DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA ROSS AND BABY KIERAN

IMPORTANT A/N: PLEASE PRAY FOR ALL OF THOSE ON THE GULF COAST. PARTICULARLY THOSE IN NOLA. MY HEART AND PRAYERS GO OUT TO ALL OF THOSE AFFECTED BY HURRICANE GUSTAV. MAY GOD BLESS YOU AND KEEP YOU. BEG75

Throwing it all away

"You don't know what you do
Every time you walk into the room
I'm afraid to move
I'm weakIt's true
I'm just scared to know the ending
Do you see me too?
Do you even know u met me?
I've waited all my life to cross this line
To the only thing that's true
So I will not hide
Its time to try anything to be with you
All my life I've waited
This is true
I know when I go I'll be on my way to you
The way that's true."
-True, Ryan Cabrera

It was past eight in the evening when Speed finally dragged himself through the door of his apartment. Another long, tiring day was behind him yet he knew there was so much more to come. For the past five hours he'd been calling Carmen non stop and getting no response. He'd left several messages both at his own apartment and on her cell phone and she never bothered to return him. He feared that the bullshit with Mathew had already pushed her too far out of reach. That she'd simply packed up and took off. Out of New York City. Hell, maybe even out of the state.

That thought was just too much to bear. He couldn't let her throw everything they had away. Not over someone like her ex husband. There was no logical explanation for her rash decision to break up with him. He was more than capable of taking care of Mathew himself. And he was worried, and scared, that she hadn't had the courage or the strength to say goodbye to his face. He deserved that. He hadn't given her all of himself when he'd sworn he'd never do that with another woman. He had devoted his life to her and loved her more than he'd ever thought it was possible to love someone.

So why in the hell was it so easy for her to just walk away? He wanted an answer. And explanation. Hell, he deserved that at least. It would destroy him if he lost her. There was no way in hell he was going to let someone like Mathew Stobbard win and he wasn't about to let the love of his life go without a fight. If he had to chase her to the ends of the earth, than so be it. No struggle was too big or too small. And he would do anything to keep her.

And that was what frightened him the most. The thought that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do. No line he wouldn't cross. Control was slipping away and the more he tried to grasp it, the more it slipped between his fingers.

He unclipped his cell phone from the holder on his belt and hit re-dial. Phone pressed to his ear and his eyes on the floor as he journeyed into the kitchen. Tugging his shirt out of the waist band of his pants as he went. In Miami he was able to get away with his shirts untucked and sleeves hanging well past his wrists. Mac Taylor was a little more strict when it came to dress codes.

He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. Leaning against the counter top, he uncapped it and took a long, refreshing sip. No one was answering at Flack's place. It was already on the fifth ring and he knew on the seventh the voice mail clicked on. He also knew that someone had to be there. Sam had been off all day and Flack had called it a day two hours before Speed himself had.

The detective had looked weary and despondent when their paths crossed as Flack was leaving and Speed was returning from an interview with a witness. Flack said he was going home to face the music. Come clean about everything and anything and hopefully not find himself sleeping on the couch or in a hotel overnight. Or without a fiancee or monthly child support to be shelling out once the baby came along.

So there were two explanations to why no one was answering the phone. Either they were in the midst of the argument of all arguments or Sam had killed Flack and was unable to pick up because she was too preoccupied finding a way to ditch the body.

That thought made him snicker a little. He pressed end and tried Flack's cell phone. That went to voice mail as well.

Yep, Speed thought. He's dead.

He finished his water and dropped the bottle into the small recycling bin under the sink and headed for the living room. He'd try Carmen's cell a few more times before deciding whether or not he should begin scouring the city for her.

He dialled the number, than stopped in his tracks when the sound of a cell phone ringing came from the living room.

He hung up and headed in the direction the sound had come from. Pausing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room as he saw Carmen waiting for him on the couch. Her back rod straight as she sat wit her lips set in a firm line and her hands clasped in her lap. He could tell by the redness and puffiness of her eyes that she'd been crying. A lot. He stole a glance down at her left hand and saw the engagement ring still on her finger. Taking that as a sign that things weren't as grave as they seemed.

He approached slowly and calmly and tossed his keys on the coffee table. "I've been calling you all day," he told her. "I've left you tons of messages and you never bothered returning any of them."

"I've been busy," she responded. "Trying to sort things out. Get my head on straight. I needed some time to myself."

He nodded, accepting that reasoning.

"We need to talk, Tim," she said, gesturing towards the spot beside her, an unspoken suggestion to sit down.

He ignored the request and finished tugging his shirt out of his pants. "Look, if this is about Mathew, you're too late. Danny already told me."

Carmen blinked. "I wanted to.."

Speed held up a hand. "And Flack found me before you did to let me know that you're planning on sending my ass packing."

"He had no right to…"

"He had every damn right in the world," Speed told her, and shoving magazines and papers off of the coffee table, took a seat on the edge of it. "I mean, he's my friend. Other then Danny, he was the first one here to accept me as the new guy. He never asked questions about my past and he never expected me to talk about it. He's the closest thing I've had to a best friend since I left Miami. And I guess he thought enough of me not to let me get blindsided about this."

"What did he exactly tell you?" Carmen asked.

"Everything. He told me he how he was the responding officer to the scene and that he and a few other guys had to fight like hell to arrest Mathew. He told me exactly what he saw and heard that night. And he showed me the photos and the reports from the hospital."

She shook her head and dropped her chin to her chest. "He had no right to do any of that," she said, voice nearly a whisper.

"He also told me that you guys had a little thing," Speed told her.

"We didn't have a thing," she responded angrily. "He took me out for coffee a few times. You're blowing that way out of proportion, Tim."

"Am I? You think Sam's going to say the same thing when Flack tells her? Because he's going to tell her. She has a right to know. See, he has respect for her. He loves her. And he wasn't going to let her find out what went done from someone else. How do you think she's going to take the news that her best friend once had a thing with her fiance?"

"For Christ sakes, it wasn't a thing!" Carmen snapped. "He was there for me when I needed someone. He was my friend when I didn't have anyone else. And yeah, you know what, I liked him. He was funny and extremely attractive and a complete gentleman. But there was no way, after what I had just been through, that I was getting involved with him. And he accepted that and we went our separate ways."

"And how about now?" Speed asked. "How do you feel about him now?"

"He's engaged to my best friend. He's the father of her baby. And I'm happy for him. For both of them."

"But if Sam wasn't in the picture you would have latched onto him?" Speed asked.

"What does that have to do with any of this?" Carmen responded.

"Answer the question. Yes or no."

She sighed. "I don't know, okay? I met Sam before I ran into Flack again. I was the one that called him that night when Sam was drunk and told him that she was in love with him. I was the one that made them realize what was between them. But if Sam and I had never met," Carmen shrugged. "I guess maybe, if the opportunity ever arose…"

"I almost cheated on you with Samantha," Speed admitted.

Carmen stared at him. "You what?"

"I was tempted. Really, really tempted. We went out to lunch and that process server nailed her with those papers from Zack and this bike courier almost ran her over and she fell into me. And you know what? Standing there with my arms around her…it felt really good Carmen. I felt insanely attracted to her. And I was this close to kissing her too."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because Flack was my friend from day one. From the time I met him after interrogating Zack. And I wasn't going to do that to him. And I was already falling in love with you and wanted to see where that was going to go. 'Cause I knew in my heart of hearts that the only guy for Sam was Flack. And that it was just a moment that passed between us and nothing more."

"Why are you telling me all of this, Tim?"

"Because I'm trying to show you that there shouldn't be any secrets between us. And that I understand how you didn't want to feel like a victim after what happened to you and you just wanted to put shit behind you. I get that. But I also think that it was pretty fucked up on both yours, and Flack's part, to put on this big fucking façade about not knowing each other before you started at the lab."

"Flack and I agreed to leave it in the past. We never dreamt in a million years that it would ever come out. That Mathew would ever be granted parole."

"He hasn't been granted anything," Speed told her. "He's up for it. Doesn't mean he's going to get it."

She sighed heavily. "You saw the photos? Read the reports?"

Speed nodded.

"So you've seen what he's capable of?"

"I've seen that he's a twisted, sick bastard that gets off on beatin' on women," he said. "And he's probably the type that couldn't hold his own against someone his size and the same sex."

Carmen shook her head. "Don't underestimate him, Tim."

"I'm not. I'm taking everything I read and everything I saw at face value. You ask me, you're overestimating him. And you dumping me…you're only letting him win. You're letting him turn you into what you hate the most. A victim."

"I'm doing this so I don't end up a victim," she informed him. "So neither of us do."

"Carmen, listen to me," Speed leaned forward to laid his hand over hers. "I am more than capable of handling Mathew. I'll take care of you. Of both of us."

She shook her head and yanked her hand away. "Not even you can protect us if.."

"If. That's the magic word," Speed pointed out. "If he gets parole. If he comes after you. If he's a threat to you or everyone around you."

"He is a threat to me!" Carmen snapped, trying to hold back the tears of fright and indecision. "And he will come after me."

He sighed heavily and ran his hands over his face, feeling his patience and resolve slipping away. Nothing was more frustrating than having to talk to a grown woman as if she was a child that was hard of understanding. "For the last time, Carmen…just because he is up for parole does not mean he's going to get it."

"He's been in for seven years. Half a sentence and.."

"Flack is going to testify for the DA," Speed continued, cutting her off mid sentence. "He was the arresting officer and is probably going through that evidence box as we speak. His testimony alone should be enough to keep Mathew in longer. And Mac's going to have someone go to Rikers to have a little sit down with your ex and see if he's risk to re-offend."

"Flack's worried that anything he says will be tossed out," Carmen fretted. "He thinks Mathew's lawyers will argue conflict of interest because not only do we work together, we share the same address."

"So there's always you," Speed told her. "You'll have to give a victim impact statement."

Her face blanched and her chest constricted. "I never thought about that…I can't face him, Tim. I can't let him see me…I can't…"

"He can't hurt you behind bars, Carmen!" he snapped, his last shred of nerves dissolving. "You're panicky and blowing things way out of porportion! Listen to yourself for Christ sakes! You're not the only one whose ever had to go through this. People survive violent crimes every day and they don't act like a raging, fucking lunatic!"

"You know what!" she huffed and jumped to her feet. "I didn't expect you to understand! You never get upset about anything. You're always so fucking calm and cool and collected. Nothing bothers you! You're so goddamn closed off, Tim! You're so cold. Do you not feel anything for anyone?"

"I feel a lot for you, Carmen," he said quietly, looking up at her as she stood, hands on her hips above him. His dark eyes full of compassion and understanding. "I love you. More than I ever thought I would love anyone. And I understand you're frightened. It's normal to be afraid in a situation like this. But you're overreacting. Mathew can't control you're like unless you let him. And by doing this…by pushing me away, you're letting him win. Don't you see that?"

"Don't you see that I am doing this for you Tim?" she fought back. "To protect you? To prevent you from getting hurt?"

"For fuck sakes, Carmen!" he shouted, vaulting to his feet. He wanted to grab her and shake some damn sense into her. Convince her that her fears were unfounded and that he was a grown man who could more than take care of both of them.

She jumped back, slightly startled by his outburst. But she wasn't going to back down. She made her decision, and as heart wrenching and as difficult as it had been, nothing was going to stand in the way of her sealing the deal. "Listen to me, Tim," she said calmly, reaching for his hand. Hoping a quiet approach would work better.

"No!" he bellowed, yanking his hand away. "You shut up and listen to me for a change!"

Carmen glared at him and brought her hand back and slapped him across the face. The sound echoing throughout the apartment. She felt guilty and ashamed for doing it. But the more she did to make him realize that she wasn't worth it, that he needed to just cut his losses and walk away, the easier breaking both their hearts would be.

"You really think that's going to work, Red?" he asked, holding a hand to his stinging cheek. "I know what you're trying to do. I'm not stupid. You think by pushing me further and further away from you that I'll just give up and walk away. Well guess what, I'm not a quitter. And if you think I'm letting you walk away from me, especially at a time like this where we need to stick together, you have another thing coming."

"This isn't your fight. Tim!"

He shook his head. "You're wrong. This is as much about me as it is about you. We're suppose to be spending forever together. We're committed to each other, Carmen. People that are like that have each other's backs no matter what. They don't abandon one another and push each other away."

"They also don't lead each other into danger, Tim. And that's why I am doing this! Christ, why can you not understand any of this! I don't want you to end up hurt. And I don't want you going all half cocked and going after Mathew if he does get out. Like Flack when he went and knocked around Zack! Do you think that was smart! He should have known better than that!"

"He didn't care at that point in time. And you know why, Carmen? Because he loves her more than life itself and would do anything, and I mean anything, to protect her. He'd give up his badge for her if it ever came down to it. And that's his goddamn prerogative! He protected what was his! And if you ask me, he's a bigger man than most for even caring that much!"

Carmen snorted and grabbed her jacket off the back of the couch. "He's a fool if you ask me. No woman is worth that. And you need to realize that. That I'm not worth that, Tim."

"Yes," he said. "You are."

"Well I'm sorry you think way too highly of me," she said, slipping into her coat and scooping her purse off of the coach. "I guess maybe you just saw something in me that was never really there."

"What I see a scared little girl that runs away from problems instead of facing them head on and letting the people who care about her the most help her out from time to time," Speed retorted.

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself," Carmen informed him.

"And that's why you're playing immature drama queen right now," he scoffed. "Yeah, you're all grown up. How'd you ever survive in the big bad world thinking that you're the only one that matters and the only one that's ever had bad things happen to them? That's pretty goddamn self centered if you ask me."

"Well no one asked you," Carmen snarled and attempted to step past him.

Speed caught her by the wrist and yanked her to him. "Don't walk away from me, Carmen. From us. If anything is going to get you through this crap with Mathew, it's the two of us sticking together. You have to trust in me, Carmen. And in us and in everyone that cares about you. Everybody at work. Especially Flack and Sam."

"This bullshit nonsense is the last thing they need, Tim. Especially Sam. They have their own lives. A baby on the way. They don't need this."

"They love you, Carmen. They want to help you through this."

"They can't, Tim," she said sadly. "And neither can you."

He sighed heavily. "So that's it? You just throw your hands up in the air and give up? Let Mathew win?"

"I'm sorry you can't accept this," she said in response, and attempted to tear her arm from his grasp.

"You're right, I can't," Speed told her, tightening his grip on her. "I love you, Carmen. More than life. And I can't let you just walk away."

She looked into those deep brown eyes. Saw the pain and sadness and frustrating in them. Her heart was heavy and she felt sick to her stomach. But she had to force herself away. For his own good. She stood on her tip toes and kissed him softly. "I love you," she whispered, her lips on his.

"We can do this together, Carmen," he said, letting go of her arm and holding her face in both of his hands.

She shook her head and fought back tears as she kissed him one last time. Laying a hand on the side of his face, she searched his eyes with her own. Silently begging him to understand.

"We can," he insisted.

She stroked his cheek tenderly and smiled through her tears. "Good-bye, Tim," she said, and backed away from him.

"Don't do this, Carmen," he pleaded, watching as she hurried for the door.

"I have to," she told him. "Please understand."

"I can't let you go," he said.

"You don't have a choice," she responded.

"Just take some time, Carmen," he begged. "To think about what you're doing and what you really want."

The only response he received was the door slamming as she walked out of his life.

Flack didn't see the huge deal with the Saw movies. As far as he was concerned, they were just your average, run of the mill slasher flick with terrible acting, an even worse plot and the worst special effects he'd ever seen. One look at the blood and the guts and he just laughed. It didn't even look realistic. To him it looked like nothing more than crappy bloods and either watered down ketchup or cherry syrup. Working on death and gore every day opened your eyes to just how awful and laughable movies like that really were.

Only Sam wasn't laughing. Far from it. She was too busy cowering under the blanket she'd brought from the bedroom before they'd settled down on the couch with junk food and the movie, the lights dimmed as they indulged in the latest instalment from the horror franchise. She was cuddled in as close as she could, both arms latched around his torso, face buried in his chest. Her entire body trembling as she was close to tears.

"Sam, it's not that bad," Flack said, trying to hide how amused he was at her behaviours.

"Yes…yes it is," she argued. "It is that bad…it's scary."

"It's stupid," he told her. "Don't be such a damn baby."

"I can't look…tell me when it's over…"

"You've missed half the movie."

"I don't care…I can't watch it…I'll have nightmares for a month."

"You're being ridiculous," he told her. "Just take a peek. I promise you that it's not at a really nasty, gory part."

"Promise?" she squeaked.

"I promise you. I swear on my grandfather's grave that there is nothing going on that will scare you."

"Okay," she said, warily poking her head out of the blanket. "I trust you."

"I would not lie to you," he assured her, attempting to peel away the hand she had firmly clamped over her eyes.

She spread apart her fingers and peered through them. Just in time to see yet another poor soul brutally and inexcusably tortured. She shrieked and dove back under the blanket. Near sobbing as she shook like a leaf and gripped his arm tight enough that her nails nearly broke the flesh.

"Christ, Sam!" he exclaimed, wincing as her nails bit into his skin. "What is wrong with you? It's just a movie!"

"Turn it off!" she pleaded. "Please…turn it off…watch it when I'm in bed…just turn it off…"

"Would you just relax? It's a stupid movie."

"Please turn it off," she wailed, and tightened her grip on his arm.

"Alright…alright…take it easy…" he peeled her fingers off of him one by one and leaned over to snatch the remote off of the coffee table and switched off the television completely. "It's off, okay?" he dropped the remote beside him and lifted the edge of the blanket to peer down at her. "Baby…relax…I turned it off. Okay?"

She nodded and sniffled noisily and emerged from under the heavy cover.

"I'm sorry," Flack said, wrapping his arms around her and settling against the back of the couch. He stroked her hair as she rested her head on his chest. "I didn't know you'd be that scared."

"I told you I hated horror movies," she said.

"I didn't think you hated them that much. It's okay. It's off now and you can relax. Just lie there and close your eyes and relax."

She settled her head against him and laid her hand on his stomach as she closed her eyes. Relaxing at the feel of him stroking her hair and her back. It felt nice to just sit there, in the comfort and quiet of their own home and just be together. No television or radio on, no phones ringing off the hook.

Flack closed his eyes as well. Relishing the silence and the dimmed lights. Feeling her heart beating against him and the gentle touch of her head and her warm, sweet breath. "Better now?" he asked.

"Much," she replied.

"Good…and I promise when we go to sleep tonight that I'll check under the bed and in the closet so the Bogeyman doesn't get you."

"That is so not funny, Donald!" she cried, and pinched his side hard enough to make him yelp.

"Sam, one day people are going to see all these marks on me and charge you with domestic abuse," he said, rubbing the spot she'd inflicted the damage on. "Bites on my shoulders and my neck and the insides of my thighs, scratch marks across my back and down my chest. You're a cruel, sadistic little girl."

"And you get off on it and love every second of it," she declared.

He grinned. "That I do," he said, and kissed the top of her head.

"I have to go pee," she announced.

"You just went ten minutes ago," he reminded her.

"Well I can't help it. Your son is sitting right on my bladder. Will you come with me?" she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"To the john? Why? Afraid you're going to fall in? Need someone to wipe?"

"No…I just…" she sighed and smiled up at him sheepishly. "I'm scared to go on my own."

He laughed. He couldn't help it. Hearing a woman who made a career out of wading through blood and guts and maggots and God knows what else, telling him that she was afraid to go to the bathroom by herself was just too surreal.

"Don't laugh!" she scolded him, and slid her hand up the front of his shirt to tug on a patch of chest hair.

"What are you afraid of? What is there to be scared of?"

"The lights in the hallway are off," she reasoned. "And the switch is all the way at the opposite end and I'd have to walk through the dark to get to it."

"So you want me to hold her hand and walk you there?"

She nodded. "And turn the bathroom light on and check behind the shower curtain for me."

He laughed even louder and longer at that.

Sam frowned. "Don't laugh! When I was ten, a baby sitter made me watch Friday the Thirteenth and in one of the scenes, Jason was hiding behind the shower curtain! I nearly pissed my pants when he jumped out! That movie traumatized me! I had nightmares for three months and made Adam check for monsters under the bed and in the tub. I still can't sleep with the closet door open and I still can't sit on the toilet if the shower curtain is closed!"

"I doubt a serial killer is hiding in our tub," Flack told her. "Or in our closet or under our bed. But just to be on the safe side, I'll put my gun under my pillow and you're not to sleep with your legs or your arms dangling over the side of the bed. You know, just in case he grabs you and drags you under the bed to rape and pillage you and chop you into a million pieces."

"It's not funny!" she wailed, and sat up and punched him hard in the shoulder. She crossed her arms over her chest and collapsed back against the couch, pouting like a three year old.

He looked sideways and bit his lip, amused at her antics. He reached out to touch her cheek.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, yanking her head away from him.

"You really can't be serious about wanting me to walk you to the john," he said.

"I hope a serial killer gets you," she huffed. "I hope he's in the closet and when you go in there to get dressed for work in the morning he snatches you and does unimaginable, painful, disgusting things to you. And don't think for one second I'll help you either. I'll let you die a slow, excruciating death."

"And how would Jeffery Dahmer or the Son of Sam get in our apartment?" he asked, humouring her.

"I don't know! Maybe they scaled the balcony."

He arched an eyebrow. "Fourteen floors?"

"Maybe they snuck in while I was down in the laundry room and you were in the shower and they are just lying in wait. Just itching for us to get in there and slaughter us in our sleep. Think so? Sound logical?"

"Sounds like you need to take a valium," Flack told her. "Something to calm down your overactive imagination. Come here for a second," he reached out for her, hooking two fingers in the neck of her pyjamas and pulling her towards him. Circling her slender body with both arms and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have poked fun at you."

"You'll be sorry if I go in the bathroom and don't come back out."

He sighed heavily. "Fine," he said, letting her go and pushing the blanket off of them and standing up. "I will escort you to the bathroom."

"And check behind the shower curtain?" she asked hopefully.

"You can not be serious," he complained.

"Please?" she pleaded.

"Christ woman, you are going to be the death of me," Flack declared and held out a hand.

"But I'm a hell of a lot of fun," she said, taking his hand and wincing from a kick to the ribs just as he helped her to her feet. "And you love me and would be bored without me. You wouldn't know what to do with yourself."

"I'd sleep a solid eight hours and have the whole bed to myself for one," he said, leading the way from the living room and down the dark hallway.

"You can have the whole couch to yourself if you like," Sam offered. "It is a pull out."

"My back could not take sleeping on that thing. What? You want me all crippled up and unable to perform my manly duties?"

"You've preformed enough manly duties," Sam informed him, casting a glance down at her stomach.

Flack frowned. "I was talking about getting things down off of high shelves and doing heavy lifting," he said.

"Sure you were."

"Don't be such a perv, Sam," he said, and reached into the dark bathroom to turn on the lights. He stepped to the side and motioned for her to go ahead.

She paused in the doorway, nodding in the direction of the closed shower curtain.

"You're kidding me," Flack said, frowning and shaking his head in disbelief.

"I will piss myself before I'll sit on the toilet without you checking the tub!" she declared.

He sighed heavily and stalked into the bathroom and tossed open the shower curtain. "See!" he exclaimed, gesturing to the empty tub. "Nothing! There's no one hiding in here! Now unless this killer is small and skinny enough to slither down the drain, you've got nothing to worry about. Okay? You can take a leak in peace. Alright?"

"You don't have to be so snarky," she complained and padded into the washroom. Undoing the ties on her pants and than pausing before dropping them, staring at him.

"What?" Flack asked. "What now?"

"I can't pee with you in the room," she replied.

"Jesus H Christ, woman," he huffed as he stalked from the bathroom. "You are too damn much!" he declared and shut the door.

"Thank you!" she called. "Can you make me some warm milk and some toast and peanut butter?!"

"No!" he yelled in response. "I can't! You're driving me nuts!"

"Fine," she mumbled to herself, and had just parked herself on the toilet when a loud knock came to the door. "Can I help you?" she inquired.

"You want two pieces of toast or one?" Flack asked from the other side of the door.

She smiled. "Two plus one," she replied. "Thank you, baby. I love you."

"Yeah…yeah…" he grumbled, the sound of his footsteps receding down the hall.

Flack was glad that they still had clothes on. That there was nothing more going on other than a fully clothed make out session there on the couch. Just a lot of kissing and necking and hands exploring through fabric. Some joking and giggling about how cramped and uncomfortable things were and feeling like horny high schoolers who were trying to get some dirty in before the parents came wandering through the front door.

Which is exactly what happened. No parents, but one very pissed off and unexpected Carmen Devine storming through the front door and slamming it shut behind her. Flack had heard the key in the lock just as his soon to be wife was initiating things by unzipping his fly and reaching inside, and he'd nearly thrown his back out completely and fallen off the couch when the jingling of the keys sent him scrambling to get himself into a sit and straighten his clothes out. In the past month, Carmen had been home twice, three times at the most.

Sam ducked under the blanket to do up the buttons on her jammie top, just as Carmen came into the living room and fixed her two roommates with looks that could kill.

"Uh…hey, Devine," Flack greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," she reminded him. "I mean, I am paying my third of the rent, aren't I?"

"I didn't mean that…I just meant…"

She smirked at how out of breath they both were. How flushed their faces were and how Sam's hair was messed up and two of her buttons misaligned and Flack's shirt was wrinkled.

"Is that all you two do?" she asked. "Don't either of you have hobbies?"

"Don't be such an off handed bitch," Flack snapped.

"I should be giving you shit," Carmen said, tossing her jacket on the arm chair and her keys onto the coffee table. They made a loud clatter and slid across the wood before tumbling over the edge.

"What's your problem?" Sam asked, straining herself to bend down and pick the keys up.

"I come home and I have to be subjected to the two of you getting naked on the couch? Go in your room if you want to fuck."

"Take it easy, Carmen," Sam defended herself. "We weren't doing anything. And you haven't been home in nearly a month. So even if we were going to fuck on the couch, it's really none of your business."

"Keep your bodily fluids confined to one room," Carmen requested. "Preferably your own room. Last thing I want to be cleaning up is your guys' messes. I see enough of that shit at work without seeing it at home. You wanna put out, you've got a bed to do it in."

"Oh fuck you, Carmen," Sam said, slowly getting to her feet. "I can't help it that some of us have men that know how to satisfy a woman. And who don't use working too much as an excuse not to be bothered."

"Sam," Flack said, shaking his head. A silent plea for her to just stop and play nice. Last thing he wanted was to be breaking up a cat fight between the two of them. Or her finding out what was going on just because Carmen was pissed off and needed someone to take it out on.

"I'm going to bed," Sam announced, a hand on the small of her back as she journeyed from the living room.

"I'll be in in a second," Flack told her, standing up and gathering the dirty dishes and glasses that littered the coffee table.

Carmen smirked and dropped onto the love seat. "Hurry up, now, Don. So I can spend the rest of my evening listening to her faking it."

"Do me a favour," Flack said. "Either shut the fuck up or walk your ass out the door and than walk back in again and at least try and be civil. Just because you made the biggest mistake of your life and screwed your entire existence up, don't come in here and take it out on a pregnant woman."

"Gerrard was right," Carmen said with a bored yawn. "You do have a damsel in distress complex."

"My weakness, I guess. But at least to me, she's worth fighting for and I just didn't let her walk out on me."

Carmen blinked at the implication of his words. "Were you born a mean bastard Flack or is it a gift?"

"I'm my father's son," was his cool response.

"Well let's just hope your son takes after his mother than."

Flack smirked. "Good night, Carmen," he said, and carried the plates into the kitchen.

"You should have minded your own business, Flack. You shouldn't have gone running to him like some little bitch."

He ignored the comment. Turning the water on to rinse the dishes before dropping them into the washer. He wasn't going to get himself into an altercation with the woman. She was obviously torn up inside about the decision she had made and had been drinking. He heard the word she slurred some of her words and the unsteady way in which she walked. And he could smell the booze from a mile away.

"Did you tell her?" Carmen asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "I mean, I guess you didn't seeing as you two were getting ready to get naked on the couch. Doubt she'd want you anywhere near her if you'd told her."

"It's my business, Devine," he replied. "And I'll tell her when I'm ready to."

He tried to slip past her through the doorway and she sidestepped so that she blocked his path.

"What do you want from me?" Flack asked. "It's not my fault you screwed things up with Speed."

"Do you ever wonder what if, Don?" she inquired, reaching out to toy with one of the buttons on his shirt.

"No," he responded, squeezing between her and the door frame. "I don't."

"I do," Carmen told him, moving in close, so that his back was pinned to the arch way. "I often sit back and wonder what my life would be like now if I had have just given you a chance. I mean, I know you were into me back than. And you were this really young and cute uniform that all the girls liked it. Yet you were paying attention to me. Spending all that time with me."

"I felt sorry for you," Flack told her.

"Bullshit," she laughed, and commenced playing with his buttons again. "You were so into me. I saw that disappointed look on your face when I told you I just wasn't that into you."

"That was a long time ago, Carmen," he pointed out. "A lot of things have changed since than."

"I know…we're both older and wiser…hornier…"

Flack laughed. "You're drunk," he told her, laying his hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her away from him. "You're drunk and talking a lot of shit and you need to have some coffee and sleep it off."

"Come on, Don, don't you ever just want to do?" she asked, her eyes sparkling up at him. "Don't you ever just want to find out what you missed out on a long time ago? Get off on being with someone other than the same person every single night?"

He considered it. Felt that warm, welcoming and willing body pressed up against his. The incident between him and Sam on the couch had him on edge and raring to go.

"You're thinking about doing it aren't you," Carmen said. "Right here in the kitchen. Just saying fuck it and doing it right here, right now. You're seriously thinking about it."

He took Carmen's face in both his hands and moved in close, so their lips were almost touching.

She smiled at him, licked her bottom lip in anticipation. "You really want to do it, Don. I know you do. You're really thinking about doing it. With me. Aren't you."

He smirked. "No," he stated confidently. "I'm not."

She frowned as he pushed her away from him. Staring daggers at his back as he slipped from the kitchen and disappeared into the living room.

"Tell her or I will," Carmen called to him, as she opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of red wine.

"Fuck you, Devine," he responded, the bedroom door clicking softly closed behind him.

She shrugged and uncorked the wine. "You're loss, Detective Flack," she said, and taking a huge swallow of the alcohol, carried the bottle with her to her empty, lonely room.

When Flack slipped into the dimly lit bedroom and closed the door behind him, Sam was already in bed, pillows propped behind her as she reclined back against them, a pair of earphones on her pregnant stomach and an old fashioned CD Walkman Adam had had lying around resting on her chest.

"What are you guys listening to?" Flack asked, peeling off his shirt and tossing it in the hamper in the closet.

"Adam made me a mixed CD," Sam replied. "Everything from pop to electronic to chamber music. Right now, your son is shaking his booty to 50 cent."

"Gangsta rap?" Flack smirked, unbuckling his belt. "You're letting my unborn child listen to gangsta rap? Well at least I know whose to blame when he's three and talking about blunts and forties and bitches and killin' cops and popping caps in someones ass."

"Maybe his first words will be bitches and hoes," Sam said with a giggle. She whistled as he dropped his pants. "Giving me a free show are you officer?" she asked, stretching her leg out to run her toes along his back as he sat on the edge of the bed to yank off his socks.

"Watch it," he warned, grinning at her over his shoulder as he stood up. "May have to use to cuffs and the nightstick on you."

"Now that's my idea of a fun Friday night in," she said, grimacing as a series of punches and kicks assailed her stomach. "He's getting really strong."

"Got ourselves a regular Evander Holyfield," Flack commented, standing up and going into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

"I swear to God sometimes it feels like there's more than one in there with all this movement," she complained, adjusting the pillows to make herself more comfortable.

"Bite your tongue," he said.

"So what was up with Carmen?" Sam asked, as Flack turned off the bathroom light and rejoined her in the bedroom a few minutes later. Watching as he shed his boxers and threw them in the overflowing hamper before snagging a pair of sweats from the dresser and pulling them on.

He shrugged.

"She was just a whole load of crazy tonight," Sam said. "I wonder what the hell happened."

"I'm not entirely sure. But I think I may know a little bit," Flack told her, and sat down on the edge of the bed closest to her.

She frowned at the seriousness in his eyes and voice. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Me and you need to have a little chat," he replied.

"About?"

He sighed and got off the bed and went to the closet. Re-emerging seconds later with the evidence box he'd stashed underneath a pile of dirty clothes. He'd kept it in the back seat of his SUV, covered with his suit coat, and than had gone down to get it once Sam had fallen asleep on the couch before supper. Quietly and efficiently returning with it and hiding it in their bedroom.

He sat the box on the floor and opened it and pulled out a heavy case file. Holding it out to her as he returned to his spot on the edge of the bed.

"What's this?" Sam asked, taking it from him.

"This is Carmen's case file from when she was assaulted and nearly killed by her ex," Flack replied.

"And why do you have it?"

"He's got a parole hearing coming up and I need to testify at it."

Sam opened the folder. Carmen had told her most of the details on the anniversary of the attack. She knew of the massive concussion and the broken ribs and the fractured jaw and the orbital bone. How Mathew had stomped so hard on her stomach he'd nearly obliterated her uterus, leaving doctors to wonder if she'd ever have children. How he'd ripped chunks of hair out of her head and beat her mercilessly all because she refused to help him get rid of the bloody clothes he'd come home in after him and some Tanglewood buddies killed some poor, innocent kid.

But the pictures brought tears to her eyes and made her stomach sick. And one unanswered question still remained.

"But why do you have to testify?" Sam asked.

"Take a look at the DD-5 report," he responded.

She sat the photos and medical reports on the bed and concentrated on the DD-5 report. Not noticing anything out of the ordinary.

"The very back, Sam. Look who the arresting officer was," Flack said gently.

She flipped the pages over and looked down at the name and signature. Surprise registered on her face and she turned curious golden eyes up to worried, intense blue ones.

"I wanted to tell you," Flack told her. "Since the day that Carmen started at the lab. I was pretty shocked when she called me that night you guys went out together. Remember? When you guys were drunk and she called to tell me you were in love with me and hook us up?"

Sam nodded.

"I honestly nearly shit myself when I heard her voice. I knew it was her right away. And when I saw her at my crime scene…you and I were just getting together and I wanted to tell you Sam."

"But you didn't," she pointed out.

"I wanted to, baby. I told Carmen I thought that it was best if I told you, but she said she didn't want you or anyone else looking at her like she was victim and that the past was best left in the past. That me and her knowing each other had no bearing on you and me. We never thought that Mathew would come back to haunt us and that we'd have to tell you this way."

Sam just nodded and calmly sat the DD-5 report on the stack of papers beside her. "I understand," she said.

Flack blinked. "Come again?" he asked.

"I understand. I have things in my past that I've been trying to run away from for years and no one has ever held that against me. I mean, you don't think any different of me because of what my father did to me or my nightmare of a relationship with Zack."

Flack wondered who was more surprised. Sam for finding out he and Carmen had previously known each other, or himself for not facing her wrath for keeping such a secret.

"Did you ever have a thing with her?" Sam asked.

"I took her out for coffee a few times. Got to know her as a friend. She wasn't ready to get involved with anyone and I didn't push it," Flack responded honestly.

"Were you attracted to her?"

He nodded.

"And now?"

"And now I find her an attractive woman. But she's my friend and nothing more. I love you, Samantha. Only you. And I want to marry you and spend my life with you and have a family with you."

She nodded slowly and turned her head and smiled at him. "Come to bed, Donnie," she said. "Put this stuff away and come to bed. I'm tired."

He leaned across the bed and laid a hand on the back of her head and kissed her forehead softly. Then he stood up and gathered all of the reports and folders up and repacked them in their box. Which he sat in the chair by the window.

Sam turned the Walkman off and removed the headphones and laid the contraption on the nightstand. Reaching up, she flicked off the bedside lamp and readjusted her pillows before lying down on her left hand side.

"You forgot something," Flack said, gently lifting her top leg and sliding a pillow in between it and her bottom one before gathering the comforter around them both and lying down alongside of her. Her back pressed into his stomach, his hand resting on her swollen belly and his lips in her hair.

She suddenly started giggling.

"What's so funny?" he asked. "Baby do something? I didn't feel anything."

"I was just thinking that I'm a whole lot of crazy and it hasn't scared you away."

He smiled into her hair. "Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment," he said.

"You're no stand up comedian, my dear," she said with a laugh, elbowing him playfully.

"You're not with me for my sense of humour," Flack reminded her, his lips finding the back of her neck.

She sighed. "I'm tired, Donnie. Really, really tired."

"You're kidding me, right?" His lips were next to her ear. "You get me all worked up on the couch and than shut me down in here?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

He sighed heavily. "It's okay," he told her.

"Yeah? Then do you mind getting your knee out of my ass?" she asked.

He chuckled. "That's not my knee."

"Pervert," she laughed. "Seriously, though. Do you mind maybe rolling over and facing the other way so I can get some sleep?"

"I mind," he told her. "But I'll still do it. I love you," he kissed her temple and rolled over onto his other side. Still close enough to her that their rear ends were touching.

"I love you, too," she whispered in the dark, reaching behind her to rub his hip.

"Mm-hm," he said and yawned noisily. "Goodnight, baby."

"'Nite," she responded, nestling into her pillow.

There was silence for several minutes. Before she felt him jerk once. Than twice. Than a third time behind her. She was just started to wonder what the hell was wrong, that maybe he was having a seizure or something, when he finally spoke. In a frantic, almost frightened voice.

"Sam…Sam… SAM!!"

She bolted upright and reached over to flick on the lamp. "What? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Something under the bed has my arm," he told her. Than burst into laughter.

"Bastard!" she scolded him, swatting him with her pillow. "I thought something was wrong with you!"

"Sorry," he said, rolling over onto his back and looking over at her in the dark. "I just couldn't resist."

She smirked and leaned over and kissed him. Giggling as he curled an arm around her neck and pulled her down on top of him for a long, toe curling, body tingling kiss.

They were both breathless when the kiss ended, staring at each other.

"Still tired?" he asked, desire evident in his voice.

"Exactly," she responded, kissing him chastely. "Yes, I am."

"Damn you," he said, as she flopped back over onto her side. Sighing, he shifted onto his hip and leaned over to press a kiss to the side of her stomach, and than to her cheek. "Good night, guys," he said, and turned over onto his stomach.

"Good night, daddy," she said in a childish voice.

Flack smiled. One word had never sounded so good. Or had the power to bring tears to his eyes and warmth to his heart.

Thanks to all of you who are reading and reviewing. I appreciate each and every one of you!! And lurkers, if you like the story, please drop me a line! I know there's lots of you!!

Thanks to:

Brrtmclv
Hope4sall
Laplandgurl
Bluehaven4220
Wolfeylady
ImaSupernaturalCSI
Forest Angel
muchmadness
Soccer-bitch

And a welcome to GregRox!!