DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER, OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY KIERAN

A/N: SPECIAL THANKS TO LAURZZ FOR THE SONG AND ALL HER CHATS!

Operation: Bozeman (aka is Sam crazy?)

"I used to reach for you when
I got lost along the way.
I used to listen.
You always had just the right thing to say.
I used to follow you.
Never really cared where we would go,
Fast or slow, to anywhere at all.
We used to have this figured out;
We used to breathe without a doubt.
When nights were clear, you were the first star that I'd see.
We used to have this under control.
We never thought.
We used to know.
At least there's you, and at least there's me.
Can we get this back?
Can we get this back to how it used to be?
I look around me,
And I want you to be there
'Cause I miss the things that we shared.
Look around you.
It's empty, and you're sad
'Cause you miss the love that we had."
-Used To, Daughtry

The main cafeteria of the New York City crime lab was located on the twenty-second floor and was an absolute zoo. Sam usually wasn't brave enough to venture down so close to noon hour. She just couldn't take the hustle and bustle of the crowds and the nearly intolerable buzz that all the loud voices together created. To her, that sound was akin to nails on a chalk board for other human beings. Her doctor had once told her that she had a sensory processing disorder with noises. That anything sudden or piercing was a hundred times louder to her than it was to the average person. Her response to that had been "Well I know my brain is a little messed up, but come on. Can't something just be damn annoying to you without you being diagnosed with something?" She hadn't bought that line of shit for a second and had said as much to her husband when she'd come home from the audiologist grumbling about what a loony tune the guy was. Especially the supposed specialist's brilliant deduction that to cut down on the discomfort, to avoid those types of certain situations.

Yeah, right. Easier said than done. You couldn't avoid noise in a house with a toddler who shrieked and bellowed and carried on because he had his own hearing issues and was only so loud because he was struggling to actually hear himself. And you certainly couldn't tell the kid to shut the hell up no matter how tempted you were to do so. Everywhere that seemed remotely essential to her life was wrought with noise. Work, home, the grocery store. There was no escaping it. So she had learned to take her I-pod where she went in order to just block everything else out. Which in turn, gave off the impression that she was just some rude bitch wanting to ignore everybody.

Life certainly was a no win situation sometimes.

She placed an order for French fries and gravy and macaroni and cheese at the busy grill. Waiting in line before her turn to order had arrived, she'd checked out the menu mounted on the wall and decided since she couldn't decide between her two favourite comfort foods, she was just going to go ahead and order both. No since skimping when she was just going to get fat over the next several months anyway. The way she looked at it, extra pounds now only meant extra padding and safety for the baby growing inside of her.

She was still somewhat in shock over the whole thing. Since they had found out she was expecting nearly two weeks ago, there were times that that night and that moment when she'd placed that pregnancy test in he husband's hand seemed like a dream. As if it had never happened. To talk about trying for another baby and than actually finding out you're having one so soon were two entirely different things. And for the most part, although it was just the beginning, this pregnancy seemed to be entirely different than the first.

With Kieran, once she had found out she was having him, all her thoughts and movements were consumed by him. She couldn't recall a moment when she wasn't thinking about being pregnant. Even long before she showed any physical signs that she was. She had been nervous and terrified and excited. She had never done something like that before. She'd never carried a child or given birth or been a mother. It was one big holy shit moment that last nearly nine months and sometimes still crept up on her.

This time around seemed different. First, she didn't dwell on it as much. She didn't worry about every single thing she put in her mouth and the adverse affects it would have on her or the baby. This time she knew exactly what to stay away from and didn't have to carry around a copy of What to Expect When Your Expecting that she could refer to before she made every decision regarding her health or body. She felt more relaxed and confidant with this pregnancy. She knew what to expect. If she got massive heartburn, she knew that it was okay. If she had to get up in the middle of the night and pee ten times, well that was okay too. And when her back ached or her feet swelled or her gums bled while brushing her teeth, she didn't go running to call the doctor in a blind panic.

She was enjoying it this time. Although still nervous and anxious about the responsibility of carrying a new life entirely dependant on her inside of her body, she wasn't as paranoid and uptight and felt so at ease and comfortable with herself and how she would deal with issues as they arose. Something inside told her that the next several months were going to go smoothly and easily. She could just feel it. And she was going to relish every appointment and every ultrasound and every movement and every kick.

Her cell phone, inside of the pink holder clipped to the waist of her black dress pants rang noisily. Tired of the standard rings that accompanied all NYPD issued cells, she'd gone on the internet and downloaded some unique and colourful ring tones that suited her often unusual and interesting choices in music. So instead of a boring old ring, the sound of 50 Cent's Candy Shop emanated from her phone.

She plucked the ear phone from her I-pod out of one ear and snagged her phone, checking the caller ID before flipping the cell open to answer it.

"Detective Flack," she said into the phone in way of greeting.

Even after a year of marriage, it still seemed out to say that name. She had tried hyphenating it at first for work purposes only. Answering her phone and introducing herself as Detective Ross-Flack. But it sound became way too much of a mouthful and she gave up and just used her married name. Which was as confusing as hell within the department. People just couldn't seem to wrap their heads around the fact that there were two detective Flacks. How hard was it? One was male and one was female.

It wasn't rocket science people!

"Samantha? It's Reed. Reed Garrett," came the familiar voice. The young man sounded excited. He obviously had big news to share.

"Hey, Reed," she said, holding her phone to her ear with her shoulder in order to take the two overflowing plates of food from the grill chef.

She placed them both on her tray and slid it down the counter top towards a small table holding condiments and plastic cutlery. It was one of those days she had wished she'd taken her brother's advice and gotten a hands free device for her phone. Usually she argued with him about how stupid it looked because it appeared you were talking to yourself in public. But now she saw the necessity for the damn thing.

"I just wanted to let you know that the story is going to run tomorrow!" Reed exclaimed, obviously proud of himself. "My editor thought it was absolutely amazing! A fantastic human interest piece. He said it was funny and thought provoking and heartbreaking all at the same time."

"That's great," Sam gushed. "Good to hear. I'm glad all those tears were worth it."

"Absolutely," he said. "It's going to run on the front page! Can you believe it? How awesome is that? It's my first front page article! I'm going to have a by-line on the front of the Times!"

"It's great, Reed," Sam told him, setting her tray on the condiment table and drowning both her gravy covered fries and her mac and cheese in ketchup. "I'm proud of you."

"Well I'm proud of us," he said. "I didn't have a story without you, Samantha. This is all because you were willing to talk and so open about everything. So it's as much your article as it is mine."

"I wouldn't go that far," she laughed, grabbing a bottle of white vinegar and adding the tart liquid to her gravy and ketchup soaked fries. "I'm not the journalist," she pointed out. "I'm just a lab jockey."

"I just wanted to give you a heads up about it," Reed told her. "So you knew to expect it. And so you'd run out and grab it first thing in the morning."

"Oh don't worry about that," Sam said. "Don always goes down to this Korean deli on the corner by our place first thing in the morning for my green tea and some croissants and he always comes back with the Times. Tomorrow should be no different unless he gets an early call in."

"So now you guys really have something to look forward to. It's a fantastic article, Samantha. You and Detective Flack will just love it. I know you will. I wanted to let you know about it. I'm going to call Mac too, so he knows what's up. And so I can brag a bit about the whole front page thing."

"Well you have every right to," Sam said. "Like you said, it's your first. Wish I could say that about some things in my life. It's been a while since I've had a first anything."

Reed chuckled. "It was good talking to you, Samantha. I better go. I want to call Mac and my editor has me on the city desk permanently now that I've proven myself. Talk soon, hopefully?"

"Anytime," she said. "'Bye for now."

"See ya," Reed chirped and hung up.

Sam pressed end on her phone and snapped it shut and slipped it back into its holder. She had just grabbed a handful of napkins and a straw for the apple juice and carton of milk she planned on picking up on her way out of the food service area when someone sidled up beside her and began doctoring up his own plate of macaroni and cheese with enough ketchup to rival what was on her meal.

He had nice hands. Large and strong with smooth looking skin. And whoever he was, he smelled damn good. And oddly familiar.

It was a scent that she hadn't smelled in years but was embedded in her memory. A fresh soap and water mixed with the faint trace of cologne. And there'd been only one person that had carried that scent. A scent that had once made her stomach go crazy and her heart flutter. Which, despite being pregnant and married, still happened.

It had been sixteen, almost seventeen years since she had experienced that smell. And standing there, in that busy cafeteria, it seemed as if they were the only two people that existed. That no time had passed and she was a sixteen year old fresh face girl again shedding tears out in front of her run down abomination of a home. Feeling those hands on the sides of her face and staring into those intense, dark brown eyes that seemed to look into her very soul.

Those same eyes that she now found her own locked intently with.

"You're still eating that stuff, Karahkwa?" Chester Lake asked, an amused smile on his face as he glanced down at the food on her tray. He had never forgotten the nickname he had given her nearly two decades ago. Karahkwa. Mohawk for sunshine.

And she'd never forgotten it either.

Sam forced herself to look away from him. She felt uncomfortable. Embarrassed and ashamed at the old feelings and memories that besieged her. Guilty that such things had even taken over her when she was madly in love with the man she was married to. Who she had a child with. Who she was expecting a second child with.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she said, studying his own plate. "Looks like neither of us got over our mac and cheese fetish."

"Comfort food," Lake said. "Isn't that what you always called it when Betty made it?"

Betty Thomas. His foster mother. He had gone to live with her when he was ten and his younger brother was seven. She had been the only foster parent he'd ever had who had loved him and his sibling as if they were her own. Sam remembered her fondly. She was a short and somewhat chubby woman of Native descent that always had a kind word for all and stories and legends of her ancestors to tell. And she had been a phenomenal cook who had opened her doors for Sam and Adam and treated them better than their own parents ever had. Betty's speciality had been macaroni and cheese. The Ross kids just couldn't get enough of it. And that had stuck with Sam all those years. Hence her penchant for the boxed Velveta mac and cheese and Kraft Dinner. Although nothing could ever come remotely close to Betty's.

Sam nodded. "But Betty's was like dying and going to heaven," she said.

"You don't seem surprised to see me, Samantha," Lake commented.

"Honestly? I'm not. I knew you were coming to work here. I saw your employee file. On my husband's desk. So I was somewhat prepared."

"Your husband seems like a really great guy," Lake told her.

Sam smiled. "He is. Not to mention he's your boss, technically."

"I guess you can imagine how surprised I was to see your picture on his desk. And to find out that you'd come back to New York almost two years ago. And that you were a crime scene investigator. That's a lot to find out all at once when you haven't seen someone in nearly seventeen years."

"I guess a lot has changed," she reasoned. "I was sixteen years old when I left. Now here I am. Thirty-three."

"And someone's wife," Lake tossed in.

"And someone's mother," she added. "That's my greatest achievement yet."

Lake smiled. "It's good to see you again, Samantha," he said, and reached out to pull her into a tight, warm hug.

She froze silently. Unsure of how to react. Had it just been an old friend, returning the embrace would have come easy to her. But with the history that existed and still bubbled under the surface, she realized the best thing to do was nothing. She gave nothing more than a brief one armed hug.

"It's good to see you, too, Chester," she said in return.

He frowned at her cold reaction.

"It is," Sam assured him and picked up her tray. "It's just that…this place is a huge ass rumour mill and my husband has some issues that…he just has some issues that will only get blown out of the water if it gets back to him that I'm hugging some strange guy. I love him. We're happy and I want us to stay that way. And I respect him and I don't want to be doing things that I know would only piss him off."

"Hugging an old friend would piss him off?" he asked, grabbing his own tray and following her across the cafeteria.

"No…but if he knew that you weren't just old friends it would. He doesn't know that you and I dated. He knows nothing about it and I kinda want to keep it that way. So if he ever asks you…"

"My lips are sealed," Lake promised. "He'll never hear it from me. Is it against the rules to have lunch with me? In a busy public cafeteria?"

"Of course not," she scoffed, and stopping at a beverage cooler, snagged a can of apple juice and a milk before the man already rummaging inside of it had a chance to close the door. "And they're not rules. They're just…they're respecting the person you're in love with and not purposefully doing things to piss them off. My husband's a great guy and he has a heart of gold but he also has some things when it comes to me that drives him nuts. And I try to not upset his apple cart if you will. It's just the whole me being physical with another man. That just doesn't sit well with him."

Lake grinned. "Haven't gotten over that whole rambling thing when you're nervous, huh?

"I'm not nervous. What do I have to be nervous about? I'm defensive. About my husband and my marriage especially. I don't know," she shrugged. "I guess I love him too much to intentionally do something that will burn his ass."

"You don't have to get defensive with me, Samantha. I'm not going to judge you or your husband or the way the two of you run your marriage or the decisions you make. And if certain things piss him off, than avoid them. It's no big deal. That's your guys' business. I was just really surprised. To see your picture on my boss' desk. I certainly wasn't coming here to work expecting to see someone I haven't seen in nearly seventeen years. Especially when you said you were never going to come back here."

"And I wasn't going to come back here," she said, as they headed for the check out. "But I ran into some trouble in Arizona and I needed to get away and my brother was here and he was the person I needed to be with at the time. Adam always made things seem better. But you say you were surprised to see my picture? Well ditto for the fact that I never imagined that in one year of coming back here I'd be a wife and a mother."

"God works in mysterious ways," Lake mused. "Things happen for a reason. How's Adam? I hear he works here too."

"He's great. He's a criminalist. He just got married on New Years Eve. Eloped. In Atlantic City. He called us at midnight to wish us a Happy New Year and dropped the bomb on us. Gus, his wife, she's amazing. She's a department psychologist."

"Sounds like Peanut's doing pretty damn good."

Sam laughed. It was a musical, warm laugh that even to this day brought a smile to Lake's face. That laugh was infectious. She was infectious. It was nice to see some things never changed.

"I can't believe you remembered that," Sam said, giving a friendly smile to the cashier ringing up her purchase.

"Is this together?" the young woman asked, gesturing to the two trays.

"No," Sam answered.

"Yes," Lake spoke up at the same time. "Here," reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out two tens and held it out to the cashier. "That's for both."

"Chester, you don't have to…" Sam began.

"I want to," he cut her off. "I haven't seen you in seventeen years. Cut a guy some slack and let him buy you lunch, okay?"

She nodded and gave that smile that made her eyes sparkle and her nose crinkle. "Okay," she agreed. "Thank you."

He waved it off and took his change from the cashier and dropped two bucks in the tip cup sitting next to her register. "How could I not remember that nickname?" he asked, as they began the search for a table. "I always thought it was so funny that you called him Peanut when you were the one that was so damn tiny. And your mom and Clint?"

"They're good. Adam's just driving them to the airport. They visited over the holidays."

"That must have been a treat. Spending Christmas with the mother from hell."

Sam snorted. "It was a goddamn nightmare. She'll never change unfortunately. She's just mean spirited and bitter and thinks the whole damn world owes her a living because of the way my father was. She plays the victim card well when she was just as much to plan for things that happened as he was. Don can't stand her. They're always at each other's throats. It's quite amusing, actually. Because she tries to pull bullshit with him, and well, Don doesn't do bullshit."

"Yeah…I've somewhat discovered that already."

"Not that I'm trying to scare you or anything," Sam laughed. "He comes across pretty harsh and sarcastic but he's relatively harmless. You'll like working with him. He's a damn good cop."

"And outside of work?" Lake asked curiously.

"Outside of work he's just Don," Sam replied. "He's a great husband and an amazing father. And he tries hard. And that means more to me than anything."

"Spoken like a woman in love," Lake said with a smile.

They had found a table near the back of the cafeteria. Next to picture windows that offered up a rather stunning view of mid-town Manhattan. They sat and ate slowly, enjoying their lunch and each other's company. Laughing easily about old times and getting caught up on what they had done with their lives in the past seventeen years. Sam talked about earning her masters and BA and taking a job at the Phoenix Crime Lab. She briefly touched on Zack. She left out the traumatic events, instead just mentioning that she had been engaged to be married and had called off the wedding the night before due to circumstances she no longer wanted to put up with. Lake accepted that explanation and didn't push. Judging by the look in her eyes and by the tone of her voice, this Zack was still somewhat of a soft spot. He'd created wounds that weren't yet fully healed. Than her mood brightened when she talked about how she met her husband and the small wedding they had and the son they had welcomed into the world less than two weeks later. Her husband and child were no doubt the loves, and lights of her life. And it was good to see her that happy knowing what had happened to her many years ago.

Lake told her about going into the academy straight out of high school and never looking back. He talked about his early days as a beat cop and than a uniform in a squad out of the 86th in Brooklyn. He had never wandered too far from home and upon becoming a detective, had initially gotten into the special victims unit in Brooklyn proper before taking the huge leap to Manhattan. Sam could tell that not all his memories and his experiences in the unit, especially Manhattan, were pleasant ones. She had worked alongside of a couple of the SVU detectives on rape and assault cases and she had found them brash and straight to the point but damn good at what they did. And she respected that. But not everyone could take that kind of environment and it was apparent that in the end, it was best that Chester put SVU behind him and move on to other things.

He talked about Betty and how she was still alive and kicking in Brooklyn and still taking in foster kids even at her age and that she would know doubt either love to see Sam and Adam, or at least hear from them. He told her about his brother Michael becoming a steel worker and following in the footsteps of their ancestors, and about how Michael had battled the demons of alcohol for many years and seemed to have put them to rest at last. Thanks to not only Chester's support, but that of Michael's wife Elaine, his high school sweetheart and mother of his five children.

"And what about you?" Sam asked after a lull in the conversation.

"What about me?" Lake asked.

"Are you with anybody?" she inquired curiously, sipping her milk.

He held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers to show he wore no wedding band.

"Well that doesn't tell me anything," Sam said. "Because a lot of cops don't wear wedding rings. A lot. And if you're not married than you could have a girlfriend or a fiancee or be living with someone."

"There's no one," he told her. "And sometimes, that's just the way I like."

"Sometimes?"

"Sometimes it's best just having me to take care of, other times it's lonely and miserable and I'd like to have someone to come home to. Have a family with. Stuff like that."

"Having someone isn't the answer to everything," Sam told him. "But it makes things easier that's for sure. I wouldn't give up Don for anything in the world. The man drives me nuts and I could strangle him sometimes, but…" she sighed and shrugged. "He's my everything and I'd much rather have him in my life driving me insane than not have him in it."

Lake smiled.

"That being said, I'm sure I drive him mad too," she laughed. "In fact, I know I do. The stories that that man could tell you about the things I do."

"But he wouldn't give you up either."

"I like to think he wouldn't. But who knows? Maybe when I'm fifty he'll trade me in for two twenty five year olds."

Lake laughed. "Something tells me that isn't going to happen. I saw the look in his eyes when he talked about you. You've got his heart, Samantha. No doubt about it. I doubt there's nothing he wouldn't do for you."

"Well I wouldn't go that far," she said. "But who knows, Chester. Maybe you coming to work here while have the same magic has it had for me. I didn't expect to come here and meet someone and fall in love and get married and start a family. So if could happen to me, it could happen to you."

"Always the romanticist," he chuckled.

"Always the optimist," Sam corrected him. "A little optimism goes a long way, believe me."

He nodded slowly, considering her words. "Have any single and available friends?"

"Friends? No. But there are a couple of lab techs that are really cute and peppy and would just love someone like you. I would have offered up my friend Jess. She's a detective, too. But she's practically living with a friend and colleague of mine and they're disgustingly happy. So she's out of the question."

"I think I am more than capable of finding my own way with the women," he said. "But thank you."

"Hey, we all need a little help sometime. When you come up to the lab later to meet everything, take a gander at what's to offer and I'll put a bug in the single girls' ears about you."

He laughed. "Even when you were a teenager you were always meddling in peoples' love lives."

"Which reminds me!" Sam exclaimed. "Do you know any good web sites that offer deals on airline tickets? Specifically to say…I don't know…Montana?"

Lake arched an eyebrow. "Montana?"

"It's a long story, trust me. But do you? Know any?"

"Not off the top of my head. Sorry."

"I'll just have to go on the 'net and do the dirty work myself," she sighed.

Danny walked into the cafeteria. The crowd had cleared out considerably. After he'd done a little soul searching and a whole lot of thinking and regretting, he'd pulled up his big boy pants as Scagnetti was so fond of saying, and decided to make the past just that. The past. There was no sense sitting around wondering what might have been when you were the one that caused things to go south in the first place. His relationship with Lindsay had disintegrated because of him. There was no one else to blame. He'd pushed her away and closed himself off after Ruben when all he should have done was just accept her offers of help and support. But no, the stubborn and selfish and proud bastard that he had prevented him from letting her be there for him. And his immaturity and foolishness had let him turn things around and twist and contrive them so that Lindsay looked like the bad person. He blamed her inability to handle emotions. He had called her clingy and possessive and whiny. He'd treated her like a child when he should have been treating her like what she was.

A grown woman whom he had very grown up feelings for. Feelings that far surpassed anything he'd felt before, or since.

He loved Erica. He was having a child with her. But he wasn't in love with her. He owed it to her to stick around. For the baby's sake. She'd stuck by him through a lot of bullshit and he couldn't hurt her by just walking out and leaving her for another woman. And he was afraid. Afraid that if left, he'd never see his own baby. Because that was the type of woman Erica was. Hurtful and spiteful when she didn't get her own way. And he just couldn't risk missing out on his kid's life.

Why's everything gotta be so fucked up these days? Danny thought, as he grabbed a burger and some fries and a fountain drink before paying for his meal and than heading out to search for his partner.

His assumptions that something and everything was wrong with the world were confirmed at the sight of his partner, his best friend's wife, having lunch at a table for two with a guy Danny had never seen around there before. And her face was glowing and her eyes were sparkling as she laughed and talked as if that person in front of her, a little more than friendship in his own eyes, were some long lost friend. Or lover.

Danny was insanely protective of SamFlackie as he commonly and affectionately referred to them as. And he was even more so with latter half of that equation. Flack had bailed him out of many a tight spot. Offered up a sympathetic ear or a should to cry on or well meaning advice many times in the years that they'd been tight. And this guy here, this stranger, posed a threat to his best friend's happiness as far as Danny was concerned. And he just wasn't going to put up with that kind of shit.

"What? You're already cheating on me, Brooklyn?" Danny asked as he approached the table. "I thought I was your lunch buddy when Flack couldn't bring the goods."

"You normally are, Danny," she smiled sweetly. "But seeing as you stood me up for some whine and cheese."

He snorted. "Very funny…"

"Call the wambulance, he's whining," Sam said with a giggle. "You're done you're moping? Just in time to see me finish my lunch?"

"Just in time to save you from the evil clutches of strange men," Danny said, only half joking as he slid into the chair alongside of Samantha. "What has your husband told you about not talking to strangers?"

"He said it was okay as long as I didn't accept candy or ride homes from them," Sam responded, snatching a fry from her friend's plate.

"Keep your paws off of my food," Danny told her. "Please don't tell me you ate mac and cheese and fries and gravy," he commented, as he observed the remnants of the meal in front of her.

"I most certainly did. And milk and apple juice."

"Don't be asking me to pull the car over for pit stops if we're on the road later," Danny said. "And how do you eat all that?"

"I'm squirreling it away. For the rest of the winter. So I have enough padding to keep me warm. And so you know, this nice young man here is not a stranger. We grew up together in Crown Heights. Detective Danny Messer, meet Detective Chester Lake."

"Detective?" Danny asked curiously, as he reached across the table to shake the other man's hand.

"Homicide," Lake replied. "Today's my first day."

"He works for Don," Sam explained. "He's one of his guys, as Don so lovingly refers to his cronies as."

"That must be pretty weird," Danny said. "Coming here to work and finding out your new boss' wife is your ex…whatever she is."

"Chester and I were very good friends growing up," Sam told her fellow CSI.

"Right…" Danny said, nodding slowly and digging into his friends. "Friends….right…"

"Not all guys are disgusting pervs like you who want to get into every girls pants they pass by on the street. Chester and I were friends. Nothing more. And this is the first time we've seen each other in nearly seventeen years."

"Small world," Danny said. "Come to work for homicide and hook up with your ex…friend."

"Give it a rest, Danny," Sam sighed. "Chester and I were just having lunch. We didn't jet off to Vegas to elope. We're not having champagne and strawberries at a romantic, candlelit table or anything. It was lunch. Don't read into it."

"Who paid?" Danny asked curiously. "You pay that's lunch. He pays that's a date."

"Be nice," Sam said in response as she slipped out of her seat. "I want you two to be on your best behaviour while you get to know each other. Because as much as I'd like to stay and chat, I have a small errand to run before I get back to work. Danny, please tell me you didn't leave me a stack of shit to do in trace."

"You want the truth or do you want me to lie?" he asked and popped a fry into his mouth.

"You bastard," she grumbled. "Chester," she smiled at her old friend and laid a hand on his shoulder as she headed around the table. "It was really nice seeing you again. I am sure we will work together very soon."

"Take care, Samantha," he said, and watched over his shoulder as she headed through the cafeteria.

"Hey!" Danny snapped when that look became far too personal as he was concerned. "Eyes off the prize, kapish!?"

"What was that?" Lake asked, turning his attention to the CSI.

Danny smirked. "Just old friends, huh?"

The detective nodded.

Danny snorted. "Right…."

Sam strode off the elevator and through the large double doors marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. The bullpen of the twelfth precinct was crowded and loud. Phones ringing off the hook, detectives and plainclothes officers bickering with handcuffed prisoners, perps yelling from behind the bars of holding cells, carrying on about how they had the wrong guy and the unfair treatment they were receiving and how they 'oughta sue the NYPD's asses'. The crime rate had shot up considerably since Christmas. The seemingly unrelentless battering of snow and sleet and high winds was driving everybody mad.

Her eyes instantly zeroed in on her unsuspecting target and she quickly hurried over. Laying her tiny, warm hands on his shoulders and lightly massaging the tense muscles. Leaning over him so that her cheek was pressed to his ear and the front of her blouse brushed up against the back of his shirt and he could smell the soft, baby powder scent on her skin.

"Honey…" she said in a whiny, childish voice.

"Whatever it is, the answer is no," Flack responded.

She immediately ceased rubbing his shoulders and huffed loudly and dropped into the chair next to his desk, a dramatic pout on her face. "You don't even know what I was going to ask," she said.

"I know that when you use that little girl tone and that little honey thing, that whatever it is, isn't good."

"This happens to be fabulous," Sam informed him. "Or at least I think so."

He arched his eyebrows.

"How's your day going?" she asked. "Is it going good? Do you need me to get you anything? Cup of coffee? Foot massage? A pillow to put at the back of your chair to help your aching back feel better? A few tablets of that Hilly-Billy Heroin stuff? How about lunch? I can go back upstairs and buy you something for lunch. I just ate but I can still treat you."

He smirked in amusement and dropped his pen on top of the case reports he was finishing off and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "What do you want, Freckles?"

"I will ignore that only because I want something from you," she said.

"When don't you want something for me? What's it today? My left arm? Right leg? Liver? A kidney?"

"Nothing that major," Sam assured him.

"Okay. Than what…"

"I need to borrow your MasterCard."

He laughed heartily. "I'd rather give you one of my limbs or internal organs. It's less painful than opening up the credit card statement when it comes in and seeing what you've racked up."

"Well you're the one that married me even after you knew how damn expensive and demanding I was," she pointed out. "So if you ask me, you're a glutton for punishment."

"Why should I give you my credit card when you have your own?"

"Because I don't bring mine to work. You know that. And it's not like we don't have the money in the bank to pay the bills when they come in."

"That money, the extra money you're talking about, that's in the savings account. Remember?"

"I know. But we can always dip into it just a little bit."

"Than go to the bank and dip into it and buy whatever it is you want," he told her.

"I can't!" she cried. "It's on the 'net. So I need a credit card. I need your credit card."

"For what? What the hell could you possibly want off the internet?" Flack asked.

"Oh I don't know. Tiffany's jewellery sold cheap, something from or E-Bay. Plane tickets to Montana."

She said it so quickly and smoothly and effortlessly that at first Flack didn't even hear the last part. But when the words finally did register in his brain, along with that sugary sweet, alluring smile his wife was giving him, he smirked and released his hands from behind his head and went back to his paperwork.

"You need to mind your own business," Flack told her.

"It is my business," she argued. "Danny's my friend. He's your best friend. And we both know that he's as miserable as all shit with Erica and.."

"She's your cousin," Flack reminded her.

"And your point is….?"

"My point is, is that she's your cousin. And he got her pregnant."

"So? Just because you knock someone up doesn't mean you have to stay with them and play house when your disgustingly miserable with them."

"Wish someone had have told me that ahead of time," he grumbled.

"You love me!" she informed him, directing a kick at his shin. "Don't be like that. You like being married and being all domesticated. Most of all, you like being married and being all domesticated with me. So cut your shit before you find yourself on the couch for the rest of your natural born life."

"Okay, so I love you and I love being married to you and playing house and raising kids and whatever the hell is it is that we do together. But what goes on with Danny and Erica and most of all with Danny and Lindsay Monroe, is none of our business. I gave him my opinion and some advice and it was up to him to do whatever he wanted with it. I am not going to physically help you, help Danny, walk out on his pregnant girlfriend or whatever the hell she is."

"But you know he's not happy, Donnie!" Sam argued. "You know he's miserable and you also know that my cousin is a nasty, mean, spiteful bitch who, if he does choose to leave, will never, ever let him see his child and that is the only reason why he sticks around."

"Sammie, that is his bed. He made it, now he has to sleep in it."

"Why are you being so difficult and hard headed?" she asked.

"Why are you so hell bent on breaking up your own cousin's relationship and shipping Danny off to someone you hate?"

"It's not that I hated her. I explained this to Danny already. I didn't hate Lindsay. I don't hate Lindsay. We just clashed. Plain and simple. And I am sure, if we both had wanted to, we would have pulled up our big girl pants, grew the fuck up and became great friends. But we were both stubborn, selfish, immature bitches and that's the goddamn way the cookie crumbled for us. Now Danny's madly in love with her, he's miserable with Erica and I am going to do something about it!" she leaned forward in the chair, her hand outstretched, palm out. "So give me the goddamn credit card!"

He sighed, leaned forward and took her hand in his and brought it to his lips to kiss it softly. "I love you," he said. "But no."

"Men!" she huffed and tore her hand away from his grasp.

"Anything else, Sammie, and I would have done it. You wanted something from Tiffany's or Gucci or Prada and I would have done. Shit, you wanted a new car and I would have found a way to get you one. But I can't help you do that to Erica. Okay?"

"Okay? What? You're suddenly tight with my bitch of a cousin? When did this happen? Or is that why you've been working so late some nights and wandering in at two and three in the morning. Because you're getting acquainted with the Park Avenue Posse. Or should I say pussy."

He snorted and shook his head. "I am not even going to dignify that with a response," he said.

"What? I hit too close to home? Touch a nerve? Set off your guilty conscience?"

"Don't come down here, to my work and start a fight with me because you can't have your own way for once. Don't do it. Don't come down here, in front of my colleagues and my bosses and start some little girl, immature, spoiled brat bullshit. You want to push my buttons? You want to drive me crazy? You want us to have it out so that in the end you get your crazy assed, borderline violent makeup sex that you're so fond of? Fine. We go home and have it out. We don't do it here."

"Oh fuck you, Don," she snapped, stomped her feet on the floor and stood up. "You like Erica so much, I'll ship you off there. And than you won't have to put up with my little girl, immature, spoiled brat bullshit ever again. You can just put up with her crazy, Exorcist, Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction bullshit. But don't think for a second your son will be anywhere near that mean, spiteful bitch. Have a think on that."

He caught her hand as she went to walk away. "Samantha…" he said with a heavy sigh. "Don't be like this."

"I have to go back to work," she informed his coolly.

"Don't walk away from me angry. Okay? I'm sorry if you think I'm being a prick for not helping you out. But I don't want to have any part in this and I don't want you having any part in this. Let Danny worry about his own problems and let us, worry about ours."

"I didn't realize we had problems," she said, attempting to pull her hand out of his.

He tightened his grip on her. "Fighting like this isn't a sign that we have problems?"

"We fight, Don. It's what we do. I don't know why we do it or why we seem to get such enjoyment from saying things that hurt each other, but we do. We're screwed up. You know it and I know it. I'm sorry I get the way I do when I don't get things I want. But I really thought I was doing something to help Danny out."

"Helping Danny out is letting him grow up long enough to solve his own problems," Flack told her. "And we're not screwed up. We're just…I don't know…so much alike we butt heads all the time. You're stubborn and I'm stubborn and this is what happens when you get two stubborn, smart ass, temperamental people together I guess. But as far as me fooling around with your cousin…"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to come out and say it. We both know that's what you meant."

She sighed.

"I'd never do something like that and you know it. So please, don't accuse me of things. Okay?"

She nodded. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm hormonal, I think. I'm tired and hormonal. That's my excuse."

"You need to get more sleep. I know for a fact you spent most of the night tossing and turning. And than you get up at four in the morning to make cupcakes? I mean, come on, Sam. That's not normal."

"It was three thirty actually. When I got up and started preparing everything."

"So three thirty. Babe, that's not normal. You need to go and ask your doctor if you can take sleeping pills or something."

"She already told me that I need to take pre-natal vitamins and folic acid. I just haven't felt like getting my lazy ass to the store."

He checked his watch. "I'm going to break for lunch soon and I'll go to the CVS around the corner and get you some. Okay?"

She nodded.

"Come on," he said, and let go of her hand as he stood up. "I'll walk you to the elevator."

"What? You actually think we're friends again? You think you can say things like that and everything's okay?"

"No," he said, laying a hand on the small of her back as he escorted her towards the back of the precinct and out the double doors. "But I'm not the only one who says shitty things, am I?"

"Damn you for always being right," she sighed heavily. "We have to stop that, you know. Talking out of our asses like that. Because one time, one of us are going to say something that we can't take back and than something bad is going to happen and we'll have that on our conscience for the rest of our lives."

"Don't be going all fatalistic on me again," Flack said, as he reached out and hit the up button for the elevators. "You start doing that and something always happens to one of us. Or us period."

"Now whose being fatalistic," she said, as the elevator doors opened and passengers filed out, leaving it empty for her to step into.

"Fatalistic, realistic, same damn thing," Flack told her, laying a hand on the door to keep it open. "It's true. Every time you get onto this kicks, one of us gets into some kind of trouble. And we don't need that."

"Well than you better be extra careful when you're out doing your job than. And me? Well I will just wrap myself in bubble wrap and keep myself safe that way. We're just doomed, Donnie. Face it. Must be our mixed astrological signs or something. We are just doomed."

"You're just crazy," he said, and leaning into the elevator, kissed her quickly. Grinning at her as he backed away at the feel of her hand on the front of his shirt.

She laughed. "Did you see that? I almost got you there. I almost pulled you right in. I would have hit the stop button and had my way with you somewhere between here and the thirty-fifth floor."

"You need to keep your mind out of the gutter and get back to work," he told her, and reaching into the elevator, pressed the button for the crime lab's floor. "I'll get you those vitamins." he said.

"I'll be waiting. If I'm not in trace, I'm in lay out. If I'm not in lay out, I'm in the lounge or my office. And if I'm not there, I'm in ballistics."

"Hell no, no ballistics," he caught the elevator door before it could shut. "Promise me no ballistics."

She sighed heavily. "Ruin all my fun."

"I'm watching out for you. For both of you," he informed her.

She smiled, crossed the small space between them and motioned for him to bend down. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Sometimes I do love you," she told him, as she backed up and pressed the close door button.

"And the other times?" he asked.

"The other times I really, really, really love you," she replied.

The elevator door closed, separating them. Leaving Flack standing there, grinning like a damn fool.

Sam found her second target sitting in the lounge area. Dark framed glasses on his handsome face as he surfed the internet on of the provided computers while sipping a steaming mug of Chicken Noodle Cup of Soup. She hated getting someone so kind hearted and with such a gentle soul sucked into her little covert operation, but he was the only person she trusted enough to not go back and tell her husband just what she was up to.

"Are you still nursing that cold?" she asked, as she snatched a bottle of apple juice from the employee fridge and twisted off the top.

Hawkes nodded and swallowed a mouthful of the broth in hopes it would ease his sore, scratchy throat.

"I won't come to close than," Sam said, and slipped into the chair at the station across from him. "Are you at least feeling any better?"

"A bit," he responded, his voice a near whisper.

"You poor thing. Had I know you were this bad off, I would have brought in some of my Echinacea tea from home and nursed you back to health myself. Is Jess at least taking good care of you?"

Hawkes nodded.

"Yeah? Is she making you soup and bringing you OJ in bed? Fluffing your pillows and warming your sheets? Wearing that sexy little naughty nurse outfit I know for a fact she has shoved in the back of her closet?"

He laughed heartily and than starting coughing.

"You don't know about the nurse's outfit? You should ask her about it. We were out shopping once and we walked past this adults only store and well, because the two of us are just dirty, dirty girls, we went in. I saw her buy it. With my own two eyes. She's holding out on you. You need to ask her. Call her up on it."

"What did you buy?" Hawkes managed.

"It was cute. Next time you see Don, say the words French Maid and see how red his ears go. Have you ever noticed that about him? How his ears go red when he's embarrassed? Funny, huh? Big and tough homicide detective being like that?"

He shook his head. "You are something else."

"Yes, yes I am. And he wouldn't want me any other way. I have something to ask you."

"Okay.."

"Actually, I kinda, sorta need a favour from you, Shelly."

He arched an eyebrow.

"I need you to put something on your credit card. I forgot mine at home and I couldn't find Don to ask to use his and time is of the essence. So I was hoping that maybe, you could buy this certain thing that I need and than I could just give you the money back for it. It's not that expensive and I can have the cash as soon as your bill comes in."

"What is it?" Hawkes asked.

"It's an airline ticket. Return fare. There's a seat sale going on at American Airlines right now but it ends in three days. Which is why I need to do this ASAP. Think you could help me out?"

"Whose going on a trip?"

"Danny. But he doesn't know it. It's a surprise. Can you help me out, Sheldon? Please?"

He sighed and nodded.

"You're the best!" Sam cried. "I am starting to wish I had went out with you that time you asked me many moons ago. May I use your computer?"

"Sure," he croaked and pushed his chair away from the desk and motioned for her to go ahead.

Sam bounced out of her chair and hurried over. Quickly searching for, and finding the website she had briefly visited between leaving Chester and Danny in the cafeteria and going to see Flack in the precinct. While she typed in the necessary information, Hawkes got to his feet and pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

"If it's okay, I'm having the ticket delivered here, in Danny's name," Sam told him, fingers clicking on the keyboard. "But they'll have you paged to sign the purchase slip."

"That's fine," Hawkes told her, as she stepped away from the computer so he could enter in his credit card information. The flight was set for February second, leaving JFK airport at three in the afternoon. Arriving at quarter to eight at night, their time, at Gallatin Field in Bozeman… "Montana?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Sam, who was bouncing excitedly up and down on her heels behind him.

"That's a problem?" she asked.

"Not a problem…but does Danny know you're doing this?"

"Like I said, it's a surprise. You know how he and Lindsay have been, what's the best word, communicating over the past year and a bit and she'd really love to see him and he'd love to see her. I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't sure I was in the right."

"What kind of hell am I going to catch for this?" Hawkes asked her.

"None. None, I swear. I will take any fall out that comes with it. If any comes with it. This is a good thing, Shelly! We are contributing to the greater good, I promise you! Don't back out on me now. I really need your help."

He sighed, contemplated it and went back to filing out his information.

"But you just have to promise me that when this gets back to Don, that you will tell him I had nothing to do with this."

Hawkes head snapped around to look at her once more.

"Trust me, Shelly. Keeping Don out of the loop is the smartest way to go for all parties involved. He does not need to know about this. Okay? I mean, he will naturally put two and two together eventually and figure out it was me, but I will cross that bridge when it comes to it."

"You're insane, girl," he declared, but returned to the task at hand.

"Insane but oh so cute and lovable," she pointed out.

He finished what he was doing, hit enter and than stepped away from the desk to put his credit card and wallet back. "All done," he announced.

"Thanks!" she squealed. "You really are the best!" she told her friend, and standing on her tiptoes, pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Now I better get back to work. Someone has to make a living around here."

Hawkes watched as she hurried from the room, a bright, joyful grin on her face.

What in the hell have I gotten myself into it? he thought.

Thanks to all of you who are reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all the lurkers! And I know there's a lot! Please, please drop a line if you like this, or even me, folk. LOL.

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