

"We have your DNA, Mel. We also were able to match your prints from when you were brought in, to an Ipod that was stolen a few days ago. So cut the innocent little girl act and think long and hard about what you've done. 'Cause dad and I can't help you this time."

"We'll see about that," she sing-songed.

The door to the interrogation room clicked open. Flack glanced over his shoulder as Mac slipped into the room, a case folder clutched tightly in his hand and his lips pursed together angrily. He had his game face on. And Flack was grateful for that. Especially when he noticed the way his sister completely blanched as she realized she was completely and utterly screwed.

"Mr Flack," Mac spoke to the patriarch of the family, his hand offered in greeting.

"Detective Taylor," Flack Sr said, as he stood up and shook the other man's hand. "It's been a long time. Last time I saw you, my son was still in the hospital after the bombing."

"It's been a long time," Mac nodded in agreement. "And I wish we were seeing each other under much better circumstances. I would have been down here sooner, but I had to attend to some matters with some of my staff. And I had to have a CSI re-test evidence found a scene today thanks to the ordeal IAB has put us all through."

"Just something else my daughter has managed to screw up," Flack Sr commented.

"Well let's get down to business on her first screw up," Mac said, motioning for the older man to return to his seat before pulling a photograph from the folder in his hands and tossing it on the table. "First, I want to know the name of that guy right there," he demanded. "He was found beaten and shot to death on the eighty-seventh street subway tracks this afternoon."

"How should I know who that is?" Melanie asked, pushing the photo away from her.

"Why don't you try taking a look and cooperating," Flack snapped, shoving the picture back across the table.

Mac held his hand up, pleading for patience. And for the detective to just stay out of it and keep quiet. "Your DNA was found on him," he explained to Melanie. "Specifically a pubic hair containing your DNA. And the only way it could have gotten there is if you know him very, very well."

She sighed heavily and flipped the picture face down. "He's just some guy I know."

"How do you know him?" Mac asked. "Boyfriend?"

"Just a guy I sleep with. For shits and giggles. To scratch an itch when one needs scratching. A fuck buddy."

"And does this fuck buddy have a name?" Flack asked. "Or are you not big on knowing names of the guys you screw for money?"

"Don, please," their father remained calm and composed. "Just let Detective Taylor handle this."

Flack held up his hands and surrender and angrily pushed his chair away from the table. The legs screeching across the scuffed and dirty floor. He couldn't sit across from his sister and not take part in the interrogation, or at least reach across the table and smack the shit out of her. Ignorant, obnoxious bitch, he thought, and began pacing the room, one hand on his hip, the other to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"A name," Mac demanded, as he took a seat in the chair vacated by Flack. "Now."

"His name's Tim. Tim Kingsley," Melanie told him. "I met him about six months ago when I tended bar at the my last job. He was one of my regular customers. We hit it off, began hanging out. We had the same interests."

Flack laughed. "Meth and booze, huh? Or have you moved on to something bigger and better? Shooting up? Smoking crack?"

"He sold me my drugs from time to time," Melanie responded. "Meth. Strictly meth. And every so often we had fun."

"And when was the last time you had this 'fun'?" Mac asked.

"This morning," she replied. "Before we went to work."

"Work as in scamming people at subway stations?" Flack inquired. "Stealing their wallets? Personal effects?"

Mac shot Flack a warning glare before turning back to the young woman in front of him. "We know that you and your friend have been running sort of theft ring. We also know, based on fingerprints that were lifted at the scene of the break in at your parents' place two months ago, that you and your friend and another identified male were behind the theft and pawning of your father's weapons."

Flack Sr sighed heavily and shook his head in disappointment.

"We also know that you were at the eighty-seventh street subway station earlier today," Mac continued. "Witnesses and surveillance cameras put you there. We know that you ran off when your 'friend' killed an innocent man on the platform. What we don't know, is the identity of who killed him."

"I'm not ratting on anybody," Melanie declared. "No way."

"We've talked about this," her father told her. "You agreed to help out. Now start helping out."

"Dad, you don't understand…"

"Now!" he bellowed. "Don't make this worse on yourself! Tell them what they need to know before you find your ass sitting in Sing Sing for the next twenty years!"

"If I tell, I lose out on business. And if I lose out on business…"

"What kind of business?" Mac asked. "Is he your dealer?"

"No," Melanie replied. "He handles the other professional aspects of my life."

Flack couldn't help but laugh. "He's her pimp, Mac. Come on. You know how to read between the lines. He's her pimp. And if you bust him, the clients disappear. Plain and simple."

"You cooperating means the difference between the proper person spending time in jail for the crime, or you going down for it," Mac informed the young woman. "From where I sit, that should be an easy decision to make. If he cared that much about you, for one he wouldn't be making you sell yourself for sex, and two, he never would have gotten you involved in ripping off your parents or killing your friend."

"You don't seem to upset about it, Mel," Flack commented. "You don't seem the least bit torn up over the fact your boyfriend died."

"I told you," she spat. "He's just my…"

"Fuck buddy," Flack concluded. "I heard ya. You don't seem too upset he offed your fuck buddy. But then in your line of work, it's not like you're starving for that kind of attention."

"Whoever your protecting, he's out there armed and dangerous," Mac said to Melanie. "He's in possession of weapons. One of them that used to belong to your father and could have very well have spelt disaster for your entire family. This person is victimizing you and other women by allowing them to sell themselves for sex. How can you just sit there and allow someone like that to walk around scott free?"

"Because she doesn't care," Flack spoke up. "She doesn't care about anyone but herself. It's always been that way. I say we just cut our losses, let this guy go on with his life and lock her ass up. I'm sure we could find a way to charge her for two murders. Not to mention the time she'd serve for breaking into our folks' place and ripping all kinds of other people off."

"You said that you'd cooperate," Flack Sr snarled at his daughter. "You said that if I arranged things, you'd come in here and give Detective Taylor all the information he needed."

"She changed her mind, dad," his son said. "Let her serve the time she deserves to serve. Get up and walk out of here and leave her to it. She wants to play stupid little games with everyone, that's her business. She doesn't need you, she doesn't need me. She's a big girl. Thinks she's all tough. I'm not going to sit around and let her jerk us around like this. I'm through. For good. I'm through offering to help her out and bailing her out of messes. That's it for me. Never again."

"His name's Dave Wilson!" Melanie cried, as her brother made for the door. The thought of going through her life without having him to fall back on terrified her. Because once he turned his back and abandoned her, she knew it wouldn't be long until her parents followed suit. She needed them. For purely selfish and devious reasons.

"And?" Flack asked, pausing at the door and turning to face her.

"And you're right. He's my pimp."

He shook his head in disgust.

"An address," Mac said, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Pulling out his pen, he twisted it open before tossing it on the table and sliding the case folder towards Melanie.

She picked up the pen. Staring at it for a moment as she considered her options.

"We're waiting," Flack said from the doorway.

Melanie sighed heavily and leaned over the table as she scrawled the address down on the front of the folder. Twisting the pen closed, she dropped it onto the table with a clatter and shoved the file back at Mac. "Are we done here?" she asked.

"Are we done here," Flack laughed as he reached for the door handle. "Your long from done. The day's just started for you, Mel. Lock her up and take her to a holding cell," he instructed one of the female uniforms lingering in the room.

"I'm not going anywhere," Melanie informed her. "That wasn't part of the deal."

Flack stepped away from he door and turned to face his sister. Blue eyes flashing in anger. "What deal?" he asked.

"You didn't tell him, dad?" she asked their father sweetly. "You didn't tell him that we cut a deal?"

"What the hell is she talking about dad?" Flack asked, storming across the room and slamming his hands down on the table. "What the hell is she talking about?"

"Daddy got me off," Melanie said with a cocky smile as she leaned back in her seat. "It was my freedom in exchange for my cooperation."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Flack snapped. "You can't be fucking serious!"

"Donnie, it was the only way to…"

"The only way to what, dad? Make yourself and me look like complete morons? To let her spit in our faces? To laugh at us! She was there when an innocent person was killed! She broke into your house and stole your things! She's a dirty, nasty crack whore who sells herself for money!"

"And she's my daughter and your sister," Flack Sr responded. "She's family. And we do things for family."

"We've been doing nothing but bend over backwards for her!" Flack raged. "For years we've just sat back and let her shit all over us! She's done nothing but give you and mom grief! She's a drug addict, a prostitute and now an accessory after the fact! And you cut a deal for her?"

"Amazing what the family name can do for you," Melanie mused.

Mac was on his feet and in between the homicide detective and the table as Flack made as if to pounce on his sister.

"Easy, Don…" Mac said. "Easy…"

"This is fucking crazy!" Flack bellowed. "She busted into her own parents' house and stole shit! She's been ripping people off and she was there when an innocent person was killed! And she just gets to walk out of here?! That's not right, Mac!"

"No. It's not," he agreed. "But we got what we wanted. The name and address of a murderer. And that will be one less felon on the street."

"And one more nasty ass bitch let back on it!" Flack argued. "She needs to be locked up! Sent to re-hab! She doesn't deserve to just walk out of here!"

"She's your sister, Don," his father reminded him. "She's your blood."

"Not anymore," Flack said. "Not anymore. I'm done. That's it. You allow this to happen dad and I'm done. With both of you. How the hell can you let her do that to you! How can you just sit there and think that's okay?"

"She's my daughter," he reasoned.

"She's a piece of shit!" Flack yelled. "And she deserves to be locked up! If you do this, dad, both of you are finished. Dead to me. If you let her get away with this we're done. You hear me?"

Neither Melanie or Flack Sr responded.

"Well I guess I know where I stand then," Flack concluded, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned his back oin them and headed for the door. "You're both pathetic. Utterly, fucking pathetic."

"Family help each other," his father said.

"Then that's one family I want no part of," Flack declared, as he threw the door open and slammed it behind him, with enough force to rattle the glass.

"Your loss!" Melanie called after him.

Mac shook his head in disgust of the entire situation. "This all could have been handled a lot better," he said, as he walked towards the door. "And with all due respect to you, Mr Flack, you're a far cry from the hard nosed cop that once patrolled our streets. Kept the residents of this city safe from people like your daughter and her friends."

"Do you have children, Detective Taylor?" he asked.

Mac shook his head.

"Parents will do anything to protect their children," Flack Sr informed him. "I did what I had to do for my children."

"For your child," Mac corrected him. "Because you just let your son, your namesake, wash his hands of you and walk out of here. All because your daughter was never brought up to accept the consequences of her actions. All because she never grew up to be half the person your son is.. I hope losing your son was worth teaching your daughter a lesson."

Flack Sr sighed heavily and stared down at his weathered hands clasped tightly on the table top.

Mac shook his head in disbelief. "Seems like you both could stand to learn a thing or two," he said, and calmly exited the room.

Flack surveyed the paperwork scattered across his desk with the utmost contempt and disdain. It was six-thirty in the evening and he had at least two hours, if not more, of work ahead of him. Now that Malley had abandoned his witch hunt and departed peacefully -without even so much of an I'm sorry for making your lives a living hell- Whitmore had decided to live up to her billing as a complete bitch and demand that all his cases be up to date, and all outgoing paper work be finished and on his captain's desk before he clocked out for the night. And he was told, despite asking for, and receiving the next two days off, that he was on call and to not even think about ignoring any cases that crossed his path. All he could do was hope, and pray, that his services wouldn't be needed. That he could spend Valentine's Day evening at the St Regis hotel without having his mind consumed by thoughts of work.

"You need a better filing system," a soft voice commented from in front of his desk. "Or a secretary."

He smiled and looked up at his girlfriend. "Position's open if you want it," he said, as she draped her winter jacket over the back of the empty chair next to his desk before sitting down in it and settling her purse in her lap.

"It all depends. What is my job description?" she asked.

"Keep my stuff organized, answer all my phone calls," he replied. "Get me coffee whenever I want it. Wear low cut blouses and mini skirts and service me whatever way I tell you too."

"Oh you mean it's just like being your girlfriend," she chided. "Only I get paid for it!"

He smirked. "You just always have a smart ass comment, don't you." It was more a statement then a question.

"I am way too quick for you, Don," Sam declared. "You can try your hardest to keep up to me in the smart ass comment department, but the truth of the matter is, I'm just better at it then you are."

"Maybe you just caught me at a bad time," he said. "Maybe I'm just not at my witty best."

"Witty," she laughed. "Is that what we're calling off handed and sarcastic now?"

"You're lucky I'm in a better mood," he said. "Because if you'd come around about an hour ago talking like this…"

"I'm just teasing you," she assured him. "You know that. I'm trying to lighten things up for you a bit. I heard about your father and Melanie. Their deal."

He snorted and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," she said, and stretching out her left leg, ran the toe of her boot lightly against the back of his calf affectionately. "I didn't think that all of this would happen."

"Who did?" Flack sighed. "It never should have gotten as out of hand as it did. But we can thank IAB for that."

"Have you talked to your dad since?" Sam asked. "Have you tried calling him or has he called you or…"

"He came by my desk as he was taking Melanie home. Apparently he thinks he can save her from all her demons. She's going to be staying at my folks' place. They're going to try and get her some help. Clean her up."

"You don't sound too optimistic about that prospect," Sam commented.

"We've been through this more than a dozen times with her," Flack said. "It's never worked before. Sure, they get her off the booze and drugs and things are good for about a month or two. And then she hooks back up with her old friends and ends up right back where she was. She's a lost cause."

"Well maybe this time will do the trick," Sam tried to remain positive.

"Maybe," he said, and ran a hand over his weary face. "I'm sorry," he told her. "That we have to take a rain check on the whole take out and candles and romance thing."

"That's okay," she chirped. "It's Valentine's Day tomorrow. You can make it up to me. I'm going to go and have dinner with Adam. Hang out with him for a bit. Do you know how long you're going to be?"

"Couple of hours?" Flack guessed, looking at the mess on his desk. "Maybe more?"

"Well just come to my place whenever you're done," she said. "I'll make you something to eat and we can still do the whole wine and candles and romance thing. Even if it is midnight when you come around. You're not getting away from your promise of hot extracurricular activities, you know."

"Trust me, babe. Those extracurricular activities are seriously going to help me relieve some stress later. And I've to a lot of stress. So prepare yourself."

She laughed. That musical laugh that never failed to brighten up his day. He cocked his head to the side and smiled at. His blue eyes sparkling, and betraying every emotion and feeling that was surging through his body at that very moment.

"I know," she told him. "Me too."

She had to fight the urge to kiss him silly. He didn't need to tell her. She knew how he felt. There was no denying the way he looked at her. She would have had to have been a fool not to notice.

"You're okay?" he asked. "I mean, after everything that went down today…"

"I'm still reeling over those pictures," she replied. "That would be a shock to anyone."

He nodded. "I'm sorry, Sammie. I never should have kept that back from you."

"I understand why you did," she said. "You wanted to protect me. And if I was being completely honest, I'd admit to you that I like it when you protect me. I like the way you take control and handle things. You make me feel safe and secure, Donnie. And I've never felt that before. Ever. So it's all new to me. And more than a little overwhelming."

"I know," he said. "I guess I'm a far cry to how you felt when you were with Zack."

"Two completely different ends of the spectrum," she told him. "But that's okay. Because I love the way you are. With me. Because I know the way you are, even if it is overbearing sometimes and I complain about feeling smothered and babied, I know that you have the best of intentions. You're not doing it to be mean and controlling. You're doing it because you love me and want me safe."

"You mean too much to me to lose you, Sammie," he said. "I waited more than a year to get you. There's no way I can let you go now."

"Ever?" she asked brightly.

"Ever," he replied.

"Good," she said, and rubbed his leg with her foot once again before standing up. "Because I am never letting you let me go," she informed him, as she grabbed her jacket and shrugged into it. "You'll walk me out?" she asked hopefully. "Adam's waiting for me at TGIF's."

"I'm going to go out for a cancer stick anyway, I'm due," he pushed his chair away from his desk and snagged a pack of smokes and a lighter from the top drawer. "And before you say it, yes, I know I promised to quit. That it was my New Year's resolution."

"I didn't say anything," she said, as she buttoned her coat and they headed through the quiet squad room together, his hand on the small of her back as she pulled her mitts and hat from her pockets and tugged them on.

"You don't have to," Flack told her. "It's this look you give me."

"What look?" she asked innocently. "I don't have a look."

He arched an eyebrow and stared down at her.

"You'd miss my looks," she declared and pushed open the door of the squad room. "Your life would be empty and meaningless without them."

"Without you it would be," he said, winking down at her as they crossed the small vestibule and she used her hip to shove open the door that lead to the street.

"Sappy," she giggled. "Completely and utterly sappy."

He gave a grin and a shrug as they stepped out into the frigid night air. The snow had abated. For now. Leaving several inches in its wake.

"You're walking over?" Flack asked, eyeing her apparel.

She nodded and sniffled noisily. The cold night air tickling her nose. "It's just a couple of blocks. I'll be fine."

"You're going to freeze," he informed her, and proceeded to reach out and take a hold of the black and pink stripped scarf hanging loosely around her neck. He tied it securely and then used it to pull her towards him and into a long, soft and warm kiss.

"Call me if you're going to be really late," she said.

"I will," he promised. "You need anything, just call. Okay?"

She nodded and stood on her tiptoes and kissed him chastely. "I'm sorry. About the fight we had earlier today and…"

He silenced her by capturing her mouth with his. "Let's pretend that never happened," he said, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Let's treat it as a brain fart," she giggled.

He laughed as well. "Have fun with your brother. I love you."

"I love you too," she said, and smiling up at him, ran a hand over his face. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

"I'll try," he promised, and leaned against the bricks behind him and shook a smoke from the pack of his hand. Watching as she headed off down the slippery, snow covered sidewalk. He'd just lit his cigarette when he saw her stop, her shoulders rise and fall as she sighed, and then turn and walk back towards him.

"I need to tell you something," she said.

"Okay…"

"I'm going to see Zack," she blurted out. "The hospital called. They found my card on him. I don't know why he had it or how he got it. But he's asking to see me. And I think it's best that I go."

"Why?" Flack asked, trying to remain calm and composed.

"I think seeing him will help me put my past where it belongs. In the past. And there's some things I need to say to him, and if I say them, I think it will be better for us. Because I will be completely over and Zack will be history and I can concentrate slowly on us. Because that's all I want to do, Donnie. Concentrate on us. Start a future with you. Start forever with you. And if I see Zack and say what I gotta say to him then I can…"

He reached out and laid two fingers over her lips. "I understand, Samantha. And I want that too. To be able to start forever. With you. And I trust you to do the right thing."

She pressed a kiss to his finger before he removed it.

"Just be careful," he said. "That's all ask. Promise me you'll be careful."

"Always," she vowed and with a bright smile, turned and headed down the sidewalk again.

Flack sighed heavily and leaned back against the wall and lit his smoke. Inhaling deeply, he watched as she departed, her figure getting smaller and smaller until it eventually disappeared around a corner.

There goes my future, he thought with a smile. My everything.

My life.

Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all the lurkers. But please, please R and R folks. Makes my day!!

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