I only own what you don't recognize.

Although I wish I owned some of Stella's wardrobe. And if Flack was mine, I'd...never mind. That's a whole other, M rated story.

Checking out the view and liking what you see

"You love this town

even if that doesn't ring true

you've been all over

and its been all over you."

-U2 "Beautiful Day."

Please don't see me Bono. The price of one pair of your sunglasses could feed a family of five for a month.

She stopped in the middle of he sidewalk, and using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, glanced up at the looming tower of glass and concrete above her. 3553 Broadway, mid-town Manhattan. A long way from the ancient, red brick monstrosity the city of Phoenix had the nerve to call a crime lab. Two years there had been enough. The Phoenix department wanted wanted results and case closures but didn't want to hire enough staff or provide the ones already there with the proper equipment to get the job done accurately and efficiently. And being the only woman there hadn't been a picnic. She'd been subjected to more sexist comments about it being a man's world and get back into the chicken and raise some kids and had been called a bitch and a whore and a whole lot worse so often that the words rolled off of her like water. She had perps that took one look at her small frame and girl net door looks and immediately underestimated her. Getting your ass kicked and your smart mouth brought back down to size by someone like her did wonders for deflating the ego. And she'd had one two many supervisor put their hands on her ass and suggest drinks after work and call her baby and sweetheart to last her a lifetime. A slap across the face and a fuck you and a phone call to the wife got your farther than filing a sexual harassment complaint with IAB.

She was feisty and tenacious and proud of it. She refused to let anyone push her around. A childhood of physical and emotional abuse, living in the projects of Brooklyn had made her fearless to a fault. But she was no victim. She would not allow her name and that word to be in the same sentence. Because all the pain and torment had made her stronger than she ever thought possible. She was a survivor. She refused to be anything but. She'd steadfastly maintain her independence and self respect and control until the day she was no longer able to do so. And no one, man or woman or the old boys' club that was the NYPD would change that. She'd heard horror stories that the department was notorious for looking down on female officers. The old adage that women couldn't do the job even half as good a a man was alive and well among the boys in blue. She knew the type. They waited until the woman made even the smallest mistake and then pointed fingers and laughed and gloated that they were right. That the woman had screwed up because she was just that. A woman. didn't matter if a male counterpart screwed up just as bad or worse. All was nearly forgiven then. But the woman would go through the rest of her career waiting for the other shoe to drop and looking over her shoulder. And if anyone thought they'd lump Samantha Ross into that category, they had another thing coming. She'd politely - or maybe not- tell them where to go and give detailed directions on how to get there and even pack their bags and hold their hand all the way if they needed her to. In the end, she'd get the last laugh and come out on top. She'd survive.

She checked her watch. Quarter after two. Detective Taylor had told her to be at his office at a quarter to three. The trip on the subway from her brother's apartment in Queens, where she take over his bedroom while he rode the couch since she arrived two days ago, had taken less time than she expected. The subway service had definitely improved since the last time she'd been in the city sixteen years ago. A lot had changed in sixteen years. Especially the landscape of the city. To stand on one side of the Hudson and look over into Manhattan and not see the enormous towers once known as the World Trade Centre, had been a heart shattering moment only someone from New York City would understand. To watch the carnage on t.v. had been terrible enough. But to stand there and see how much your home at changed? There were no words. So she'd stood there in the sunset and said a little prayer for all the innocent lives lost and tossed a single white rose into the Hudson in memory of fellow officers, and then she walked away feeling a little lost and a whole lot alone. But it wasn't all feelings of sadness. She still enjoyed the hustle and bustle on the sidewalks and the mingled smells of food in the air from a wide array of street vendors and the little dreams of an easier life that trickled through her when she peered into the front window of Tiffany's or Prada. It would never happen on a city salary but she longed for a day she could walk into Jimmy Choo and drop a grand on a pair of shoes. For now, until he dollar made good and won her the lottery, she'd stick to Bloomingdales and Macy's. It was good for the soul to dream. She was a dreamer. Dreaming never hurt anyone.

She bought a bottle of water at a vendor and sat at one of the cement benches to the left of 3553 Broadway's front door. Too early made her look too green and eager. She was a confident, professional woman and she was anything if not prompt. She'd been there fifteen minutes before and no sooner and no later. Give the right impression. A I'm glad to be here but I've been here before and I know what I'm doing so let's get to it. The brief interview with Detective Taylor - Mac, he kept correcting her when she called him that- had told her that this was a man who meant business. He ran a tight ship and valued respect and integrity and treated his team with such. She'd heard he was one of the best. If not the best. And when that job posting was available, she had jumped on it. A chance to go home. Start fresh. Make a new name for herself. And as she sat there in the sunlight, bottle of water to her lips and eyes watching the passing crowd, she was filled with a childlike sense of excitement and anticipation. This would be her time. She could feel it. She liked the view already.

Flack noticed her as soon as he climbed out of his car. It was hard not to. The way the sunlight danced off of the auburn highlights in the chestnut hair that was pulled back into a high ponytail, the end of it reached the middle of her back. Closer he got he saw that there was more to her than just beautiful hair. Pale, flawless complexion, golden eyes framed by impossibly long, dark lashes, a tiny freckle splattered nose and full, pale pink lips. Dressed conservatively in a pair of khaki pants and a coffee colored cap sleeve top that hugged all the curves that were in all the right places. Probably a bitch he thought. No one that looked like that could be anything but. A dumb bitch, more than likely. The job had long ago turned him into a pessimist. He was tired of the dumb ones. At his age, he was looking for someone with style and substance. Class. A smart, decent head on her shoulders. He knew he shouldn't rush to judgement, make assumptions, but no woman like the one sitting on that bench would have those qualities. It was damn near a rule. But it didn't stop him from checking her out long and hard as he made his way to the front door. He was a guy after all.

"Flack! Take a picture, it lasts longer!" Danny called as he arrived from the opposite direction, carrying two trays of take out coffee and a plastc bag of junk food.

'"You're an obnoxious fuck, Messer." Flack informed him. And by the expression on the young woman's face as she heard the comment and had been well aware he'd been checking her out, she thought both of them were obnoxious. She shook her head and looked down the street to avoid looking at them.

Kinda cute, she thought. Both of them. So completely different from each other. One of them small yet nicely built with spiky blond hair and glasses behind which were striking blue eyes. Filling out his jeans and t-shirt quite nicely. The other one tall and powerfully built with extremely short dark hair sporting some grey and honestly the most gorgeous blue eyes she'd ever seen. Sporting a well tailored black suit and crisp white dress shirt and a black, red and grey patterned tie. She bet he smelled nice. But the badges and guns pinned them as cops and she'd had enough of cops. She was not going down that road again.

"How you doin'?" Danny asked, nodding at her and smiling.

She trained those golden eyes on him. "Me?" she asked sweetly.

"Yeah... you..."

"You're joking, right? That line actually still works? I'm sure you're a really nice guy and all, but seriously. This isn't an episode of Friends and I'm not Jennifer Aniston and you're not Matt Leblanc."

Flack smirked. Definately a bitch. A hot one, mind you.

Danny remained unfazed. "You're from Brooklyn," he said, noticing her accent.

"Wow. Your powers of observation are amazing." she said and stood up.

Curves in all the right places, Flack thought a second time as she turned to throw the empty bottle in the trash.

"Let me guess," she hiked her purse up onto her shoulder. "Good cop," she nodded at Danny. "Bad cop." she nodded at Flack.

"That obvious?" Danny asked.

"Well, the badges to give it away," she replied. "and no offense, but if I was a perp in an interrogation, I'd be more scared of him," she gestured to Flack. "then I would be of you. But that's just me. So if you two lovely gentlemen," she smiled at Flack as she said gentlemen. "would excuse me, I have an appointment to keep." she headed for the door.

"Here?" Flack asked, as the realization began to sink in who they were dealing with. The way she used the term good cop, bad cop and the word perp. This wasn't just some girl off the street.

She nodded. "With Mac Taylor. Do you know him?" she was speaking directly to Flack.

"Know him?" Danny was trying his best to make in impression on her. "We work for him. Hey, wait a sec... are you the new CSI?"

"Nothing gets by you." she said and reached for the door handle. The one in the suit got to it first and opened it and motioned for her to go ahead. A gentleman, huh? And one that did smell really damn good. "Thanks." she said sincerely and smiled warmly.

"My pleasure." he assured her and watched her long after she stepped through the doors and into the lobby. Nearly closing the door on Danny as he was coming through behind him.

"Watch it, Flack!" Danny scolded him, then noticed his best friend checking out the ass view of the new girl. "My pleasure," he scoffed. "You're pathetic."

"Yeah? Well only will tell just one of she finds pathetic. And judging by the reaction you got, I'd say you're in the lead."

Danny snorted and hurried to catch up with the new detective. When he called to her, she turned and looked directly past him and right at Flack.

She smiled. She had a beautiful smile.

Suddenly the view inside the crime lab seemed a whole lot brighter to Detective Don Flack.