Just one of those days
"Hey boys, hey girls
Hey anybody who will listen to me
In case you haven't noticed
It's just me against the world today
I fell out the wrong side of the bed and landed in the worst mood
With that stupid alarm clock
Screaming at me from across the room
I'm tryin' to be nice,
I'm trying to be reasonable
But it's oh so hard when I don't wanna be
If you're looking for that nice girl from the day before
Don't bother she don't live here anymore."
– Me Against the World., Halo Friendlies
Special thanks to 'my Montana' for supplying me with the music. And someone to lean on.
Sam knew it was going to be one of those days the moment she woke up the following morning and looked over at the clock radio and discovered the illuminated display was flashing 12:00 continuously instead of showing the time. She bolted up right in bed, instantly panicking about being late for work and reached across the bed to pick up Flack's right arm to check the watch on his wrist.
Quarter to eight.
"Shit!" she cursed out loud and dropped his arm with enough force to wake him up out of a dead sleep. She tossed the covers off of her and nearly twisted her ankle jumping out of bed so quickly. The sudden movement caused her to feel dizzy -a by product of the vertigo she'd somehow developed in the last month- and then immediately sick to her stomach. Fighting back the nausea that seemed to still haunt her despite the medications, she forced herself to sit back down on the bed and close her eyes and breathe slow and deep. The last thing that she wanted or needed when she was late for work was spending to better part of the morning hunkered over the toilet throwing up.
Five more months, she told herself. Five more months and this will be finished. I'll feel healthy again. I'll feel human again. Because this is just bullshit to have to suffer like this just to bring a kid into the world that will cause you even more grief for eighteen years. She was convinced she would never survive another five months. Never mind what childbirth would have in store.
I was not cut out for this. What was I thinking? I'm not motherhood material. I can't handle carrying the kid for nine months. How the hell will I survive taking care of it? This is what they make birth control for. To prevent weak, pathetic women like me from getting knocked up. To prevent innocent children from having the misfortune of having me for their mother.
She had to remind herself that she wasn't the only guilty party in this situation. She didn't get herself pregnant. She wasn't the only one having fun that night and many others before it and after. It wasn't just her DNA the spawn of Satan was carrying around. No. She had help in the entire thing. And said help was now moving behind her, rolling over onto his back and reaching out and rubbing her back softly.
"What's a matter?" Flack asked, his voice groggy. "You okay?"
"Thanks a lot for knocking me up!" she snapped.
"What?" he was dazed and blurry eyed from both sleep and medication. "What's wrong? You sick?"
"I feel like shit." she informed him. "I got out of bed too quick and the vertigo hit me."
"Doctor said to get out of bed slowly." he reminded her, stroking her back comfortingly.
"I know that, Donald. And I feel like I'm going to barf all over the place. So thank you very much."
"Whatever you say, sweetie." he said and yawned noisily and rolled onto his side away from her. He knew better than to argue or toss out a sarcastic comment when she got into a hormonal meltdown and was beginning to learn to just let the mood pass with saying little or nothing at all. It only made things worse to fight back.
"You know," she said, standing up slowly, the dizziness and nausea now a thing of the past. "A little sympathy would be nice."
"I am very sympathetic to your suffering." Flack told her. "But I'm also sympathetic to my own suffering. I need sleep."
"You're such a damn baby." she grumbled. "Not like the guy had rabies or anything. Why is it when men get sick or hurt it's the end of the world?"
"You mean the same way every woman that gets pregnant thinks they're the only one that has ever been through it before?" Flack countered.
Sam frowned and turned and picked up her pillow and swatted him in the head with it.
Flack snatched the pillow off of her and tucked it underneath him. "Only a few more months." he reminded her. "Then it'll all be over."
"Not soon enough." Sam sighed. "How'd we ever get ourselves into this mess?"
"Want me to give you a detailed play by play or show you?" he asked with a chuckle.
"I'd say the latter but we both know it's out of the question for a bit. Not to mention I'm all ready seriously running behind. The alarm got screwed up. The power must have went off sometime last night."
"Bad thunderstorm last night." Flack explained. "I'm surprised you didn't hear it. Usually you're cowering under the covers ."
"I'm a wimp, what can I say? I'm going to take your truck. I don't want to take a cab and I'll never survive the claustrophobia of the subway. Either that or you can get up and drive me to work."
"Keys are on the microwave." he told her. "Just don't screw around with the radio and do not leave all kinds of girlie stuff lying around or spray any flowery perfume shit in it. I find any lip gloss or whatever on the seats, I will kick your ass."
"I forgot. It's your baby. I promise I'll be gentle with her."
"Try to avoid parallel parking. I've seen your attempts at it. And try not to get any speeding tickets or get into any road rage incidences."
"Well there goes all my fun." Sam declared and headed for the bathroom.
The gas tank was damn near empty. Of course, she didn't realize it until she was stuck in traffic heading into midtown. Her cell phone pressed to her ear as she attempted to explain to Mac why she hadn't been at the morning's team meeting and why it was taking her so long to get to the lab from a mere fifteen blocks away.
The needle was in between a quarter of tank and empty. And it was edging closer and closer to empty as she sat idling in the middle lane of bumper to bumper traffic with the closest gas station several blocks in either direction.
She sensed she either shocked or amused Mac with the amount and quality of the expletives that came tumbling easily out of her mouth. You could take the girl out of the Brooklyn projects but not the Brooklyn projects out of the girl. People never knew what hit them when she got on a profanity laced tirade. But she looks so sweet and innocent, people often said. She's so tiny and cute. The girl next door. She couldn't possibly be anything but sugary sweet. Adam had heard that comment many a time when they were growing up, and he'd simply nod his head in agreement and think, Just you wait. His adorable baby sister could pack a punch harder than an average man and had a dictionary of curses that could make a drunken trucker blush.
And, as both Adam and Sam would freely admit to, she could be the biggest bitch on the face of the earth. The queen of mean. These weren't personality traits she was proud of, but they had helped her out of many a tight spot and had made her successful in a male dominated profession.
Besides, she was only that way to the people that most deserved it. Perps, uncooperative, disinterested witnesses and defense attorneys. The latter weren't all bad. Outside of the court room she'd gone out for a night on the town with a few on more than one occasion and found them a hell of a lot of fun. But the next day, you could be on the witness stand being grilled by someone you just had Jello shooters with less than twelve hours before. Hard to be kind when someone was ripping apart your profession and trying to make you look incompetent in the course of attempting to set someone as guilty as hell out onto the streets.
This morning, Don Flack belonged in that small group of people who deserved to be slaughtered. And Mac Taylor was hearing exactly how Sam planned to carry out the crime. If he could make out a word in between the curses.
"You can fill it up at work in the garage." Mac told her once he'd been able to figure out what her problem was.
"If I ever damn well get there!" Sam snapped and laid on the horn in hopes it would encourage the mess of cars to at least budge an inch.
"Be in as soon as you can." Mac had said and hung up. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was amused by her verbal assualt on someone twice her size. If she had money to put down on it, Sam would have bet Mac was smirking the entire time and probably had a damn good laugh once he hung up.
It took nearly an hour to complete a drive that should have only taken twenty minutes. She went directly into the garage and got out and found one of the techs to fill the tank for her. It should have been simple. How hard could filling a gas tank be?
Only when they told her to hit the button on the inside of the driver's side door that would unlock the gas cap, she discovered she couldn't get into the truck.
She had locked the keys inside. She'd taken them out of the ignition but had laid them on the seat as she got out.
And the only way to get them out was using a slim jim or a coat hanger. Both options were a pain in the ass and may or may not work.
"How about calling your husband and getting him to bring the extra key down?" the tech suggested.
"How about you find a better idea?" Sam retorted.
In the end, it took fifteen minutes with a coat hanger to finally pop the lock. Sam would have felt more relieved if the hanger hadn't left a trail of scratches and gouges in the once picture perfect, glossy black paint in the nearly brand new SUV.
This really is the day from hell, Sam thought as she fought off the urge to cry. And for the third time that morning, she wished she had called in sick.
Emma Maxwell waited patiently in one of the comfortable leather chairs in front of Detective Mac Taylor's clutter free desk. Her appointment with Mac was scheduled for one thirty and it was all ready ten minutes to two. She had never known a time that Mac wasn't running around handling a thousand different things at once. How he ever managed to keep his sanity while running the hectic, swamped New York City Crime Lab was beyond her. And an even bigger mystery was how he managed to hold everything together and run things like a well oiled machine with so many different personalities and work styles to juggle. Mac Taylor was extremely well respected. He believed in three things: protecting the United States of America regardless of cost and personal sacrifice, keeping safe the citizens of the the city of New York and upholding the integrity of his lab.
And God help anyone who got in the way of those three things.
The New York City Crime Lab was one of the best, if not the best, in all of the country. And it was all thanks to Mac and his stellar hiring practices. He only employed the best and demanded nothing but the best from them. And they delivered time and time again.
It was why Max was so honoured when Inspector Gerrard and Chief of Detectives Sinclair had not only moved her over to homicide, but announced she had been short listed to work in conjuncture with the crime lab. To be considered among the best was overwhelming and nerve wracking, but she knew that she could hold her own against the best. And hopefully be accepted into the fold. She'd heard from many that Mac Taylor's team was closer than most families. She only hoped she'd be a welcome addition and not a scorned outsider.
"How much longer, momma?" a tiny voice at her feet asked.
Emma glanced down at her three year old daughter Daria, who was cross legged on the floor, scribbling in a Disney's Madagascar coloring book, her Dora the Explorer knapsack and ever present, loyal companion, Paddington the teddy bear tucked into either side of her securely.
"A few more minutes." Max replied, running a hand over Daria's silky, wavy blond hair.
Daria was as fair as her mother was dark. Her eyes as blue as the sky as opposed to Max's emerald green. And when she looked up at her mother with those big eyes and her head tilted to the side, Max was struck by the striking resemblance the little girl bore to her father. The father Max never spoke about and hadn't seen in almost five years. No one knew his identity and Max was determined to keep it that way.
Things had started out so good and ended up so bad. All the promises that a separation would lead to a divorce actually ended at nothing. He'd gone back to his estranged wife and had broken Max's heart in the process. And left her with a pregnancy in the early first trimester. She'd never told him about the baby and never would. He didn't deserve to know such a wonderful, beautiful child. Their paths rarely crossed after the break up and when they did she pawned the pregnancy off as another relationship she was involved in. And after he'd done what he had two years ago, Max vowed to never think of him again.
One day Daria would ask about her father. And Max hated the idea of telling her that he was crooked cop who got what he deserved.
"You said that three times all ready." Daria informed her matter of factly.
"Well this is the fourth time." Max said.
Daria sighed dramatically. "I'm bored." she complained.
"I know. Not too much longer. Mac is a very busy man and he's going as fast as he can."
"I want to go home." Daria said. "I'm really, really, really bored momma."
"You just sit tight and keep yourself busy. It's why we brought along your crayons and your colouring books. Mac will be here soon and then after I finish talking to him, we can go. Okay?"
Another massive sigh. "Okay." Daria reluctantly agreed and went back to her colouring.
Max turned her attention back to the old Time magazine in her hands and tried to keep her mind off of the fact time seemed to be dragging. She was never a patient person. She hated waiting. Whether it be for the doctor to take you into the office for a scheduled appointment running half an hour behind or the subway that always ran on time except for the day you were exceptionally late.
"Momma?" Daria asked in her tiny voice.
"Yes, sweet pea?"
"Can we go and get ice cream after?" the little girl asked.
"I'd like to go for ice cream." Mac commented playfully as he stepped into his office.
"Nice to see you again, Detective Taylor." Max said, getting to her feet and offering her hand.
"I'll tell you the same thing I tell everyone when they start working for me," he shook her hand. "It's Mac. We're not sticklers for formalities around here. It's nice to see you again, Emma. It's been a while."
Mac Taylor was possibly the only person, other than her mother, that Max would considering letting get away with calling her by her first name.
"It has been." she agreed. "I know you've never met her, but I'm sure you remember me talking about my daughter, Daria."
"Of course. Talking very proudly and highly of." Mac crouched down to the little girl's level. "It's nice to meet you, Daria. You're even prettier than I imagined you would be. I'm Mac. I'm your mom's new boss."
"Hello." Daria said warily.
"I'm sorry I had to bring her with me." Max said as Mac stood up and went behind his desk, shedding his suit jacket and draping it over the back of his chair. "The baby sitter bailed at the last moment and I didn't have anyone else I trusted to watch her. I promise she won't be a bother."
Mac waved it off. "So you know, there's a phenomenal day care facility on the main floor. From what I hear the staff is incredible and many of the employees here and with the ME's office along with others from other precincts use it. I even have a CSI that will be using it herself in roughly seven months time. The cost is covered through benefits."
"I'll look into it." Max said.
Mac gestured for her to take a seat and then sat down after her. "Well, first let me say I was pleasantly surprised when your name came up on the short list handed to me by Gerrard. I always enjoyed you working my crime scenes as a uniform and I was always impressed with you during your stay with SVU when the unit handled my rape cases."
"Thank you."
"Second, congratulations on being moved over to homicide through the twelve precinct. Only the best work out of there."
"It was an honor to even be considered." Max said. "And an even bigger one when this opportunity came about."
"Well I hope that you'll enjoy working in conjuncture with the lab. I have a great team. The best in the country if I do say so myself. They're an eclectic bunch but their hard workers and know their stuff and never disappoint me. You'll be partnered with Detective Flack."
Max nodded. "Gerrard told me last week. I wonder what Flack thinks of that. He's always worked alone for the most part."
"I don't see why he'd have a problem." Mac said. "He's worked with a couple of other detectives and he gets along well with the team. No one has had a problem with him and some of the girls just give him back some of his own medicine when he gets too mouthy for their liking."
Max smiled. "He does have a way of getting a little too big on himself."
"His heart's in the right place." Max said. "There's some big things happening in his life. He's turning over a new leaf. Slowly but surely."
"Good for him. It's about time."
Mac chuckled. "It is." he agreed. "How have you been Emma? It's been a while."
"I've been okay. I was off for the last couple of months having shunt replacement surgery so that's why you haven't seen me around."
"How did that go?" Mac asked.
He knew Emma Maxwell's medical history. Born nine weeks premature, she had suffered a stroke three days after birth which resulted in her having to have a V-P shunt implanted on the left side of her head. It was a risky operation. A catheter was passed into a ventricle of the brain and a pump controlled the flow of inter-cranial fluids. On the end of the pump was a second catheter that tunnelled under the skin, behind the ear, down the neck and chest and into the abdominal cavity.
The stroke she'd suffered had also caused her to have cerebral palsy down the ride side of her body, resulting in her walking with a severe limp in her right leg.
Yet Mac knew from working alongside of her, that Emma Maxwell didn't let anything keep her down. She was strong and independent and would be an asset to his team.
Max shrugged. "It went okay. Better than previous ones. And I would have been off a lot longer if my sick pay hadn't have suddenly cut out and forced me back on the job. But what doesn't kill you will make you stronger I always say."
"Very true." Mac agreed. "And your family? How are they?"
"Same old."
"How about your brother?"
Max sighed. Talk of her brother was always a touchy subject. She avoided it when she could. Michael was twenty-five and had low functioning autism and an anxiety disorder. Behavioural and medical issues had seen her parents with no other choice to make than admitting him to a long term care facility. It was for the best. Everyone knew that.
"He's not my brother anymore, Mac." she responded quietly. "He didn't even know me or Daria when we went to visit him not long ago."
Mac nodded slowly. "If there's anything you need or anything I can do, don't hesitate to let me know. I say that to all my staff. My door is always open."
Emma smiled.
The phone on Mac's desk rang noisily and he excused himself and scooped up the receiver. "Detective Taylor." he answered, then listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line. His brow furrowed and his eyes concerned. "I'll let her know." he said after a couple of minutes and hung up. "That was for you." he told Max.
"Me?"
"Apparently you're missing something."
She arched a quizzical eyebrow.
"Something that is three feet tall and weighs about forty pounds." Mac said.
Horror passed over Max's face as she glanced back at the leather chairs and saw only the crayon and colouring books and Dora the Explorer back pack sitting there. And no child to claim them.
"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed and slapped a hand to her forehead. "Daria!"
"She's in good hands." Mac assured her. "One of my CSIs has her and is bringing her here. They tried calling but you have your phone off."
Max shook her head, embarrassed. And a little furious at her child. No wandering off she'd always been taught. Thank God for her name and contact number stitched into the collar of her jacket.
"Your daughter is a good judge of character." Mac said.
"How's that?" Max asked.
"Of all people to wander into, she picked the most honest, mother hen one of them all."
Max had never been so grateful of a stranger.
Sam had retreated to the break room for some peace and quiet. The trace lab was packed like a sardine can and the amount of noise generated by the various machines and people talking had been enough to bring on the start of a nasty migraine. Not to mention it was past two o'clock, she hadn't had anything to eat and she had forgotten to take all of her prescribed medication and her vitamins. Adam had forced her to take a break. He and Carmen were Flack's eyes and ears when he wasn't around and Sam knew full well they'd report back anything they didn't like or were concerned about.
Adam had run around the corner and picked her up McDonalds for lunch. Complete with a chocolate milkshake and ice cream sundae. She finished eating and taking all her meds and vitamins and took her shoes off and stretched her legs out under the table. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
Attempting some form of relaxtion until minutes later she felt something tugging at the hem of her blouse.
She opened her eyes and looked down.
There, standing by the side of her chair, was a tiny wisp of a little girl with rosy full cherub cheeks, soft pink lips and the most gorgeous blue eyes framed by impossibly long lashes. A mop of golden hair on her tiny head. Wearing a little denim jacket with pink and yellow flowers stitched into it and matching jeans and a little pink and white t-shirt and white runners with pink laces. The kind of runners where the heels lit up when you walked.
"Hi." the little girl chirped cheerfully.
"Uh…..hi." Sam responded.
"I'm Daria. I'm three and a half." she announced proudly, offering a tiny hand.
"I'm Samantha." Sam said, shaking the hand in front of her. "I'm thirty one and a half."
"That's old." Daria declared, eyes wide. "What grade are you in?"
"Well, I don't go to school anymore." Sam replied. "But if you want, you can tell people I'm in grade twenty eight."
"Okay." Daria agreed happily. "McDonalds?" she asked, recognizing the logo on the paper bag on the table.
Sam nodded and reached for the bag. "It's my favorite."
"Mine, too." Daria said and scrambled up onto the chair beside Sam.
Sam opened. Adam had bought her a six piece chicken nugget box but the chicken sandwich and fries and ice cream had done her in and she was going to save the rest for later. She took out the nugget box and a package of sweet and sour sauce.
"I love chicken nuggets!" Daria squealed.
"Good. Because you can share them with me." Sam told her and ripped open the sauce and sat two nuggets on a napkin in front of the little girl.
Daria got up onto her knees and moved closer to the table. She picked up a nugget, dipped it in the sauce and took a huge bite. "Thank you." she said around the mouthful of food.
"You're welcome." Sam told her, smiling at the adorable creature in front of her. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked, pushing her chair away from the table and standing up. "Milk? Apple juice?"
"Pop?" Daria asked hopefully.
"I think you should stick to milk or juice." Sam said, tossing her trash in the can by the door. "Better for you."
"Apple juice." Daria decided. "Please."
Sam went to the vending machine and fished some change from her pocket and bought a can of apple juice.
"Are you a mommy?" Daria asked, as Sam sat back down beside her, popped the tab on the juice and sat it on the table where the little girl would reach it.
"No." Sam replied. "But where is your mommy?"
Daria shrugged.
"Where was the last place you saw her?"
"I can't remember. She was with some man."
"Do you remember what this man looked like?" Sam asked.
"Like a man." Daria replied.
"What's your mom's name?"
"Emma Maxwell."
"Does she have a cell phone? Do you know the number?"
"I don't know the number."
Sam sighed. Trying to remember any times she may have dealt with lost children back in Arizona. She couldn't even recall a single wandering child she'd ever encountered. She wasn't ever in a position to be returning a child, living or dead, to their parents.
Then it hit her. Adam had been a notorious runner when they were little. He was always taking off from the front yard or the play ground at school and twice her mother had had to call the NYPD thinking he'd been snatched from the front of the house and his teacher had called the cops more than once when he didn't come back from recess. He mother had resorted to stitching his name and their phone number somewhere in his clothes.
Sam took the chance. She got up and went around to the back of Daria's chair and pulled down the neck of her jacket. There was a small label sewn on the neck. DARIA MAXWELL 212-555-7891. Sam unclipped her cell phone from her waist band and dialled the number.
It went straight to voice mail. Just as she hung up after leaving a message, her cell rang. She checked the call display. Flack.
"You were suppose to call when you got there." he told her in a groggy voice when she answered.
"Sorry, dad. I didn't realize it was a necessity for me to check in. I do have a driver's license, you know. I can drive. "
"I was thinking more along the lines of you getting into an accident." he said.
"You are way too paranoid." Sam told him. "I'm kind of having an issue here."
"What kind of an issue?"
"This little girl wandering the lab happened upon me. She has her name and contact number stitched into her clothes, but it's a cell number and goes straight to voice mail."
"Where's the parents?"
"She says that her mommy is here somewhere. With some man."
"Thousands of men around that place. She say what this man looks like?"
"She said a man. That's it."
"What's the mother's name? Have her paged."
"The name is Emma Maxwell."
"What did you say?"
"The mother. Her name is Emma Maxwell."
"Kid's name is Daria. Blond hair, blue eyes. Right?"
"How'd you know that?" Sam asked.
"I know the mother. And the little girl. And I also know that Emma Maxwell is most likely in Mac's office right this second."
Sam frowned. "Don, how…."
"Doesn't matter. You take the kid and head down to Mac's office and I'll call him and let them know you have her."
"Okay. But…"
The line went dead. At first Sam had thought he'd hung up on her. Until she looked at her display and saw that the battery had gone dead. She had put it in charge when she got home the night before and just now remembered the power had gone out .
Still, that didn't excuse him being so rude and offhand. And that seemed to be becoming a habit with him lately. He was starting to remind her a little of Zack. And that was a frightening thought that literally made her feel sick to her stomach. And the realization that Flack was a younger version of Clint was even more startling.
Right now, she couldn't worry about stuff like that. But the dull ache in her heart told her that something wasn't right and needed to change. And it was up to her to change it.
Sam waited until Daria finished her nuggets and juice and then cleaned up the little one's face.
"Come on, sweet pea," she said, offering her hand. "Let's go and find your mommy."
Daria jumped down from her seat and eagerly took Sam's hand. "You're really pretty." she told Sam as they headed from the room. "I bet you got lots of boyfriends."
"Just one." Sam said.
"Bet he thinks you're really pretty. Like a princess."
Sam smiled. Thinking, as they headed down the busy hallway, I am seriously starting to wonder that kid.
Max waited outside of Mac's office. Thanking her lucky stars that her daughter had managed to latch onto someone honest and decent as opposed to any old nut job that could be wandering the halls. And she cursed herself for getting so caught up in her meeting with Mac that she didn't realize her child had up and wandered off. What kind of mother didn't notice their child disappear? Usually she was right on top of Daria and her whereabouts. Things like that just did not happen.
"Dancerella!" a familiar voice called to her from the end of the hall.
Max recognized that voice and that old nickname. Her interest in dance and her love of skating was well known to her friends and family, and the moniker Dancerella had been pasted onto her after an infamous night of karaoke and dance a couple of years ago. And there was only one person who called her Dancerella. Or any nickname for that matter.
She turned in the direction of the voice and smiled brightly at Danny Messer as he fast approached, a broad grin on his handsome face.
"Ugly brother." she greeted in return, and soon found herself scooped up into a tight hug.
"Come on." Danny feigned insult. "I always have been the good looking one."
"You wish." she laughed and kissed his cheek. "Been keeping yourself out of trouble?" she asked.
"For the most part. Trouble seems to find me, though. You? Where you been? Haven't seen you around in forever? Though maybe you got tired of us and skipped town."
"Not chance. I had my shunt replacement surgery a couple months back."
"How'd that go?" Danny asked. "You feeling all right?"
"It went well. I feel much better. Back in the saddle again."
"Good. I missed seein' ya around. So I hear you're going to be working with us."
"I start next Monday."
"Well let me be the first to welcome you to our big massively dysfunctional family."
"Can't be that bad."
"We're all just a little unhinged." Danny said. "You'll see for yourself soon enough. So, where's the rug rat? Sitter?"
"She's actually….."
"Momma!" Daria cried happily from the end of the hall and dropped Sam's hand in order to run to her mother's waiting arms.
"Playing babysitter?" Danny asked Sam, as she joined him and Max, who while relieved to see her daughter, was scolding her about running off in between smothering her with kisses. "Getting some experience?"
"Just a bit." Sam said.
"Thank you sooo much." Max gushed to Sam. She'd never seen this CSI before. But she knew by that trendy hair cut and porcelain features and willowy body that she was no doubt Miss Popularity.
"No problem." Sam said with a smile. "We had a nice time. She's a great lunch companion."
"We had chicken nuggets." Daria told her mother. "And apple juice."
"I hope that was okay." Sam said sheepishly. "She saw me with my lunch and wanted some."
"It's fine." Max assured her. "I'm just glad she found someone that would never run off with her."
"So am I." Sam said.
"Do either of you guys know if Detective Flack is working today?" Max asked, a hint of hopefulness in her voice.
Uh-oh, Danny thought. Best be keeping my mouth shut and just watch this enfold,
"He's off for a few days." Sam replied. "He got hurt in interrogation yesterday and the doctor wanted him to take some sick days."
"Flack taking a day off?" Max laughed. "That's a shock. Hell must have frozen over."
"He's stubborn." Sam agreed. "You're a friend of his?"
Max nodded. "And we worked together. Well, not together, together. But I was a uniform and worked a lot of his scenes. And our paths crossed a lot when I worked SVU."
"You're a detective?" Sam asked.
"Just got transferred to homicide. Flack and I…"
Hawkes, passing by the small group, tapped Sam lightly and playfully on top of the head with a file he was carrying.
"You busy?" he asked.
"I can be." she replied.
"Want to give me a hand in ballistics? I'll do the dangerous stuff and you put the weapon together for me and analyse the bullets?"
"I love you, Hawkes." Sam declared. "It was nice to meet you." she said to Max.
"You, too. And thank you again."
"No problem. 'Bye Daria. Thanks for lunch."
"Thank you!" the little girl called and blew Sam a kiss.
"Don't be letting her fire anything, Hawkes!" Danny yelled as the two left for ballistics.
"I know her restrictions, Messer. I wrote half of them myself." Hawkes reminded him. "She's in good hands."
"I'll be gentle with him." Sam said, winking at Danny over her shoulder. "Unless the good doctor doesn't want it that way."
Hawkes just shook his head and smirked.
"You're a bad girl, Brooklyn." Danny said.
She grinned. "I try my best."
"So?" Max asked, after the two CSIs had disappeared. "Whose the new girl?"
"That's Brooklyn." Danny replied.
Max arched an eyebrow. "Brooklyn? That's her real name?"
"Naw. I just call her Brooklyn the same way I call you Dancerella. That's Samantha Ross."
"How long has she been here?"
"Six months. She's our ballistics expert. Damn good CSI. She's been working in Arizona the past few years and than she came back home to New York."
"She seems nice."
"She is."
"Not to mention she's pretty cute. Another notch on your bed post, Messer?"
"I wish. I never got the chance. Someone else got to her first."
"Danny!" Carmen called from the doorway to trace. "You seen Sam? Her results just came through GC/MS!"
"She's down in ballistics with Hawkes!"
Carmen frowned. "She's what?"
"It's okay. Hawkes will keep an eye on her."
Carmen shed her lab coat and tore off her latex gloves. "She's not suppose to be doing ballistics." she huffed and took off to give her friend shit.
"See what I mean?" Danny asked Max. "We are a messed up bunch."
"New girl seems popular." Max commented.
Danny arched an eyebrow. "You honestly don't know who she is?" he asked.
"Is there something scandalous I should know about?" Max countered.
"Not scandalous. Surprising for some, maybe."
"Enlighten me, Messer."
"She's Flack's girl."
"Girl? Or is there more to it than that? I saw that rock on her finger."
Danny smiled. "She's his fiancee. They're getting married in December. Christmas Eve to be exact."
Max was more than a little surprised. "Wow…..that's interesting….you know, considering what Flack is like."
"Well in his defence, he's grown up since he met her. He's crazy about her. I've never seen him this happy. Or in love. They're perfect for each other. And she loves him. Unconditionally. I'm happy for both of them."
"If that's what Flack wants, a wife and some kids, all the power to him." Max said. "Kinda happened quick didn't it?"
"No set time on things like that." Danny told her. "Not to mention she's pregnant."
"Shot gun wedding, huh? Never figured Flack to be the type to get hitched just 'cause he got someone in trouble. As honourable as that is, I just didn't think he'd be the one to do it."
"He's marrying her because she's the love of his life." Danny corrected.
Max nodded, considering what Danny had just said. "Good for him, than." she said. "I'm glad that things are working out for him. And good for her, too. Scoring a guy like him. Being the one to tame him."
Danny smirked. "Don't be jealous." he said.
"Jealous?" Max laughed. "Please. She can have him."
"Only because you can't." Danny said. "He isn't…you know…Daria's father is he? Is that why you're so bent out of shape?"
"I am not bent out of shape." Max argued. "I'm just a little surprised."
"You didn't deny it." Danny said. "About him being Daria's father."
"I have to get going." Max told him, a drowsy Daria on her hip. "Maybe we can get together sometime outside of work."
"Sure." Danny agreed. "Just call or drop by up here. You know where to find me. You could meet my girl."
"God. You too?"
"No engagement or anything like that. But she's amazing. Erica. She's an ICU nurse. You'll love her."
"Well I'm glad some people are finding happiness." Max sighed.
"Maybe you were just banking all your hopes on the wrong guy." Danny suggested.
"Let go of this me and Flack thing. We had an understanding. Things never went beyond that and that was fine with us."
"You ever want things to go beyond that?" asked Danny.
"Doesn't matter now, does it." she replied. "He's getting married. Having a baby. Creating a life for himself."
"He's happy, Max. Be happy for him."
A loud knock came to the glass wall of the AV room they were standing a mere few feet away from. Adam was rapping on the glass with his knuckles and waving Danny into the room.
"I gotta go." Danny said. "Lots to do. We're working on a double homicide in the Bronx. Catch you later?"
"Of course."
Danny hugged her warmly. "Nice to see you again. Looking forward to working with ya."
"Nothing but fun and games, Messer." she laughed and hugged him back. "You keep yourself out of trouble."
He grinned as he released his hold on her and headed for the AV lab. "What kind of fun would that be?" he asked.
"Must be love." Danny commented as he and Sam crossed the first level underground parking lot.
It was six thirty in the evening and their days were mercifully over. At least for another twelve, thirteen hours. Sam had offered to give Danny a drive home when he mentioned walking her over to the subway station to make sure she got there safely. Sam didn't own a car, so he was surprised when she waved the keys in front of his face.
He was even more surprised when Sam led the way through the garage to Flack's truck.
"Why's that?" Sam asked. To Danny she sounded down. She'd given him that impression all day. He chalked it up to the fact she wasn't sleeping well.
"He lent you his truck. Flack doesn't let anyone drive his baby. Not even me. Must love ya a hell of a lot to let you borrow it."
"I think it was more that he was too lazy to get out of bed this morning to drive me." Sam said, pressing a button on the key chain to shut the alarm off and unlock the doors. "Besides, it will be the first and last time he lets me take it. He's going to kill me."
"Why's that?"
Sam motioned for Danny to follow her around to the driver's side door. She pointed to the gouges and scratches in the paint. "That's why." she said.
Danny shrugged. "No big deal. What happened?"
"I locked the keys inside when I went to get the tank filled. Mark in the garage had to use a coat hanger to get into it."
"Nothing major. Nothing Flack will have a coronary over."
"I don't know." Sam said in a quiet voice.
So quiet Danny wasn't even sure at first she'd even said anything. He glanced over at her and saw the tears that threatened in her eyes. "Hey…." he said gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. "It's not a bid deal. He's not going to freak out. I know Flack. And this isn't something that would cause him to loose it. And if it makes you feel better, my brother Anthony is a mechanic in Staten Island and I could get him to do me a favor and fix it up for free. Really, Brooklyn. This isn't a huge thing."
"It's not that." she said and brushed away tears with the back of her hands.
"What is it?"
"Lots of things. Everything. I don't know anymore. All I know is that something isn't right and I need to change it."
"What do you mean?" Danny asked.
"It's nothing." Sam replied.
"It's something or you wouldn't be like this." Danny said.
"It's just me, Danny. My hormones and all that. I'll be fine."
"It's Max, isn't it."
Sam sighed. "Who is she, Danny? Other than another detective. Who is she?"
"You know what?" Danny reached out and wiped her tears away with a gentle thumb. "I think you need to go home and ask Flack that."
"Shit. It's that bad?" she looked like she was ready to burst into tears.
"No. It's not. But it's still something you need to talk to him about."
Sam nodded, considering that. "Do I have anything to worry about, Danny?" she asked.
"Not that I know of." he replied.
She sniffled noisily. "But I won't like what he has to say, will I."
Danny managed a small smile. "You need to go home and tell him you want the whole story."
"What if I don't want to hear it?" she asked.
Danny sighed. "You need to hear it." he replied.
Samantha didn't like the sound of that.
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing. Much appreciation to all of you. Sorry updates are taking longer now, but real life is kicking me in the butt and things haven't been all sunshine and roses here the last couple of days. But I love you all and hope you keep enjoying this story.
Today's plugs:
Aphina: Devine Intervention and Finding Kate (a fantastic Miami fic)
Mauviene: Someday
Hope4sall: Behind the Scenes
And so many others!