A/N: UPDATED UPDATED UPDATED (does happy dance). This chapter is very fluffy, and full of cute little Charlotte Flack fluff too, and you'll get to see who I've paired Lindsay with (any guesses?). Again, not a major part of the story, but it's an interesting little tidbit.

Don't own them, never will, original characters are mine, song belongs to Martina McBride, haven't we been through this already?

In my daughter's eyes I am a hero
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I wanna be
In my daughter's eyes

In My Daughter's Eyes- Martina McBride

It was six in the morning on a Saturday, and I had Charlotte for the weekend. Angela had had a seminar for her book publishers to attend in Detroit, and she and I both knew that it would be too taxing on our three and a half year old (Charlotte insists that I say three and a half, because, as she says, I'm not three, but I'm not four either, I'm THREE AND A HALF). I laugh every time.

As my alarm buzzed I could also hear the pitter-patter of footie pajama covered feet coming toward my bedroom. She creaked open the door, crawled on to my bed, and shook my shoulder.

"GERALD!" she insisted.

I moaned and rolled over to see her staring at me. Angela was right; she really does look like me…

"Huh?" I mumbled.

"GERALD!" she insisted again. "It's time for Gerald, Daddy."

"Gerald who?"

"Gerald McBoingBoing!" She knocked me on the head. "Silly Daddy, you know it's Gerald!"

"Oh," I rolled over and pulled on an old t-shirt I used as a pajama shirt. "Okay…" I picked her up and carried her back downstairs to the living room. I set her on the couch, flipped the channel to Gerald McBoingBoing (at least it's not as irritating as some of the other shows intended for kids, and she's learning something too. Yesterday she growled at me like a tiger would, reminds me of the case where Lindsay first joined the team. I'd sneezed, and Mac chastised me for it "Flack, you're all over my crime scene". I apologized and blamed it on allergies, which was true; I'm allergic to fur, which is why Charlotte has a pet goldfish and not a puppy. She wanted a puppy for her third birthday. The Nemo fish pillow worked in its place), and went into the kitchen.

I set to mixing pancake batter. Pancakes were a daddy-daughter thing for Charlotte and me. The first time we made pancakes was the morning after Angela moved out of the house. I asked Charlotte if she wanted blueberry or banana pancakes. Excited, she smashed the two words together and called them "bluenana pancakes". Ever since then "bluenana pancakes" have been our special breakfast. We don't have them every day, sometimes it's muffins, or a bowl of fresh strawberries, and something outrageous that she's never tried before (we once had leftover Chinese rice for breakfast. I'd live on that stuff though my Police Academy training, but she thought it was the best thing since sliced bread).

Charlotte once told me that Angela had her eat Multi-Grain Cheerios every morning when she was there on the weekends. Angela's got our daughter eating fogey food! I have nothing against Multi-Grain Cheerios, and Angela is a great mom but what kid wants to eat Multi-Grain Cheerios every weekend? Variety, woman!

As Charlotte comes into the kitchen, she smiles and motions for me to pick her up. I do, and she reaches for the spatula.

"Can I flip it now?" she asks.

"Hold on…" I point to the pan and have her look. "See, when there are little bubbles, and the bottom of the batter is firmer, you can stick the spatula underneath it," I took her hand and guided her through the art of flipping a pancake. "Ready? One… two… three!"

Our hands turned with the spatula and the half-cooked pancake flipped over in the pan. Okay, so it looked more like a mini-omelet with the way it had flipped but the smile on her face… I melted.

"I flipped the pancake!" she squealed. "Daddy, I did it! I flipped the pancake!"

I chuckled as my little girl jumped down out of my arms, leaving me to finish cooking.

"I wanna call Uncle Danny and Auntie Stella, can they come over for breakfast?"

I smiled to myself. "You have to ask Auntie Stella if it's okay, and if she says so, then yes, it's okay with me."

"Can we have a pajama day?"

"Should we tell Uncle Danny and Auntie Stella and Edward to come to breakfast in their pajamas?" I craned my neck to look at her.

I saw Charlotte nod her head feverishly.

"Okay…" I turned my attention back to the pancakes cooking in the pan.

She giggled as she spoke to Stella on the phone. "We're having bluenana pancakes for breakfast, Auntie Stella, can you come?" she nodded. "Uh huh, and it's a pajama day, so come in your pajamas please…"

She hung up the phone a few minutes later. "Auntie Stella says there better be lots and lots of bluenana pancakes, because she's hungry and she likes them too!"

I laughed again. Charlotte could always put a smile on my face, even when I still missed her mother terribly. Angela had meant the world to me, but I knew there wasn't any hope in getting her back. We were done; it had been established long ago that there was no hope for us any longer.

A knock at the door brought me back to reality. Charlotte opened the front door to let her aunt and uncle, still dressed in their pajamas like she'd asked them, in.

"What's this I hear about bluenana pancakes?" Danny mumbled, obviously just waking up, holding Edward in his arms. "And Flack, what the Tickle-Me-Elmo is a bluenana pancake?" Tickle-Me-Elmo was the phrase used between the lab and those closely associated with the team (i.e. myself, or Sid down in the morgue) in place of words like hell or damn, or fuck, or any other unpleasant word. In respect for the children who were frequently visiting us (i.e. Edward, Charlotte, and Lindsay and Hawkes' little boy Paul), the entire lab had taken to using Tickle-Me-Elmo in place of swears.

"Smash up some banana and blueberries into pancake batter, cook it up in the pan, and boom, you got some pretty Tickle-Me-Elmo good bluenana pancakes for breakfast."

"Aw right!" Danny set Edward down in the closest chair in the kitchen and rubbed his hands together. "Let's try these bluenana pancakes!"

Charlotte giggled. "Daddy makes the bestest bluenana pancakes in the world… he's my hero!"

In the kitchen I bit back tears. Charlotte reminded me so much of Angela it was nearly painful, but Charlotte always reminded me that daddy-daughter days were supposed to be happy days, and the only tears allowed were happy tears.

Well, today I can honestly say, as I sit down to breakfast with my daughter and my friends, that I'm feeling happy tears welling up.