Learning to play nice (somewhat anyway)
"Take time to realize,
That your warmth is
Crashing down on in.
Take time to realize,
That I am on your side
Didn't I, didn't I tell you.
But I can't spell it out for you,
You know it's never gonna be that simple
No I can't spell it out for you
If you just realize what I just realized,
Then we'd be perfect for each other
And we'll never find another
Just realized what I just realized
We'd never have to wonder if
We missed out on each other now."
-Realize, Colbie Caillat
Flack felt like Tony Soprano sitting there on the shrink's couch for the first time. Not much to say and what did come out of his mouth dripped with negativity and sarcasm. He didn't want to be there. He didn't hide that fact or deny it. As far as he was concerned, department counsellors and anger management were nothing but a crock of shit. He'd been many times before based on some perp's word that the situation hadn't required the amount of force that had been used. Questionable behaviour, brass called it. Not becoming of a New York City police officer. Whatever the hell that was suppose to mean. He may be known for his short fuse and eagerness to lay the beats down on someone, but compared to what other cops were up to, Flack figured he was damn near a saint. He wasn't taking bribes or selling dope or mixing it up with gang bangers or Mafioso. He wasn't a raging alcoholic or druggie and he didn't beat his wife because the stress of the job was too much. He was just some boring, average, run of the mill shmuck. Not some out of control, power hungry freak with a badge and a gun.
And as far as Tony Soprano went, he may have come around in the end, but he'd at least had a decently hot woman therapist to talk to. Flack was stuck with a short, round, rapidly balding man in his late fifties with thick glasses and clothes that belonged back in the early eighties. In fact, Flack was sure his grandfather had owned that exact same cardigan sweater. And his grandfather had been dead nearly a decade.
"So tell me why you're here, Detective Flack." Doctor Steven Masterston said after nearly fifteen minutes of zero eye contact, let alone conversation.
"You've got my file there." Flack nodded at the folder perched on the doctor's lap, alongside of a pen and note pad. "You tell me why I'm here."
The doctor said nothing. He simply jotted something down on his note pad.
Probably about how uncooperative I am, Flack mused. Gerrard only said he had to go in order to come back to work. Not that he had to be pleasant.
"You must know why you're here." Masterston said.
"Yeah. Five days ago I smashed a perp's head off the floor in interrogation and gave him a concussion, busted nose and twenty stitches to his forehead." Flack informed the doctor.
"And why did you do that?"
"I think it had something to do with the fact he went Hannibal Lector on my arm." Flack concluded angrily. "And could have given me God knows what kind of crazy disease. I get something, I'm passing it along to my wife and my unborn kid. So I wasn't entirely happy with the guy biting me."
"Do you think you could have handled the situation without resorting to violence?"
"The guy almost put the beats on the CSI in the room with me and then resisted arrested. He was hopped up on drugs and was fighting like hell and ten times stronger than my buddy and I put together. So no, I don't think I could have handled it without getting upset. He nearly tore a chunk out of my arm. I have some nerve damage and I need skin grafting done on it. You can say I'm pretty pissed."
Masterston nodded as he jotted everything done. Then noticed the cast on the detective's right hand. "The incident report filed by Detective Mac Taylor didn't mention you injuring your hand."
"That happened at home." Flack said. "It's a boxer's fracture. It's what happens when you put your fist through a wall. Woke up the day after I nailed the wall and my hand was swollen and there was a weird bump under the baby finger. Went into the ER 'cause of the pain and they took some x-rays and well.." Flack held up his hand. "Here's the result. A cast for a month. So on top of my skin grafting, I also may need to get surgery on my hand because I'm a complete dumb ass."
"A wall or a person?" Masterston asked.
"Come again?"
"Did you hit a wall or a person?" the doctor clarified.
"A wall." Flack said, offended at the suggestion. "Look, if I ever hit my wife, I'd jump off the Brooklyn Bridge to punish myself."
"Why did you punch a wall?"
"I was upset."
"About?"
"My wife and I got into a fight. We said some things that were pretty nasty. She walked out and I punched a wall. Enough said. It's all good now. We kissed and made up. Well, sort of. I've been sleeping on the couch for nearly four days. But that's 'cause we're trying to avoid each other 'cause my lab tests haven't come back yet and we're nervous about me having something. But you're not a sex therapist are you."
"No."
"'Cause that's probably adding to my anxiety and frustration. The lack of sex thing. You don't know my wife. I've you knew her and saw her, you'd see where I was coming from."
"How would you describe the relationship you have with your wife?" the doctor asked. "Are you legally married?"
"What does that matter?" Flack asked irritably.
"I didn't see a wedding ring. I was just making an observation."
"We live together. We're getting married in December and our baby is due in March. She's as close to a wife as you can get without the ring and the papers."
"So you're relationship is….." the doctor pressed.
"I love my wife. More than life. And I can't wait to marry her, legally, and become a father."
"How do you handle anger in your personal relationship with your wife?" the doctor asked.
"It's not obvious? I punch things. Things that I can't hurt. I hurt myself. I drink until I can't remember my own name. That kind of thing."
"What do you and your wife fight about?"
Flack shrugged. "Other night, we fought about my new partner."
"Because…"
"Because it's a woman and my wife has crappy self confidence. She has major issues about other women."
"Does that make you angry?"
"No. It irritates the hell out of me. Because I'm not going anywhere. I love her. I tell her that all the time and it doesn't seem to sink in. I guess it doesn't help the situation that my new partner is this girl I used to have a thing with awhile back."
"How would you feel if it was someone from your wife's past working with her?" asked Masterston.
Flack smirked. "Good point." he said. "I'd be pissed and want to bust the guy up."
"You said some nasty things were said in this fight. Can you elaborate?"
Flack frowned. "What does my personal life have to do with problems at work?" he asked.
"Detective Flack, I am trying to gauge how you cope with your anger and stressful situations. According to your employee file, you've been in anger management several times in your career. Would you consider yourself an angry person?"
"Do bears shit in the woods?" Flack asked. "Look, my wife and I…." he sighed. "I love my wife. I do. But sometimes, sometimes she drives me insane. She wants to be all independent and self sufficient and all that and I get that. I understand totally. But she's almost four months pregnant and I just want to protect her and the baby. I don't want anything happening to them."
"And you don't feel she understands that?"
"Hell no. She doesn't understand it at all. She freaks on me for being overprotective and treating her like a baby. Yet she won't listen to me when it comes to restrictions at work. She just goes and does whatever the hell she wants. It's the thing I hate about her. She never listens to me. And then you know what she said? After all that overprotective, jealous crap?"
The doctor shook his head.
"She told me that the way I treat her is a form of abuse. Can you believe that? She tells me that I have to have power and control over her."
"And do you?"
"No. I don't. I just like to keep an eye on her and tell her what I think is best for her and the baby."
"What you think is best or what you know is best?"
Flack thought about that. "Okay, so maybe it's more of the latter….but that's not abuse. Abuse is knocking someone around and I'd never do that."
"Abuse comes in many forms. Physical, emotional…"
"I am not abusive." Flack stated.
"You just admitted to needing to have power and control over your wife." Masterston pointed out
Flack snorted. "Aren't you suppose to me on my side, here?"
"I am on no one's side, Detective Flack. I am here to help you learn to handle your anger and to teach you more creative outlets to unleash that anger as opposed to violence."
Flack fought off the urge to laugh in the doctor's face. If that wasn't the biggest bunch of shit he'd ever heard, he didn't know what was.
"You have six sessions to complete with me." the older man said, getting up from his chair and walking over to his desk. "I have a prepared list of books that might interest you. You can pick them up at Borders or Barnes and Noble and we can discuss them at our future appointments."
Yeah, right, Flack thought, but accepted the piece of paper the doctor held out to him.
"Here's an appointment card. I've taken the liberty of scheduling three appointments in advance. I spoke to Inspector Gerrard and he assured me it should be no problem for you to attend them."
I bet he did, Flack thought and folded the paper in fours and put it and the card in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
"I was hoping for our next appointment your wife could accompany you and we could all….."
"Uhhh…No." Flack said quickly and stood up. "Not gonna happen."
"I think it would be beneficial for both of you if…."
"My wife and I can work things out on our own. We don't need therapy."
"I could recommend a couples therapist if you'd feel better talking to them." Masterston said as he accompanied the detective to the door of the office.
"My wife works and she has enough to deal with with her pregnancy. And we're going to try and work our issues out privately." Flack said, opening the door.
"Well if you change your mind….."
"We won't." Flack said and stepped out into the waiting area, closing the door in the doctor's face.
Max was perched on the edge of Flack's desk when he walked into the precinct shortly before ten thirty. She'd been anxiously checking her watch every five minutes since ten. She knew the drive from One Police Plaza was less than twenty minutes away and his appointment ended at a quarter to ten.
It was amazing how fast word travelled around that place. She hadn't even gotten her coat off before Angell was all ready over there spreading the word that Flack was late because he had anger management counselling at quarter to nine. Max had met Angell had many a crime scene, and had never been too fond of the sultry brunette. Angell was just far too nosy and bossy and oozed negativity wherever she went. And Max liked to stay away from people like that. She even cut the detective off with a curt "I've heard this already" when Angell prepared to go into detail about Flack's incident with the perp five days ago.
"Max!" Flack called as he approached his desk and saw her sitting there picking her nails. "My favourite Canadian. Get your ass off my desk."
"You only wish you could tap my ass, Flack." was her comeback.
"I all ready have, remember. And no thanks. My wife's ass is a hundred times better."
Max laid a hand over her chest and pouted dramatically, feigning offense.
Flack removed his jacket and slung it over the back of his chair. "I'm serious, Max." he said and motioned for her to get off his space.
She jumped down and enveloped his big, strong body with her small arms. "Good to see, you, Don." she said.
"You, too." he said and gave her a brief, one armed hug.
There was enough problems in his relationship without someone noticing Max hugging him and running back to Sam and making it sound as if they were making out or something scandalous. He was trying to make his life better, not fuck it up some more.
Sam walking out had put a serious scare into him. He knew know that she wasn't going to put up with his shit and was more than capable of taking care of herself and their baby. Alone. And that someone like her could easily find someone else, pregnant or not. He wasn't going to take that chance.
"How's Daria?" Flack asked, taking a seat at his desk and grabbing the first case folder on top of a monstrous pile to his left.
"Getting big. And smart as hell. She's looking forward to seeing you. She still calls you Uncle Donnie."
He smiled. "She's a cute kid." he said and flipped open the folder.
"What happened to you?" Max asked, nodding at his cast.
"Boxer's fracture. I punched a wall."
"That's a shame, Flack. Isn't that the hand your favorite?"
"Them's fighting words, Max. And besides, I have someone to do it for me now."
"I heard." Max slipped into her chair. "Congratulations. Marriage and a baby. Wow. I was shocked. Considering you were always vowing to me to never get married or have kids."
"Yeah, well I was never with anyone I cared about enough to do those things with." he said.
Max felt the sting of his brutal honesty. There was a time she'd held out hope at the idea of being more to him than just a fuck buddy. It had gone on for nearly five years and it had been nearly a year and half since the last time they had been together , and she didn't deny that she missed it. The things that that man could do in bed were mind blowing. But he had now made it quite clear that she'd meant nothing more to him than sex. And it hurt to hear it. But she managed to hide it well.
"Really?" she asked. "Hmmm…..remind me to be thankful that you're not Daria's father. Since you didn't care anyway."
"It's not that I didn't care, Max." Flack told her, not taking his eyes off the case file in front of him. "It just had nothing to do with me. It was the guy you were with besides me that couldn't remember to use a condom."
Max blinked. Flack was in rare form with his snide comments today. He was notorious for being a bastard and was living up to it at the moment.
"All right. Fine." Max huffed. "You're right. Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore. You're not Daria's dad. That's my battle to fight. Oh, and tell your wife she doesn't have to worry about my kid being your bastard."
Flack smirked and shook his head. "Lucky for you, it was my wife who found your kid when you couldn't keep a better eye on her. Someone else could've done a Ted Bundy and taken off with her. So do me a favor and back off of my wife. Talk all your shit to me, Max, but don't say fuck all about my wife."
"You're awful goddamn sensitive." Max snorted.
"You're picking on my pregnant wife. Look, I told you when it started five years ago that there'd be nothing more than sex between me and you. Not my fault that you can't deal with that. Now I've got tons of cases here and very little time and who knows when we'll get a call. So do me a favour and just sit there and don't wag your mouth. Got nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all."
"If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black." Max said, leaning back in her desk and crossing her arms over her chest. "You're a bigger prick than what I remembered, Don Flack."
"Takes one to know one." he retorted.
Max fumed and shot him the middle finger.
"Don't waste your favourite finger on me, Max." Flack said.
She jumped up and slammed her hands down on her desk. "Fuck you, Flack!" she snapped and stalked off.
He couldn't help but grin as he watched her go. He turned his attention back to his work.
Finally, he thought. Some damn piece and quiet.
Sam relished her days off. Before she loved to work as often as possible. Her job was her passion, probably the one thing that she was genuinely good at and never second guessed herself while doing it. Professionally she was in complete control. Personally was an entirely different story.
Before her hormones became out of whack and before her body began drastically changing, she had had no problem pulling in staggering amounts of over time and found herself able to stay on her feet, and awake and alert, for as long as twenty four hours without feeling the strain. Now, she could barely keep enough energy to stay up longer than twelve hours. All she wanted to do was sleep. And eat. If she could do the latter while she was doing the former, life would be perfect.
She felt like shit. She admitted it to no one but herself. Constant heartburn, fatigue and a constantly queasy stomach. The pills had long ago ceased to do little more than temporarily calm her stomach. Her emotions were all over the map. One moment she could be upbeat and happy and the next she could be in tears and as low down as someone could possibly get. She knew the hormones were to blame. She'd read somewhere that some women had more hormone levels than others and it really screwed them up mentally. Leave it to her to be in that group as oppose to the happy go lucky ones that went through pregnancy without any illness or problems.
She knew the hormones were also to blame for her freak out about Max. Had she not been pregnant, she would have just been able to just shrug the whole thing off and not be bothered by Flack working with some girl he had been with long before Sam came along. But the mere thought of Max spending so much time with him, especially when Sam was off on leave and couldn't keep an eye on things, nearly sent her into a blind panic.
If it happened back then, it could happen now. That was the philosophy Sam was living by at the moment. If Flack had been attracted to the woman back then to have sex with her, there was nothing stopping him from being attracted to her now. And with the temptation staring him right in the face and with troubles in his relationship and a wife that felt self conscious about her increasing weight gain, Sam was pretty sure, given the right moment, Max wouldn't think twice about trying something.
And Sam was not going to sit back and let that happen. What woman would?
She got up at quarter after ten. Sleeping in had become her favorite pass time. She had been up for a short time earlier, when she'd heard the alarm clock go off in the living room and then heard Flack get up and start getting ready for work. She'd sat with him and they talked while he had his morning coffee. The sleeping on the couch thing as getting ridiculous. She was dying. She needed sex and had no desire to take care of the matter herself. She was being as patient as possible and knew he was suffering just as bad as she was.
The doctor couldn't call with the results soon enough. To add to the concern, Thomas Strickland's doctor had called Mac with the news that Strickland suffered from hepatitis B. Which was could be spread through blood and bodily fluids and could be passed on through sexual contact and to a baby from the mother during childbirth.
They were holding out hope that Strickland hadn't passed it along. There was too much at risk. The doctor had assured them that the chances of contracting it through the bite was slim to none, but as in all cases of any disease, it was better to be safe than sorry.
She'd gone back to bed after Flack had left for his nine a.m. appointment with the therapist. She knew he wasn't excited about the fact that he had to go, and was just doing it because Gerrard was forcing him too. She tried to be as supportive as possible and assure him it wasn't a sign of weakness because he needed to talk to a professional. That had earned her one of his infamous, You've got to be fucking kidding me looks.
She'd kissed him goodbye at the door -they had relegated themselves to chaste kisses, fearing anything more would lead into something that they both desperately wanted and needed, but knew they couldn't have- and watched as he headed down to the elevator. They'd kissed and made up since their fight. Both had apologized for things that had been said and she hadn't mentioned counselling again. She'd agreed to give working things out themselves a try.
But still, a part of her hoped that the therapist would say something that might change Flack's mind. It was always good to get an impartial opinion on things. And to help each other see what the other was feeling and struggling with.
She ate a simple breakfast of Cheerios and toast and then took a long, relaxing, lazy bath. Bubbles up to her chin and the radio on full blast in the living room so that she could hear it in the bathroom. It was nice to have nothing work related on her mind for at least a short period of time. She instead thought about the progress of the lawyer she had hired who was now down in Phoenix working out Zack's will. The plan was to have the car shipped back to NYC (Sam had decided to give it to Carmen, the only person she knew that didn't have a car), the house to be sold and the money transferred directly from Zack's funds, into her own.
Once the house was sold, that money would stashed away in a savings account. She planned, with the initial money, to buy everyone she knew something nice. She had actually started making a list the night before. For Adam, she had all ready decided to walk in to his bank and pay off all of his student loans and credit cards. And her own as well. Stella she planned on buying a pair of diamond and emerald earrings that the two had seen together while out shopping a couple of weeks ago. At the same time she had spotted an expensive platinum and yellow gold watch that she was planning on buying for Flack. She'd seen a set of medical and forensic journals she thought would suit Hawkes, and decided to give Speed some money towards a new motorcycle. Mac and Danny she was stuck on.
No one knew she was getting anything from Zack's will. And that's just the way she liked it. She was finally able to buy the people she loved nice things and wanted it to be a surprise. And she had every intention of going back to that baby store and buying whatever the hell she felt like. For once it was nice to know that she could spend and not have to worry about how she'd pay her pills and rent and eat for the month. All her life finances had been a struggle and a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders when she had decided to cash in on Zack's death. After all, it was the least he could do.
It surprised her that she felt no guilt or shame thinking that way. Or for thinking that the world was a better place without Zack in it. She usually wasn't so bitter and angry. But being in a relationship with a man that was so giving and loving (the majority of the times) and who made her feel special and important, had made her realize that men like Zack were in the minority. And that those type of men were nothing but a waste of time and energy. She was also realizing now that she should be grateful for what she did have, and learn to be more accepting of someone's faults instead of being so judgemental. She may have wanted to feel appreciated and love more, but that was also a two way street and he deserved that as much as she did. And truth be told, they'd been down right awful to each other lately. And that had to stop.
Her hair still damp from her bath, she quickly dressed in a pair of maternity jeans and a simple pink cotton blouse that tied at the back. It was discouraging how much she was already showing. A week away from four and a bit months and she looked almost six. Either the kid was going to twenty pounds at birth or she was retaining a whole lot of water.
She slipped into a pair of backless shoes and grabbed her purse off the couch and her keys and cell phone off of the microwave. It was a quarter after twelve. She had promised to meet Stella at twelve thirty and Flack for lunch at one o'clock.
Samantha was determined to make everything right in her life, regardless of whatever outside interference she came up against.
And that included Emma Maxwell.
"Do you think I'm over reacting?" Sam asked Stella, as the two of them met for coffee at the Starbucks across from the lab. Sam had just finished regaling the older woman with the tale of her freak out over Flack working with his former fuck buddy.
The two women were becoming closer now. They spent shared days off shopping and taking in a movie or going out for a nice meal afterwards. It was more a mother/daughter type bond they were forming, much to the surprise of both. Their age difference was not that great, yet Stella found herself wanting to mother the young CSI. Samantha looked up to Stella and admired her greatly. And valued her honest, straight forward opinions on things. And her willingness to lend a shoulder to cry on if need be.
"To be honest, if it was Mac working with someone that he'd been previously involved with, I would be pretty pissed. I would not be happy about them spending all that time working together, especially in a job that keeps you with your partner more than you see your family."
Sam nodded, considering Stella's answer as she stirred milk into her tea. "Don said I was making a big deal out of nothing."
"He's a man, of course that's what he said." Stella sighed. "But I can tell you right now that he wouldn't be too happy if you were working with someone you once had a thing with."
"I told him he was too overprotective and jealous all the time. That I needed some breathing space. That I couldn't take him treating me like a child and having to have power and control over me."
"And what did he say?"
"We had a huge fight. Huge. We said a lot of mean, hurtful things that we can't take back. And I ended up taking off and he ended up punching a wall and getting drunk."
Stella sighed and sipped her latte. "Why am I not surprised? That's so Flack."
"You know him better than I do, Stella. That's strange to say considering I'm pregnant with his kid and marrying him in three months. But is he always like this when he's with someone?"
"Flack's never been with anyone in the same capacity that he's with you. His relationships never lasted longer than a couple months. Mostly because he could never find someone that accepted all the time and energy he puts into the job. Someone that was willing to take the back seat. And we both know, Sam, that that happens in our field. We're not always first just like our men aren't always first with us."
Sam sighed and sipped her tea. She couldn't deny that.
"And honestly, Flack was never looking for Mrs Right. He was always looking for Mrs Right Now. He doesn't exactly have the greatest track record with women. Devon. Need I say more?"
"That's what worries me, Stel. That track record. I mean, what's stopping him from doing that same thing to me?"
"For one, he loves you. Two, your having his baby and he's over the moon about it. Three, you're going to be his wife and he is so proud of that fact. It could be easy for him to screw you over, but you know what? That'll never happen."
Sam smiled.
"And he also knows if he does, I'll kick his ass." Stella added somewhere between seriousness and playfulness.
"There's still times I wonder if I rushed into things. That maybe I shouldn't have been so eager to be with someone. I know that must sound horrible. Because I do love him and I can't wait to marry him and have this baby… I just….sometimes I wonder if it was all too soon. For both of us."
"I think that no matter what stage of your life you had have been in when you met Flack, the outcome would have been the same. You two were meant to meet and fall in love and live happily ever after."
Sam laughed around a mouthful of tea. "That's corny, Stell." she said.
"A little." Stella admitted. "But if any two people deserve happily ever after, it's you two. Just be happy, Sam. And in love. And if Flack was here, I'd say the same thing to him. And maybe I will say it to him when I see him later. Help him get his head out of his ass."
"Every little bit helps." Sam said.
"So have you made any plans yet? Bought anything?"
"We're still waiting a bit longer to start the baby shopping." Sam said. "Until those tests are done. They're our major concern right now."
"I didn't mean baby stuff." Stella laughed. "I meant the fact you're getting married in three months. You haven't made plans?"
"What's to plan? We're getting a judge to do it. We'll wait a bit, apply for the license, get rings. I think he's all ready asked one of the judges he's on friendly terms with to do it."
"And what are you going to wear?" Stella asked.
Sam shrugged. "I'll find a nice dress somewhere I'm sure."
"Well, seeing as Mac and I can't make it because someone from the team has to keep an eye on the lab while the rest of you are off, my contribution will be finding you a proper dress. Something that is perfect for a quiet, subdued ceremony. And it'll give us an excuse to do more shopping together. Sound good?"
"Sounds good." Sam agreed. "Thanks. To be honest, with all the baby stuff, I haven't put much thought into the getting married part."
Stella smiled sympathetically. "It's going to be okay, kiddo. All those tests? Trust me, in the end, you guys will see there was nothing to be worried about."
"I hope so." Sam sighed. "Not that it makes a difference and I know we'd manage and love the baby regardless…..it's just….." she shrugged and didn't finish the sentence.
Stella reached across the table and squeezed Sam's hand comfortingly. "It's okay to be scared." she assured the younger woman.
Sam nodded in agreement and sipped tea to get rid of the lump of emotion in her throat.
"I decided that I'm going to take your advice." Stella told the younger woman, deciding what was best was to change the subject.
"About?"
"What you said to me a little while ago about me and Mac and telling him what I wanted out of my life with him. I figure I don't have much to loose but I have a whole lot to gain. I want forever with him. And I hope he wants the same thing with me."
"I don't think you'll have anything to worry about." Sam told her.
"And neither will you. Trust me, Samantha. Flack's not going anywhere. You have to have faith in him. And in yourself. I know that's hard sometimes, especially after the nightmare that was Zack, but you need to trust Flack to make the right decisions. He knows right from wrong."
"It's her I don't trust." Sam said with a sigh.
"Tell her that. Be honest. Tell her you don't like the idea of her and Flack working together and that you'd appreciate it if she kept her hands and her thoughts to herself. You be surprised how far a little brutal honesty will get you. And you might be pleasantly surprised and find that this Emma Maxwell has since moved on with her life and isn't any threat to you at all."
Somehow Sam doubted that.
Max yawned noisily and tried to concentrate on the case folder propped open on her legs, her feet planted on the top of Flack's cluttered desk. She couldn't believe the amount of cases on that man's plate. It was staggering. Either he was a damn slow worker or the crazies in the city of New York were on a massive rampage. She suspected it was the latter. Sky high crime rates were nothing new and they came and went more often than most people changed their underwear. She was just glad that as far as new cases went, it was so far a calm, quiet day.
She was hungry. It was shortly before one in the afternoon and she was hoping that Flack was soon done with his meeting with Gerrard so she could suggest they run out and grab something. The boss had called him in a half hour ago to discuss his anger management session that morning. There were no raised voices or anyone storming out of the office and slamming the door behind them, so Max assumed everything was going okay.
Max glanced sideways and up as someone stepped alongside the desk. A less than impressed looking Samantha Ross was glaring down at her.
"Hi." Max greeted cheerfully. Hoping it didn't sound as phony to Sam's ears as it did to her own. Flack's words to her earlier still stung, so Samantha Ross was not her favorite person at the moment. She eyed the CSI up and down, making it clear that she wasn't impressed with what she saw.
Flack could definitely do much better, she thought and went back to the case folder in front of her.
"Do you mind?" Sam asked, nodding down at Max's feet perched on Flack's desk.
"No." Max replied. "Do you?"
Sam smirked and none to gently shoved Max's legs off of the desk. "Yeah…." she said. "As a matter of fact, I do."
"What's your problem?" Max asked.
"Where's Don?" Sam responded with a question of her own.
"In with Gerrard. Are you always this pleasant or is that baby hormones causing you to be a raging bitch?"
"Look, Maxwell, let's cut the shit. I don't trust you and I don't like you. And I know for a fact that you don't like me because I'm the one that got between you and whatever life you fantasized about having with Don. So do me a favor and stay away from me and stay away from my husband. You even so much as have a wet dream about him, I'll be on your ass. Okay? So don't try and get all buddy-buddy with me."
"Boy." Max snorted. "You and Flack are made for each other."
"I'm serious. Go and find someone elses man to snatch. We're trying hard to make things work and we don't need any outside interference."
"Ever thought maybe that if you guys have to work that hard, maybe you're just not meant to be together?" Max asked.
"Spoken like a true woman scorned. Give it a rest, Max. I've dealt with bigger bitches than you all my life. So do me a favor and go and sit at your own desk and stop acting like you own the damn place."
"It's a desk, Ross. No big deal."
"You have your own. Use it."
"Look, despite what you think, I'm actually a really nice person…."
Sam snorted.
"And I don't want your fiance. I mean, that's what he is. Unless I missed the wedding announcement."
"I'm warning you, Max. If you have a shred of decency in your body, don't fuck up my family."
Max got to her feet, tossing the folder onto her desk. "Samantha, listen, I don't know what your issue is…."
"Would you want your husband, fiance, boyfriend or whatever working with someone he used to fuck?" Sam cut her off.
"It was more than that."
"Well apparently he doesn't think so. So if you have an intention on trying something…."
"Let's make things clear between us." Max spoke calmly and quietly. "Personally, if you're like this with Flack, I can see why you two have so many probems. And from where I'm standing, he can do a hell of a lot better."
Sam laughed. "You mean you? Please. You're delusional."
"I don't care what you think. I don't want your man. I've all ready had your man if you want to get mean about it."
"Guess it was less than memorable for him or he'd be with you and not me." Sam concluded.
"Let's just lay it all out on the table." Max suggested.
Sam shrugged. "Be my guest." she said. "I'm not shy. Don't hold back."
"I have not had sex in two and half years thanks to my daughter. I have no time and no energy being a single mother. And my daughter? For some reason I can't quite figure out, she seems to love you. All I've heard about in the last few days is 'Sam bought me lunch, can I have lunch with Sam again?' I actually had to go out and buy myself a vibrator because I'm so deprived. I DO NOT want Flack. I may have at some point, but there's too much shit going on for me to even care who's he's fucking or engaged to or having kids with. You can have him, I don't care."
"Well let's keep it that way, okay?" Sam offered a sugary sweet smile that clearly was anything but genuine.
"What the hell is your….."
"What's going on?" Flack asked as he arrived back at his desk and found his future wife and his partner embroiled in what appeared to be an intense conversation.
"Nothing." Sam replied. "Max and I were just having a getting to know each other chat."
Flack nodded slowly, looking back and forth between the two women.
"How'd your appointment go?" Sam asked.
"It was alright." Flack replied and placed a hand on the small of her back and kissed her softly. "You meet with Stella?"
Sam nodded. "Girl talk. You and Mac were very popular topics of conversation. Are you ready to go? Or did you forget about our lunch date?"
"Didn't forget. Just got called in with Gerrard. He wanted a play by play of my appointment. You know, because he's so concerned about me."
"That's a first." Sam quipped as Flack grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.
"I got good news, too." he said, shrugging into his jacket. "Doctor called. All my blood work came back clean."
Sam breathed a huge sigh of relief. "You mean things are actually going our way for once?"
"So far it's all good. I just have to go back in a couple months and have the HIV test done again. Mac even said he'd run a PCR DNA test in about three weeks. Picks up the virus after only twenty-eight days apparently."
"That's an expensive test." Sam said. "I'm surprised we even have one here."
Flack felt it wasn't his place to mention Stella being cut at the Avery Gable crime scene and the scare she'd had when it had been revealed the dead man had had HIV. And the personal hell she'd gone through waiting for the results of her own testing. By the grace of God, she'd been fine.
"You know Mac." Flack said. "He likes to be on the cutting edge of things."
"Well at least your okay." Max spoke up. "That's the most important thing. Now if you would learn that punching walls over a woman is juvenile and so not worth it…."
"Guess you've never had that effect on someone." Sam said.
"You proud of fucking with someone's head like that?" Max retaliated.
"Enough." Flack said, looking directly at Max. "You know nothing about Sam and I and our relationship."
"I know its fucking dysfunctional." Max told him.
"No more dysfunctional than settling to be someone's fuck buddy for years." Sam reasoned.
"Okay, ladies. Enough." Flack took Sam lightly by the arm and began steering her away from the desk. Last thing he needed was to be breaking up a girl fight in the middle of the precinct. "Max," he said over his shoulder, as he led Sam to the exit. "I'll be out for a couple hours."
"Whatever." Max snorted and plopped down into her chair.
"She's a peach, Don." Sam said as she and Flack stepped through the doors and out onto the sunny street.
"She never used to be like that." Flack said with a sigh.
"Maybe you need to go back in there and loosing her up. Fuck her for old times sake." Sam suggested.
"You know what? Come here for a second." he pulled her gently towards him and circled her slender body with his arms and held her close, leaning down far enough so that his lips were against her ear. "I'd rather fuck you." he said and then pressed a kiss to her ear.
She shivered at the simple touch and the words, as crude as they were, that he had said. "We do have enough condoms at home to own stocks in the Trojan company." she teased.
"I've got two hours." Flack told her, drawing back to look at her. "We can do a lot in two hours."
"How hungry are you?" she asked, her eyes sparkling up at him. "Can you wait for lunch?"
"Can you?" he asked.
She smiled.
He kissed her. Long and soft.
"I think you should take me home." she said and grabbing his hand, yanked him in the direction of the car.
"Turns me on when you get all assertive and aggressive." he told her.
She grinned over her shoulder. "You ain't see nothing yet." she said.
Special thanks to sister luv v.2, Aphina, Mauviene and hope4sall for all their help and just for being there.
Thanks to all of you who are taking the time to read and review. And to all the lurkers, drop a line if you enjoy this. I love mail. Just positive comments please!!
PLUGS:
Everything I have ever plugged before along with:
Soccer-bitch: Running from the Past