DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK. SHE'S MINE.
Who your friends are
"When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool
If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes."
-Behind Blue Eyes, The Who
Flack watched from the doorway as Scagnetti departed. The determination and confidence the big man exuded as he left with his brief yet stern instructions brought a sense of purpose to the younger man. With the physical passing and burial of his wife behind him, he could, and would, concentrate on two fundamental things. Taking care of his child and bringing the bastards who robbed him of his wife and his children of their mother, to justice. And the quicker and more painful and final the justice the better.
"Is everything okay, daddy?" Daniel asked from behind him, still at the desk busying himself with his colouring.
The kid was just too damn perceptive. He noticed everything. Picking up on nuances in peoples voices and mannerisms when things just weren't quite right. And never wasting time questioning someone on it either.
"Everything's fine, buddy." he replied, turning back into his office and shutting the door. "You almost done? We can go upstairs and see who's there to visit?"
Daniel nodded. "Almost done….what did Uncle Tony want, daddy?"
"He just wanted to come and see how I was doing and ask me some things about mommy."
"What kind of things?" the child asked, neatly packaging the markers in order of his favourite colours.
"Nice things." Flack assured him, and picked up Mikayla's knapsack and unzipped it. He stuffed the sympathy cards inside and closed the bag back up. "Ready to go?" he asked.
Daniel nodded and tidied up the desk. He put the markers and scrap paper away in the drawer before jumping down off the chair, clutching his newest masterpiece. "Look, daddy." he said, holding up the picture. "I made it for you."
Flack took the colouring and studied it. Two very distinct stick figures. One with short dark hair and the other with long dark hair and a halo above the head and wings on the back. A lump formed in his throat as he put two and two together and realized what the drawing was meant to represent.
"That's you and mommy." Daniel told him. "See mommy." he pointed out the halo and the wings. "She's an angel now."
Flack said nothing. There was nothing he could say. Daniel was doing what kids did best. Tell it like it is.
"Will you hang it on your wall, daddy?" he asked, pointing to the area behind the desk that was covered in various drawings and school projects. The kids had been asking him to display their various creations since the first day he'd moved into his office. Finger paintings and Crayola marker masterpieces hung in between posters of wanted fugitives and maps of the city.
Flack nodded and snatched a thumb tack from a holder on his desk and posted the picture in the middle of all of the others. Below the one he had just hung was a picture that Samantha had coloured with Mikayla just a days before her death. She had held onto the baby's hand while she printed their daughter's name and than had Mikayla holding the picture when they greeted him at the door after yet another excruciatingly long shift.
"Show daddy what we made him." Sam had said, the pride and love for their baby girl evident in her voice and her in her eyes.
And it hit Flack just than that he would never hear his wife's voice again. He'd never hear her refer to him as daddy or call him by his name. And he would have given anything to hear her call him Don one more time. Donnie even. That had always been her favourite. Hell, he could even take her calling him Donald. Just as long as it meant hearing her voice one last time.
He was terrified that he would forget what she sounded liked. That one day he'd wake up and he wouldn't remember the sound of his own wife's voice. He didn't want to forget anything about her. What she had smelled like, the way her hair felt when it brushed him in bed, the way her body moved alongside of his and the taste of her lips and the feel of her hands on his body when they made love. What hurt the most was all the plans they had made for their future and that of their family. That she'd left when there was still so much for them to experience together. That there'd been an innocent life inside of her. A baby that had never stood a chance and had, along with its mother, deserved so much better than what had happened to them.
Someone will pay for this, he thought, closing his eyes briefly in a vain effort to hold back the rushes of memories that came upon him when he least expected it. Someone out there killed my wife or knows who did and they are going to pay. I will make them pay. If it's the last thing I do.
Mikayla stirred on the couch. Letting out a small cry when she woke to an unfamiliar place. The sound jolted Flack back to reality. That there were two kids in that room that needed him. Four kids that relied on him and trusted him to come home to them each and every night.
"Time to go, Daniel." he said, and went to the couch and picked the baby up into his arms. Bouncing her lightly and stroking her hair and whispering soothing words into her ear.
Mikayla circled his neck with her tiny arms and nestled her head into his shoulder.
"Do you think mommy is happy, daddy?" Daniel asked, carrying the knapsack over one small shoulder. "Do you think that she's happy in heaven?"
"I hope so." Flack replied and opened the door, letting Daniel pass through before following.
"But we're not happy." Daniel said matter of factly.
Flack wondered if they would ever be happy again. But for the sake of his son, he put on a brave face and smiled down at the little boy walking beside him.
"One day we will be." he said.
Danny wasn't having a good day. He'd arrived home from Flack's shortly after midnight. After the clean up had been completed, he had accepted Lindsay's invitation to head out for a coffee and they'd spent nearly three hours wandering Central Park and catching up on the last ten years. He found that unlike when she'd been in New York and part of his life, conversation and laughs came easily and found himself liking her more as a person and less as the object of desire she'd been years before. She was bubbly and intelligent and compassionate and understanding. She had probably possessed all of those characteristics from day one, but he'd been so caught up on hooking up with her and trying to appease her and hang on to her day in and day out that he'd never gotten to know her inside and out.
Despite himself, Danny had felt something, even after all of these years, for Lindsay. He had tried so hard years ago to make things work. He had put up with her standing him up and had chased her to Montana and tolerated her manipulating his feelings for her to get what she wanted. One moment she'd be loving and sweet and the next she'd be closed off and frigid. While he wasn't proud of a night of drunken sex on a pool table, he'd never regretted it or denied enjoying it. And he'd shut himself off from her and the others that matter most in his life after Ruben had been murdered. He realized he should have let her and the people that care about him the most in. That he shouldn't have put up that brick wall. That had been the start of their demise. And than he'd met Erica and felt things for her that he'd never felt for anyone before. She'd come into his life at a time when he felt desolate and alone. And he loved her and his kids more than anything in the world.
But he couldn't deny that the minute he'd seen Lindsay at Flack's the day before, something sparked inside of him. Sometimes there was always that one person in your life that you never got over. That you always felt something for regardless of how things ended or how many years had passed.
The trick was not letting your heart and your hormones run your head.
He'd arrived home from their coffee date and Erica had been waiting up and lowered the boom on him. She was furious that his ex had shown up at Sam's funeral. Danny had argued that it was Lindsay's right, as a human being and a former colleague of Sam's, to come and pay her respects. Erica had laid into him. About how Lindsay had never had any respect for her cousin than, so why bother extending some now when it was too late. He'd calmly told her that the lack of respect had gone both ways. That both women had had the chance to be friends and let bygones be bygones and they never swallowed their pride and took it.
That had infuriated Erica. And when she'd asked where he'd been for so long and he'd been honest about it, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Both kids had been woken up by the screaming and the door slamming and Erica had took off into the bedroom, leaving Danny to comfort his bawling children who were afraid their parents hated each other and were getting a divorce.
It wouldn't be the first time either of them had entertained the notion. Erica was getting tired of being married to a cop and dealing with the stress that came with it day in and day out. She'd been on his ass to quit and get into another profession. Every time she suggested it, he looked at her as if she'd lost his mind. What else was he going to do? All he knew was police work and forensics. And he enjoyed it and had moved up the ladder and pay scale and was Stella's right hand man. Just as she been Mac's years ago.
Carmen had been promoted into the lead hand position that had been vacated when Sam was murdered. No one had mentioned it to Flack. Carmen started on Monday and Stella had been attempting to get a hold of Flack to come and clean out Sam's office and locker. Carmen would need the office and a new CSI was starting that would require the locker. Danny pitied Stella for having to make that phone call. He sure as hell didn't want to be doing it. He'd already placed once crappy phone call to his best friend. And once was enough.
Danny slammed his locker shut and sat down on the bench behind him. He pulled off his glasses and closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He had a splitting head ache and an aching back from sleeping on the couch all night. Chloe had woken up that morning and halfway through breakfast, announced she wasn't feeling well and threw up all over him and a very disgusted Aiden. Danny had had to clean the horrid, stinking mess and do a load of wash and re-shower before he could leave for work. And to top the day off, a run in with a perp had turned into a ten block foot chase that ended with both of them going into the Hudson. He'd had to come back to the lab and shower all over again to get the stench of the water out of his hair and off of his body.
And to make matters worse, he just couldn't stop thinking about Lindsay Monroe.
Montana.
Danny sighed and opened his eyes and put his glasses back on. He glanced down the row of lockers to the one decorated with various brightly coloured stickers. One of the boys had taken the liberty to dress mommy's locker up a bit. The masking tape that bore the name S. FLACK written in red magic marker was still near the top of the door. It was peeling and wrinkled. He could count on one hand the number of times Sam had changed the piece of tape in ten years. It killed him inside to think that in less than forty eight hours, that tape and the content of the locker wouldn't be there anymore.
He was brought back to that day nearly a decade ago, when Samantha had come into the locker room in shorts and a tank top and that hot little body on display. She'd roller bladed to work. But not before getting all of her hair chopped off. He'd called her Detective Spice for the longest time off of that. Each time he said it she'd give him that perturbed smirk and a roll of her eyes and say, 'fuck off and grow up, Messer' in that Brooklyn accent of hers.
He'd miss her. Terribly. She'd been one of his closest friends and the woman responsible for turning his best friend into a better man. A husband and a father and an all around better human being. And it killed Danny inside to think about Flack suffering like he was. They were all suffering. Still in shock over what had went down. Not a day went by that they didn't rant and rave at the heavens for the unfairness of it all. And each day, when that case folder sat unsolved on Stella's desk, they questioned their profession and asked why in hell they just couldn't catch a break in it. Just something small to go on. They weren't asking for much. Just a little help.
We'll catch them, Danny told himself as he stood up and grabbed his badge and gun sitting on the bench. He clipped both to his pants and headed for the door. He cast one last glance over his shoulder, imagining Samantha sitting on the bench, laughing and chatting with him and the others.
We have to catch them, he thought. I have to. And I will.
If it's the last thing I do.
"Uncle Danny!" the little voice shrieked from down the hall.
Danny paused on his way into the trace lab. He'd made a conscious decision to re-run samples taken from Sam's clothes through the GC/MS in hopes of coming across something that may have been overlooked. It was a long shot, but there was always a possibility of something sneaking under your nose. And he didn't want to take that chance.
That little boy now running towards him, weaving in and out through the crowded hallway, deserved justice for his mother.
"Hey, buddy," Danny greeted, dropping briefly to one knee to scoop his nephew and namesake up into his arms. "What are you up to? You visiting?"
"Daddy brought me." he said, pointing to the familiar face making his way down the hall, a bright eyed and cheerful Mikayla toddling alongside of him, holding on tightly to his pant leg.
"You and your dad out having some fun, huh? Thought you'd come by and see me?"
Daniel nodded. "And we went to McDonalds and had a Happy Meal. And played in the playground."
"Sounds like fun."
"And daddy let me wear his policeman sunglasses and sit in his desk and I drew him a picture and he put it up on his wall and everything."
"You guys sounds like you had a busy day. Bring me back anything from McDonalds? A Big Mac? Fries? Coke? A hot apple pie? Anything?"
"No."
"No? How could you do that to me? Huh?" Danny commenced tickling the little boy until Danny was shrieking and laughing and turning bright red in the face and announcing he was going to pee his pants.
The sound of the child's laughter warmed his heart. It had been a while since Danny had felt that way or had a trace of a smile cross her lips. And it felt damn good to smile again. Even if it was just temporary.
"How ya doing, Flack?" Danny asked, as his best friend joined them.
Flack shrugged his broad shoulders and hoisted Mikayla up into his arms. "I'm okay," he said. "I've had better days, but I'll live."
"Each day gets better right?" it came out more as a statement of fact than a question.
"So they tell me." Flack said with a sigh. "But so far, I'm still waiting."
"It'll come." Danny assured him. "No rush. No set time limit. You just keep puttin' one foot in front of the other and breathing and you'll be all right."
Flack nodded. "I'll remember that." he said. "I was just talking to Scagnetti. He was telling me that there's some interesting rumours going around. Have they reached the lab yet?"
"Depends which rumours you're talking about." the CSI said. "You know what this place is like. Everybody talks about each other around here."
"I'm talking about the Wilder gang, Dan-o." Flack said, his voice serious and low enough just for them to hear.
Danny nodded slowly.
"You've heard it haven't you." Flack's tone and his eyes were accusing. "Why didn't you say anything to me?"
Danny carried Daniel across the hall and knocked on the window belonging to the trace lab. Alexis, her red hair falling in her face as she intently peered through a microscope, looked up and towards the noise. She smiled brightly when she spotted Flack and the kids. Danny motioned for her to join them out in the hall.
"Auntie Lexi!" Daniel cried happily when she journeyed towards them.
"Hey, big guy. Come to visit huh?"
"Daddy took us to McDonalds and let us play in the playground. And I wore his policeman sunglasses and I drew him a picture!"
"Sounds exciting." she turned to Flack and smiled softly and reached out to rub his back. "How ya doing, Don?" she asked.
"I'm okay." he replied. Truth was, being there, in the lab, in the same halls that Sam had walked many a time and looking at the rooms she had toiled many a long shift in, was killing him. But for his children's sake he hid it well. Or at least he thought he did.
"I need to talk to Flack." Danny told her. "Can you take Daniel and Mikki to the lunch room or something? Let them watch tv or take them to the bullpen to go on the computers?"
"I can." she said, and looked to Flack for confirmation that it was okay with him.
"It's fine." he assured her and passed Mikayla over.
Danny put Daniel on the ground and the little boy took Alexis' hand and they headed off down the hall together.
"Me and you need to have a word." Danny told his best friend, and led him down the hall and towards the office he'd inherited when Stella vacated it to take Mac's place and she'd promoted Danny to her old position. Something Danny had never thought would happen in a million years. But Stella had shown trust and faith in him. She had handed him the ball. And he wasn't about to drop it.
"Tell me why you never said anything about the Wilder Gang." Flack demanded, as he found himself striding into the well lit, brightly coloured office.
"Wasn't my place to say anything, Don." his friend replied, shutting the door behind him. He motioned for Flack to have a seat before going behind his desk and slipping into the comfortable, revolving leather chair. He noticed Flack's hesitation in sitting. "Sit down, Flack." he said. Not a suggestion. More like an order.
"Don't pull your supervisor bullshit on me, Messer." Flack snarled, taking a seat. "I'm a lieutenant and higher than you and you should be calling me sir and fetching me coffee. Now tell me why the hell you never said anything about this."
Last I had heard, Mac was going to go and talk to you. I guess Stella asked him to. Seeing as you and her are on the outs right now, I suppose she thought best way for you to find out was through someone you trust."
"I trust you, Danny. I always have. And you kept this from me?"
"It's still an open case, Flack." Danny reasoned. "An open case you have no active part in. I can't just discuss it with you."
"You can't discuss it with me? You're my best friend, Messer. You have been for years. This isn't just a case. This is about my wife. Someone murdered her Danny. And the talk going around is that that someone has ties to the Wilder Gang. A gang that I thought I put out of business eleven years ago. And you didn't think I have a right to know all of this?"
"Of course you do. But it just wasn't my place to tell you. Like I said, Mac…."
"Mac has no more business in an open investigation than I do." Flack said, cutting his friend off angrily. "I have a vested interest in it. It was my wife, not his. And he doesn't even work for the lab anymore."
"But he's the commissioner. And as commissioner he's the head of the entire NYPD. He's appointed by the mayor to do that duty. It's not like he's overstepping his boundaries getting involved. Everything that happens in the NPYD crosses his desk. No exceptions. You know all this, Flack."
"So why hasn't he come to me than? If he thinks I should know about this? 'Cause if it's the Wilder gang or some off shoot of it, you just know they're itching to get revenge and they won't stop at just Sam."
"Give him some time, Flack. I'm sure he's been meaning to get a hold of you."
"Give him time?" Flack laughed. "Time? Is time on my side, Danny? Is time on my kids' sides?"
The CSI sighed and shook his head.
"And now the feds? The feds? Those guys couldn't tell their ass from their elbow and I have to trust them to find who killed my wife and protect my family? To hell with that shit. I've got my own plans. And trust me, it will turn out a lot worse for the Wilder Gang if I get to them first."
Danny's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to, Flack?"
"I'm taking care of my family. And getting justice for my wife."
"Don't do this, Don. I know you're hurting. You're heartbroken. But you've got four kids depending on you to stick around for all of their lives. You can't go off looking for revenge. What good is that going to do? Rob your kids of a father and a mother. No good can come of this."
"You don't understand, Danny. If this was your wife…."
"If this was my wife I'd trust the system to come through."
Flack snorted. "The system? The system doesn't work. We both know that. We've seen it time and time again over the years. The system is fucked up. Look at Clay Dobson. He got out and raped and murdered and would have done it again all 'cause Dean Truby was a crooked cop. Than Truby gets out and rapes my wife to get revenge on me. And what about DJ Pratt? He got away with raping all kinds of women until Aiden took it upon herself to try and stop him. And look what happened. He killed her because of it."
"But he paid in the end, Flack. We caught him. And we caught Truby for what he did to Sam. Just like we'll do whatever we can, with the feds, to catch whoever killed her. Have faith, Flack. For your kids. For Sam."
"I lost all faith the day she died. Faith in my job, faith in the system. Faith in myself."
"So what are you trying to say?" Danny asked. "That you're going to go hunt down the Wilder Gang or the people that run with them one by one?"
"If that's what it takes. I will knock on every fucking door and break every fucking head until I find who killed my wife. And than I'm going to bring him back here and I'm gong to toss him in front of the feds and all the brass and I'm going to walk in Gerrard's office and hand him my badge and walk back out again and never look back."
"You'll walk right into handcuffs and a jail cell, Flack!" Danny argued. "You'll end up in prison and your kids won't have anyone! Don't do this. This isn't worth being away from your kids. Nothing is worth that. And how do you think you can go after these people and not get caught?"
Flack stared long and hard at his best friend. "I'm going to need help." he said.
"This is fucking insane." Danny laughed dryly and shook his head. "Madness. Absolute fucking madness."
"You're either with me or against me, Messer."
"You know what? How dare you ask me to even do something like this. To put my career on the line because of your desire to play Serpico. We get caught doing this, and we're finished. We'll find ourselves sitting in Rikers for the rest of our lives. And if we ever do get out, we'll be old and grey and our kids will be the age we are now. They'll have grown up without us. And I don't know about you, but I want to watch my kids grow up."
"I need you, Danny." Flack's tone was desperate. "And you'll either back me or you won't. Plain and simple."
"I love you like a brother, Don. You know that. Those kids, your kids, mean the world to me. But my own mean more and I won't fuck up their lives. I'm sorry. I can't help you. I won't help you."
Flack nodded slowly.
"You need to quit talking all this crazy shit and let us and the feds to their jobs." Danny told him.
"She was my wife, Danny!" Flack bellowed, slamming a hand down on the top of the desk as he sprung to his feet. Danny jumped back in his chair, visibly startled. "She was my wife and those motherfuckers killed her! And you have the nerve to sit here and tell me I'm playing Serpico? Wilder's people said the same thing to me years ago when I was working my ass off to get you and Adam outta that warehouse! I saved your ass! I've always been bailing you out of something and the one time I ask for your help you all but tell me to fuck off?!"
"Calm down, Flack. Just calm down and take a seat and take it easy."
"Sam was my everything. My entire life. And they took her from me."
"Jesus, Flack. You think I don't know how much you loved her? I was with you through all the drama when she was pregnant with Kieran and I was the one you came crying to when she told you she'd cheated on you with Speed and that those twins probably weren't yours. I was there, me and Mac, sitting with you in the hospital as the doctor told you what that sonofabitch Truby did to her. And when that DNA under her nails came back, I was the one that went after him and knocked the shit outta him before bringing him. So don't tell me I've never helped you."
"So what? You hold it over my head forever?"
"Of course not. But I loved Sam like a sister. We all loved her. But I can't disrespect her memory by even entertaining the notion of helping you. And I can't disrespect her by letting you, the love of her life and the father of her kids, do something so fucking stupid."
"What are you going to do, Danny?" Flack asked. "Rat on me?"
"If it prevents you from losing your kids and winding up in jail. Or worse. You losing your life. You do this, Don, and I will go straight to Mac. I will skip right past Gerrard and Sinclair and go right to the top."
Flack's eyes darkened. "You wouldn't do that, Danny."
"I will. To protect you. And most of all, to protect those kids."
Flack, his hands on the desk top, loomed menacingly over Danny Messer. The two men embroiled in a tense stare down. Neither of them spoke. Or blinked.
The phone on top of Danny's desk rang noisily. Only than did he break eye contact with the furious blue eyes above him.
He snatched up the phone. "Messer." he said in way of answering. He listened for several seconds. "All right…" he said. "I'll be right there."
Hanging up the phone, he looked up at Flack once more.
"I gotta go." Danny said. "Some autopsy results I've been waiting forever for are finally in."
Flack nodded and stepped back from the desk. "Go and do your job, Messer." he said, as he turned and headed for the door.
"Go and get your kids, Flack. Get your kids and go home."
The lieutenant didn't respond or look back as he stepped out into the hall and than disappeared.
Danny sighed and leaned back in his chair and briefly closed his eyes.
Give him strength, Sam, he prayed. Give him strength and guidance. Don't let him do this.
Danny could only hope that those prayers would be answered. And that he wouldn't have to do anything drastic.
Stella had a pounding headache and a queasy stomach. Both due to the case report and autopsy and crime scene photos spread out on top of her desk in front of her. The stickers on the tops of the folders all reading the same thing. S. FLACK CASE # 34-8796. Alexis' name graced the bottoms of the photos and Stella's appeared on all the paper work and beside the signature of the ME on the final autopsy report. The main cause of death had been dissection of the aorta due to a single gunshot wound to the chest. She'd also suffered massive blood loss and the disruption of oxygen to the brain which had caused a severe stroke that rendered her brain dead.
There had been hope that she'd ever come out of the coma. The only thing that had been keeping her alive was the machines and the faith and hope and love of her husband. And even in the end, when faced with the truth and the evidence of her condition, Flack had had to let her go. There was no quality of life. She wasn't alive anymore. And he couldn't make her suffer.
They all supported his decision. It was the best one to make for not only her, but himself and their kids. But it didn't make the loss any less tragic or the grief easier to bear.
Stella could not stop thinking about what had happened. From the moment she ran into that warehouse at the sound of the gunshot and found Samantha lying there, a pool of blood quickly spreading beneath her, gasping for air and frantically grabbing at Stella with one hand and the wound in her chest with the other. Stella would never forget the look of panic and fear in her friend's eyes. Or how quick she'd stopped breathing right there with her head in Stella's lap. One of the uniforms had preformed CPR. Stella herself had been too frantic to even remember how to do it properly. And he'd managed to bring her back long enough for the EMS to arrive and take over. They'd lost her twice in the ambulance alone. And they would have pronounced had Stella not pushed them out of the way and took over chest compressions.
She couldn't bring herself to throw out the bloody clothes from that day. That blood was her last link to Samantha Flack.
That and the gruesome pictures before her and the cold, harsh words she and Alexis had written through floods of tears.
Her elbow was on the desktop, her forehead in the palm of her hand when a loud, harsh knock came to her office door. She glanced up, her eyes moist, and saw Don Flack standing in the doorway.
"We need to talk." he said, and didn't wait for a response before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
As he approached the desk, Stella hurriedly gathered the photos and the papers and shuffled them together and stuffed them into their appropriate files. She didn't want Flack seeing them. More because she didn't think he could handle it rather than him having no involvement in the case.
"I've already read the reports, Stel." he said, catching the name on the folder. "And I don't need to see any photos. I know how my wife died."
"I'm glad you're here, Don." she said, and gestured for the chair in front of her desk. "I've been trying to call you all morning. About a couple of things."
"I've been busy." he answered gruffly. "What did you want?"
She blinked at his harsh tone. "I wanted to ask you a couple things. About Samantha."
"What about her?" he asked.
She gestured to the chair once again.
"I'll stand." Flack told her. "What about her? You wanna know something, ask. 'Cause I have some things I want to ask you too."
"Why didn't either of you tell anyone she was pregnant? The autopsy report came back and said she was almost three months. Why didn't you or Sam say anything? You must have known for a while."
"We were waiting until she was past the first trimester to say anything. Especially after the miscarriage between the twins and Mikayla. We didn't want to get our hopes up and everyone excited and than have something happen. We were erring on the side of caution. What does that have to do with anything? Pregnant or not, she would have still died."
"If I had have known, I never would have let her come out into the field."
Flack laughed dryly. "So now it's her fault that she's dead. My fault even. Because we felt like keeping our private life just that. Private."
"You or Sam had a responsibility to that baby to tell me so neither that child or Sam was at risk. You know that, Don. How many times did we go through this with all the other pregnancies?"
"That's it, Stel. Blame me. Blame me for my wife's death so it makes you sleep better at night."
His tone was cold and harsh. His eyes blazing.
Stella stared at him. Startled. "Excuse me?"
"Whatever helps your conscience. I mean, it must make you feel like shit to know you let her go into that scene alone. Sam wouldn't have gone in there if you had have told her not to. She was too smart to put herself in danger. You must have thought it was safe and told her it was okay to go in alone. I know about the phone call, Stella. I've talked to the uniforms that were there. I know you took a phone call from home and when Sam worried about the scene being compromised if it sat for too long, that you told her to go in and start and that you'd be in in a second."
Stella had no response.
"You told her to go in. She only followed your instructions. And she's dead because of you. This never would have happened if Mac was still in charge. It's your fault, Stella. It's your fault my wife is gone and my kids have no mother. And you sit there all high and mighty and blame me. And Sam."
"No." Stella shook her head, tears threatening at the cruel words. "It was no one's fault, Don. It happened. And God knows I would do anything to take it back. To make a different decision. To bring her back. Hell, to take that bullet for her."
"Why'd you lie to the press, Stel? Why'd you tell them that Sam went into that scene against your orders?"
"I never…"
"I read it this morning. It's in black and white. They quoted you saying that she went in against your orders. Yet you're telling me the complete opposite. What's the truth, Stella? Do you even know?"
Something inside of her snapped and she was on her feet in a shot and around her desk, confronting her old friend. "I never said a negative word about her! To anyone! I mentioned she went in after I mentioned maybe we should wait for back up. It was only after I made the call and found out that back up was twenty minutes away that she worried about the scene being compromised. I agreed with her and sent her in."
"Alone. You sent her in alone. After what happened in '08 and Mac implemented that no one goes in alone. Ever."
"Well this is my lab and I make the decisions. Mac isn't here anymore."
Flack snorted and looked her up and down, making it clear he was not impressed by what he saw. That she came up short in his estimation. "Yeah…I know….and that's a damn fucking shame for this entire city."
"What do you want me to say, Flack? You want to hear that I feel like shit? Because I do. I am barely holding on by a thread here. And I can't look myself in the mirror for what happened to Sam. But I am damn good at my job and this lab is my baby and I run it impeccably. So you can take your opinion and get the hell out of my office. And don't come back until you talk to Sinclair and Mac about your decision to come in here guns blazing. Because I don't need to take this shit from you, Lieutenant."
"You opening your mouth to the press is fucking my family over, Stella!" he yelled. "Because you said that, IAB is going to extend their investigation and that means the department holds onto her pension pay out and vacation pay even longer! I have four kids to feed and bills to pay! What the hell am I suppose to do?"
"I can't lie just so you can feed your family, Flack! As harsh and cruel as that sounds, it's true! I'm sorry about, Sam. It makes me sick when I think about what happened. And my heart breaks for you and those kids! But I am doing my best here!"
"You're best? You're best? Do you have any suspects? A month later? Any suspects or leads?"
"You know I can't talk about that with you, Flack."
"What can you talk to me about? Because I need something here! I need reassurance that you will find who did this! That they'll pay and you can't give me that. I need something. Give me something. I just need you too…" his voice faltered and he looked away. "Jesus, Stella, I need some kind of answers. That's all I need. And I need Sam. I need her and I want her back."
And with that, all his dissolve and anger crumbled and he broke down.
"Please, Stella." he begged. "I need something."
"How about someone, Don?" she asked, and drew him into her arms. Holding him tightly, his head resting on her shoulder, her hand stroking his hair as he sobbed. "It's okay…" she whispered. "This will get better….I promise you this will get better…"
"I'm tired, Stel. I am so tired. I can't take this anymore. Breaking down like this. It happens all the time. Even when I least expect it."
"It's normal." she assured him. "It's still fresh and the wounds are still open and raw. No one expects you to be better over night. You need to take the time to grieve. And grieve as long and as hard as you want."
"It hurts…fuck it hurts so bad…"
"And it will. And you have the right to hurt and cry and rant and rave. Just direct it at the proper people. Okay?"
Flack nodded and pulled away from her. "I'm sorry. Coming in here like that….it was uncalled for. I never should have done that. I was just angry and I'm hurting so bad and …."
"You don't have to justify yourself to me, Don. All right? Never to me." she reached up and wiped his tears away with gentle fingertips. "Do you want to go and grab a coffee? My treat?"
"I can't. Thanks though. I have Daniel and Mikayla down with Alexis and I don't want to leave them for too long."
Stella nodded. "Maybe some other time?"
"Of course."
She offered up a small smile. "Friends?" she asked.
"Always." he assured her.
"There's something else I need to talk to you about, Don. There's some business we need to take care of. Regarding Sam."
"Okay…what?"
"I need you to clean out her desk and her locker. I know that's not what you needed to hear right now, but I have Carmen taking her place as lead hand on Monday and a new CSI starting that will need that locker. I was going to do it myself, but I wanted to give you the chance to do it. Or give me permission to."
He understood where Stella was coming from. The lab was a place of business and she needed to keep it running smoothly. And life went on. As cruel and painful as it was to admit it. Life did indeed go on. It had to.
"I can do one or the other." he said. "But not both. I just couldn't take both."
"You want the desk or the locker?" she asked, going behind her desk and removing the printer paper from is box and than bringing the now empty box to him.
"Locker, I guess. You don't mind?"
"Not at all. She was my friend, Flack. Not just my employee. And doing this.." Stella fought tears. "Doing this gives me a sense of closure to. A goodbye of sorts."
Flack sniffled noisily and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
Stella laid a hand on the side of his face and shook her head. "Oh Don…" she said, her voice and resolve breaking. "I am so sorry…I am so, so sorry…"
Than it was her turn to cry. Right there in her office with curious eyes watching from the hallway.
And it was his turn to comfort.
Flack stood, eyes closed, his forehead resting on the cold metal of the locker in front of him. His hand tightly gripping the combination lock. The pass code long ago stored in his brain. She hadn't changed that lock in a decade. And he remembered all those times he'd gone in that locker to leave her small notes or tokens of affection. The card and gift he'd put it there the morning of their wedding. What he had written may have been short and sweet, but it had been from the heart and he remembered it as if it was yesterday. The diamond hoop earrings he had bought for her sat at home, on top of her jewellery box. Exactly where she had put them when she'd removed the earrings the night before she died.
He gathered his composure. Took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. He opened his eyes and looked down at the lock in his hands. He wasn't sure if he was ready to face what he would find in there, but knew this was just another step on the road to healing. The combination came easily to him and the lock opened with a small click that seemed to reverberate in the empty room. He removed the lock and dropped it into the box on the floor beside him and popped open the door.
There were pictures on the inside of the door. Varying in years. One of them that had been taken at Tavern on the Green the night of their wedding. Photos of them after each birth of their babies. Weary yet smiling with a sleeping infant resting peacefully and innocently between them. Two in the case of Daniel and Mackenzie. One with daddy, the other with mommy. There were pictures of their kids during special milestones in their lives. Birthdays and Christmases and sports victories and school assemblies.
He removed each picture carefully and set them gently in the box. The kids might want some of them. If not now, sometime in the future. Others he'd take and set them in a memory box Sam kept tucked away in the back of their closet. And every so often, when he wanted to reminisce he'd take that box out and look inside.
There were a pair of well worn black Doc Marten boots with frayed laces and loose stitching on the soles that he knew were really meant for the garbage. She'd loved those boots. Wearing them nearly every day since the day they first met. Declaring them the most comfortable things on earth. They were older than Kieran and looked it. The trash longed for them.
Flack placed them in the box instead.
Hanging on one of the hooks was an NYPD sweatshirt that she'd long ago stolen from his side of the closet. The thing was nearly two decades old now and had tattered and frayed cuffs and small holes in the fabric from being well worn and well loved. He reached out and gently removed it from its spot. It smelled like her. That mixture of soap and water and perfume. And he couldn't resist bringing it to his face and drawing a deep breath. Than, after several minutes, he folded it neatly and sat it with the other stuff he'd packed.
On the other hook was her knapsack. Holding her wallet and running shoes and a pair of shorts and tank top. A towel and a empty water bottle. She had had plans to go the gym on her lunch break with Alexis. So close yet so far. He had expressed concern that she had wanted to work out while she was pregnant. She had assured him that she just wanted to do a little cardio and weight training. Nothing too strenuous. It seemed like such a petty thing to argue about after what had gone down.
He sat the bag at his feet.
On the top shelf were personal articles. A hair brush, a handful of elastics, some bobby pins. A small makeup bag she used to transport blush and mascara and eyeliner and lip gloss to work. A travel bottle of shampoo. Deodorant. Each item he placed in the box. Slowly, methodically.
His fingers brushed along the shelf to check if he missed anything. They grazed over what felt like a small piece of paper. Curious, he slid it towards him and than let it drop from the shelf and into the palm of his hand. It was a business card. Of all the times he'd gone in her locker before, he'd never come across it. And it wasn't just any business card.
It was his.
From when he was still just a lowly second grade detective. He flipped the card over and saw, in his own handwriting, all of his old telephone numbers. Work cell, personal cell, home. Even his email address. It was the card that he had given her the first day they had met and he had told her, as he jotted his numbers down, to call him anytime. For any reason.
He couldn't believe she'd kept it all that time. The corners were bent and the ink was fading and the paper discolouring. His chest tightened and tears threatened yet again and he felt numb from head to toe.
He knew he couldn't continue. That that simple business card had him down and out for the count. And he sank down onto the bench and stared at that small item in his hands as if it were the most precious thing on earth. His hands trembled.
A small, soft hand fell on his shoulder.
He looked up. Into the gentle eyes and smile of Lindsay Monroe. He didn't think of asking what she was doing there. She hadn't worked there in years and it should have been the first question on his mind.
All he could think of was how glad he was to see her standing there.
"It's okay." she told him, patience and understanding in her voice and in her touch.
He shook his head.
She nodded reassuringly and offered her hand.
Flack took it and stood up.
"I'll help you." she offered and dropped his hand and moved in front of the locker.
Flack caught her by the wrist and stopped her from touching anything.
Lindsay looked at him. Saw the pain and suffering in his eyes.
"Thank you." he managed.
Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing!! I appreciate and love each and every one of you!!
PLUGS:
Aphina: The Tale of Two Girls
Hope4sall: Behind the Scenes
Brrtmclv: Bonds
Forest Angel: Coming Home, Legacy