DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER, OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY KIERAN
A/N: I AM BACK FOLKS! AND MOB MADE IT TO 800 REVIEWS! WOW! MUCH THANKS AND LOVE TO ALL OF YOU SUPPORTING THIS AND ME!
LET'S ALL GIVE A SPECIAL WELCOME TO MONZA BIRD!
Getting to know you
"I pray you'll be my eyes
And watch him where he goes
And help him to be wise
Help me to let go
Every mother's prayer
Every child knows
Lead him to a place
Guide him with your grace
To a place where he'll be safe
I pray he finds your light
And holds it in his heart
As darkness falls each night
Remind him where you are
Every mother's prayer
Every child knows
Need to find a place
Guide him with your grace
Give him faith so he'll be safe
Lead him to a place
Guide him with your grace
To a place where he'll be safe."
-A Mother's Prayer, Celine Dion
She sat on the couch in her private room at the hospital. The ice storm and blizzard had finally stopped the afternoon before and sunlight streamed through the windows and bathed the room in golden warmth. Outside, the bare tree branches were coated with ice and sparkled beautifully in the sun. Five inches of snow blanketed the ground and the temperatures hovered just below freezing.
It was quarter to nine in the morning. Four days had passed since Kieran's birth. An electrocardiogram and a chest x-ray, both done the day before, had shown no problems with the baby's heart save for a standard murmur that was quite common among infants and the paediatrician was adamant would disappear sometime before Kieran's fifth birthday. It was nothing for his concerned parents to be worried, especially with his own mother being born with a murmur that re-occurred while she was pregnant, and according to a check up shortly after the baby's birth, was still hanging around.
The chest x-ray had been an entirely different story. It had showed slight shadowing in both lungs, indication a slight infection. The doctor's best guess was that Kieran had swallowed some amniotic fluid during birth and it was causing his often difficulties with breathing, and when he was terribly upset and wailing -such as he had been two days after he was born and received a Vitamin K shot in his thigh- he gasped for breath and coughed and gagged and promptly turned blue. It had horrified Sam, who, although with her CPR skills, had panicked and screamed blue murder for her husband who was just drying off after a shower and getting dressed. It had been difficult for Flack to stay calm and composed seeing his son like that. But someone had needed to stay relaxed and Sam was far too upset to be counted on. He'd turned the baby onto his stomach, rubbed his back and Kieran almost immediately let out a huge belch followed by a monstrous amount of vomit. The milk he had been consuming tinged with yellow.
The yellow was some of the fluid. The pediatrician who had come to exam the baby and have him placed on a C-pap machine for fifteen minutes at a time each hour on the hour, had said Kieran had not only swallowed the water, but had a nasty, severe case of acid reflux that was also known to cause affected babies to loose their breath and scare the shit out of their parents. Kieran was placed on IV antibiotics. It had been placed in the side of his tiny left foot and than bandaged up tightly so the baby couldn't inadvertently yank it out while kicking and flailing.
He was being released the following day. Still hooked up to the IV and with a C-pap machine in tow. A city employed home care nurse would come and check on him twice a day and if she felt he wasn't getting any better, it would be back to the hospital for more aggressive treatment.
So far so good, however. Kieran's coughing had trickled down to a bare minimum and he had had no scares with his breathing since the incident two days after his birth. He was now fast asleep and warm and secure in his mother's arms as she was on the couch, her legs stretched out in front of her. He had just finished a large meal. Her milk had come in completely the day before, and his ferocious appetite and desire to eat every two to three hours, mixed in with the pumping she had to do in between, was exhausting her. It was a struggle getting used to the pace, but she was slowly coming around.
"So I should be back in a few hours," Flack told her, as he journeyed into the room carrying two large cartons of milk and two straws.
His hair was still damp from the shower he had taken earlier and he wore a pair of well worn jeans and a black thermal style shirt. He hadn't gotten around to shaving yet. He just couldn't be bothered. Just too damn tired and too lazy to do it. And his face was showing it. Sam complained about how the start of his beard felt against her skin and was worried it would bother Kieran's tender skin. At the same time she talked about how sexy and dark and dangerous it looked.
She looked up at him as he stood by the side of the couch. Her eyes wide and terrified. "You're actually going to leave me alone with him?" she asked in sheer horror.
"Sam, you knew that I needed to go into the precinct today," Flack reminded her, as he opened one of the cartons of milk and popped a straw into it before holding the drink out to her. "I have to finish up some paperwork before Gerrard will even let me go on holidays."
"Can't you go in tomorrow?' she asked. "Is one more day going to hurt? I'm sure he'll let you put it off for another day."
"You guys are going home tomorrow," he told her. "I don't want to be stuck at work the same day you guys go home. So there's no time like the present."
"But people will be at the apartment," she argued. "Carmen will be there so it would be okay if you went in tomorrow."
"Well, I don't want to go in tomorrow," he said, nudging her arm with the carton of milk to get her to take it. "I want to get the shit done so I can enjoy the time at home with you and the baby."
She took the milk and sipped it and sighed heavily.
"What's the big deal?" Flack asked. "You were alright with this yesterday."
"I didn't think you were actually going to go," she responded. "Or be gone for that long."
"I'll try and get done sooner. But I'm not making any promises. Could be longer. I won't know until I get started. I'll call you and let you know how things are coming along."
"Okay," she said quietly, and with a bigger, more forlorn sigh than the first one.
"Sammie…" he reached out to push some hair behind her ear and brush his knuckles across her cheek. She looked and sounded terrified. "What's going on?"
"Please don't leave me alone with him," she pleaded, turning her tear filled golden eyes up at him.
"You're going to have to be alone with him when I go back to work," he told her, his voice quiet and understanding.
"I know…but that's two weeks from now," she argued. "In two weeks I won't mind but I mind now."
"What do you think he's going to do to you? He weighs just a bit over eight pounds. Look at him…he's tiny. He's harmless."
"But what if he has one of his attacks? What will I do?"
"First, you call the nurse. Second, Kieran hasn't had an incident since they started the antibiotics and the acid reflux meds and as long as you give him that oxygen every hour like you're supposed to he'll be fine."
"But how I am going to get all this done?" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "How am I suppose to eat and get my rest when he needs that done and eats every two to three hours and I have to pump in between. How am I going to manage?"
"You'll have to when I go back to work," he reminded her gently.
"I know that!" she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her flannel pyjamas. "But I'm not ready to do it yet! I'm scared of him."
"Why?" Flack asked. "Look at him. Does he look like a serial killer or something?"
She glanced down at their content, peaceful son. "No…"
"You're in a hospital, Samantha. Lots of people here to help you if you need it. After you give him his oxygen, you put him in his bassinet and you do all of your other stuff. And that includes eating. I put in an order with nutrition services and they're going to bring you up some breakfast in half an hour. Good stuff, too. Some poached eggs and some Corn Flakes and brown toast with strawberry jam and banana and some decaf tea. Okay? I want you to at least try to eat all of it. And I want you drinking all that milk. You need as much calcium as possible. You want more, call the nurse and she'll bring it to you. Alright?"
She nodded and sniffled noisily.
"You're going to be okay," Flack assured her, running a hand over her hair and pressing a kiss to her temple. "My cell will be on and if you need anything, you call me. Okay?"
"Okay," she agreed meekly.
"I promise you that you're going to be fine. Kieran will probably sleep most of the time anyway. It's his favourite thing to do apparently. Must get that from his mother."
"Ha, ha," she said. "You are such a comedian."
"Hey, you're the one that wasn't getting out of bed until noon and still in your pyjamas when I checked in on you in the late afternoon," he teased.
"I had just started my maternity leave," she said. "And if I want to stay in my jammies all day, I'm going to."
Kieran stirred in her arms. Cracking open his blue eyes slightly and stretching his tiny arms and letting loose an impossibly huge yawn for someone that small. Both Sam and Flack smiled at the sight and Flack wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders and kissed her cheek.
"He reminds me of you every time he does that," Sam said with a quiet laugh, looking down at her son as he drifted in and out of sleep. "And he looks just like you do when you're sleeping."
"He looks just like me period," Flack said proudly, and ran gentle fingertips across his son's forehead.
"Yes, I know," Sam sighed dramatically. "Everyone keeps telling me that."
"Well it's true. Aren't you glad you hooked up with such a devastatingly handsome guy like myself and managed to score yourself a baby just as good looking at his old man. Think about what the poor thing would look like if Danny was his father. Instead, he's got my DNA and he's damn gorgeous. Lucky you. And him."
"You're such an egotistical bastard sometimes," Sam teased her husband, doing up a wayward button on Kieran's one piece beige sleeper adorned with small Classic Winnie the Pooh pictures and honey pots and bearing the words Mommy and Daddy's Little Honey Bear in burgundy lettering across the chest. His left foot unable to be put inside because of the IV. That his mother was now ever so gently and lovingly inspecting.
"Maybe," Flack said. "But you love me anyway."
"Love you?" she laughed. "I merely used you to get myself a dark haired, blue eyed baby. And now I have him and I don't need you anymore and you'll be getting divorce papers in the mail soon."
"Now whose the comedian?" Flack said and ran a hand over her hair. "He's got your nose though. Complete with the freckles. And your long eyelashes. See how long his lashes are? Ever seen a baby with eye lashes that long? A boy baby at that?"
She shook her head.
"He's beautiful, Sammie. You're happy, right? With him? Tell me you're happy."
"I'm happy. Why wouldn't I be? He's my son. Our son. We made him together."
"You just don't seem happy. I thought you'd be over the moon finally having him here."
"I am," she said. "I'm just…I'm not as out there with it as you are."
"Well he's my boy. I'm a proud papa. I can't help it. Aren't you proud of him, Sammie? Of what we created and managed to bring into this world?"
"Of course I am, Donnie. Why are you asking me this?"
He shrugged. "You just don't…I don't know. You just don't seem happy right now. With me, with him."
"I'm just really tired and still a little sore," she told him. "It has nothing to do with you or the baby, Donnie. I'm just tired and trying to cope with being a mother and I feel so…I don't know…so overwhelmed."
Flack nodded slowly, watching her face and listening to her intently as she spoke.
"I don't know if I can do this," she admitted, her voice quiet as the tears started again.
"Little too late to be thinking that way," he said, using gentle fingertips to brush away her tears. "He's here, Sammie. He's not going anywhere God willing. So it's too late to be second guessing our decision to have him."
"I'm not second guessing anything," she said defensively. "Not us, not him. Nothing. I'm just…I'm scared."
"Of?"
"That I'm going to suck as a mother," she admitted.
"You're doing a great job so far, Sammie. A little panicky in medical situations which is totally unlike you, but understandable considering he's your son and you don't want to see him like that."
"I'm only doing good because we are in a hospital," she argued. "Because there's all these professionals around that know what they're doing and I can call them whenever I need to. But once we're home, it's just us and that terrifies me."
"I'll be with you for two weeks," he said. "And Carmen's staying with us for a bit. But you're going to have to get used to the idea of being alone with your own son, Samantha. What are you so scared of? You think something is going to happen to him?"
"I don't know what I am scared of," she sobbed, laying her head on her husband's shoulder. "I just know that I am. I'm worried something will happen to him. I'm worried I'm going to go into his room one morning and he's going be dead. From SIDS. I'm terrified of that. I don't know what I'd do if I walked in and he was dead."
"Jesus, Sammie, that's the last thing you should be thinking about," Flack told her, laying his hand on her head and stroking her hair. "I haven't even thought of SIDS once. Why are you thinking about something like that?"
"Because I am," she said. "Because this girl I worked with in Phoenix, she had a baby and the baby was perfectly healthy and normal and everything went so great in the hospital and than she brought the baby home and three days later she walked into the baby's nursery and she was dead! Dead, Donnie!"
"Shhh," he kissed the top of her head. "It's okay."
"I don't know what I'd do," Sam continued. "If I walked in and found him like that. I just got him. I don't want to lose him."
"Take it easy, Sammie. Just relax. It's okay. SIDS isn't as common as you think it is."
"I don't want anything happen to Kieran," she wailed.
"Neither do I. And he's going to be fine and you know it and I know it."
She sniffled noisily.
"If it would make you feel better, he can sleep in our room. When I stop by the apartment on my way back here to bring his car seat and some fresh clothes for all of his, I'll but the bassinet by your side of the bed and…"
"Your side," she said. "I'd feel better if it was your side."
"Fine…my side. I'll put it there and he can sleep in our room for a while. Okay? Sound good?"
"Sounds good," she agreed.
"Anything else you want to talk about before I leave?" he asked, stroking her cheek with the thumb of one hand while combing his fingers of the other through his son's thick dark hair.
She nodded.
"What's that, baby?"
"I feel so guilty," she said, gazing down at her baby, wide awake, his eyes taking in the sights and sounds above him.
"About what?"
"I love Kieran. So much. He's my son and how can I not love something that you gave me?"
"I just helped out a bit, Sammie. Kicked in some of the DNA. If anything, you gave him to me."
"I just…I don't know why I feel the way I do."
"Well how do you feel?" Flack asked, patiently and calmly.
"I love him…"
"You said that. What? You don't think I believe you? That I don't see how much you love him when you look at him?"
"I love him but I'm not in love with him," Sam revealed. "And mothers are suppose to feel this instant connection. This undying, unwavering, unconditional love. And the only person I feel that way about is you."
"We've been together a little longer than Kieran's been here," he reasoned. "Give it some time."
"But they go on and on about having these bonds with their babies. About how strong and unbreakable it is right from the start. And I don't feel that and I'm wondering why and if I ever will feel that for him."
"You will, Sammie. He's only four days old. Just because all these other women feel that way doesn't mean you're going to. Everyone is different. And once the two of you get to know each other better, you'll feel that way. I promise."
"I feel like a bad mother. For not having that with him. He's a stranger to me, Donnie. I carried him for nearly nine months yet I don't know him. Does that make sense?"
"Carrying him inside of you is one thing, babe. Having him here to take care of is an entirely different thing. Just give him some time. Give yourself some time. Don't put all these expectations on him, or you. Just relax and let things come. Can you do that?"
She sniffled. "I think so. But did you feel it right away? A bond with him?"
"I don't know if it's a bond. I know I love him a hell of a lot and I wonder how I ever survived so long without him."
"But you've done so good with him. Right from the beginning," Sam said. "It all came naturally to you. I see the way you hold him and cuddle him and how you talk to him and tell him stories and the way you touch him. You're so wonderful and gentle and loving with him."
"Well he's my son, Sammie. And he's tiny. Of course I'm going to be like that with him. But I see things between you and him, too. I see how good you are with him. How patient you are and the way you look at him with all that love and adoration. Don't underestimate yourself, babe. Because you're doing a damn good job with him."
"But I don't feel that bond," she argued.
"No one said it has to come right away. Just because other women feel it, it doesn't mean you will. And you know what? There's nothing wrong or strange about that. You just need to relax and enjoy him more instead of worrying about screwing up or him getting sick or even worse, him dying. Those things should be furthest from your mind at this time. Let's just enjoy him. Let's enjoy being parents together. Let's enjoy being together period. As a family. Can we do that?"
She nodded and smiled at him through her tears.
He kissed her softly. "You're going to be okay," he promised her. "You trust me, right?"
"You know I do."
"Than trust me when I saw there's nothing for you to be scared about when it comes to this bonding thing. It'll come to you and than you'll sit back and wonder why you ever worried about it in the first place."
A soft knock came from the door and Flack looked over. A porter for the hospital was delivering Sam's breakfast.
"Your room service is here," Flack commented, kissing his wife on the side of the head before standing up.
"I just put on bedside table?" the porter- an impossibly tiny Filipino woman with a name tag that read Flora asked before tentatively stepping into the room.
"That's fine," Flack told her. "Thank you."
"It no problem, sir," she said cheerfully, as she now hurried in and sat the tray on the table before scurrying for the door once again. "You have good day. Congratulations on baby."
"Thank you," he called after her, than looked down at Sam with a smile. "You hungry? Want something to eat? I promise you I picked you all good food."
"I'm starving," she admitted. "Will you take him and put him in his bassinet?"
"Of course," he said and gently lifted Kieran from his mother's arms. "Come here, big guy," he said to the baby, carefully and protectively carrying him on one arm, his son's head nuzzled in the crook of his elbow, Kieran's bum resting in the palm of his hand. "Daddy's going to put you in your bed so your mama can get something to eat. 'Cause the way you've been eating, you're going to drain her right out so she needs to get something into her. Especially all that milk. Don't want your meal ticket running on empty do you?"
"Is he answering you?" Sam asked, laying her hand on her husband's forearm and slowly getting to her feet.
"He just told me that he much prefers your offerings to that soya shit you were tossing his way," Flack told her, walking her back to her bed. Taking it one leisurely step at a time.
"It's good for him," Sam said, laying a hand on her stomach and wincing.
"You okay?" Flack asked. "Still having lots of pain?"
"Not lots. But it's there. Think about how you'd feel if someone split you from ass end to front end. And you had more stitches inside holding your damn prostate in place. Only in my case it's my cervix."
"Don't use stitches and my prostate in the same sentence, okay? Makes me cringe."
"Wait until you're forty and need your first prostate exam."
"Thanks, Sam. Now I won't sleep at night until I turn forty. You just had to talk about that. On my way out I'll ask the nurse to bring you some pain meds."
"I'm fine," she assured him.
"No…you're not. Don't suffer if you don't have to. Dope yourself up. Go ahead. Normally I don't condone the use of controlled substances, but watching Kieran split ya from sun up to sun down and you popping those stitches, I say get as high as you possibly can."
"Yeah…well leave it to your son to make me suffer this bad and cause me so much torture," Sam sighed, climbing onto the bed gingerly and carefully sliding into the middle.
"Us Flack guys like to do that," Flack said, as he carried Kieran to his bassinet. "Torture and aggravate the women we love. It's a gift we have."
"Apparently," Sam said.
"We love mommy don't we," Flack said to the tiny infant as he laid him in the bassinet, on top of the open receiving blanket. "Your mommy's the most amazing, beautiful woman on the face of the earth and we love her more than anything."
"Don't you two be kissing my ass after you've caused all the agony," she laughed, watching, in utter love and respect, as her husband unbuttoned Kieran's sleeper and changed the baby's diaper before so perfectly and expertly swaddled their son, making sure to watch for the IV on the baby's foot. And than leaned down to press a tender kiss on Kieran's forehead, one of the tip of that tiny nose and one on each chin.
"Say that's not agony, mommy," Flack said to his son. "Agony is what daddy and I have planned for the next eighteen years."
"Is he warm enough?" Sam asked. "He was sneezing this morning. I hope he's not catching a cold."
"Nurse already told you that that's normal. For him to sneeze and his eyes to water. He spent nearly nine months in water and God knows what else. It's probably up his nose and in his ears and what not. He's fine. And yes, he's warm enough. He's got his jammies on and his receiving blanket."
"Put that other blanket on him, Donnie. The one Angell bought him. The white chenille one with the little lamb embroidered on it."
"Sammie…he's fine. You don't want him getting over heated. Because than he won't sleep well if he's too hot and wake up crying 'cause he's uncomfortable. And he'll end up with that prickly heat shit all over him."
"But it might get drafty," Sam argued. "Please? Will you put the blankie on him?"
Flack sighed and tossed the dirty diaper in the pail by the side of the bed and grabbed the blanket in question from the nearby arm chair. "I'll put it on him," he said, conceding defeat. "But it's going just over his feet. Okay?"
"Thank you…and is he on his back?"
"Sammie…please…I know what I'm doing here. Don't you worry about it. I've got it under control. And so you know, he's on his side and he's got those rolled up towels on either side of him keeping him in place. Better for him on his side with all that reflux."
"He might find a way to get over the towels and roll onto his tummy."
"Samantha…he's four days old. He has no concept on how to move a towel out of the way let alone roll over on his own. I know he's going to be a brainer like his mom, but he's not that good."
"You never know," she mumbled.
"If he can do all of that, he's like the second coming of Albert Einstein," Flack declared. "And with me as his father, that's not possible."
Flack stepped back from the bassinet and smiled down at his son. "Now he's all good, mommy. He's warm enough and drifting back to sleep. So you've got some time to yourself before he wants to eat again. And I've given him a stern lecture on getting on your nerves too much. Told him to be a good boy."
"Thank you," Sam said, and pulled the beside table over.
"See you in a bit, baby K," Flack leaned over the bassinet and pressed a kiss to his son's head. "Daddy be back soon."
He went back to the seating area and got the cartons of milk and brought them to Sam.
"You're amazing," she declared, smiling lovingly at her husband.
"I try my best," he said, returning the smile and setting the drinks on the tray. "Now you've got a lot of milk here and I am telling you right now, it better be all gone when I get back. It's not, I am handing you your ass, Mrs Flack."
"I'm not scared of you," she informed him.
"Yes…you are," he said, and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers.
"No…I'm not."
"Yes," he insisted. "You are."
She shook her head.
"Don't be stubborn."
"Come on, Don. We all know I'm the boss around here. That you're the good cop and I'm the bad cop."
He chuckled. "You wish."
"You are not in the least bit scary to me," she said.
"I can be."
"I'm waiting…"
He grinned and kissed her chastely. "Just you wait and see," he said, and headed for the closet in the corner of the room. "I've got plans for you."
"You're such a talker," Sam declared and picked up a piece of toast and bit into it. "You're all talk and no action."
"Yeah?" he asked, snagging his coat off the hook in his closet and slipping into it. "If I'm all talk and no action, explain to me how our four day old son came about."
"Because you seduced me."
Flack laughed. "This coming from the girl who was walking around my apartment in my shirt and her underwear…"
"No underwear," she corrected.
"No underwear and doing obscene things with an oreo cookie."
"I was merely eating it, Donald."
"It's how you were eating it," he informed her, zipping up his coat.
"Well no matter. You still seduced me and turned me into your sex slave. You and your little games with ice cream and ice cubes and God knows what else."
"Handcuffs," he said. "Don't forget the handcuffs. You get unlimited use of them now that we're married. Too bad we won't be having sex again for like, I don't know…forever."
"You poor man," Sam sipped some milk. "I'll have to buy you a subscription to a rub and tug."
He grimaced. "Please…there's nothing stopping you from doing something like that for me once in a while."
"Maybe I just don't feel like joining you in your perverted X games," she said.
"You are far more perverted and twisted than me," Flack informed her, returning to the side of her bed.
She laughed at that.
"I gotta go, babe," he said, and kissed her softly. "Call me if you need anything, okay? And I mean anything."
She nodded and reached up used her thumb to wipe some toast crumbs that had spread from her lips and onto his.
"Problems with Kieran, you call the nurse. No hesitation. You hear me?'
"I heard you loud and clear, Detective Sargent Flack. Can you do me a favour? Two favours, actually?"
He nodded.
"One, ask the nurse for some pain meds. I'm suffering today. And two, bring me back a Frosty and Taco salad from Wendy's? "
"I'll see what I can do," he told her and kissed her again. "I love you."
"I love you, too. Drive safely."
"I will," he promised and headed for the door.
"Donnie?" she called to him.
He paused in the doorway to look back at her.
"Thank you. For everything."
He smiled. "No problem."
"And just so you know, you're nothing like your father."
His smile broadened. She had no idea what it meant for him to hear that. Or maybe she did and that's why she had said it.
"Just wanted you to know that," she said.
"Thanks," he responded, and winking at her, disappeared from the doorway.
"Nothing like him," Sam whispered to herself, casting a glance at their son just feet away. "Thank God."
"There's the proud papa," Scagnetti said in way of greeting as his partner approached their conjoined desks.
The bull pen was falling victim to its usual noise and hustle and bustle. Plainclothes officers were wrestling handcuffed prisoners to holding cells, the perps fighting and kicking every step of the way and offering up every sort of expletive imaginable. Phones rang off their hooks and detectives were pacing by their desks as they took calls or were tugging on their jackets as they hurried from the precinct, slapping Flack on the back and offering him quick congratulations on their way by.
Flack grinned at his partner's words.
"How's the little guy?" Scagnetti asked, pushing his chair away from his desk and standing up.
"He's doing good," Flack replied. "Going home tomorrow. Has a bit of a chest infection so he's on some oxygen hear and there and on some IV antibiotics. But he's doing alright."
"The infection gonna clear up?"
"Couple weeks at the most," Flack told him. "He swallowed some amniotic fluid and it's causing him some issues. He's a tough little shit I'll give him that. He's tenacious. Like his mother."
"Smart like her too, I hope."
"I hope so, too," Flack laughed.
Scagnetti offered his hand. "Congratulations, Flack," he said. "Glad things worked out okay."
"Thanks. Got a picture if you want to see it."
"You gotta ask that? Are we not partners?"
"We are. Which makes me wonder why you haven't come by the hospital to see me and my family."
"I'm not that kind of guy, Flack. You know that. Besides, I hate hospitals. You and your pretty wife invite me over for supper and than we're talking."
"I'll run it by her," Flack said, and reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, pulled a Polaroid one of the nurses had taken in the nursery. "Haven't taken any pics off the digital yet," he said, holding the photo out to the older man. "This one was taken of him in the nursery when we first got to the hospital."
Scagnetti took the picture from his friend and colleague and look at it. He smiled. "Kid's got tons of goddamn hair," he commented. "Is it me or does he look just like you?"
"He's his father's son through and through," Flack said proudly and sat down at his desk. "My hair, my eyes, my ears and chin and lips. Only thing he has of his mother is her nose. Freckles and all. And her temper. Should have heard him in the nursery when they were trying to clean him up. Screamed his head off. Fought like hell."
"Sounds stubborn like his old man. Can I have this? You got others?"
Flack nodded. "Go ahead…it's all yours."
Scagnetti opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a roll of scotch tape. And proceeded to attached the picture to the corner of his computer screen before putting the tape back, shutting the drawer and sitting down.
"Sam's good?" he asked.
"She's hurting," Flack replied. "Quite a bit. Popped her stitches, Kieran's big head added insult to injury and they had to sew her up not only inside, but outside, too. Twenty five stitches."
"Ouch," Scagnetti said and whistled lowly. "Tell them to put a couple in to tighten her up nice and good for you so when you and her get back to business, she's all…"
"You're a perverted old man," Flack informed his partner.
"Be like being with a virgin."
"Tony, stop while you're ahead. Don't talk about my wife like that. That's just wrong. How's things been around here?"
"Same shit, different day. That crazy rich broad you dated a while back won't stop calling here for you."
Flack sighed and shook his head and reached for the first file on the monstrous pile to his right.
"Came by twice yesterday. Angell told her to take a hike. That you guys just had a baby and you're off for a while and that if she messes around with you and fucks up your family, she's going to take her out to the wood shed and punish her."
"Angell said all that?"
"Shocking, I know. I mean, who would expect something like that from someone so demure and feminine," Scagnetti said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "So what's this Danielle want?"
"Devon," Flack corrected. "And I have no idea."
"I mean, other than a booty call with a blue collar shumck such as yourself."
"Shmuck?" Flack chuckled. "You bringing the Yiddish now? Seriously, I don't know what she wants. I don't want to know. I just want her to leave me alone."
"Think she'll cause problems for you? Screw up your family."
"I hope not," Flack sighed.
What he was really thinking, was: She better not even fucking try.
The nurse, Connie, had brought Sam a chocolate milkshake and a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich. Comfort food, the pretty blond nurse had said, when she brought the goodies to the distraught new mother. She'd gone in to check the baby's IV and see how mom and him were making out and to give Sam some pain medication, and found Sam curled up in the fetal position in bed and crying into her pillow. Post-partum. Not necessarily depression, but the let down of all the pregnancy hormones. And the emotional release of eight months of planning and anticipation before over and done with.
She had dozed off after finishing both the shake and the sandwich. And woke to the sun streaming through the window and her face bathed with warmth and the sound of her son fussing in his bassinette. From her position, she could see he had once again gotten out of his swaddling and his little arms flailing as he whimpered. She slowly and carefully climbed out of bed and made her way over to him.
"Kieran…" she spoke to him in a soft, soothing face. Noticing that his noises stopped at the sound of her voice. "Kieran…what's wrong, baby? Are you hungry? Did you manage to get out of the swaddling daddy did? You're mommy's little Houdini, aren't you."
She removed the swaddling the rest of the way and immediately smelled it.
"Pee-eww, kid," she said, and plugged her noise. "You stink, sweetie cheeks. What are you eating?"
She opened the cupboard under the bassinet and took out a fresh diaper and a package of wipes. Unbuttoning the baby's nightie, she was careful to mind the IV line as she pulled his legs free and tucked the bottom of the jammies under his back and opened the wipes. She yanked three out and cleaned up the mess her son had made of himself, gently moving over the small, slightly blood stained bandage that covered his still tender and raw penis. Poor kid had had to endure a circumcision the day before on top of all his other issues. All because the doctor had said it was common, for later in life when the cleaning of such appendage became necessary, that the child be identical to his father. Flack's face had went white and he had felt nauseous when he finally clue in to what the doctor was actually suggesting. And Sam had made him go in when the procedure had been done.
Kieran had screamed from the agony, but it had been Flack who'd come back to the room near tears. Their son was already quiet and happily nursing on a bottle of expressed breast milk. But dad…dad wasn't doing so well.
"I am so glad he only needs that done once," Flack had declared. "Do not ask me to do anything like that ever again."
"Well he won't remember it," Sam had responded. "Do you remember getting it done?"
"I was a baby when my mother inflicted the same torture on me. I was like a day old."
"And do you remember any of it? The pain of it?"
"Of course not," Flack had said.
"My point exactly. So suck it up."
She finished cleaning the baby up and put a fresh diaper on him before re-dressing him in his pyjamas.
"Let's go, little man," she said to her son, and scooped him up into her arm. With her free hand, she pushed the IV pole as she carried her baby over to the seating area. "You're probably hungry. You're just like you're daddy, you know that? You have a huge appetite."
She sat down on the couch and unbuttoned her pyjama top and put the baby to the breast. He latched on eagerly and hungrily. A definite pro. She smiled down at him and touched every inch of his face with gentle fingers. Stroking the bridge of his noise, running a fingertip along the outline of his ears. Tracing his bottom and top lip. Tickled his chin and let her finger drift across his eyebrows. She ran her fingers through his hair. It was silky and near black and just beautiful.
He was beautiful. Just like his father.
"Is it good, Kieran?" she asked, as he fed ravenously and stared up at her with his big blue eyes. "You were starving, weren't you? Are you mommy's big boy? Are you mommy and daddy's good little man? Mommy and daddy love you so much. We waited a long time to see you and now you're here. And we wouldn't give you up for anything in the world."
Kieran's fingers curled around one of hers as she stroked his cheek.
Sam leaned down to kiss his forehead.
They finished the rest of the feed in silence. It was peaceful and relaxing as he took from both breasts before she buttoned her pyjamas back up and sat her son on her lap, holding him around the chest with one arm, her hand supporting his head under the chin as she rubbed his back in smooth circles. Eliciting two huge burps.
Sam giggled at how loud they are. "You are definitely your father's son," she declared, and laid the baby back down along her arm. "I think you even burp louder than he does. But we won't tell him that. Because we don't want to hurt that ego of his. Wound his male pride in any way."
The baby gave a content sigh and a large yawn.
"What a life, huh?" Sam said "Eat, sleep and poop. Must be nice."
A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. She knew it was only gas, but at the same time, it still warmed her heart.
"You know," Sam said, and put her feet up on the coffee table. "Your grandma used to sing me a song when I was just a little girl. Maybe I could sing it for you? Would you like that?"
Another yawn.
"Am I boring you, Kieran? Am I keeping you up? I am going to sing you that song. It's my favourite. It's called Wooden Heart and it's by Elvis Presley. Now I am not the best singer so you have to bear with me, okay?"
The baby stared up at her with wide, interested eyes.
"Okay, here it goes…don't go laughing at me though.
Can't you see, I love you? Please don't break my heart in two, that's not hard to do, 'Ccause I don't have a wooden heart. And if you say goodbye, then I know that I would cry. Maybe I would die, 'cause I don't have a wooden heart. There's no strings upon this love of mine, it was always you from the start. Treat me nice, treat me good, treat me like you really should. 'Cause I'm not made of wood, and I don't have a wooden heart."
Silence fell over the room. Those tiny fingers tightened their grip on her finger and blue eyes locked on golden ones.
"I love you, Kieran," Sam whispered, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Mommy will always love you. Forever. Just remember that, okay? That she loves you and will never leave you. Ever."
She smiled at her son and gathered him into her arms once again and cuddled him close, his stomach resting against her chest, her hand on the back of his head as it lay on her shoulder. Quiet enveloped the room. Sunshine streamed in. It was peaceful. Heavenly, almost.
"I will never leave you," she vowed.
Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing! I am so glad I was able to catch up like this! Big relief indeed! I appreciate all of you and thank each and every one for their support!
Special thanks to:
Hope4sall
Brrtmclv
Aphina
Forest Angel
Laplandgurl
Bluehaven4220
muchmadness
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