I only own those you don't know.

Auntie, why is mommy's picture in the paper?

"Are you gently sleeping,

here inside my dreams?

and isn't faith believing

all power isn't seen?

As my heart holds you

just one beat away

I cherish all you gave me every day.

'Cause you are mine, forever love

watching over me from up above.

And I believe that angels breathe

and that love will live on and never leave.

A breath away's not far

to where you are."

-To where you are, Josh Groban

This is a bit of a cliff hanger, folks. This chapter goes back to the death of Samantha and how Flack is coping with it. In this chapter, we are honored to have the introduction of Aphina's character Carmen Devine from the wonderful stories Simply Devine and Devine Intervention. The latter is the story that persuaded me to join up! I hope I only do Carmen (and Aphina) justice. Carmenwill play a significant role in further chapters as we explore, back in time, how she and Sam became friends. In this, any reference to Rick signifies Carmen's husband. Detective Rick Santucci. You may remember him from season 3. He was the young officer who was the sign language interpreter in Silent Night. He's a detective now. Further chapters will go in to have he and Carmen met.

Enjoy! This one is a little weepy.

P.S. Should have warned people about the use of swears. Don't like it, don't read. They're cops, people! Cops swear. Trust me.

He sat on the edge of the bed and cried. He hadn't been in there for three days. Instead he'd been sleeping on the couch in the basement. When he did sleep that was. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her. The way she had looked lying there in the hospital bed in the ER at Angel of Mercy. Her face ashen, hooked up to tubes to keep her alive. Her eyes closed and a faint smile on her lips and her hands resting still and warm on the crisp white sheet below her. The only sound in the room that hiss of the ventilator and the beeping of the EKG machines monitoring her vitals. That and the pounding of his heart in his chest and the faint sobbing of a blood soaked Stella Bonasera.

There'd been to much damage done for them to help her. That bullet had torn into her chest and ruptured the pulmonary artery. The surgeons said it was a modern miracle that she even made it from the scene still breathing. Death should have been instantaneous they said. If it wasn't for Stella screaming at the paramedic to preform CPR and chest compression each time Samantha flat lined in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, she would have been dead before they even got a hundred yards from the crime scene. But Stella couldn't give up. Grief and guilt surging through her as she screamed at her friend to just hang in there, hang in there goddamn it. You're going to be okay. And each time the paramedic would manage to bring her back, he'd loose her just as quickly. Four times in the span of seven minutes. An MRI later at the hospital showed massive brain damage. Between that and the trauma to her heart that was repaired in the OR to no avail -- the heart basically exploded in her chest as the surgeon had so eloquently put it-- there was no chance that she'd ever live a normal life again. So they gave him a choice. Either keep her on a machine for the rest of what would be a pitiful existence, or just pull the plug and let her go. It hadn't been easy. But she would never had wanted to live like that. She believed in preserving the quality of your life. And what quality would she have as a complete vegetable. So at a quarter after twelve on a Saturday morning the machine was turned off and the tubes removed. It would take some time, the doctor said. Could be minutes, could be hours. But when she went it would be peaceful and painless. He prayed in his heart that that was true and sat down and waited.

She never regained consciousness or showed any signs that she knew he was there. And he sat and held her hand and smoothed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead and told her he loved her over and over again. He talked about all the things they had together through the last ten years. How he had loved her from the moment he saw her and he'd never love anyone else but her. How she had given him the best gifts a man could ever receive. Having her as his wife and watching her bring their four children into the world. He told her he was proud of her and she amazed him every single day. That she was an incredible wife and an even better mother. He told her he would miss her. That he'd never stop missing her or wishing that she was there with him instead of so far away. That he'd never, ever stop loving her. He couldn't stress that enough. Because he needed her to know. Maybe through the years he hadn't said it or showed her enough. Maybe she felt as if she was taken for granted or under appreciated for all the work she put in to their marriage and their family. He hadn't always been easy to live with. When it was good, it was really, really good and when it was bad it was horribly bad. But she put up with him and the long crazy hours that kept him away from her and the kids and she loved him regardless.

Hours seemed to pass as he sat there. Kissing those pale lips and the soft forehead and stroking her smooth cheeks and holding her tiny hand. He was all alone during those final, heartbreaking moments. It was the way he'd wanted it. He needed the time to just be with her. With no one else around. No other CSIs running into one of the labs with test results or the phone ringing in the middle of the night or in the wee hours of the morning before the kids got up, calling him out to yet another crime scene and interrupting yet another intimate moment. It happened so often they both joked that they didn't understand how they even managed to get pregnant so many times when business never got finished. That time, sitting there in the hospital, watching the love of his life slowly and agonizingly slip away, was something he would never, ever forget as long as he lived.

And when her breathing became more shallow and he knew that the end was near and he gathered all the strength he had left in his weary, broken soul, he leaned in close, his lips against her ear and told her it was okay to go. That he'd be fine. That the kids would be fine. That she didn't have to hang on anymore. He didn't want to see her suffer anymore. She deserved better than that. That she didn't need to be afraid. That one day he'd see her again and they'd be together. But not yet. Not yet. Then he kissed her forehead and with tears streaming down his face,sat back and looked at her. Remembering that day nearly ten years ago when he did the smartest thing he'd ever done and asked her to be his wife. I love you, he said in the stillness of the room. I love you, Samantha. And then her eyes opened one final time and she looked right at him. He wasn't sure if she saw him or even heard him. But right before his eyes, a single tear drop rolled down her cheek. And then she was gone.

And now he sat again. On the edge of the bed that they had shared since early on in their relationship. The bed their children had been conceived in and they'd spent many long, amazing nights that were burned into his memory. For four days he'd avoided going in the room. He kept the door closed tight and didn't even cast a glance at it when he walked past. The room was exactly as it had been four mornings again. The bed unmade and wrinkled. Her night gown thrown hastily over the end post. She'd slept past the alarm and had gone running when the phone woke her up. Stella. Wondering why she was an hour late for her shift. He was off that day. And it had been his 4:30 a.m wake up call to her that she was late in the first place. He'd worked a double and had gotten home in the wee hours and when he climbed into bed and curled up against her warm body, she rolled over and buried her face in his neck and mumbled something in her sleep and her hands had found their way under the waist band of his boxer shorts.

She swore up and down while she was rushing around getting ready that she'd been asleep and hadn't realized she had even initiated sex and cursed him for making her so late. He commented that she woke up right quick when he started doing those things with his tongue that she liked so much and that he never heard a complaint or an objection come out of her mouth. And she'd given him that girlie little grin that wrinkled her eyes and her nose and leaned over the bed and kissed him and he told her he loved her and told him the same and that she would call him later .

Only when the phone rang less than an hour later it wasn't her. It was Danny. Choking back sobs and fighting to keep his composure.

"There's been an accident, Flack," Messer had practically sobbed. "There's been a really, really bad accident and you have to come quick. They don't know if she's going to make it."

She hadn't. And now he sat alone once again with the curtains drawn and the window closed, crying into her nightgown. Clutching it in trembling hands, pressing it into his face as he rocked back and forth relentlessly. It was the last thing she wore. The thing he'd peeled off of her in order to kiss every inch of the body he never got tired of. It smelled like her. And of him. Their two scents combined for one last time. It was the closest thing to having her there. He sobbed her name and cursed God and the bastard who took her away from him and himself for failing to protect her as he had promised he would all those years ago. And he would never forgive himself for that as long as he lived. And that he was never going in that room again.

Outside the world still turned and life continued on that quiet street in Flushing, Queens. The rain had stopped and the sun was bright and warm and the grass had begun to dry. Danny played on the front lawn with the four Flack kids. Three boys and one girl. All with nearly black hair and cornflower blue eyes and dimples in their cheeks. One had curly hair handed down from his uncle Adam. Not one inch of those kids didn't come from Flack. Not only the physical appearance, but the mannerisms and facial expressions and the Yonkers accent. The running joke was that it was damn obvious who the father was, but who was the mother? Not one of them looked anything like Sam. She used to say that she hoped they at least got her brains. The baby, a bouncy eighteen month old girl with all the curls and her mother's laugh had Sam's petite frame but the similarities stopped there. They were their father's children. The boys were even tall and strong with big feet and hands.

The baby, Mikayla, slept in a portable play pen underneath the shade of an elm tree. The six year old fraternal twin boys, Mackenzie and Daniel argued and bickered and pushed each other around, fighting over who got to stand where in their pick up game of soccer. Nine year old Kieran, Danny's god son, just shook his head and watched with utter disdain.

So much like his dad, Danny thought. That same look that got on Flack's face when he couldn't believe the bullshit coming out of some perp's mouth was now on the face of his nine year old so who couldn't believe that his brothers were such brats. Had it really been nine years since Flack had placed that eight pound infant in Danny's arms and Brooklyn had said, 'Meet your god son.'?

Brooklyn. Tears welled in his eyes. He blinked them back. He had a raging head ache from all the beer he'd had the night before on Flack's front porch. And from the powerful sobs he'd let loose into his pillow when he was all alone in the living room on the couch at three in the morning. He had held it together for Flack and all but carried his drunk, grieiving friend to bed. In the basement, Flack had insisted and became irate when Danny said it would be easier to get him up the stairs them down them. Then I'll fucking do it! Flack had screamed and pushed Danny away and staggered through living room and into the kitchen and down the stairs. How he got down there without falling, Danny would never know. But he never heard from Flack again after that and he'd bedded down on the couch and had himself a long, good cry.

"Uncle Danny?" Kieran kicked the ball towards him. He was the star athlete. Soccer. Football. Hockey. All the boys played hockey but he was the one that had the skills. The twins had called a truce and had moved to the garden bed Sam had kept empty for them to dig in. Searching for buried treasure. Something mommy had given them last week to bury.

"What's up, buddy?" Danny asked, using the side of his foot to pass the ball back.

"Do you think my mom's gone to heaven?"

Danny stopped the ball with his foot. Its the first time Kieran has mentioned his mother. At least to Danny. "I know your mom's gone to heaven." he replied confidently.

"How do you know?" he inquired.

"Your mom was a good person who had a big heart and loved everyone and helped a lot of people. And you know who she loved the most? You. You and your brothers and your sister and your dad. There wasn't anything she wouldn't have done or given up for you guys. You guys were her life. Her heart. God rewards people like your mom. And that's how I know she's in heaven."

"With Grampa Clint?" Kieran asked.

Clint had died two years ago. Went to bed one night with clothes laid out for the morning and a big to do list and never woke up. Brain aneurysm. Just like that. Boom. It had taken a toll on Sam. Almost six months pregnant and dealing with some heavy personal shit of her own. But she'd survived. She always did.

"I bet you that they're up there right now, looking down at us, having themselves a big old time." Danny said. "Taking care of each other. Just like old times."

Kieran smiled and nodded. He was silent for a long time, hands on his hips, staring up at the sky. "Do you think my dad's gonna be okay?" he asked. "Do you think he'll ever stop crying? Do you think that he'll be happy again? Out here, playing with us like he always does?"

"Your dad is hurting pretty bad, kiddo." Danny told him. "He's loved your mom a long time. He's having a hard time accepting that she isn't coming back. And the best thing we can do, is support him and give him time? Okay? 'Cause he misses her a hell of a lot and he's gonna miss her for a long, long time."

"I'm gonna miss her, too." Kieran said and tears spilled down his cheeks and tried valiantly to brush them away on the sleeve of his shirt.

Danny went to his god son and put his warm, strong arms around him and let the kid just cry it out.

"I miss her, uncle Danny..." he sobbed. "I miss her a lot."

"I know you do, kiddo." Danny said and stroked Kieran's silky black hair.

"I just want my mommy back."

Danny squeezed his eyes shut and willed his heart not to break.

Behind him, a car pulled up the curb.The ignition was shut off and he heard the opening and closing of the door, followed by the sound of women's heels on the sidewalk.

Carmen Santucci -she only used Devine professionally- hid her moist, green eyes behind a pair of sunglasses as she made her way up the driveway adjacent to that cozy two storey red brick house. She'd been there many times in the past six years, but never for something like this. It was always for birthday parties and Thanksgiving and Easter and Boxing Day celebrations. Always for things that involved a lot of laughter. And a lot of love. There was a lot of love in that house. A lot of happiness. This was a family that adored each other and lived each day to its fullest. And now? Now a very significant light had been extinguished. And she lost the closest person to a sister she could ever ask for.

She hadn't stopped crying in four days. Since she and Rick had gotten that call from Hawkes while they were vacationing in the Turks and Caicos. A second honeymoon, Rick had called it when he'd surprised her with airline tickets under her pillow one morning. They'd only been there for five days when Hawkes called. There'd been no doubt in their minds to head back. Although it had taken a ridiculously long time to get the airline to switch their tickets and find them an available flight out. Four days was a disgusting, pitiful wait. She spent that four days and the entire flight home the night before in a state of utter shock. Five days ago, Flack and Sam had drove them to the airport. They'd stood at that gate and said goodbye, see you soon. How was she to know that goodbye would be permanent?

Fresh tears flowed at the sight of Danny comforting the grief stricken child while his brothers played and argued innocently a few feet away. So pure. Old enough to know that mommy was gone but not old enough to ask for details.

"Auntie Carmen!" Mackenzie shrieked when he saw her coming up the drive. He raced towards her, quickly followed by his younger - by ten minutes- brother, both of them screaming her name happily. And soon she found herself enveloping those little bodies in big bear hugs and showering their grubby faces with kisses. She had never been fortunate enough to have kids of her own. But the four Flack kids made up for it.

She'd brought them each a stuffed parrot from the island. Even one for little Mikayla and Kieran, who would know doubt argue that at nine he was too old for that sort of thing but an hour later she'd find it on his bed. She'd almost left without getting them anything. Not that they expected gifts. She just liked buying them things. She gave the twins their souvenirs and they thanked her with more hugs and kisses and were on their way. They never sat still. She tucked another parrot into the corner of the play pen where that beautiful angel slept and she ran a hand over the baby's silky curls. Gonna be a heart breaker, she thought. Gonna torment some poor guy like her mother did to her father for so long.

"Hey, Danny." she greeted him with a soft smile. He simply nodded in return. Too choked up to respond any other way.

"How you doing K?" she asked her 'nephew' as he sniffled noisily and drew away Danny. Blue eyes wracked with grief.

He shrugged.

"I know its hard," she said, putting an arm around his shoulders and bending down so her face was next to his. "But I promise you, that it will get better."

"I miss her." he whispered.

"She misses you, too." Carmen assured her. "And believe me, there's nothing she wouldn't give or do to be here right now and make all of this better. She loved you very, very much. All of you."

"Why did she have to go?" he asked, turning pleading eyes on his aunt.

"She didn't go because she wanted to." Carmen said. "She didn't want to leave you and your brothers and your sister and your dad. But sometimes bad things happen to really good people and no one can explain why."

"I just want her back." Kieran begged. "That's all I want."

"We all do." Danny told him. "Why don't you go inside and bring out something for you and your brothers to eat and drink. Some snacks. Clean yourself up a bit."

Kieran nodded. Wiped his eyes and hurried across the grass to the front door.

"How are you?" Carmen asked Danny, hugging him tightly.

"Coping." he replied. "You?"

"Barely coping." she sighed. "Where's Flack?"

"Inside. Guy from the funeral home was just here about an hour ago. Making plans."

"How'd that go?"

Danny shrugged. "Flack wanted to deal with it the same way Flack deals with everything. Alone."

"He always was a stubborn ass in that respect." Carmen said. "How is he?"

Danny shook his head. "Not good." he said, voice barely a whisper.

"It'll take some time." Carmen reasoned. "Its a hell of a blow."

"Aiden all over again." Danny said.

Carmen laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm going to go in. See if he's up to talking."

"Good luck." Danny called after her as she journeyed up the grass and towards the porch where the twins were excitedly checking out that day's paper that had been rolled and stuffed in the mail box.

"Look Auntie!' Daniel exclaimed, holding it up for her to see. "Mommy's famous! She's in the newspaper!"

Sure enough, fair size colour photograph of Samantha Flack in her dress uniform graced half the front page. She was smiling brightly, those golden eyes twinkling. Carmen choked back a sob and ran a hand over that beautiful face she'd never see again. Above the picture, in big black letters, was the headline NYPD CSI GUNNED DOWN IN BRAZEN DAY LIGHT ATTACK. Below the picture, the caption read:

Detective Sergeant Samantha Flack, a ten year NYPD employee with the crime lab, was killed Sunday in an ambush on a crime scene in the Bronx. Internal Affairs is currently investigating why she was allowed into an insecure scene alone and what if any, actions will be taken against her supervisor. She is survived by four small children and her husband, well known Homicide detective Lt. Donald Flack Jr. Funeral arrangements are pending.

"Why's mommy in the paper?" Mackenzie asked.

Carmen smiled and placed a kiss on the top of his head. "Because she was an amazing, brave lady." she replied.

"Too me she's just mommy." Daniel said. "Can I go show this daddy?"

"You know what?" Carmen rolled the paper back up. "You stay here and I'll show this to daddy, okay?"

"Okay." he agreed and then he and his brother were off and running again.

Carmen sighed heavily, steeled herself and went into the house.

She found him in the kitchen. Sitting at the table in the chair by the window. Staring out into the backyard, twirling his wedding ring around his finger over and over again. Methodically. A matching ring, much smaller in size, hung on the thick chain around his neck. The nurses at the hospital had removed it from Sam's finger when she was taken to the OR. It had been around his neck ever since. An untouched, open bottle of beer sat on the table. Carmen wondered how many he'd had in the last four days.

She stood in the doorway and watched him for what seemed like an eternity. She didn't recognize the man that sat there. Unshaven. Pale and sick looking. All the sparkle gone out of those amazing blue eyes. This was not the Flack she knew and her heart ached for him.

"Don." she said simply. She rarely called him Don. Only on the occasions she was completely and utterly pissed at him or they didn't see eye to eye on a case. That happened often. No one called him Don really. It was always Flack. It was how he introduced himself to her that day ten years ago at her first crime scene. The only one that called him Don was Sam. And she was the only one he tolerated calling him Donnie. And on the rare occasion, Donald.

He didn't remove his gaze from the window. He didn't stop playing with his ring.

Carmen knew he was lost in thousands if not millions of memories of his wife and the life they had created together. And just when she was certain he didn't hear her and was about to call his name again, he finally spoke yet didn't divert his gaze. His voice was quiet. She barely heard him. But four simple words came out of his tortured lips.

"I'm glad you're here."

Thanks to all the great reviews!

Aphina

Madison Bellows

bluehaven4220

Eddiesgirl

Lilymoonlight

I'm sure there's more out there. Please keep reviewing. And enjoying. Much more to come. Next chapter: back to Adam's apartment and a little Sam/Flack action. Just not how you expect.