DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER, OWN SAMANTHA ROSS AND BABY KIERAN
Take the good with the bad
"Just like when you have fallen
I will be there when you rise
In all kinds of weather
I will be there when you rise
Ohhh... It's the most peculiar feeling
I don't know what's coming
After we die
Ohhhh...I will be there when you rise
I will remember your pain
And your fears
Ohhhh Come on
Come on yeah
Face that fear
Every moment that you are."
-Will Dailey, Rise
She couldn't tear her eyes away from that five by seven coloured photograph in her hands. It was just a print out from the high dimension printer that had been hooked up to the 4D ultrasound machine, but to Samantha, it was the most amazingly beautiful thing she had ever seen. Neither she nor Flack had ever experienced anything quite like it. Watching on a computer monitor in real time as their unborn son yawned, stretched and made facial expressions.
Despite the early gestational age, they were able to clearly make out features. Eyes and nose, chin, lips and ears. One tiny hand and arm waving through the air, the other hand curled into a tight fist. A head full of dark hair. They had been so amazed and overcome by the sight of life inside of her, that tears flowed easily and they were completely unaware of the small crowd gathered around the other side of the screen. Two medical students, Doctor Fraser, and an ultrasound tech. The latter taking orders from the radiologist on what specifically to focus and zoom in on. What to take measurements of and what to highlight. Very blunt and straight to the point as the older man peered closely at the screen and pointed at different images and spoke in a low voice to the students standing eagerly behind him.
The ultrasound tech, a young man with orange streaks in his spiky brown hair and wire rimmed glasses, was the only one who spoke to the parents. He pointed out the different facial features and the umbilical cord and placenta. The tiny, wrinkled feet and hands. A very obvious and noticeable penis.
"I think it's safe to say that that is a boy." the tech had said with a cheeky grin.
For some reason, the way the words came out and the expression on the young man's face had caused Samantha to burst out into hysterical laughter. Something so sudden and unexpected that not only was Flack and the tech taken aback, but the stern, cold faced radiologist and his minions even looked over with a mixture of amusement and concern on their faces.
"I have a penis inside of me," she had said, than proceeded to laugh even harder. To the point where she suddenly announced she thought she was going to wet herself and she was wracked by uncontrollable, painful sounding hiccups.
Up to that point, Flack had been quiet and sullen. Scared that that doctor was going to turn to them and hand them a massive list of things that were wrong with their baby. He'd sat by the side of the bed, watching his son on the screen with tears in his eyes and emotion choking him. He'd smooth her hair away from her face and hold her hand and watch the wonder and awe in her eyes as she studied their baby. And he wondered how in the hell she managed to stay so strong and keep a smile on her face despite everything they were going through.
But when she made that comment and her bubbly, intoxicating laugh had taken over the room, a tremendous amount of relief lifted off of his shoulders and he couldn't hold back his own chuckle. He knew it was mostly likely due to her frayed nerves that she had come out with a comment like that. He'd felt her trembling throughout the entire scan and she'd complained several times through chattering teeth how cold she was. But he couldn't help but think that the re-emergence of her sense of humour was a sign that everything was going to be okay.
She had turned to look at him and they smiled tenderly at one another. He'd pushed her hair away from her face and rested his forehead against hers and pressed a tender kiss to the tip of her nose. And they had sat there like that, their faces mere centimetres apart and their eyes closed and their faith and hope strong. Trying to ward off the negative thoughts and focus only on the positive.
"Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Flack," Doctor Fraser had said, after the tech had announced the scan was complete. The old doctor was good about not giving a rat's ass about whether they were legally married or not. "You're having a baby boy. And he's perfectly healthy. There's nothing out of the ordinary about him. Go home and enjoy the rest of the pregnancy."
And with that, the doctor and his students had left the room and the doubt and uncertainty surrounding the health and the future of their unborn child had been put to rest. At least as far as his own personal well being went. Now the main concern was his mother. Because without her, his life would end and the thought was terrifying.
Now, as she sat once again in the wheelchair in the relatively empty cafeteria, staring down at that picture in her hands, Sam felt a sense of peace and serenity she'd never felt before. Her fingertips tracing over the features of her unborn son, a soft smile on her lips as his father stood behind her, filling up a coffee cup at the self serve station. She could tell he was tired and knew he hadn't slept well. If he'd even slept at all. And that coffee would be his best friend that day.
"You want anything, baby?" Flack asked, getting her to hold the steaming take out cup as he pushed the wheelchair.
"Just a water," she replied. "It's all I can have."
He journeyed over to a stand up cooler and snagged a bottle of water from one of the shelves.
"And I need a pen." she said, as he sat the water in her lap and pushed her in the direction of the cash register.
"For what?"
She held the picture up. "I want you to write his name on the bottom. His full name. And the date and time. So I can put this in his baby book when we get home."
He smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. Admiring how positive she was as it drew closer and closer to the operation. He knew she was scared. Hell, he was practically shitting himself at the prospect of what could go wrong. She was showing him that strength came in all different shapes and sizes. And it only made him love her even more.
He paid for their drinks and asked the young cashier to borrow a pen. And standing off to the side, he printed, in large, neat letters the date and time and than the baby's name. His son's name. KIERAN SHAUN DONALD FLACK.
He smiled at the sight of the name written out. Liked the way it rolled off of his tongue when he said it out loud. Finally attributing a name to the life he had helped create made it all so real. So permanent. And so damn frightening.
He handed the cashier her pen and held the picture out for Sam to see.
"Good?" he asked.
She tilted her head back and smiled brightly at him. "It's perfect." she replied.
He kissed her lips softly. Pecked her forehead. "I should get the two of you upstairs." he said. "In case your nurse sends out the search party for you."
"Not yet." Sam said. "I don't want to go back yet. All I can do up there is lie in bed and watch that stupid television that gets the worst possible channels.
"You're suppose to be lying in bed." Flack reminded her. "You're sick, remember? Rest is the best thing for you. And for Kieran."
She beamed at the sound of him saying their son's name. "It's a nice name," she commented.
"It is. And I know we couldn't see that great and he's still pretty tiny, but you can just tell he's going to be a damn cute baby. Look at all that dark hair. And he's got your nose and chin."
Sam studied the picture as he pushed the chair out of the cafeteria. "I don't know," she said. "I think he has your nose and chin. And he definitely has your ears."
"Poor kid." Flack said with a grin.
"I happen to find you very handsome." she informed him. "And I hope he looks just like you. From top to tail."
Flack chuckled. "Top to tail?" he asked.
"It's an expression my grandma used when she used to toss me and Adam in the bath. She used to say how she was going to get us clean from top to tail."
"Same grandma who used to have that rocking chair?"
"You remember me telling you that?"
"I have a lot of info stored away in the back of my brain. I keep it there in case I ever need to use it. And I remember you telling me at the therapist's office about the rocking chair and how you wanted one just like it. We can do that when you get out of here. Or at least I can. Take that picture from that book you have and go to that store and get it for you."
"You don't have to." Sam said.
"Well I want to. And maybe I like doing nice things for you every now and than. I'm not always a prick you know."
"I know," she said, and looked down at that picture in her hands. "And I'm sorry about last night. Leaving like I did. If I hadn't have gotten so upset, none of this would be happening."
"This was going to happen regardless, baby. You heard the doctor. It was inevitable with the condition you had. Mind you, the stress probably just helped it along."
"I'm sorry," she said sadly. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I put me and the baby in jeopardy and I feel horrible about it."
"Sam, it wasn't your fault. You're sick. And you're in the best possible place getting the best possible care and that's what's important. I don't want to talk about last night. I don't want to talk about Max or Daria or any of the bullshit that went down. I just want us to concentrate on getting you better and out of here. And into the new apartment. You're gonna get out of here and we're going to go to the new place and get you all set up in the bedroom stuff that I bought us."
"You bought us new bedroom stuff?" she asked in surprise. "When?"
"I ordered it on line the other night while you were sleeping. Queen size sleigh bed like you said you liked. Couple dressers. Armoire. Nightstands. The whole nine. And a big old pillow top mattress that is going to be heaven to sleep on."
She laughed. "I hope it is. 'Cause that old mattress of yours was getting a bit much. All those springs that popped when you rolled over a certain way. Never mind the ones sticking you in the ass."
"It's a mess." he agreed. "But it's been damn loyal and dependable. Especially to me and you. I think that's the most action it has ever seen. From the time we got together until yesterday. We wore the thing out."
"And it helped us create a baby." she added.
"Something tells me my swimmers played a bigger role than the mattress. Where to?"
"I just want to sit in the sun for a while. Get some fresh air. Is that okay?"
"I'm the chauffeur aren't I? You give me directions and I'll get you there in one piece."
She grinned. "I know what a bad driver you are, Don."
"What?" he gasped dramatically, a hand over his heart. "You hurt me, Sam. You cut me deep. I'm one of the best drivers in the entire department. Scored damn near perfect on my defensive driving refresher test last month. If it wasn't for that damn pylon…."
"Yeah, I bet it just jumped out at you. Thank God it wasn't a pedestrian. Or an animal."
"I am going to start making it a practice to purposefully try and run over pigeons when I see them in the street."
She frowned. "That's mean."
"Too many damn flying rats if you ask me. That's all they are. Did I ever tell you about the case Mac, Danny and I were working on where the racing pigeons literally fell out of the sky?"
She shook her head. "What was it? Bird flu or something?"
"Danny said the same thing. It was poison. It was in the feed."
"Tampering?"
"Murderer put it in the feed."
"Who'd he murder? The pigeons?"
"No. The owner of the pigeons. Who also happened to be in the witness protection program."
"I am so confused." she sighed. "Who killed the pigeons?"
"The murderer." Flack said simply, stepping out of the main doors of the hospital and into the soft, cool breeze and the bright sunlight.
"But who was the murderer?" she inquired.
"The guy who poisoned the pigeons." he replied, egging her own, enjoying how flustered she was getting.
"Jesus, whose on first?" she grumbled. "Who killed the owner of the pigeons?" she nearly snapped.
"Same guy who poisoned them."
She slapped a hand to her forehead. "Don," she said exasperatedly. "In proper English, please. Not little riddles."
"From the top, this guy Ray Seeley, aka Rudy Santangelo. He was in witness protection and was living in an apartment in Tribeca and raising and breeding and racing pigeons. Got it so far?"
"Don't be such a smart ass," she laughed.
He parked her by the side of a bench and sat down alongside of her. "One day, these pigeons just fell out of the sky. Taking a base jumper with them and sending him to a rather painful and unexpected demise. Pigeons had bands on their legs identifying them as racing birds and we were able to trace them back to this Seeley guy."
"And?"
"And turns out this Seeley guy was dead and coup was nearly destroyed and testing showed the feed had been tainted with termite poison."
"Who would do that?"
"We thought it was this young guy Jesse that worked for Seeley helping take care of the flying rats. Seeley was going to sell his flock and we assumed it pissed Jesse off enough to kill him."
She sipped her water. "But it wasn't him?"
Flack swallowed some coffee and shook his head. "It was Jesse's step dad. To make a long story short, he was ticked that his kid was spending all this time with Seeley and not helping out at the family business. Step dad had been abusing the kid for quite a while too."
Sam sighed and shook her head at that piece of information.
"You shouldn't seen Mac in interrogation. He was ready to kill the guy. Even told him he'd love nothing more than five minutes alone with him. And you know, I was tempted to walk out and lock the door and let Mac just go all Marine on the bastard."
"Hmm…" Sam said and turned contemplative, her eyes closed, basking in the cool breeze, the sunlight causing the natural red highlights in her hair to sparkle. "You know," she said at long last, opening her eyes and looking at Flack, a small smile on her lips. "Mac's kinda sexy when he goes all Marine like that."
Flack nearly spit out his coffee. "Excuse me?" he asked, laughing. "Please tell me that you did not just say that."
"Sorry." she giggled, reaching out and laying her hand on his thigh. "I mean, I love you and all that and you satisfy my cop fetish perfectly. But Mac has his moments."
Flack grimaced. "He's your boss."
"I am just making an observation as a red blooded female. He's a rather attractive man."
"So if I hadn't have been into you, you woulda tried with Mac?" Flack asked.
"I never said that. I'd never poach him from Stell. No. If you and I hadn't have worked out, I probably would have victimized Hawkes next."
Flack shook his head at the thought. "You are a cruel, evil woman. He wouldn't know how to deal with you. You would have sent him to the nut house a long time ago."
"You already have one foot in the door yourself." she teased.
"Wouldn't trade all your drama and craziness for anything in the world." he said, and picking up her hand, pressed a kiss to the top of it.
She smiled and closed her eyes once again and tipped her head back. Letting the warm rays of the sun bathe her tired, weary face.
"We should get you guys back upstairs." Flack said and tossed his coffee cup into a nearby trash can.
"Why was that Seeley guy in witness protection?" Sam asked suddenly, her golden eyes fixed on him.
"What made you think of that now?"
She shrugged. "An after thought I guess."
"He saw two members of the IRA kill a cop friend of his and the cop's dog." Flack told her. "He testified against them in court and was given new name, new identity. Turns out, in the end, the same IRA guys were from the Wilder Gang."
Sam frowned. "The group you busted up? The big drug raid that you did? When Adam and Danny got taken hostage and the crime lab was taken over?"
Flack nodded.
"Aren't you scared, Donnie? That they might come after you? I'm sure that they have family out there somewhere. Aren't you afraid they might decide to exact their revenge?"
"It never occurred to me to be afraid." he admitted. "If they had family in New York still and they wanted revenge that bad, trust me, I'd be dead already."
"But do you think they're a legitimate threat?" she asked. She sounded terrified at the thought and a protective hand went to her stomach. "I mean it's not just you anymore. It's me and the baby, too. Do you think they could come after us? As a family?"
She accepted, as part of the job, that he had put a lot of bad people away that had deserved it. And that the list was probably endless of perps that would love to get even with him for doing them wrong. But it was the first time that she felt that threatened by anything.
"The Wilder gang went underground after Mac killed the kingpin." Flack told her, holding her hand tightly, hoping she heard the reassurance and confidence in his voice and saw it in his eyes. "They don't have the resources to be a legitimate threat. Maybe ten years from now but certainly not now."
She nodded slowly, considering his words.
"If I thought they were a threat to you or the baby, I wouldn't be sitting around waiting for something to happen. I'd be making damn sure that they never came near you or Kieran. I sure as hell wouldn't sit back and let them hurt either of you. I'd stop it before it even had a chance to happen. You know that don't you?"
"I do….it's just…scary."
"There's nothing to be scared about. You and the baby aren't in danger from them. Okay?"
"But what about you?" she asked. "Are you?"
"Not that I know of. I have a massive list of enemies, Sam. People that would love to get a piece of me for fucking them over. I don't sit around and dwell on it. I just got on with my life and that's that. But if I ever thought you or the baby were in harm's way, trust me, I'd do something about it."
She smiled at last. Her nose and eyes crinkling. "You'd never let anything happen to us." she stated.
"Never. You just have to trust me to do the right thing if any shit ever goes down. Can you do that? Trust me?"
"You're one of the few people I do trust." she said.
He leaned across the bench and kissed her softly. "Let's not worry about stuff like the Wilder Gang and bullshit like that. Let's just worry about getting you better and the hell out of here. All right?"
"Sounds good to me." she said. "You know what else I am looking forward to?" she asked, as he stood and went to the back of the wheelchair.
"What's that?" he asked in response.
"Food. And lots of it. As soon as I am out of here, I am having the biggest chocolate sundae I can find and a double Big Mac and extra large fries."
"You're going to poison my kid eating that crap." he laughed.
"I am soooo hungry." she declared.
"Me too. Just not for food."
She giggled. "You have a one track mind, my dear." she said.
"At this point in time, Sam, thinking like that is the only thing keeping me sane." he said. "Well, that and looking at that picture you're holding there."
She looked down at the picture in her hand. "We're very lucky, you know. That we were able to have a baby. Some women don't get that chance. I just hope we do right by him."
"We will." he assured her.
"I don't want to let him down."
"You won't. He loves you already. You're his mommy. Boys always love their mommies. There's nothing you could say or do, even when he's older, that would make him stop loving you. Short of dropping off the face of the earth that is."
"Think he'd forget me if something was to ever happen? If he was a little older and something God forbid, took me away from him? Do you think he'd hate me and forget me?"
"Not in a million years." Flack told her.
Sam sighed and clutched that picture to her chest. And prayed nothing would ever take her from that little boy she already loved and cherished more than anything in the world.
"We thought the two of you had up and disappeared on us." Gus said in way of greeting, as Flack and Sam returned to their room. The blond was perched on the foot of the bed, while Adam neatly arranged a large arrangement of colourful mixed flowers on the window ledge.
"We had our ultrasound appointment and than Don let me out into the sunlight and let me breathe fresh air." Sam said, as Gus slid of the bed and leaned over to hug her tightly and kiss both her cheeks.
"How are you feeling?" Gus asked, holding the wheel chair still as Flack helped Sam out of it and carefully and gently aided her in getting back into bed. She was somewhat taken aback by the tenderness and patience in which he handled his pregnant, ailing wife. It was a side to Don Flack no one ever saw, let only knew existed.
"Much better today." Sam replied. "But just going for a little stroll is enough to tire me right out."
"Why are you so tired?" Flack teased, tucking her blankets around her. "I'm the one that did all the work."
"You're a big, strong guy." Sam said, smiling up at him. "You can handle it."
Adam came to the bed and hugged and kissed his sister. "You look so much better." he told her. "I was terrified, Sammie. That something bad was going to happen to you or the baby."
"You did a good job, Peanut." she assured him. "You handled it perfectly."
"I just didn't want anything happening to you or my nephew," he said, fighting emotion.
Sam laid a hand on the side of her younger brother's face. "You couldn't have handled things better. You did amazing. I'm proud of you. And so is Don. Although I'm sure at some point last night he put the fear of God into you at least once."
"Once or twice." Adam admitted. "What did the doctor say?" he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Did they check for things? Did they see anything?"
"They told us to go home and enjoy the rest of the pregnancy." Flack said, slipping into the bedside chair.
"And?" Adam pressed.
"They didn't find anything wrong with the baby that suggested there was a problem." Sam told her brother and Gus, who both let out large sighs of relief at the news. "And, we came back with pictures." she held the photo out to her brother.
Adam studied the picture in his hands closely as Gus got up from the end of the bed to peer over his shoulder. "Wow," he breathed, nodding his head slowly. "Look at that, Gussie….it's amazing….can you believe that? You can see the entire face. He's beautiful."
"Like his mother." Gus declared, pecking his cheek. "Thank God. 'Cause if he looked like his father…"
"Easy, Broussard." Flack said. "That kid's gonna be damn good looking. My hair and my eyes? He's going to be popular with all the ladies."
"Hope he has some of your modesty, too." she snorted. "Congratulations, guys. It's about time some good news rolled your way. Adam and I have some of our own, actually. Two pieces of good news in fact."
Adam nodded in agreement. "First order of business is that the results came in for your blood work. Your triple screen came back negative. No sign of anything wrong. Which, put together with what the radiologist said about the ultrasound, just confirms you guys have nothing to worry about."
"And the second thing?" Flack asked. "Don't tell me you guys won power ball. 'Cause if ya did, someone will be fishing you guys out of the East River and I'll be hundreds of millions richer."
"Wouldn't it just be easier to ask us for some of the cash?" Adam asked.
"Would you give me some?" Flack retorted.
Adam grinned. "I'd think about it."
Flack smirked. "East River, Ross. No one will ever find you and I'll be living in a penthouse and driving a Bentley."
"You wanted that you should have just hooked up with Devon and not my sister." Adam told him jokingly.
Sam gagged on her sip of water and spit it out all over herself. The unexpected, brash comment catching everyone off guard. She looked over at Flack, who sat glaring at his future brother in law, not knowing whether to laugh or put him through a wall. The look on his face causing Sam to burst into hysterical laughter for a second time that day.
Flack looked at her, a smirk playing at his lips.
"I'm sorry," Sam managed through her gagging and sputtering. "But that was funny. Very good comeback, Adam."
"I learned from the best." he said, using a handful of Kleenex to gently clean her face and neck of the water she'd spat out.
"So what's this news?" Flack asked. "Cause I could use a couple mill right about now."
"Sorry." Gus responded. "No such luck. But I assure that it's just as exciting and unexpected."
"Better be damn good." Flack said. "Guess I can't imagine anything that's more exciting and unexpected than finding out you just won millions."
"Gussie and I are getting married." Adam announced abruptly.
Both Sam and Flack sat, dumbfounded, looking back and forth between the couple as they perched on the edge of the bed beaming.
"You serious?" Flack asked. "'Cause that isn't something to be joking around about. Announcements like that give people heart attacks. Look at what happened when Sarge found out your sister and I were getting married. He nearly had a stroke."
"That's because he hates you, Flack." Gus said in all seriousness. "And, even though we've only conversed over the phone, he absolutely loves me."
"You can have him all to yourself." Flack assured her. "If it keeps him out of my hair, you can have him."
"What did you expect?" Gus asked the detective. "You impregnated his baby girl with your demon seed."
"So are you guys serious?" Sam inquired, a bright smile spreading across her face.
Adam nodded.
Sam stretched out her arms to her brother and he moved closer to her, letting her draw her into her warm embrace. They hugged each other tightly as Flack hugged and congratulated Gus.
"I am so happy for you, peanut." Sam said, holding his face in her hands. "I told you that one day this would happen. You'd meet someone beautiful and incredible that would take your breath away and love you for you. And you guys will be so happy and have babies and…"
"Slow your row there," Gus laughed, leaning over the bed to hug her future sister in law. "Babies are light years away. We haven't even discussed something like that. But we agreed, when the time feels right, we might dabble in some baby making from time to time."
"Speaking of babies," Sam said with a slight frown and leaned back in the bed, her hand finding her stomach. "Mine has decided now is the opportune time for back flips."
Flack checked his watch. An hour to go before pre-op. "You need to take some of your other meds now," he reminded her gently, nodding to the prescription bottles on the bedside table.
"I'll get you some more ice water," Gus offered, standing up.
"Don't worry about it," Flack told her. "I'll get it. You stay here and visit and I'll be right back with it."
He got up, grabbed the empty cup and headed out into the hall. There was a patient/family lounge area where the ice bin was located, along with fending machines full of pop and junk food. A fridge and microwave for those who brought food from home and needed to store and heat it.
He filled the Styrofoam with ice and poured in some water from a jug in the fridge and headed out. He'd barely gotten a foot out in the door when two familiar voices drifted down from the other end of the hall.
Jesus Christ, he thought as the two men approached, feeling anger and disgust rising in his body. They had no right to be there. Not a time like that, to discuss what they were no doubt hell bent on discussing. Their presence there was unwelcome and unappreciated. And if they thought that he'd just sit back and let them walk in and cause shit, they had another thing coming.
"Detective Flack," the one greeted in a strictly business tone. "Can we have a moment please?"
He was tempted to tell them to fuck off and have them escorted out if they didn't leave. Instead, he played and cool. For the sake of his career.
"I can do that." he said, and gestured towards the empty lounge.
Flack saw his unexpected guests to the lounge and went to the nurses station. He requested that the nurse overseeing Sam's care take her the cup of water and to make sure she took her proper meds. And to give her a message that he had some brief business to attend to. When he arrived back at the small, quaint lounge, the door was closed tight to keep out others and Gerrard and Sinclair were pouring themselves coffee from a freshly brewed pot that sat on the counter. Most likely prepared by another patient or a family member. Not that that mattered to them.
"Detective Flack," Sinclair said with a nod as the young detective entered and shut the door behind him.
"Chief," Flack said in return, shaking Sinclair's hand. "Inspector," he turned to the grey haired gentleman and offered his hand.
Gerrard shook the hand outstretched to him. "We were hoping we could have a quick word with you, Flack."
"With all due respect, sir, this isn't the time or the place. My wife's going in for a pre-op in less than an hour. Her surgery is scheduled for three thirty. Frankly, I'm not in the mood to discuss work."
"It will only take a few minutes." Sinclair assured him, handing Flack a mug of coffee before gesturing towards one of the chairs at the nearby table.
Flack sighed and accepted the coffee and slipped into one of the chairs. Gerrard and Sinclair sat down as well, flanking him on either side. Making him feel as if he was preparing for an interrogation.
"Inspector Gerrard and I wanted to come by and see how everyone was." Sinclair said. "When I got to my office this morning, the Inspector informed me he received a call from Detective Taylor stating that your wife was in the hospital. I hope everything and everyone, is well."
Flack knew damn well that the brass wasn't there out of simple concern for his wife and unborn child. They were there to make themselves look good and regain respect among those that served below them and attempt to boost the rapidly sinking employee morale.
But if they wanted to play departmental games, than he was ready, willing and able. Whatever it took to get out of the IAB mess and onto that promotion grid.
"She's doing better," Flack told the two men. "The baby's fine and healthy and once she gets this operation, hopefully things will look up."
"It's never easy on a woman bringing a child into this world," Gerrard said. "My wife had complications herself. Being with child and giving birth are two purely unselfish acts in my opinion."
"I'm glad to hear that things are looking up." Sinclair added.
"But that's not the entire reason the two of you are here, is it." Flack stated.
Gerrard and Sinclair looked at each other.
"There are a few things we'd like to talk to you about," Gerrard conceded.
Flack smirked behind his coffee mug. Always an ulterior motive, he thought.
"Brendan Doyle's funeral is on Friday," Sinclair told him. "Full department honours."
Flack nodded. "That's only right…"
"We just thought you'd like to know." Gerrard said. "He was one of your guys. You're not expected to make it. Considering the circumstances surrounding your wife and child, we'll gladly pass along your condolences to his wife and explain your absence."
"I'll be there." Flack told his boss.
"You're going through a hell of a thing right now," Sinclair said. "It's completely understandable if you don't attend. Your wife needs you."
"I'll be there," Flack insisted. "She has lots of people that will come and stay with her until I get back from a funeral. She'll understand that I need to be there."
Sinclair nodded slowly. "That's your choice, Flack. It's St Michael's on West 23rd and Lincoln. Service begins at one."
"That's fine." Flack said and swallowed steaming coffee. Cringing at the horrible taste.
"You can start back to work on Monday." Gerrard told him.
Flack arched an eyebrow. "I thought I had to go and talk to a department lawyer and IAB first."
"IAB dropped their investigation," Sinclair replied. "No one is willing to talk to them on record about what happened during that raid. Your men, ATF, DHS… they all say the same thing. All they saw was the perp sitting on your chest with a gun in his hand and you overpowering him. After that, nothing."
Flack knew that was bullshit. Anyone with two eyes saw exactly what had happened. He had thought that after the Dean Truby mess, half of those guys, if not more, would be more than willing to sell him out. Pay back for ratting Truby out. So he was surprised to get the goods from Sinclair. And he sure as hell wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"You dodged a huge bullet, Flack," Gerrard said. "You know that, don't you?"
He nodded and stared at the dark liquid in his cup.
"You were up shit creek without a paddle," Sinclair informed him. "If those men had have told IAB the truth, I'd be coming here for your badge and you'd be cooling your heels down in Central Booking. You realize all that, Detective Flack?"
"I realize I fucked up," he said.
"Huge," Sinclair told him. "But your men had your back and I'm sure, if the time ever comes, you'll return the favour."
Flack smirked. "You mean if another cop steals drugs from a raid and sells them on the street and kills an innocent kid I'll just let it slip. 'Cause he's a cop and cops don't rat on other cops."
"This has nothing to do with Dean Truby," Gerrard argued. "You're overreacting, Flack."
"Come on," the detective laughed dryly. "You've been holding it over my head since the day it happened. And I know the unspoken code. Cops don't sqeaul on each other. You used to do it. When my mom used to call 'cause my dad was knocking the shit out of her and me and my brother. And what happened? Nothing. Because no one wanted to piss on my dad's great name."
"It wasn't that simple, Flack," Gerrard said. "You make it seem like it was as simple and black and white."
"It should have been. He should have had his ass locked up like any sonofabitch who kicks the crap out of a woman and kids. Instead, you and the uniforms just walked away and left him there. Left us there. 'Cause we all know Don Flack Sr isn't capable of being a complete prick."
"Your father is a legend in the department," Gerrard reminded the younger man. "And you're just starting to come into your own."
"Just starting to come out of his shadow, you mean. That is what you mean, right, sir? That I'm just starting to get out from under my father. And that I'm not doing a very good job at living up to his name."
"Jesus Christ, Flack, I never said that," the inspector argued. "You have some real hang ups, you know that? Daddy issues."
"To go with my damsel in distress complex," Flack snorted.
"Gentlemen, we are getting way off topic," Sinclair held his hands up defensively. "The bottom line is that you're damn lucky to have your badge. End of story. Now what was message you left me yesterday evening? About wanting a new partner? What was that all about?"
Flack sighed. "I can't work with Emma Maxwell. It's impossible. She's causing me a great deal of stress at home. And if I'm stressed and on edge at home, than that transfers over to my job and I can't bring my A game under circumstances like that."
"And how is she causing this great deal of stress?" Gerrard inquired.
"Max and I….we had somewhat of a thing when she was a uniform. Nothing serious. At least not to me. And I guess she hasn't been able to let that go and she's been causing grief for Sam and with Sam being a high risk pregnancy, I can't function properly at work knowing the problems me working with Max is causing. My wife and my son are the most important things in the world to me."
Sinclair nodded in understanding. "The last thing this department needs is you being on edge. You're one of the very few bright lights in the NYPD and we need you bringing your best each and every time you put on that badge and gun."
"Is there something you're not telling us, Flack?" Gerrard asked. "The night you called dispatch and wanted Maxwell yanked off that stake out. You said it was because she wasn't feeling well. Is there more to it than that?"
Flack didn't respond. He was mentally weighing his options. The more honest he was, the quicker he shed Max. But on the other hand, too much honesty might make him look, in Gerrard and Sinclair's eyes, that he was a cop that got off on tattling on his colleagues. His marriage and his relationship with his unborn child needed him to be honest. And it was only for Sam and Kieran that he decided his best course of action was to tell the truth.
And so he did. He told his superiors exactly what had gone down that night. They listened intently and did little more than nod or shake their heads. Both men knew he was struggling with telling them about the incident. But they respected him for doing it and were impressed at how much he'd matured. And how seriously he was taking his job and his family.
When Flack finished recounting the tale, he let out a long shaky breath and ran a hand over his weary face.
"On Monday you'll be partnered with another detective," Sinclair told him. His voice calm, but his eyes blazing with anger.
"I don't see a reason why I can't put you with Scagnetti," Gerrard added. "You both are damn good and have great individual numbers of solved cases. You two should make a hell of a team."
"And Max?" Flack asked.
"I will be talking to Detective Maxwell," Sinclair replied. "You can rest assured of that."
Flack knew, by that look in the Chief's eyes, that that was not a conversation he wished to be part of.
A knock came to the lounge door and the three men glanced over as a young, fresh faced nurse poked her head in.
"Mr Flack?" she spoke in a quiet, apologetic voice. "We're ready to take your wife down to pre-op now."
"Thanks," he said and stood up. "I really have to go," he told his superiors.
"Completely understandable," Sinclair said, as he and Gerrard rose as well. He offered Flack his hand. "I hope you'll let us know how things went."
Flack nodded and shook both men's hands before heading from the room.
Gerrard sighed heavily and looked over at the tall, broad African American man beside him. "What are you thinking?" he asked, as Sinclair's dark eyes rested on the empty doorway.
"I want that kid put on the promotion grid and in for an exam ASAP," Sinclair replied.
Gerrard nodded, agreeing with the decision.
"I want Donald Flack Jr a sargeant by the end of the year."
Pre-op was finished in less than an hour and they waited for the scheduled appointment in a small, claustrophobic treatment room off of the OR. Neither of them spoke. Flack didn't mention the meeting with Gerrard and Sinclair. When she'd questioned where he'd been, he'd said that he had had some business to take care of regarding her benefits and coverage. She had looked at him sceptically but didn't ask if he was telling the truth or not. All that mattered to her at that point in time, was that he was there and she wasn't going to be alone.
They were scared. Terrified, in fact. The surgeon had come to discuss the possible risks once more and to ask both of them to fill out a form that absolved the hospital of any responsibility is something went wrong and they lost the baby. Or her. Or both. The thought made Flack sick to his stomach and he signed his name with a trembling hand before excusing himself to go and vomit in the bathroom. He'd never felt that kind of paralysing fear. Even after the bombing or the day before during the raid when he had gun held to his head and the trigger pulled. He realized than that he was prepared to give up everything for his small family.
Even in his life.
At three o'clock, an operation room nurse came to announce that the OR was prepped and read and it was time to go down. One nurse took Sam inside first and directed Flack to a change room to put on a set of scrubs, slippers to cover his feet and a surgical cap over his head. He'd never heard of someone being allowed to go into the OR with a loved one until his sister in law had been allowed to sit with Lucie until she went under for her tonsillectomy. He wasn't too thrilled about the idea. Hospitals scared the shit out of him and the thought of being in the OR gave him the creeps. But he figured it was good practice if she ever needed a c-section.
Sam was flat on her back on the table, covered to the chin with a surgical blanket. Oxygen tubes in her nostrils and hooked up to an IV and EKG machine. A cap on her head and her eyes on the ceiling when Flack was escorted in. She glanced over and offered a brave smile and looked him up and down. The pants were five inches too short and she couldn't help but let out a small giggle.
"Where's the flood?" she asked,
"You're cute," he replied with a grin and sat down on a stool on her left hand side.
"Yes," she said. "I am."
Flack grinned and picked up her left hand in both of his. He noticed her engagement ring was gone.
A nurse held up a small baggy when she saw the concerned look on his face. "Before you can leave you can take it with you. I put her necklace in her as well. And we had to remove both the tongue and navel rings. Safety issue."
"Boy that must have pissed you off," Flack said to Sam.
"Just a bit. But they're going back in as soon as I am out of here."
He kissed her hand. Noticed that she was trembling. He leaned forward and placed his forehead against the side of her head. "Don't be scared," he whispered. "Everything's going to be okay."
She nodded. Tears welled in her eyes.
"I'll be right here until you fall asleep," he assured her. "And I'll be there when you wake up. Okay?"
"Okay," she said in tiny voice. Struggling to keep herself from breaking down.
He pressed a feathery kiss to the corner of her lips. "I love you," he said. "And I promise you I won't leave you."
"I love you, too," she told him. "And if this doesn't work…"
"Shhh…it will. Everything is going to turn out just fine. It's going to work and in four and a half months, we just may be back in this room under different circumstances when Kieran is born."
She smiled at that.
The surgeon entered, followed by the anesthesiologist. No words were spoken. The surgeon simply checked that all his instruments were in order as the other specialist brought over the gas.
Sam's eyes widened in fear at the sight of the mask coming down over her face and she turned her head to the side in protest.
"It's okay," Flack spoke soothingly to her. "It's going to take less than a minute. Just relax, baby. I'm right here."
"A lot of people get scared at this point," the nurse said understandingly, and gently held Sam's face in her hands and turned her head upwards so the mask could be laid over her nose and mouth.
It seemed to take less than thirty seconds. Her arms went limp and her hand slipped from his and her eyes fluttered closed.
"Heart rate and pulse are strong," the nurse announced, casting a glance at the monitors.
The first nurse that had escorted Flack inside -they all looked the same in their scrubs and masks- came and laid a hand on his back.
"She's asleep now," she told him, handing him the small bag of jewellry. "She's in good hands. You can give her a kiss goodbye if you want."
The sound of the word goodbye tore at his heart. He stood up and leaned over the table and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Than he silently left the OR and went into the change room. He sat down on one of the cold wooden benches and felt emotionally drained.
Yet the tears flowed easily. Large, hot tears that burned his skin and cleansed his soul.
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