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

A/N: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TWO DARK TOPICS THAT READERS OF MOB AND VFB WILL RECOGNIZE AS PART OF SAM'S PAST IN THOSE STORIES. I DECIDED TO BRING THEM IN HERE AS WELL. THANKS TO LAURZZ AND HOPE4SALL FOR ENCOURAGING ME TO WRITE THEM. AND ALSO TO LAURZZ FOR HELPING ME WITH SOME OF THE DL STUFF. HUGS TO BOTH OF YOU!

THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO A DEAR FRIEND OF MINE WHO HAS BEEN LIVING WITH DEPRESSION FOR MOST OF HER 34 YEARS. SHE ASKED ME IF I WOULD INCORPORATE SOME OF HER STRUGGLES INTO MY OC AND I AGREED. I HOPE THAT IT MAKES PEOPLE REALIZE THAT ANYONE SUFFERING FROM DEPRESSION, MOOD DISORDERS ETC, ARE NOT FAKING IT, ARE NOT WHINING, ARE NOT PATHETIC. THEY ARE LEGITIMATELY STRUGGLING WITH SOMETHING. AND I HOPE IT TEACHES TOLERANCE, PATIENCE AND UNDERSTANDING. IT WAS A DIFFICULT CHOICE TO WRITE THIS IN AND I, AND MY FRIEND, APPRECIATE THE SUPPORT.

I ALSO WANT TO THANK HER FOR THE FANTASTIC, HAUNTING SONG I USED AT THE BEIGNNING OF THIS CHAPTER.

MUCH LOVE, BEG 75

P.S: FOR THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE ASKED WHO SARGE AND LYNNE ARE BASED ON: I BASED SARGE ON PAUL TEUTUL SR, THE FOUNDER OF ORANGE COUNTY CHOPPERS, AND LYNNE ON ACTRESS KATHY BATES.


Beautifully broken

"Reborn and shivering
Spat out on new terrain
Unsure, unconvincing
This faint and shaky hour
Day one, day one
Start over again
Step one, step one
I'm barely making sense
For now I'm faking it
'Til I'm pseudo-making it
From scratch, begin again
But this time I as I
And not as we

Gun-shy and quivering
Timid without a hand
Feign brave with steel intent
Little and hardly here
Eyes wet toward wide open fright,
If God is taking bets,
I pray he wants to lose."
-Not As We, Alanis Morissette


They had chosen to walk from their apartment to the familiar, popular cop bar located on the border of midtown and the lower east side. It was a thirty-five minute stroll and not one they would have attempted on a normal mid March night. New York City could be notoriously frigid at that time of the year, and it wasn't unusual to still see inches of snow on the ground or in the best case scenario, a thick layer of frost crunching under your feet and lining your car's windshield. But that evening, as the sun slowing sank in the west and bathed the city in a soft, orange glow, surprisingly mild temperatures and the startlingly dry ground had brought people out for walks through Central Park. The breeze that tousled the tree tops still pushed the mercury low enough to need an extra layer of clothes, and furnaces would still need to be cranked to combat the middle of the night and early morning chill, but at the moment the air was crisp and invigorating.

"Did you know that Jess was dating some guy that played on your hockey team?" Sam asked curiously, breaking the silence that had fallen on them the moment they'd stepped foot outside of their apartment door.

She hadn't been 'right' since he'd none to gently questioned her sanity upon revealing her branding to him. He'd never been the type of guy that sugar coated things. He shot from the hip and make no apologies when he did it. However, with Sam the way she was -emotionally fragile, even unstable at the worst of times underneath the tough, independent woman façade she loved to mask herself with- he had realized early on that he had to watch what he said and the way he said. He had made a promise to himself to be more gentle. More patient with her.

He just never realized it would be as difficult as it was. He wasn't usually one who shied away from hard work. Or a challenge. But Samantha…she was unlike anything or anyone he was used to, or experienced with.

And sometimes he wondered if he could handle it. Or her. If he was doing the right thing, sanity wise, by holding on so tight to someone so fractured.

Of course you are, you fucking ass, he thought, as glanced down at her. You'd be miserable without her. She makes you happy. Baggage and all. You finally find someone that you can honestly say you love wholly and completely and you're so willing to bail on her because she has issues? Because she's human?

Grow the fuck up.

"Mark Powell," he said, taking a sip of coffee from the take out cup in one hand as his other rested on the small of her back. "Works Vice. You met him a couple of times."

"Well I met up with him again today," she told him, as she used a spoon to scoop out a mouthful of mint green soft ice cream in the Styrofoam cup she cradle in the palm of her hand. "He just happened to show up at Paisley's work while I was there grabbing a latte. And he just so happened be in line directly behind me."

"Small world," Flack commented.

"Yeah…and then he just so happened tossed out, after we re-introduced ourselves, that he and Jess were dating."

"They hooked up about a month after we did," he said. "I didn't know until she showed up at that game three weeks ago that you didn't go to. I wondered what the hell she was doing there standing outside of the locker room afterwards. Wasn't expecting Powell to walk out and to see the two of them practically swallowing each other whole."

"But you did know."

"I just said that…"

"How come you didn't tell me?" Sam asked curiously.

"I don't know," Flack shrugged. "Guess I didn't feel like it was a big enough deal to tell you. Or that you'd even care. I wasn't exactly thinking Angell's personal life was of any interest to you after that huge blow out the two of you had. Why mention something about someone you hate?"

"It's not that I hate her," Sam said. "I've never hated her. Things just ended really, really badly between us. A lot of things got said that day. A lot of mean, hurtful things. On both of our parts. It never should have come down to that."

"Isn't that just the way women fight?" Flack teased. "Don't they always get catty and mean and go for the jugular? Try to hurt each other as much as they possibly can? Isn't that just the way things are with you guys?"

Sam halted in her steps and turned to face him. "People say dumb ass things when they're hurt," she said, glaring up at him. "Women and men. Just because you have a dick and testicles doesn't mean you fight cleaner than someone who doesn't. And if anyone is the King of Mean…"

"Hey…calm down now," Flack gently warned her. "I'm not getting into a fight with you in the middle of Central Park just 'cause I knew Angell had a boyfriend and you didn't. I didn't think of telling you 'cause the two of you aren't even friends anymore. I didn't think you'd care one way or the other what she was up to. What's the big fucking deal?"

"Maybe you just didn't tell me because it burns your ass that she's with someone other than you."

And with that, she turned abruptly on her heel, tossed the remains of her ice cream in a nearby trashcan and stomped off down the path.

Sighing heavily, Flack stood in the middle of the path and watched her go. She was nothing short of the most stubborn, little bitch he'd ever met in his entire life. When Samantha thought she was right or when she got it into her head that you'd purposefully kept something back from her or that you had a hidden agenda, it was sheer hell trying to convince her otherwise. But he hadn't held anything back and honestly resented her thinking not only that, but that he still had lingering feelings for an ex-girlfriend. And ex-girlfriend that he'd dumped to be with her.

And as he stood there, he began to seriously wonder if he'd made a huge mistake. Things with Jess were never this complicated. Sure, they argued once in a blue moon. Nasty, heated battles that usually occurred because they were either at odds over differences of opinion regarding a case they were working on together, or the fact that they were finding it increasingly difficult, and a little monotonous, to see each other as much as they did. Working all day together and then being together after a long, tiring shift? They quickly got on each other's nerves.

But Jess wasn't so…unbalanced. She didn't freak out about the simplest, stupidest things and walk away from him so willingly and easily. She didn't go through sudden and excessive mood swings that caused him to both doubt himself and the way he was handling the relationship, but wanting to shake some goddamn sense into her. No woman had ever had the capabilities Sam did. The capabilities of having you love her to the ends of the earth one moment, and hating her next.

It scared him to feel that way.

But not as much as it scared him to lose who was easily becoming the love of his life.

"Sammie! Hold up!" he called out, and tossing his half full cup of coffee into the garbage, jogged down the path in order to catch up to her. "Babe…come on…" he snagged her tightly by the wrist, bringing her to a sudden, quick stop that nearly yanked her off of her feet. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked angrily, forcibly turning her around to face him. Ignoring the curious, concerned looks they were getting by passer-by's "Why do you get like this? Why do go all crazy over stupid ass shit? How do you go from being ecstatically happy this morning to being…to being like a raging, psychotic bitch less than twelve hours later! I don't get it! I don't get you!"

"Maybe because I am a raging psychotic bitch," she said, struggling against the firm hold he had on her arm. "And maybe it's good that you're realizing it early on and gives you the opportunity to back out before you have too much invested."

"I already have everything invested in you! In us! I handed myself over to you from day one! I may as well have ripped my heart out of my chest and handed it to you on a silver platter! I accepted you as is! Insanity and all. I told you right from the get go that I didn't care what kind of problems you had! You were honest and upfront about having these emotional issues. These instabilities as you call them. I accepted them and I told you that all that baggage you're carrying around? I told you that you didn't have to bear it by yourself, babe. I'm more than willing to help you carry it!"

"You shouldn't have to…"

"No. I shouldn't have to. But I want to. I'm offering to, Sammie. And so far, all you've done is close me out when the going gets tough. Shit all over me instead of just opening up to me and trusting me. You did the exact same thing when IAB got a hold of us and shoved those pictures in our faces. You were so willing to just toss everything we have away! You hurt the people who do everything for you. Who love you the most! And I don't deserve that."

She shook her head and looked away from him.

"Sammie…please hear me….please…." releasing the grip on her wrist, he reached out to take her delicate face in both of his hands. Forcing her to look at him. "All I want is to help you. Help you deal with all of this and get over it. Why won't you let me do that? I'm not Zack. I'm nothing like him. Whatever the hell is going on in that head of yours, you can tell me. You can trust me, babe."

"You can't help me," she whispered. "Don't you understand that? You can't help me. No one can. This is just me. This is just the way I am. I'm screwed up. There's no other way to describe it. I'm messed up and you deserve so much better than what I can give you, Don."

"You're not messed up…you're just…I don't know…you've got some emotional shit that you need to deal with it. And I get that, okay? Shit, Sammie, we've all got problems. We've all got issues. There's not one person walking this earth that doesn't got a little mental once in a while. This shit…this shit is all 'cause of your father being the way he was and then Zack being the fucking tool he is. The two men in your life that you should have been able to trust, who should have protected you and loved you turned around and fucked you up. And 'cause of them, you've got this warped idea in your head that all men are like that."

"I don't think that…I…"

"You do," he gently insisted. "It's like you're on pins and needles, waiting for me to fuck up so that you can turn around and say I'm a prick just like that. Like you purposefully turn something so small into a huge thing so that you get me riled up to the point where I say or do something stupid. Just so you can throw it back in my face and make me the bad guy so it proves your point that all men are assholes."

She shook her head once again and struggled to look away.

"Look at me.." he demanded. "Look at me. Look right at me so that you see the words as they're coming out of my mouth. I am not like every man in your life so far that's messed you over. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to smack you around and call you names and treat you like shit. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? And I'm not going to give up on you. Ever. We already showed we can get through anything when we dealt with those pictures. I love you. I'm not like Danny Messer. I'm not going to go and do some grand, romantic gesture or get down on my knees and grovel like a little bitch. I am standing here in front of you telling you that you can push me away all you want. You can whine and cry and pull this sulky little girl bullshit. You can call me every name in the book and tell me to piss off. But guess what? I'm not going anywhere."

"But you have to…"

Time to make a decision Flack. She's leaving the door wide open for you. So you either suck it up and become a man and stick by her no matter what, or you wimp out and walk away. Shit or get off the pot. Either you're with her or against her. No goddamn in between.

"I have to what?" he asked, confident despite the uncertainty and terror inhabiting his body. He couldn't walk away. He knew that. He loved her too damn much. She was his life. And he knew, as hard as it would be, they could work shit out. Together. "What do I have to do? Walk away from you to spare myself? No offence babe, but I've dealt with and handled bigger and scarier. So don't be thinking that you and your issues aren't something I can't handle. They're hard to deal with. You're hard to deal with. Exceptionally hard. But you know what?"

"What?" she asked in a tiny voice, as he tenderly brushed loose tendrils of hair away from her forehead and the side of her face.

"No matter how wild and crazy you get? No matter how many of these emotional breakdowns you have? I'm still going to be here. I'm still going to fight with you to let me in. Because when you love someone, you deal with the bullshit. So here's the way things are going to be. We can keep doing this whole song and dance. You can keep having your flip outs and pushing me away and I'm just going to push at you harder and harder. Or you can relegate yourself to the fact that short of killing me, you're not getting rid of me and just let me in already. Those are your choices, babe."

"I only want what's best for you and I don't think that…"

He silenced her by covering her mouth with his in a long, soft kiss. "You don't think what?" he asked, pecking the tip of her nose, his thumbs gliding over her silky cheeks. "You don't think that I can deal with you? You don't think I should have to put up with all of this?"

She nodded.

"Let me make something clear to you, okay?" his voice, and his eyes, were compassionate and loving. Full of understanding. "I'm a big boy. I'll decide what is best for me. That's not up to you. What's best for me is you. I know that. My heart knows that. And I can deal with you and I will. Understand me? I will put up with it because I love you. Alright?"

"It's just that…"

He kissed her again. "Jesus woman…" he said with a chuckle afterwards. "Don't you ever give in? Can't you just let me have the last say just once? I'm spilling my guts to you here. In public. Can't you just look at me and not say anything? Or can't you just look at me and smile? You know how much I love to see that beautiful smile of yours. Can't you do that for me, babe? Even if it's just a little one?"

A miniscule smile curved her lips.

"That's my girl," he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Now about you tell me how fantastically intelligent I am and that I'm right for once."

She managed a laugh and pushed him away playfully. "Don't push your luck, Detective Flack. I'll admit that last thing to no one."

"Yeah?" he captured her by both forearms and pulled her into him. Then wrapped both arms around her petite body and held her tightly and protectively to him. "Then how about you at least tell me that you'll let me help you. That you believe in me and in us."

"I'll let you help me," she said. "And I do believe in you. And in us."

"Now how about telling me that you love me too. That this just isn't a one way street here. That I'm not wasting my time and my breath."

"I love you," her voice and eyes were filled with sincerity. "I've never loved someone the way that I love you. Which is why I just want to protect you from.."

"Uh-uh…" he pecked her lips. "That last part isn't allowed. I don't want to hear stuff like that. Understand me?"

She nodded and snaking her arms around his waist, laid her cheek against his chest.

"It's going to be okay," he assured her, chin resting on the top of her head, his hand stroking her hair as it tumbled freely down her back. "Whatever is going on inside of you, Sammie, we'll deal. Okay? I promise you that we'll deal."

"I just…" she drew a deep, shaky breath. "I'm scared."

"Of what?" Flack asked. "Of us? Of how quick things are happening even thought right from the beginning we'd take things slow? Are you scared that it's all to fast or that it's too good to be true?"

She shook her head at each suggestion, then drew away from him slightly and looked up at him with haunted eyes. "I'm scared of me," she told him. "I'm scared of the way I feel. Not how I feel about you or about us but the way I feel emotionally wise. I'm scared of how quickly I get angry and the mean things that I say before I even realize that I'm saying them. I'm scared of these crazy mood swings that I have and how sometimes I feel so out of control and…" she sighed heavily. "I need help, Donnie. I need help with the way I am. I don't want to be this way anymore."

"And I'll get you help," he promised, smoothing her hair away from the sides of her face. "Whatever you need. Someone professional to talk to, medication to make you feel better. Whatever it takes, okay? I'll get you whatever you need to feel better. Alright?"

She nodded. "Just promise me that you won't think I'm crazy," she whispered. "That you don't already think I'm crazy."

"Baby, I'd never, ever think that," he assured her, then kissed her softly. "Is there anything you need right now?" he asked. "Anything I can get you or that I can do to make you feel better? Just name it, Sammie. Name it and I'll do it."

"I just want to go home," she replied. "I don't want to go out tonight. I just want to go home."

"Then that's what we'll do," he said, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You're not mad?" she asked. "That I made you walk all this way and changed my mind and now we have to walk all the way back?"

He shook his head, and wrapping his arm around her slender shoulders, Flack tucked her tightly into his side and turned in the opposite direction of their original destination.

"I don't want you to be upset," she said, curling her arm around his waist and leaning into him. "I didn't want my insanity ruining your night."

"You're not insane," he informed her, allowing a hint of annoyance and a tad of anger to creep into his voice. "Stop saying that about yourself. A lot of people have issues. It doesn't make them crazy. I'm not some insensitive, cold hearted ass that's going to think less of you because you've got some emotional shit you need help with. Most important thing is that you admitted you needed help. Now, all we have to do is get it for you. You have to trust me, Sammie. Whatever I do for you or whoever I talk to about this, it's in your best interests. You trust me, right?"

"I trust you," she responded confidently.

"I just don't want you to be angry that…"

"I am not angry," he interrupted. "Concerned. Not angry. I said I'd help you fix this and that's what we're going to do. Together. Got it? Together."

She smiled and tightened the hold she had on him.

Together. One word had never held so much faith and trust.

Or so much promise.


Lindsay Monroe was annoyed. Aggravated by the endless bitching and moaning taking place next to her. The senseless, continuous complaining and whining that was better suited on a ten year old boy than it was on a self respecting thirty-four year old man. Danny had done nothing but wag his mouth from the moment he'd hung up his cell phone after taking a phone call from Flack only two minutes after they'd arrived at Sullivan's. Lindsay had been able to tell, by Danny's relentless pacing, emotionless face and the way he pursed his lips and did little more than nod his head, that something serious had gone down. And for a moment, panic had surged through her as a million and one dreadful thoughts involving her best friend surged through her brain. Flack wouldn't have called for no reason. Especially when he and Sam were supposed to have been on the way to the bar well before she and Danny had even left the apartment. And Danny wouldn't have looked so grave if something hadn't have happened.

Her paranoia had been made worse when he'd snapped his phone closed, ran a hand through his hair while sighing heavily, and then took a hold of her upper arm and gently propelled her towards the exit.

"We gotta get over to Flack's," he'd said.

Of course, there'd been nothing seriously wrong in the end. She had eventually gotten the whole story out of her fiance. There'd had been no life or death accident. There was no pressing need for them to haul ass over to Flack's apartment. All Flack had said was that Sam wasn't feeling well and they'd decided not go out out. They'd headed home instead and she was already curled up in bed sleeping. And that Danny and Lindsay were more than welcome to come over and hang out for a bit. If they wanted to. Flack had made no demands or no requests. But Danny, as he was known to often do, had overreacted to what should have been a simple incident.

And now he wouldn't shut up.

"All I'm saying is that I think sometimes these moods she gets into are complete bullshit," Danny said.

"I know what you're saying and I'd rather you didn't say it," Lindsay tried to remain as calm, cool and collected as possible. But her last nerve was dangerously frayed. "She's my best friend, Danny. And she's your best friend's girlfriend. And I thought she was your friend, too. Or is that 'Brooklyn's like a little sister to me' line you give to everyone just that? A line."

"She is my friend," Danny argued. "She is like a little sister to me, you know that. And I know how tight the two of you are and how much you love each other. And I know first hand how crazy Flack is about her. There's nothing he wouldn't do for her. But…"

"But?" Lindsay asked. "How can there be a but? You know what, Danny…just…just don't say anything else. 'Cause you are going to say something and I will haul off and backhand you one. And neither of us want to be doing anything we regret. So it's best if you just not say another word about Sammie."

"These things gotta be said, Montana. I seem to be the only one to have the balls to say what we're all thinking."

Lindsay sighed heavily, and closing her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "And what is it that we're all thinking? Seeing as your obviously a master of mind reading and know what is going on in all of our heads, why don't you astound me with your abilities and tell me what we're all thinking."

"There's nothing really wrong with her," Danny said. "There's no mood disorder or whatever the hell you want to call it. She doesn't have any issues. She just gets into these bitchy little moments and then uses them to control Flack."

Lindsay couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Oh yeah…that's it. That's what she does. You answered the unanswerable question. You've got it all figured out, Danny."

"Every time he wants to do something that she doesn't, she gets like this. She throws one of her whiny little tantrums and pouts and cries until she gets her own way. And that's not a personal attack against her. There's tons of women just like that. I just can't believe Flack falls for it."

"He isn't falling for anything and she isn't making anything up. She has a mood disorder. Or depression. We're not entirely sure what it is. All we know is that she's got legit issues. My mother has had clinical depression for three decades. Are you going to say she's full of shit and making it up?"

"Of course not. I'd never…"

"No one makes things like this up," she continued. "She's not trying to get attention or force Flack to do things he doesn't want to do. She isn't controlling him or getting her own way. She's sick Danny and she needs help. And Flack obviously thought we cared enough to want to help. I guess he doesn't know you as well as he thinks he does."

"And what's that suppose to mean?" Danny asked.

"Everything that Flack's done for you. All the times he's bailed you out of tough spots and bent the rules and pulled some strings and this is how you repay him? By making fun of his girlfriend? By saying she's faking this? Say it to his face, Danny. I dare you to. Walk into the apartment and say it to his face. I can guarantee two things will happen. One, you'll be walking back out without a best friend. And two, you'll be leaving with not only no best friend, but no teeth and your face rearranged."

"Flack wouldn't do that," Danny snorted.

"He would. In a heartbeat. And you know why? Because he loves her and would protect her. Come hell or high water. And if you bad mouth her, he's knocking you out. Plain and simple. Want to test that theory?" she held up her cell phone. "Want me to call him right now? Get him on the line and let him hear what your mouth is spewing?"

"Quit fucking around," Danny growled, and dropping a hand from the wheel, snatched the phone from her.

"Then back off, would you? You know that talking shit about Sam to me is what causes most of our fights. Why can't you just be a little more sympathetic? Why can't you just accept that for once, you're wrong. This is a legit issue and Flack's going his best to try and make things better for her. Lots of people have emotional issues. Some just don't deal with them as well as others. And Sam has a hard time coping. No one is perfect Danny. Are you perfect? Am I perfect?"

"To me you're pretty damn close."

"Then you're more delusional than I thought," Lindsay scoffed. "No one is perfect. And that's life."

"I'm just trying to make a point that Sam goes through these issues a lot. And it seems kind of mental if you ask me."

"Mental?" Lindsay snapped. "Mental? Well you know what, Danny? You'd be mental too if your father molested you from the time you were five until the time you were ten!"

Silence descended in the car as the weight of Lindsay's secret -a secret that Sam had trusted her, and only her with- hung heavily in the air. She had promised her best friend that she'd never breathe a word of it to anyone. When Sam had told her -after a gruesome and trying molestation case had brought unwelcome memories to the surface and opened up old wounds- the torment and abuse she'd suffered at the hands of her birth father. Lindsay had been horrified at first. She'd listened intently to her best friend talking in a steady, emotionless voice. She'd felt sick to her stomach. Then anger and disgust had quickly set in and she'd pulled Sam into her arms and rocked her as a mother would a child as she shed tears she had long held inside of her. And then, as if nothing had ever happened, Sam had pulled away, wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt and begged Lindsay to never breathe a word of it to anyone.

Not even Flack.

And now, all because Danny just couldn't shut up, she'd betrayed someone who meant so much to her.

"You've got nothing to say now?" she asked angrily. "No valid points to make?"

Danny shook his head. "No…" his voice and face were solemn. "I guess I'm just…I guess I'm shocked. And I'm wondering how the hell Brooklyn never ended up more messed then she is. I guess a few little breakdowns here and there are nothing considering what she went through."

"It was a horrible thing," Lindsay said. "And no one deserves that."

He nodded in agreement. "I can understand you not wanting to shout this from the rooftops, Linds. But how…how could you not tell me about this?"

"I wasn't my place to tell you Danny. She confided in me and I promised to never tell another single living soul. It was a moment between friends and we haven't talked about it since. I don't think anyone else knows but me. Maybe Adam does. But I don't even think Flack knows about it. At least he didn't at that point in time. She could have told him by now."

"I can understand us not knowing," Danny said, disgusted by the thought of a man, especially a father, doing horrific, perverted things to such a small child. The molesters had always been the lowest of the low on Danny's list. The one thing, out of all the brutality and evil that he saw on a regular basis, that bothered him the most was people who took advantage of children. But he'd never know someone in his own personal life that it had happened to. And now he was furious beyond words. "But how can Flack not know? Why wouldn't she tell him? He's the guy she supposedly wants forever with. And she keeps something like that from him?"

"She's scared, Danny," Lindsay reasoned. "She's afraid to tell him. She's worried he's going to be completely disgusted with her and what nothing to do with her."

Danny shook his head adamantly. "Flack woudn't think that way about her. He'd understand. He wouldn't dump her 'cause some sick bastard did something like that to her. He'd want to kill the sonofabitch if anything."

"Hon, think about it in a more personal way. What if it was me? What if I came and told you, out of the blue, that I'd been raped nearly every day by my daddy for five years. How would you react?"

"I'd go fucking ballistic and hunt the bastard down like a rabid dog in the street. And so would Flack. He'd…"

"And maybe it's that reaction, of how angry he'll actually be, that frightens her too," Lindsay said. "This is a huge secret to have. A massive load to carry on you all this time. But it did her some good to tell me. And maybe one day she'll get the courage to tell him. But right now…right now it's not our call. We're certainly not going to go in there and pull him aside and tell him his girlfriend's deepest, darkest secret."

Her fiance sighed heavily

"We are NOT going to tell him," Lindsay stressed. "It is not our place to tell him something like that."

"He deserves to know," Danny argued.

"He does," she agreed. "But he deserves to know from Sam. Not from us. And when she's ready, she will tell him. Give her a chance. Us telling Flack…that's just like violating her all over again. And I can't betray her like that. She's my best friend. We have our issues and disagreements and sometimes we fight and get on each other's nerves, but she's the closest thing I have to a sister. And I love her and will not hurt her like that. And if you love me…"

"I promise you I won't breathe a word of this to Flack. A'right? I don't want to hurt Sam either. What I want is for them to get their shit together. And to find her dad and slaughter that asshole."

"He's dead. He died when she was fifteen. I guess some bookies got a hold of him and taught him a lesson. A permanent one."

Danny sighed heavily and nodded slowly. "I guess that's the only good thing about it then."

"What's that?" Lindsay asked.

"That maybe he died a slow, excruciating death. That he was punished for what he did," Danny replied, vehemence in his voice. "And that he's rotting in hell where he belongs."


Uncertainty clouded Flack's mind and tugged at his heart as he pulled up in front of the walk up apartment building several blocks from his own residence. It had once been a place he'd frequented nearly every day. Somewhere where many memories, even in such a short span of time, had been formed. Where there'd been many a tear shed, but where laughter and good times had existed far more than hard and trying times. He'd spent many a sleepless night there and many lazy, relaxing mornings and afternoons where he found himself buried under the covers for hours on end, both sleeping and talking in soft whispers and smiling at the sound of his girlfriend's musical giggle that rang out when he said something humorous or tickled her. And while he'd missed those moments, he certainly hadn't missed the inconvenience of travelling back and forth between apartments.

And now, despite living together, he found himself parked in front of that familiar building once again. He hadn't been back since the day they'd moved the last of Sam's stuff out. Mostly because he'd been making it a practice to avoid his bitchy future mother in law, and because time constraints due to work made it nearly impossible to find the time to see the older couple that now took up residence in what was once his girlfriend's place.

Despite numerous requests over the past month -requests mostly made by her mother that the four of them, along with Adam and Paisley and Flack's parents go out to dinner to 'get to know each other better' - such an evening had yet to take place. Sam and Adam had both been doing an admirable job convincing their mother that their schedules were far too hectic at the moment to arranage a suitable time for all parties involved. But Flack knew that this dinner was inevitable. It was going to happen sooner or later. And the thought of his parents, especially his father with his protective nature towards Sam, in the same room with her acid tongued mother…well it wasn't a thought he cared to entertain.

But right now he was nervous. Unsure if he'd done the right thing by reaching out to the one person he believed could help him along the long road he knew lay ahead. He'd never been one to ask for assistance. He was strong, proud and stubborn to a fault, and had always believed he could handle anything, no matter how daunting, on his own. But he was worried and terrified of screwing up. Of losing the one person who'd ever loved him unconditionally, that he was determined to do whatever it ook to help not only her, but himself as well.

He felt guilty as well. Guilty for both doubting himself and his abilities to love and take care of her properly. Guilty for leaving her at such a low point in her life in order to get a handle on his own weaknesses and fears. And most of all, guilty for ever regretting his decision to be with her. For even comparing her to Jess and wondering if dumping the latter had been the right decision.

He nervously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and cast a glance at his cell phone resting on the dashboard. Danny had said he'd call if anything went down. If Sam had a 'moment' that neither he or Lindsay could deal with. So far so good, however. His phone hadn't rang once, and when he'd left the apartment -telling his girlfriend he'd been called in to work to handle an out of the blue interrogation for a stalled case- Danny had been on the couch eating pizza and drinking beer while watching television and Lindsay and Sam were huddle in the bed together, talking and sharing a large contained of Rocky Road ice cream and a bag of Oreos. He felt like shit for lying to Sam. But felt it was far better to do that then face her potential wrath for seeking outside help.

Flack glanced out the passenger window as the front entrance of the apartment building swung open. Tapping the horn lightl, he raised his hand in greeting as the older man journeyed down the front steps and made his way towards the idling SUV.

"Had to tell the Ice Queen it was Adam that called, asking for a guys night," Sarge said, as he yanked open the door and climbed into the vehicle. "If she knew it was you…well no offence kid, but that would have caused us both a whole world of hurt."

"Yeah…she definitely doesn't hide the fact that she thinks I'm a complete asshole," Flack mused, a small, pleased smile curving his lips.

"Lynne thinks anyone who doesn't agree with her or bow to her is a complete asshole," Sarge grumbled. "And if someone, such as yourself, has the balls to stand up to her…well let's just say she goes into full attack mode."

Flack simply nodded. Fighting the urge to ask the man what in the hell he ever saw in such a wretched bitch. He reminded himself that the heart wanted what it wanted. And it wasn't up to him to judge or question why.

"So what's this all about?" Sarge asked. "We gonna sit here all night or.."

"You wanna go grab a couple beers?" Flack inquired. "I know a couple of places near my folks' place in Queens. Non-cop bars. Where I won't be stumbling into anyone I know and we won't be interrupted."

"A couple of beers sounds good to me…what's this about, Don?"

"I needed someone to talk to," Flack told him. "And I didn't know who else to go to. I needed someone I could trust."

"Alright…still not telling me what it's about though. What seems to be bugging ya? It sounds pretty serious and.."

"It's Samantha," Flack blurted out.

Concern clouded Sarge's eyes and lined his face. "Is she okay?" he asked. "Is she sick?"

"No," Flack answered quickly. "Yes…maybe…I don't know…" he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know what to do to make things better. To make her better. And I want to. I want to make her better. I want this…us…to work. Badly. And I just…I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I'm strong enough to deal with it. Or with her."

Sarge sighed heavily.

"I need help," Flack admitted quietly. "Desperately. Can you help me? Can you help me help her?"

Sarge nodded slowly and laid a supportive hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Let's go and grab those beers," he said.


Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! And lurking! I appreciate all the support and KIND words and I look forward to hearing from all of you! So please R and R! And good luck to all of you writing term papers, exams, etc. I certainly do not miss those days. Although I would gladly trade spots at the moment! Hope you all come back when things slow down!

Special thanks to:

Afrozenheart412

Hope4sall

Forest Angel

xsamiliciousx

Laplandgurl

SpankyMcDoogleFace

Soccer-bitch