DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND THE FLACK KIDS.

Answers…at last

"You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move
like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold."
-Fields of Gold, Sting

Flack was awake before the crack of dawn. Two days had passed since Angell and her ill fated attempt at comfort sex. More than forty eight hours since he'd come down the stairs from getting Daniel a drink of water and tucking him into his parents' bed and reading him Good Night Moon. Twice. The beloved book was wrinkled and more than half the pages either crinkled or torn. It had originally been Kieran's. It had been included in a set of children's books that Stella had given the then three month old at his belated baby shower. The story had been read thousands upon thousands of times, Flack was sure of it. He had long ago memorized the words, as had the twins and Kieran.

While he still read it from time to time to Mikayla, the boys had long grown out of the story of a child wishing all of his favourite things goodnight. Kieran was into anything to do with sports. Whether it be Sports Illustrated for Kids or novels on hockey and football geared towards the younger set. Mackenzie was a comic book kid. He had hundreds of them stored in an old suitcase under his bed, and there were many a night that Sam or Flack had gone into his darkened room and found their son hiding under his covers with a flashlight and one of his favourite comics.

Daniel, the brainer of the three, had no interest in magazines or comic books. He preferred The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Both Sam and Flack were pretty sure that their precocious, often hyper-active son didn't understand a word of what he was actually reading. Until he'd sit down at the dinner table and regal them with tales about Frodo Baggins and the War of the Great Ring. And as he went into great detail about various characters, his mother and father would look at each other with their eyes wide, and then smile and marvel at the tiny wonder before them.

Since the death of his mother, Daniel had regressed in his behaviour considerably. While even Mackenzie had begun having problems with nightmares and wetting the bed, Daniel had become somewhat of a little child again. Wanting to read story books that he'd been shrugging off since he was four, begging to keep a light on so it would scare off the monsters under his bed, refusing to spend the entire night in his room and begging and pleading to sleep with Kieran or with his father. And now he was back to sucking his thumb. A habit that his parents had been fortunate enough to break when he was two. Flack had discovered it when he'd woken up a week ago, to Daniel yet again cuddled up to him, and one arm wrapped securely around his mother's tattered old stuffed cat, and the thumb of his free hand stuck firmly in his mouth.

Flack didn't have the heart, or the patience, to attempt to wean the kid from sucking his thumb. He knew it would be a long and trying process. Daniel would scream and throw tantrums. Part of which included him either pulling out chunks of hair -thankfully impossible now that his father had taken him to a barber and got it shaved off-, sitting on the floor and banging the back his head off of the wall behind him, or biting himself until he bled. Flack simply did not have the tolerance to deal with anything like that. He was still dealing with his own sorrow and his own grief and attempting to find his own ways to cope. He didn't think that he could successfully, and fairly, control his son's behaviour.

Flack needed help. He knew it but admitted it to no one but himself. He needed help with not only taking care of his children, but with taking care of himself as well. He'd given up on caring about anything. Work was nothing more than an excuse to get out of the house and keep himself busy. Keep his mind active and off of the constant threat of tears and the agonizing heart break he still felt over his wife's death. The loneliness that never seemed to abate. The heaviness in his chest when he walked into the house at the end of the day and didn't see her or hear her. The emptiness that overcame him when he found himself lying awake at night, alone in their bed, clutching her pillow to his chest. When he had realized after he'd come home from work one day that Carmen -when she'd still been living there- had stripped the bed bare, taking with her the last pillowcase of Sam's that he'd been unable to part with- he'd lost it on her. Terrifying both her and the kids in the process.

He'd ran down to the basement and tore open the dryer and tossed clean, yet damp clothing all over the floor until he'd found it. And when he'd held it up to his face and found that his wife's scent had been obliterated, he'd sat down in the middle of the basement, his knees drawn to his chest and bawled like a baby. Then he'd taken the pillow case upstairs, laid it out flat on the bed, and sprayed it generously with Samantha's perfume.

Carmen had left shortly after that. Claiming that he was taking obsession to a whole new level and that he had a serious problem. That if he didn't get help with it soon, he was going to lose everything. He had called her a cold hearted bitch. Accused her of not understanding what he was going through. He'd already lost a huge chunk of his life. The woman he'd spent a decade with. The love of his life. Speed had come back in the end. He and Carmen may have split up, but he hadn't been gone off the earth permanently. Carmen had gotten a second chance. There were no second chances for him. Samantha was gone and never coming back. His kids no longer had a mother. And Carmen walking out on him and those kids was essentially a slap in the face to Sam.

As was the numerous times, both after Sam's death and in the past, that Carmen, as far as Flack was concerned, had attempted to get a little too cozy with him.

In the end, she had chosen Tim Speedle over them. Flack accepted that. It no longer bothered him. He didn't expect Carmen to grieve for Sam to the same extent as he and the kids and even Adam did. She and Speed had regained, and were rebuilding, their love after a long time apart. And they were disgustingly happy. All the power to them, as far as Flack was concerned. He simply went on with his life -albeit poorly at times- and tried his best to take care of his shattered family. As far as he was concerned, nothing or no one existed other then his kids at the moment. They needed him and he was doing his damndest to make sure he was there for them no matter what.

When Speed had decided to come after his kids, to try and claim them as his own, that was the last goddamn straw. From the time those babies were in the womb, Flack had accepted them and loved them as if they were his own. Regardless of how bad it hurt that his wife had betrayed him, he had vowed to be a father to those twins. To love them and provide for them. To nurture them no matter whose DNA took up residence in their bodies. And he forgave his wife. He'd never forgotten and eight years later, when he thought about what she'd done, it still hurt like hell.

But he loved her. And his kids. He was the only father that Daniel and Mackenzie knew. He was the one that changed their diapers and fed them bottles in the middle of the night. Rocked them when they were colicky. Smiled proudly and cheered them on from behind the video camera when they took their first steps. Wore a ridiculous party hat on his head and helped them unwrap presents and laughed as they smashed their innocent faces into chocolate cake on their first birthdays. Felt the utmost pride when they looked up at him with those big brown eyes and called him daddy for the first time.

So many milestones and wonderful memories that he'd shared with them. As their father. And it was unfathomable that someone who didn't even know they existed, who had vowed that he'd never come between them and the man they knew as their father, could simply decide he wanted them for his own. And find a judge crazy enough to agree with him.

All those thoughts, and more, had been plaguing Flack since he'd come home to find that process server on his front porch. The rage that he felt inside was frightening. It seemed as if anger had taken up a permanent residence inside of him in the past two and half months. He was angry at the bastard who'd robbed him of his wife and his children of their mother. He was angry at Tim Speedle for thinking he could walk into the twins' life and take over as their daddy. He was angry at himself for finding himself remotely attracted to his dead wife's dear friend. Not that he wanted a relationship with Jessica Angell. Hell, he didn't even want one night with her. But he was human. A red blooded male. And it had felt damn good, if not terrified him, to know that a woman wanted him. To know that someone wanted to help him through his darkest days. To make him feel alive again. Even if the way she'd wanted to help him did seem a bit twisted and strange.

Most of all, he was angry at Samantha. Angry that she hadn't followed department protocol that day. That she'd gone in to begin processing the scene without waiting for Stella. For being so goddamn stubborn.

For leaving him. For leaving him raise four kids on his own. One with severe emotional issues on top of the OCD and ADHD that already plagued the poor kid. It was Sam that always dealt with Daniel. Recognized warning signs and interpreted his bizarre behaviour and got him into the right people and the right therapies and drugs if need be. She was able to effectively and compassionately deal with him and his outbursts. It had been that way since Daniel's problems began to manifest. Flack had been somewhat ignorant to it all. He'd listen to her rant and rave or tell him about what course of treatment the pedeatrician was going to try with their son, but for the most part, it went in one ear and out the other. She was dealing with it and that was enough for Flack. He trusted her explicitly with their children. And if she said things were under control, then he believed her.

And now this. Left alone to deal with a child that was in some ways, a stranger to him. He had absolutely no clue on who to go to seek help for his son or what to do when Daniel threw one of his fits. And while he wished that he'd paid more attention to what his wife had done for the their son, he wished more that she was still around to handle it herself. That she was still there to take care of all of them.

Flack didn't want to be angry at her. He didn't want to hate her for leaving him. What had happened was no fault of her own. And second guessing her decisions or over analyzing the moment had no bearing on the future. Nothing was going to erase what had happened, or bring her back. The anger mostly kicked in at the loneliest moments in his life. When it was the wee hours of morning or the silent hours of the night. When he was alone and unable to sleep and plagued with thoughts of her. With time on his hands to go through moments they'd shared together in his mind. To think about how much he missed her and loved her.

And to think about the many, many things she'd miss in their children's lives. They had started their marriage on the promise of forever. On thoughts of one day growing old and grey together. Of having children together and raising them and seeing them out of the house and growing in their own relationships. Of one day having grandchildren. Of enjoying their golden years together once retirement hit and they had all the time in the world to spend together.

He thought of the trip to Ireland they were suppose to take. They were supposed to leave four days after her shooting. She'd been excited and hyper about going away. Just the two of them. It would have been her first ever trip outside of the United States, and their first trip alone.

But it never happened. And he hated himself for not making her call in sick that morning. For not encouraging her to stay home when she was already so late.

Despite all the regret and the pain, he was thankful for one thing. That when she'd left that morning, it had been under happy circumstances. They had enjoyed a wonderfully, tender moment of intimacy and his last words to her had been that he loved her. She hadn't left with any doubt in her mind about how he'd felt about her. And when she hadn't walked back into the house, he'd been left with no doubt in his how she'd felt about him.

Always a silver lining, Flack thought, as he rubbed sleep out of his weary eyes and cast glance to at the bedside clock. Five thirty seven in the morning and he was already up and knew that sleep would now allude him. He shifted carefully in the bed, trying his best to not wake the three sleeping boys that were gathered beside him. His sons were snuggled tightly together, their heads at the foot of the bed. The air conditioner being turned on full blast had caused a chill in the house and he'd grabbed the comforter from Kieran's room and covered the boys up after they'd fallen asleep shortly before midnight. After Mikayla had been put to bed, the men of the house had gathered together in the big bed to eat junk food and watch scary movies. Kieran's idea for how they could spent family time together, they attempted to gather together like that at least twice a week.

The kids were always fast asleep before making it to a second movie. But it was always fun to see them huddled together, peering out from behind their hands. Terrified of the movie, but not wanting to miss a second of it. Even Kieran, who tried his best to be big and brave and bad, sometimes dove under the covers out of fright. In between his little brothers clinging to him and hiding behind him.

Flack lay staring up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, listening to his boys' soft breathing and the way Mackenzie murmured in his sleep. Feeling their feet digging in his side or rubbing against his stomach if either of them moved in the slightest. And he found himself nearly laughing out loud as he thought about how big those feet actually were. Even on two kids as small as Daniel and Mackenzie. They had absolutely monstrous feet for their bodies. And it made him think about how Sam always teased him about his feet. How they were big and awkward and always got in the way. And how his sons had his feet. Among all the other traits they'd picked up from him.

He sat up suddenly and looked down at the end of the bed. Studying Daniel and Mackenzie carefully. Angell's words from two nights ago echoing in his mind.

Have you ever stopped to think that maybe those boys actually yours?

They look exactly like their mother….

He realized, as he sat there looking at them so closely, that Angell was right. That despite the unruly hair they had both possessed from birth, Daniel and Mackenzie did look just like their mother. The eyes may not have been the same colour, but they were the same shape and had the ability to express so many different emotions. Both had her tiny, pixie like nose dusted with freckles and her small ears. Her pale, smooth skin and her smile. And her laugh. That giggle that could warm even the coldest of hearts. And the unruly hair…well it was Adam's hair. Colour and everything. Mikayla had the same texture of hair, only it was black like her father's and Kieran's.

And Angell was right about another thing. He hadn't ever considered the possibility that he was the twins' father because he was so angry about his wife's infidelity. That he had refused to even consider the option that he had fathered Daniel and Mackenzie. That he'd taken one look at them as newborns and was so quick to rant and rave at Tim Speedle when in reality, those babies looked the way they did because they took after their mother.

Tears threatened at the mere possibility of finding out that Daniel and Mackenzie were his children. After he'd all but kicked Angell out of the house two evenings ago, he hadn't been able to swallow his pride enough to apologize to her, nor had she called to see if things were okay between them. Instead, he'd confided in Danny about the paternity suite filed against him and his desire to find out if the twins were his. Danny hadn't said much. He'd simply nodded, his eyes full of understanding when he'd come over to the house later and swabbed the inside of Flack's cheek and then the inside of the twins' mouth while they were asleep. Having the boys awake during the process would only raise a lot of questions. Especially on Daniel's part.

Questions Flack didn't have the answers to.

He wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands and cleared his throat noisily before pushing the covers off of his body and slowly and carefully slipping out of bed. Flack knew there wasn't a chance he'd ever fall back asleep now. He was up for the duration of the day. No matter how long and trying. He was just thankful that he had the day off. He had made plans to take Kieran and Mikayla over to his parents while Daniel and Mackenzie went to Carmen and Speed's for their every second weekend visit. It burned his ass and made him sick to his stomach that he had to ship his kids off there. Not to mention the twins' routinely cried about having to go. But he was trying to make things as friendly as possible.

Please God, just cut me some slack, Flack thought, as he fixed the comforter around his three boys. Tucking it around their slumbering bodies before bending down to press a kiss to each forehead and run a gentle hand over their hair. You've already taken my wife away from me. What more do you want? Let something work out for me for a change. Let them be mine. Don't take my kids away from me.

Daniel moaned loudly in his sleep but didn't awaken. Instead he cuddled in closer to Kieran and shoved his thumb into his mouth.

Flack didn't bother to even attempt to pull the thumb out of his kid's mouth. Such an action would only wake Daniel up and either cause a massive tantrum, or have the kid up all day. Which would make him extremely grumpy and moody for his Auntie Carmen and Uncle Tim. And grumpy and moody on top of the OCD and ADHD made for a wicked combination.

Instead, he left his children sleeping and crept from the bedroom. He journeyed down the hall and let himself into Mikayla's room. He tip toed over to the Disney Princess toddler bed and tucked the covers around his daughter's tiny body and picked her teddy up off of the floor and carefully lifted her arm and placed the beloved bear underneath it. Pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his little girl's head, he silently headed from the room, closing the door slightly behind him.

Flack journeyed downstairs. The house was in silence save for the gentle hum of the central air unit as he made his way into the kitchen, flicking on the lights as he went straight to the sink and snagged a mug out of the drain board. The place was a complete mess. He tried his best to keep on top of all the chores and all the repairs, but it seemed like it was one thing after another. That things were constantly piling up with no end in sight. Despite both the dishwasher and the counter top rack being full of clean things, the sink was full of even more dirty dishes. Seven loads of wash were waiting in the utility room in the basement. He had been opting to buy himself and the kids things to wear when clothes ran out instead of just buckling down and doing the wash. The cupboards and the fridge were nearly empty. The only thing that seemed in good supply was bread, milk and three different kinds of cereal. For nearly two weeks, he'd been ordering out nearly every night, or he took his kids over to his parents for dinner.

This is fucking ridiculous, Flack thought, as he filled his mug with water and placed it in the microwave for four minutes. His house was a mess, his kids were out of control and life seemed to be falling apart.

He needed to get a grip. To get a handle on things. Yet at the same time, he didn't want to have to ask for help. He was no one's charity case and he hated imposing on his family and friends when they had their own lives and issues to deal with. At the same time, without help, he was going to fail miserable.

And he refused to fail.

The microwave beeped and he took the mug out and grabbed a jar of instant coffee from the cupboard. Making himself a cup, he snagged a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the top of the fridge. His eyes falling on the half empty bottle of JD that sat there. Calling his name. Since Sam had died, he'd fallen off the wagon. Hard. And it sickened him. That he'd become that weak that he'd had to resort to alcohol. Within the last month he'd gotten somewhat of a grip on his problem. He didn't want to go back to the way he was years ago, or become even worse. His kids needed him. Not an alcoholic of a father.

But one won't hurt, he thought, as he grabbed a hold of the bottle and carried everything over to the cluttered kitchen table. Sitting the lighter and cigarettes and coffee down, he removed the lid from the alcohol and brought the bottle to his lips. The strong odour of the JD permeating his senses and knocking some sense into him. Shaking his head, he instead decided to pour the liquor into the steaming cup of coffee. Just one, he told himself. Just something to take the edge off. Once the edge is off, you'll be okay. The pain will subside a bit. You'll cope. Things won't seem as bad after just one.

The phone on top of the phone rang, startling him. He gave a small start, then set the bottle of alcohol down as he hurried to answer the telephone. To prevent it from waking his kids up. He snatched the offending object from the top of the microwave and pressed talk without even checking the caller ID.

"Yeah…this is Flack,' he said in way of greeting.

"Hey, it's me," Danny's voice, although tired, also sounded somewhat energized. Excited.

"Messer, it's not even six in the morning," Flack growled. "What in the hell…"

"I'm at the lab," Danny told him. "I just…I got the results of the paternity test back…"

Flack felt his hands begin to tremble. His heart pounded in his chest. "And?" he asked.

"And I think I need to come and see you. Right now," Danny replied.

"It's not even six," Flack repeated. "What could possibly be so…"

"I can't give you news like this over the phone. I just can't. I have to do it face to face."

"Is it bad or good?" Flack inquired. It was fifty-fifty in either direction. He either was, or he wasn't.

"I'm on my way over," Danny told him, and promptly hung up.

Frowning, Flack pressed end and set the phone back on top of the microwave and returned to the kitchen table. Although it had only been a couple of minutes from the time the phone rang until the end of the conversation, the need for alcohol had evaporated. Instead of adding it to his coffee or taking a swig right from the bottle, Flack instead put the cap back on and walked over to the fridge to put the bottle back.

He paused in his tracks as he caught sight of Sam's handwriting on the fridge. The honey-do list she'd made for him the day before her death. He hadn't had the heart to take it down. And he stood there now, two and a half months later, tears welling in his eyes at the sight of her writing.

1. Clean out the garden shed. It's a damn disgusting mess.

2. Paint Kieran's room. He's been on you about it for a month. And he wants to help

3. Buy and then replace the filter for the central air unit. It's going to get stinking hot soon, babe

4. Could you PLEASE put in that new shower head for our bathroom? You know, the one I bought back in January?

5. Either call a professional, or re-pave the driveway yourself? You know how I love it when you're all hot and sweaty from hard, manly work. And how I love to rub away your aches and pain afterwards.

6. Always remember that I love you.

He smiled, and reaching out, trailed his fingertips over the last six words.

I love you, too, he whispered in the silence of the kitchen.

Looking down at the bottle of booze in his hands, then up again at his wife's handwriting, Flack decided to do what was right. For him and his kids.

He walked to the sink, uncapped the bottle and dumped every ounce of the amber coloured liquor down the drain.

You're going to be okay, he told himself. Everything's going to be okay.

And for once, he felt confidant in telling himself that.

Danny Messer arrived shortly before six thirty. His clothes were wrinkled and dishevelled and his hair messy from the long triple that he'd just completed, but there was a spring in his step as he climbed out of his car and journeyed across the front lawn of his best friend's house. Things in his own life had begun to finally improve. His divorce from Erica was close to being finalized, and he and Lindsay had not only moved in together, but had found out they were expecting their first child together. She had never returned to Montana after she'd made the appearance at the Flack house for Samantha's wake. Despite Danny's decision to stay as far away from his ex as possible, he had found the exact opposite taking place. While Erica had dealt with her cousin's death by tossing herself into her work and going on more and more business trips and essentially ignoring him and their kids, Danny had found himself seeking solace in the arms of his Montana. He wasn't proud of the fact that he had committed adultery. He had sworn after Rikki he'd never cheat on anyone again. He knew how badly people got hurt when there was dishonesty in a relationship.

But Erica had all but abandoned him when he'd needed someone the most. Still reeling from the death of someone he considered a sister, Danny had needed her for the long and dark days he had been coping with. For the unshakable loss and depression that threatened to over take him. It had been Lindsay, who, after he'd called her at one thirty in the morning one night, in tears over his lot in life and the unfairness of what had happened to Samantha and Flack and their four kids, who had left her new apartment and took a cab to see him. It had been Lindsay who'd listened patiently and understandingly. Who held him in her arms, her head to her shoulder as she rocked him like a mother comforting her distraught child.

It had been Lindsay he'd loved all along. And now, with this second chance at a life with her, he was bound and determined not to fuck it up. Erica had taken up with her ex and signed over full custody of the kids. Who loved their new step mom and the prospect of there being a new addition to the family.

And while after his long shift, Danny wanted nothing more than to go home and be with his soon to be wife and his kids, the news he had to deliver took precedence.

Huge precedence, in fact.

Flack was already waiting outside. Smoking a cigarette on the top step, two cups of coffee sitting on the porch behind him.

Danny nodded in greeting and held up the manila envelope he held in his hands. A huge grin on his face.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy Flack," he said, and presented his best friend with the envelope.

"Are you fucking serious?" Flack asked, trying to contain the excitement in his voice.

"I'm not saying another word. Just take a look at it for yourself."

"Do you know what it says?" Flack asked. "Did you look at the results before putting them in here?"

"Would it piss you off if I did?" Danny retorted.

"No. I'd be more surprised if you didn't look at them."

"I'm not saying anything else. Just…just open them, Don."

Flack finished up his smoke and butted it out on the top step before tossing it in the rusted tin can behind him. Wiping his hands on the legs of his sweats, he took the envelope from Danny and quickly tore it open. His hands trembled yet again. Sweat beaded on his forehead and the back of his neck. More from nervousness then the already humid conditions outside. His heart pounded in his chest and his stomach twisted itself into knots as he pulled out the single sheet of paper inside.

"Tell me what it says," Danny encouraged, unable to contain his own excitement as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

"If you already know then…"

"Just read it out loud," he said. "I want to hear it come out of your mouth. I want to hear you say it. A'right? Humour me."

Flack sighed heavily and briefly closed his eyes before looking down at the carefully typed words in front of him.

Danny watched as realization slowly set in. He saw the smile that tugged at his friend's mouth and the tears that threatened in Flack's eyes.

"Tell me what it says," Danny pressed.

"It says," Flack began in a shaky face. "That to an accuracy of ninety nine point nine nine eight percent…"

Danny fought off the urge to hug and kiss his best friend.

"That I'm Daniel and Mackenzie's father," Flack finished. And promptly dissolved into tears, the sheet of paper fluttering out of his hands and onto the ground.

Danny fought back tears as he picked the paper up and took a seat beside his best friend. He wrapped an arm around Flack and held the other man's head to his shoulder as he sobbed. Unabashedly and unashamed.

"Boom," Danny whispered. That one word never sounding, or feeling, so damn good.

So this was shorter than most. But I didn't want to take away from the news!

Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all the lurkers! But please, please, please R and R folks! It makes me day!

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