DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.
A/N: THIS IS A FUTURE CHAPTER AND IS DEDICATED TO A READER OF MINE, ELLEN MARANDO, THAT REQUESTED IF I WOULD DO SOMETHING REVOLVING AROUND THE DAY THAT SAM WAS SHOT. SO I DECIDED TO DO IT IN TWO CHAPTERS. FLASHBACKS IF YOU WILL. THIS FIRST ONE IS FROM STELLA'S POV, AND THE SECOND STILL TO COME CHAPTER WILL BE FROM FLACK'S. SO THIS IS FOR YOU ELLEN! HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!
One shot (Part 1)
"If I were to die today
My Life would be more than Ok.
For the time I spent with you
Is like a dream come true.
If this was a last goodbye
No more tears to dry.
I would say it one more time
It's been more than fine.
How could I have known?
How could have shown?
Say what you will before it's too late.
Say what you will.
Say what you will
Before it's too late.
Say what you will.
If you were to walk away
Know you could stay.
Think of all the times we've had.
All the good, and the bad."
-Say What You Will, Dahmnait Doyle
Stella tapped her foot impatiently, the bottom of her stylish black heels clicking noisily against the concrete. Her lips pursed tightly together, she peeled back the sleeve of her simple black cotton blouse and checked the graceful silver watch that adorned her wrist.
Twenty five minutes, she thought, shaking her head in disappoint and disdain. Anger simmered inside of her as she thought of the time that was being wasted. Not only by the failure of a CSI to actually show up to work on time, but the failure to secure proper backup. Two uniform officers did simply not equal enough man power to keep an eye on a three thousand square foot abandoned warehouse that only forty five minutes before had a 911 call lodged against it after a passer-by had heard a male and a female arguing inside, followed by a gunshot.
The responding patrolmen -the same two that now stood alongside of her, talking about last night's Yankees game and the olden days of Jeter and A-Rod while they awaited further orders- had done a complete sweep of the warehouse and found nothing save for what they described as a wadding pool of blood. There was no victim or spent shell casings. Not even a blood trail leading out of the building. And while Stella wanted to trust them when they gave their word that the entire building had been searched and secured, she knew that it was better to be safe then sorry. Instead of going in their blindly -and without a partner, she thought miserably- she instead had put in a call to ESU requesting that they send a team to comb the building and the area around it with a fine tooth comb while the CSIs could process and feel safe while doing it.
She'd been informed that because of a lack of available staff -just what had happened to everyone that they were either late that day or simply calling in sick?- there would be an hour wait, minimum, for the man power that she was asking for.
So she waited. Agitation and impatience slowly getting the better of her. A thumb poised over the buttons on the cell phone that was clasped in her hand. The first call she intended to make was a none to friendly one to Samantha Flack. Demanding to know where the hell she was and then asking if Samantha still wanted a job and the pay check that came with it going into the bank. Then she was going to call ESU back and threaten them with promises of calling the commissioner and getting him to light a fire under their ass. Of course, she'd face ridicule for that. She was married to the commissioner after all. And each and every time Mac got involved in a case or stepped out to the plate for the lab, she was constantly laughed at for having to rely on her husband to fix her problems.
Least of my goddamn worries, she thought, as raked her fingers through her hair and commenced pacing. Right now I've got a quickly degrading crime scene that I don't know if it's safe to go into or not, and an employee that's AWOL. Despite the fact her shift started two hours ago and she'd promised over the phone that she was on her way to the scene.
She glanced towards the end of the alley as the sound of tires crunching over strewn garbage captured her attention. She shook her head and planted her hands firmly on her hips and glared at Sam as she parked the SUV and killed the ignition.
"Traffic bad?" she asked, irritation seeping into her voice as the younger woman climbed out from behind the wheel of the Avalanche.
"Sorry…" Sam replied sheepishly, as she shut the driver's side door and opened the back one to remove her kit. "Donnie got home early this morning and he…"
"Made you late for work," Stella finished for her. "And I can only imagine how…"
"He needed some sleep so he could function properly with the kids," Sam explained, as she used her hip to close the door of the SUV and then walked towards her boss. "So I had to rush around and get myself ready and then Daniel and his morning routines…it was just family responsibilities Stella."
Stella nodded. She knew that Sam was lying. Sam was a horrible liar. Always had been and always would be. But she also wasn't one to discuss her personal life and bring it to work with her. And that was one thing that Stella had always respected about the younger woman. No matter how tough things were at home, no matter how many issues Daniel was having or how many arguments that she and Flack got into, Sam never brought her shit to work. The second she stepped through the door, no matter how badly she was hurting inside or how angry she was, she plastered a smile on her face and got down to business.
"Heard he caught a triple homicide in the Bronx last night," Stella said.
Sam nodded and tucked her shoulder length hair behind his ears. "He said it was a nasty ass mess. One of the worst he's seen since he started on the job. First thing out of his mouth when he walks in? 'Another day, another wack-adoo'. The boys have started calling people that now. Last weekend in Sunday School? The teacher talked about Pontius Pilate and his role in the crucifixion. Terrified the hell out of Daniel. When I picked them up afterwards, he was huddling in a broom closet and apparently had been there the entire time. And you know what the teacher tells me? About Mackenzie? About what he said when she talked about Pontius Pilate?"
Stella shook her head.
"Mackenzie called him a wacko-adoo. And a nut job. Now where do you think he's getting that from?"
Stella couldn't help but laugh. Despite the fact she was pissed that Sam had been so late for work and that ESU was handing her such a bunch of shit, it was hard not to smile and laugh when the little Brooklyn girl was around. It was that thick accent that had, after years of living in Flushing, had become tinged with the slightest touch of Queens. It was that musical giggle and the way Sam's nose and the corner of her sparkling golden brown eyes crinkled when she smiled. It was the way in which her entire face lit up with sheer pride whenever she talked about her husband and kids. Even if she was bitching and moaning about them.
"They're Flack's Sammie," she said. And immediately regretted it at the twinge of pain that had crossed the younger woman's face.
Everyone knew that the twins were Tim Speedle's. That piece of information had gotten around like wild fire after a uniform had heard Sam and Flack having it out in the precinct parking lot the night she decided to come clean about the affair and the possibility he wasn't the father of their unborn twin boys. The uni had listened to the entire thing. To every nasty, mean word that had spewed out of Flack's mouth. The threats he'd issued about taking Kieran away from her. The way he'd ordered her and her bastard children out of his house and out of his life. The uni hadn't been able to keep something like that to himself, and by the time Flack returned to work the next day, everyone was talking about it. Guys were coming to his desk and slapping him on the back and either offering their support and condolences for getting fucked over so bad, or telling him that he did the right thing by kicking the trifling bitch to the curb.
Stella didn't know how Sam and Flack had actually gotten over it. How they'd ever managed to still stay together after all that had been done and had been said. Neither of them ever talked about it. Even seven years later they didn't talk about it. But she did know that despite the fact they were living separately at the time -Sam in the house, Flack with his folks- that Flack had shown up at the hospital the moment Adam had called him to say that Sam was in labour and that he'd been there, right by her side, holding her hand through the whole thing. He'd cut the cords and signed the birth certificates. He'd been the one that brought the babies and Sam home from the hospital when it came time to be released.
He'd also been the one to take the initial step towards reconciliation. He'd simply just come home one day. Sam had been standing at the kitchen table, folding a basket of laundry while Kieran was at Adam's and her two month old twins slept nearby, side by side in their carry seats. She'd stood, shocked as her husband calmly walked into the room and set his bags down on the floor and not saying a word or even making eye contact with her, joined her at the table and began helping her fold baby clothes. She'd been terrified that he was there to tell her to get the hell out. That it was his house and she and her kids weren't welcome there. And she'd physically shook as eerily silent minutes dragged on. And when she couldn't take the tension anymore, she'd burst into tears and tossed the sleeper in her hands at him and asked what the hell he thought he was doing.
"Helping with the laundry," Flack had simply replied, and calmly folded the tiny item of clothing she'd tossed at him.
"You just walk in here after four months away and start helping with laundry? What in the hell…"
He had leaned across the table and laying a hand on the back of her neck, pulled her towards him and covered her mouth in a tender, lingering kiss.
"I just wanted to come home," he'd whispered, and pressed his lips to her forehead.
And that had been that. He'd walked back in and never walked back out. He'd accepted the boys as his own and concentrated on taking care of his wife and helping her raise their kids. It had been years later, while standing with Flack as he paced the hallway outside of Sam's hospital room as they waited for a the OB-GYN to exam her while in labour with Mikayla, that Stella had found out that her friends had gone through extensive therapy in an attempt to get over her infidelity and repair their marriage. She had commented about how far him and Sam had come after nearly being torn apart, and Flack had admitted not only to the therapy, but that forgiving and forgetting had been a long, trying road. That it still was. That there was part of him that would never recover from what she did. That there was still moments when he looked at his twin boys and was filled with animosity towards Sam and Tim Speedle.
But those moments were far surpassed by the times he looked at his wife and kids and was filled with the utmost love. They were his family and there was no way in hell he was ever abandoning his family.
"I'm sorry," Stella quickly apologized to her friend and colleague. "I didn't mean anything by that, Sammie. I just meant that he's…"
"He's their father, Stel," the other woman said. "He's raised them from the time they were two months old. He was there when they were born. He's daddy to them. And he's an amazing daddy."
Stella smiled and nodded in agreement.
"Of course they're going to pick things up from him," Sam added. "They're around him all the time. All the boys have his facial expressions and his mannerisms. Drives me goddamn nuts."
"Yet you wouldn't change any of them for anything in the world," Stella pointed out.
"No…" Sam grinned. "I wouldn't. They're my boys. Although I wish Don would get his head out of his ass and be just a little more romantic. And what is it that he can't grasp the simple concept of putting the lid on the toilet seat down? Ten years, Stel. We've been living together for a decade and that man still can't close the lid on the john."
"Maybe it think it's funny when you fall in at three in the morning," Stella reasoned.
"Maybe…but if he doesn't knock it off, I'm going to do that little saran wrap trick on him again. It's been eight years but it definitely needs a resurgence. I'm going to go in there one night, cover the entire bowl with plastic wrap and then go back to bed and lie in wait. And then, when he gets up and heads in there half asleep and takes a leak and it goes all over him? Well then and only then while I feel vindicated for the years of pain and suffering I have endured for that man."
There was a huge smile on Sam's face as she spoke. Despite her complaining that her husband could be more romantic and thoughtful and that he was often an arrogant, insensitive SOB, the truth of the matter was that she loved him and adored him. Wholly, completely and unconditionally. And she couldn't imagine her life without him.
"So what's going on?" Sam asked, casting a glance at the warehouse as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "The scene isn't clear yet?"
"The unis said they secured every room," Stella replied, nodding in the direction of the young officers. "But it's a big place and I doubt they could have went through the place that thoroughly."
"Well did you call ESU and ask for a team?" the younger woman asked. "Because the only thing that standing out here chatting is doing is compromising our scene. The body could go into rigor or any trace could be degraded or…"
"There is no body," Stella told her. "There's no nothing. No DB, no shell casings, nothing. Just a puddle of blood and no accompanying trail."
Sam furrowed her brow and her eyes narrowed. "Well how in the hell is that possible? The call was for reports of gunshots."
Stella nodded in agreement. "When the uniforms got here, there was no sign of the perp and there was no victim. Just the blood."
"But how does someone just walk out of there and not leave a trail of blood?" the younger woman was trying to wrap her head around the information. "I mean if there's that much of a pool, you can't simply get up out of it and walk away like nothing happened. And someone certainly can't pick a body up out of it without leaving some kind of trail. Or even footprints. It would be damn hard not to step in that much blood."
"It would be damn impossible," Stella said. "I don't know Sammie…this one…this one is really weird…"
"Well this is New York City," Sam reasoned cheerfully. "We should be used to weird by now. It things weren't strange and obscure, then I'd be really worried. So can I go in and start processing or…"
"I'm waiting on ESU. They're going to send a team to do a complete sweep inside and out. They're about half an hour TOA."
"Thirty minutes?" Sam frowned. "It's been nearly an hour if not more since the original call."
"They're backed up. Apparently everyone is either late or sick today."
"But if they're half an hour away…Stel it will take them at least an hour, if not more to do a complete and thorough sweep of the building and the area around it. That puts us at two hours and counting since the call went in to 911. You know how quickly down hill things can go. We can't wait that long to process. We need to get in there right now if we want to find anything that's worth using."
"We can't go in there, Sam. It's not secure and…"
"But the uniforms said that they'd cleared it. They wouldn't have said that if they hadn't have done that. Wouldn't you rather just go in there and process? You know what will happen to us if we get in there and find out later our samples are too graded? The brass will have our asses. Not to mention the shit storm it would cause when we tell them we couldn't go in 'cause of ESU sitting around with their thumbs up their asses. We've got two unis already on scene. They can watch the perimeter while we at least get started in there."
"Maybe I should call Adam," Stella said, her thumb hovering over the talk button on her cell.
"Adam's at Rikers," Sam told her. "He was leaving the lab just as I was getting there. Scagnetti needed him to head over there with him to talk to the guy they locked up for that Central Park stabbing three days ago."
"Was anyone else at the lab?" Stella inquired. "Danny? Alexis? Carmen? Did you see anyone?"
"Danny and Carmen are in Staten Island still. I talked to Carmen on my cell on my way here. She said they've got at least another three hours of work ahead of them. And I don't know where Alexis is. I didn't see her. We don't need anyone else, Stel. There's two of us. We can be in and out in record time."
Stella considered her options, tapping her foot once again and biting her lip pensively. "I'll call ESU and see what they're ETA is…"
Sam rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "While you're at it why don't you call Mac and see what he thinks about it."
"What's that suppose to mean?" Stella asked, anger seeping into her voice.
"It means that maybe you should call him for advice. He ran the lab for years. And in all his years he maintained our standing as the number two lab in the country. And since he's…"
"And since he's been gone and I've been in charge we've slipped down the ranks," Stella concluded.
"I never said that. It's just a transition. Things always slip a bit when new management takes over. Geez, Stel. Take a pill. I'd never say something like that about you. I'm just suggesting that maybe Mac could give you some guidance and…"
"I don't need Mac's guidance or his ideas or his suggestions," the older woman snapped.
Sam held her hands up in surrender. "I'm just saying…we're wasting a lot of time out here…"
"Fine…" Stella huffed. "Fine…you're in such a fired out hurry to get to work? I'll call ESU and find out their ETA and then we'll go in and process. Okay?"
"Whatever you think is best," Sam responded, giving a polite smile.
"You're not the boss Samantha. I am and you need to…" Stella sighed heavily as her cell phone rang noisily in her hand. "It's Constance," she barked.
"Well if it's Constance it must be important," Sam concluded. "'Cause the nanny never calls you at work. I hope the girls aren't in trouble or anything…"
"They better not be…I've got to take this…"
The little brunette nodded in understanding.
"You know what? I'll sort this and the ESU mess out and you go on in. Start processing and I'll join you in a second."
"Aye, aye, Captain!" Sam laughed and snapped of a salute.
"Take a uniform with you!" Stella called to her, as the younger woman, heavy case in hand, headed for the entrance of the warehouse.
"I'm fine!" Sam responded, giving a wave over her shoulder before disappearing inside.
Stubborn little bitch, Stella cursed inwardly and shook her head. One day that's going to get you in a shit load of trouble, Sammie. And I hope I'm not around to witness it. And then have to say I told you so afterwards.
The cell phone clutched tightly in her hand stopped ringing as the call went to her voice mail. Erasing the number off of her call history, Stella dialled the number for her home and shoving her free hand in the pocket of her black slacks, walked slowly away from the warehouse in order to give herself some privacy. She could hear the uniform officers chatting away about sports and their girlfriends and what a crap deal it was to have to work on Sundays. She heard cars zooming down Lexington a block away. She heard the scraping of discarded pieces of newspaper as it the stiff breeze sent it dancing across the dirty alley. She heard the clanging of metal as transients a hundred yards down the alley searched cans for a meal and the shouting of a the Chinese restaurant owner at the opposite end as he chased a rat away from his back entrance.
She heard her Filipino nanny say Hello, Taylor residence in her thick accent.
And before Stella could respond she heard a gunshot come from inside of the warehouse.
She was immediately filled with the utmost sense of dread. Her cell phone slipped from her fingers and tumbled to the ground as she turned in time to see the uniform officers pulling their weapons from their holsters as they bolted away from their cruiser and rushed towards the door. Her heart thundered in her chest and bile rose in her throat as she upholstered her own weapon and hurried across the alley way and into the damp, dark warehouse.
"CALL EMS!" one of the uniforms screamed. He was hunkered down beside Samantha's prone, injured body as his partner, in shock at what he was witnessing, stood motionless above them. "DON'T JUST FUCKING STAND THERE!" the young man bellowed. "WE NEED EMS!"
Stella rushed over to where her colleague, her employee, her friend- lay in a rapidly spreading pool of blood in the middle of the warehouse's dirty floor. She tore the rookie officer's radio off of his belt and shoved it into his hands. The action snapping him out of his daze and spurring him into action. She stepped past him and stood, horror quickly spreading through her at the sight of Samantha lying there, a bullet wound to her chest, her eyes wide and terrified, her lungs struggling to draw breath.
The sound…the sound was horrific. The rattling of lungs as they quickly filled with blood. Stella had heard that sound only once before in her entire career and she'd never forgotten it. Sam's left hand was grasping at her chest, blood seeping between her fingers as the white gold of her wedding band and the diamond in her engagement ring sparkled in the dim light. Her right hand was reaching up to grab the young uniform trying so vainly to stop the flow of blood escaping from her wound.
"Samantha!" Stella dropped to her knees beside her. "Sam! Listen to me! You're going to be okay! EMS is on the way. You're going to be okay. Just lie still and breath slow. Nice and slow, kiddo."
She shook her head wildly and gasped loudly, fighting to breathe.
"Just relax…" Stella grabbed a hold of her friend's hand. "Just relax…you're going to be okay…everything's going to be okay…we'll get you to the hospital…stay with me, Sammie…just stay with me…"
"Guy ran out the back," the uniform on the other side of Sam's body told Stella. "We heard the door slam just as we got in here."
"Get a good look at him?" Stella asked, her comforting eyes never leaving Sam's face. Despite the fact she was terrified for her friend, she was determined to remain strong. Determined to see the younger woman through. No matter what the outcome. She wanted to remain optimistic. She wanted Sam to know she was going to be okay. Even if Stella wasn't so sure of it herself.
The uniform shook his head. "Just heard the door slam," he said.
"Sammie?!" Stella spoke loudly. Hoping to cut through the fog of unconsciousness, and perhaps even death, that was threatening to consume the injured woman. "Sammie! Don't you dare fall asleep on me! Don't you dare close your eyes, you hear me? I need you to stay with me! Do you understand me?"
Her eyes snapped open and she managed a nod.
"I know you're scared…but you're going to be okay…you're going to be fine….we're going to get you out of here and to the hospital…but something tells me that you won't be going to Ireland like you and Flack planned on…I think you're going to have to postpone that."
Sam nodded again, then coughed noisily. Blood trickling from the corners of her mouth.
"Where the hell is EMS!?" Stella screamed over her shoulder at the second uniform.
"They're on their way, m'am but…"
"No buts!" she shouted. "You get on that goddamn radio and you tell them that we need them now! Now goddamnit!"
Sam's nails cut painfully into Stella's hand, her heels dug into the cement floor as her entire body stiffened and she gasped noisily.
Leaning over her friend, Stella placed her lips near Sam's ear. "Hang in there, kiddo," she whispered. "Please just hang in there. You've got too much to lose. You've got a husband and four kids that need you. They need you, Samantha. Don't leave them like this. Not like this. Just hang in there."
"St…St…"
"Don't talk…don't try and talk…" tears flowed down Stella's face as she let go of Sam's hand and wrapped both arms around the smaller woman's neck. "You're going to be okay…everything's going to be okay…you're going to make it."
"How could this happen?" the uniform across from Stella asked. "How could this happen?"
Stella shook her head. She had no answers for that. For anything.
All she knew was that Sam had to make it.
She had to.
"Everything's going to be okay…" she managed through her sobs. Not caring how unprofessional she appeared. She was far beyond caring about maintaining her role of the fearless, faithful leader. This was her friend. The mother of her nieces and nephews. The wife of the man who'd always had her back no matter what. And she couldn't simply let Sam slip away. She couldn't let the kids' mother and Flack's wife go.
Letting her go was simply unacceptable.
Stella's breath left her body in a gut wrenching sob as she snapped awake. Tears coursed down her cheeks and smeared her makeup as she bolted into an sitting position. Gasping, she laid a hand over her mouth and fought to compose herself as she glanced around the confines of her office. Sunlight streamed through the window and bathed her in warmth. Outside, crime lab personnel hurried past. Their laughing and chatting filtering into the office as their lives continued on. There was work to. New and old cases that needed finishing up before they could go home for the day. And while they were busy and there was certainly never any rest for the weary, employee morale was beginning to pick up again. After Sam's shooting, a dark, ominous cloud had constantly lingered over head. It was all anyone discussed. They talked about the monumental mistake it had been going into an unsecured scene. About how tragic it was to lose a colleague. About how unfortunate and heartbreaking it was that Lieutenant Flack had had his wife ripped away from his so tragically. About how their kids didn't have a mother anymore.
Like anything, as the days and weeks and now months wore on, Sam's shooting had become old news. It had long ago failed to make it to the first ten pages of the newspaper, let alone the front cover. But to those who had truly loved her and valued her, life didn't completely go on. Her case file still remained on Stella's desk and Danny and Alexis' still revisited the evidence from time to time, hoping beyond hope that they'd stumble across something, anything that may shed new light on who had killed their friend. Adam had still not returned to work. The department psychologist refused to clear him fit for work and had instead sent Stella a very detailed letter suggesting that Adam may never be ready to go back if he didn't get further outside help.
He was shutting down. Closing himself off from the world. His grief for his sister and his inability to come to terms with his incredible loss were destroying him. Gus, just shy of three months pregnant, had left him and he was in danger of sinking even further into a pit of despair. No one seemed to be able to get through to him. Not Stella, who'd gone to his home many a time, only to spend nearly half an hour each time pounding on the door, begging him to let her in. Danny had physically dragged Adam to an appointment with a grief counsellor, only to have the other man punch him in the face and curse him out for his efforts. Hawkes had taken it upon himself, although not a member of the lab anymore, to contact the best counsellors and psychiatrists and personally arrange appointments. Appointments Adam had promised to show up at, but didn't.
And then there was Flack. Struggling with his own grief while trying to help his children come to terms with the loss of their mother. He was battered and broken emotionally and fighting to keep his family together while still managing to work and pay the bills. He refused to talk about how he was feeling, and even more staunchly refused any offers of help. Whether it be with the kids of with finances.
He's always been a stubborn shit, Stella thought, as she wiped the tears off of her face with the backs of her hands. She had somehow managed to fall asleep while sitting at her desk. In the middle of the day. She had gone into her office and sat down in hopes of getting rid of a vicious head ache that had been plaguing her all day. She'd hadn't had a decent night's sleep since Sam's shooting. She couldn't close her eyes without seeing Sam's terrified face. Without feeling the desperation in Sam's grasp as she held onto Stella tightly. Without hearing the gasps emanating from the younger woman's body. Most of all, she couldn't stop seeing that body going into convulsions and couldn't stop hearing her own voice screaming at the EMS to do something, anything. To not give up. To just help her friend.
"It's time to stop worrying about how everyone else is coping and start worrying about how you're doing."
Mac's voice rang loud and clear in her ears. Since the shooting, she'd been so consumed about how everyone else was doing that she'd forgotten to take the time to validate her own feelings. She'd shut her husband out. She'd become cold and distant towards him and their girls. She spent every waking moment working, with trying to find even the smallest clue that would point them in the direction of Sam's killer. She had ceased becoming a wife and a mother and had become a robot. Something that lived and breathed work. That forgot what sunshine on her face felt like it. What crisp air felt like when it was inhaled deeply into her lungs. What her husband's hands felt like as they so gently cradled her face. What his lips tasted like when he kissed her.
She had stopped living. Sam's death had nearly destroyed her and Stella didn't know how to recuperate. She didn't know how to rid herself of the guilt that plagued her. She didn't know how to get the sight of all of that blood out of her mind.
She didn't know how to let go of Sam's memory Simply because she'd never taken the time to do it. She'd been so obsessed with pursuing justice that she'd forgotten about the victim. A wonderful, beautiful friend who always found the silver lining in even the darkest cloud. Who always insisted that there was good inside of even the most horrible individual. Who always seemed to find something to laugh and smile about. And who always insisted, when she parted ways with anyone, that it wasn't goodbye. It was so long, or see you later.
Or goodnight.
But it is time to say goodbye, Stella thought, as her eyes fell on the frame photograph sitting on her desk. Tucked there alongside of her own family portrait, was one taken of Sam and Flack and their family. It had turned out to be Sam's last Christmas, A photographer had come to their home and after insisting that they all wear red sweaters and black pants, positioned them in front of the Christmas tree in the basement. Flack was kneeling behind his wife as she sat crossed legged with Mikayla, adorable in a red velvet dress and festive barrettes in her unruly black hair, in her lap. Daniel was on one side of his mother, Mackenzie on the other, their hands on her shoulders. Kieran lay on his stomach on the floor in front of her, his elbows propped him up and his chin cupped in his hands.
It was a beautiful picture and Stella cherished it. Along with the pewter frame that the kids had given her for Christmas to put it in. Those children and their mother and father were part of her family. And she loved and adored them. And when she thought of how difficult their lives would be without their mother….
Emotion threatened again. Sighing heavily, Stella struggled, in vain, to hold it back. Placing her elbows on her desk, she buried her face in her hands and let the tears flow. She allowed herself to openly sob. Not caring who could see her from the hallway. Or what they'd say about her behind her back.
It was time. Time to worry about herself. Time to take control of her life once again. Time to allow herself the time to grieve instead of worrying about how her sorrow would affect everyone around her.
Keeping it in had done her a serious injustice. Had done Sam a serious injustice. And before Stella could effectively move on with her life, she had to deal with the past and the present. She needed to put what had happened behind her. She needed to shed herself of the guilt and think about all of the fun times she'd had with her friend. She had to stop thinking about the way Samantha died and start concentrating on the way she had lived. She needed to stop blaming someone and start accepting that it had happened. That it was a tragic incident and that maybe, just maybe, no one would ever pay for it.
I've got to let her go, Stella thought, and finally composing herself, wiped her face with the backs of her hands and stole a glance at the photograph once again. At the smiling Flack family. When things had been so wonderful. Less complicated.
"Time to let you go Sammie," she whispered. "Time to say goodnight. But never goodbye."
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all the lurkers! And I wish all the mommies out there a wonderful Mother's Day! Please R and R folks!
Special thanks to:
CSINYMinute
Hope4sall
HighQueenReicheru
ImaSupernaturalCSI
Soccer-bitch
TT012
muchmadness
xSamiliciousx
wolfeylady
Forest Angel