A/N: I suppose you could say there are S9 spoilers...this one is a bit sad, Flack family chapter.

Chapter 9

"What are we going to do with a whole weekend off, babe?" Don asked as he opened their gun safe.

Gus yawned, glancing at the clock. "Seeing as it is already 3 hours into Saturday, I am starting with sleep. And don't forget we have your family's later."

Don made a face. "Do we have to?"

"Don't be a child, Don," she said, wrapping her arms around him, "Grams isn't getting any younger and even your dad texted me to make sure we were coming."

"Pops can text?" he asked, pulling her tight and kissing the top of her head. He know he should be better about getting over there, but it was hard to get pumped for the inevitable drama that would unfold if Sam was there or watching Gus get spun out as Grams cornered her about quitting the force and popping out babies.

"Apparently when you are too busy to call him back, he can. Now can we please go to bed before I pass out right here?" she said into his chest.

It was a sunny spring day as they arrived at the modest duplex in Queens. Gus attempted to balance a dish of cobbler, a bottle of wine, her tote and trench coat while trying to remember how to walk in her heels until Don swooped in to grab the wine bottle and offer his arm, wisecracking, "precious cargo!"

"I am going to pretend that's for me and not the wine, babe," she retorted.

"It can be for both," he said with a smirk, leading them up the walkway.

Grams met them at the door, sweeping both up in her embrace, almost upending both them and the hallway table.

"Jesus, Gram!" Don remarked, ignoring as his grandmother made the sign of the cross, snickering at Gus hightailing it towards the kitchen with the cobbler.

"I just feel like a barely see you these days, Donny, and I am not getting any younger," she said pointedly.

He set a hand gently on each of her shoulders and said, "I love you Grams, but we are still busy cops trying to have a life and you are going to out live us all."

"Well you did miss Easter!" she said, following after him as he made his way into the living room. His father and Sam were ignoring each other and watching the Yankees game with the sound off. Both grunted greetings at him as Irene continued to admonish, "and I know you both are working too hard, it isn't too much to ask for you to come over for a home cooked meal every once and a while instead of all that cart food you eat," she said, making a face.

"Gus and I both know how to cook, ya know," Don shot back, looking around to see where his wife had gone. Probably trying to pick up an immediate shift over at the 109. He didn't blame her.

She emerged, the wine opened in one hand, glasses in the other, her eyes taking in the room and trying to figure out where it was safe to land. Sam and Henry both perked up as she entered the room, Sam grabbing the wine out of her hand, pouring a glass and hugging her at the same time saying, "Gussie, you are a life saver!" as Henry smiled broadly, "a sight for sore eyes, always," and patted the chair next to him.

"Way to make me feel welcome," Don grumbled, Grams squeezing his cheek and saying, "you're still my favorite, Donny."

Henry gestured to the mutt at the other end of the couch, "move the beast and take a load off, Junior, and let me know if you want something stronger than that," he waved off the offered wine.

"She might," Don shot back, Irene already circling Gus asking if she was still insisting on being a detective, did she know that Bobby's girlfriend was expecting and if they had any of their own news she wanted to share.

"Augusta, come with me, would ya? I think I have a Louisiana Waterthrush making a nest on the shed, but I'm not sure," Henry said, stiffly rising and putting out his hand to help Gus up.

Don snorted, "smooth, Pops, smooth," knowing perfectly well he was just going to take her next door for a shot of whiskey.

"Speaking of nests, will come look in the back of this cabinet, Donny? I think I got mice again," Irene said, Sam calling after her, "what is he going to do, Grams, arrest them for trespassing?"

Don rolled his eyes heading to the kitchen, though he was secretly glad Gus had insisted they come out here.

Gus stepped out of the sliding glass door, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, trying to look for a nest. "I'm not sure I know what a Waterthrush looks like, si-, Henry," she stated, wondering if she should download a birding app before noticing the older man had already opened the sliding door to his side.

"Come on, get in here, before Ma decides she needs your help in the kitchen even though she's been cooking all day," he said waving her in.

Gus settled in next to Henry at his small kitchen table as he poured them both a couple of fingers of whiskey from the bottle on the table, taking the tumbler with a grateful smile.

"My mother, God love her, can be a lot. She was a lifesaver though, did what their mother couldn't; after raising me and my brother when she should have been sitting back and watching her stories," he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, packing them before withdrawing one and lighting it with a zippo identical to the one Don still fiddled with when he was stressed.

Gus couldn't help but smile, shaking her head when he offered her one. "I am pretty sure those days are behind me," she replied.

He nodded, "good on you." He paused, taking a drag, "she means well, Ma, wants the best for my boy, and you," he said, a similar smirk playing across his face, "doesn't mean she knows what is best for you and Donny, though." He let out a small laugh, which turned into a hacking fit.

Gus froze, almost wanting to pound on his back. She quickly went to the sink to get him a glass of water, setting it down next to him, waiting for the coughing fit to subside.

Eventually it did, Henry pulling out a handkerchief, another identical thing his son had carried on. He coughed twice more into it, briefly looked at it with a grimace, and shoved it behind the whiskey bottle.

Gus continued to study him, taking in the weight he had lost since she last had seen him, his complexion, and the cloudiness in his eyes. Her heart seized slightly as the puzzle pieces fell into place, but she didn't say anything right away.

Henry finished off his whiskey, letting the silence lay. Finally Gus broke it with, "what are the doctors saying?"

He waved his hand, "other than here's your bill? Nothing helpful. Stage 4, spread everywhere, about six months tops," he paused, "that was about two months ago."

Gus took a deep breath, "does Don know? Sam?"

"Nah, what's the point, I haven't bothered telling anyone except a couple of my old patrol buddies. Ma probably has figured out given Da, but I can't handle her hovering." He rubbed a hand over his face, "don't suppose you'd be willing to keep this between us?"

"I'm not in the habit of keeping secrets from my husband," Gus replied, feeling her breath catch, "I'm not sure I even could, Henry, your son has had a bead on me since day one. For better or worse, Don knows what I'm thinking a millisecond after I do," she said chewing on her lip. Despite years of being ethically obligated to keep people's deepest, darkest, secrets confidential, Don Flack could see through her like she was transparent.

Henry worked his jaw. "I suppose it isn't fair to even ask. It's good you don't keep secrets." He paused a long beat. "I'm glad Donny found you."

"Rescued me is more like it," she admitted.

He smiled, "rescued each other. I ain't worried about him, Sammy on the other hand…" he trailed off.

Gus covered his hand with her own, her eyes wide and serious. "She'll figure it out, sir, and we won't let her get too twisted up, you have my word," she promised.

He nodded slowly, carefully standing, trying to not grimace. Gus followed suit. "We should probably get back, before Ma has them cleaning out the attic." Unexpectedly he drew Gus into a tight hug. "Make sure he knows I love him," he said his voice cracking.

"He does," Gus replied, blinking back her own tears.

The trio was busy setting the table and carrying out far more food than the five of them could eat in one sitting. Sam and Irene were deep in family gossip, while Don was tasked with opening the stubborn jars Irene's arthritis couldn't. Henry made long work of washing his hands, Gus standing on the periphery, taking in the family scene.

Don caught her eye, studying her carefully, watching as a slight smile played on her lips, but her eyes were far more wistful. He moved quickly to her side, dimpling down at her as he pulled her close, whispering "they're your family now too, ya know," to her.

She stood on tiptoe to lean her forehead against his, "I know," she nodded, "love you, Don," she finished, giving him a kiss.

"Oh God, would you two get a room," Sam said, swatting at them with a kitchen towel.

"Your's free, Sammy?" Don teased as they made their way to the table.

As always seemed to happen, the three women were cleaning the kitchen when Henry finagled Don into walking the dog with him.

Irene didn't waste a second, cornering Gus by the cabinets where she was drying dishes. "I noticed you were having wine with dinner, Augusta," she said, looking the woman up and down.

"Only because the whiskey was next door," Gus muttered, looking at Sam for help, but her sister-in-law was entranced with her phone.

"Now I know in my day the doctor's said it was okay, encouraged it even, but I am pretty sure times have changed," she continued.

Gus carefully set the stacks of plates in the cabinet, refusing to turn around as she replied through clenched teeth, "I hate to disappoint you Grams, but I am not pregnant."

Irene made a noise. "Well I know this might not be polite and you certainly don't look it, but you aren't getting any younger, dear."

"Jesus, Grams, she's like 30!" Sam said with q snort.

Irene set her hands on her hips, "she will be 32 the day after Christmas. By then both of my boys were in school, and stop taking the Lord's name in vain, Samantha Kathleen!"

"She also hasn't even been married a year and has an IUD, so can we just make some coffee and have dessert?" Gus pleaded, debating sticking her head in the oven.

"Is that some sort of medical condition, Augusta? We could find you a specialist!" Irene asked, bewildered when both younger women broke into laughter.

Gus was absently tracing the rim of coffee cup and ignoring dessert having a pretty good idea what was happening on the dog walk as Irene and Sam chattered away. Her head shot up as soon as she heard the door start to slide open, the dog barreling in hoping for table scraps, Henry close behind.

Irene did not disappoint, acting like the mutt was a four legged grandchild, setting the plate she made for the dog down on a placemat on the floor. "I'm not sure Gracie should be having all of that, Grams," Sam protested.

Gus locked eyes with Don the second he stepped foot in the house, his only tell was his rapid swallowing and the briefest of nods. Gus' mouth twitched up in a rueful half-smile, wanting to pull him to her in comfort, but not wanting to break Henry's request for her to keep quiet.

Nearly as observant as his son, Henry paused by her chair, patting her cheek gently, "you two should probably head back, I'm certain there are better things for you to be doing on a Saturday night than hanging out in Flushing."

"What about me?" Sam protested.

"Pay rent and we'll talk about it," Henry shot back.

Irene was already pulling out tupperware containers, "hold on, I can't send you off empty handed."

Their trip back to Manhattan was subdued, the traffic mercifully light until they reached the Midtown tunnel. Gus kept her finger's threaded through Don's as he navigated 495 and his feelings over his father's news.

"I knew he had been sick, but I thought he was better. He is so freaking stubborn, wouldn't even consider treatments," he ranted. "And to not tell Grams or Sammy? Wanting you to keep a secret, that ain't right!"

"He told you about that, huh?" Gus remarked.

Despite the heaviness in his eyes, the slightest peek of his dimple showed as he replied, "like you can keep anything from me, sunshine." He squeezed her hand tighter before letting it go to honk at the car in front of them.

"You want me to reschedule with Lindsay tomorrow? I should reschedule," she said, pulling out her phone.

Don shook his head, "nah, I know yous barely get any girl time these days. Danny and Lucy are going to come over and watch the game anyway, gotta make sure she doesn't end up a Mets fan," he said with a chuckle.

"If you're sure, and you can change your mind tomorrow, I've got your back, always, blue eyes," she said, reaching over and taking his hand back.

He nodded, fighting back emotions. "I know, babe, partners in everything, always."

"This still really blows though," she sighed.

"Yep," he said, squeezing her hand again, "glad I got you by my side, though. I love you, Gus."

"To the moon and back, Don," she said, kissing the back of his hand as the traffic moved forward.