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

A/N: I HAVE DECIDED TO DO ANOTHER FUTURE CHAP FOR ALL OF THOSE WHO REQUESTED MORE OF THE KIDS! ENJOY!

This chapter goes out to laurzz. I've brought someone back permanently just for you! You'll just have to be patient until the end! smiles

La familia

"I learned how to write it, when I first started school
Some bully didn't like it, said it didn't sound too cool
So I had to hit him, and all I said when the blood came
It's my last name
Grandpa took it off to Europe,
to fight the Germans in the war
It came back on some dog tags,
nobody wears no more
It's written on a headstone, in the field where he was slain
It's my last name
Passed down from generations, too far back to trace
I can see all my relations, when I look into my face
May never make it famous, but I'll never bring it shame
It's my last name
Daddy always told me, far back as I recall
Son you're part of something, you represent us all
So keep it how you got it, as solid as it came
It's my last name."
-My Last Name, Dierks Bentley

A quicker and smoother than usual staff meeting and less traffic on both the FDR and Queensboro Bridge saw Samantha home in a record setting half an hour. The journey over the bridge was the one and only gripe she had about living in Queens. Usually the traffic was bumper to bumper and patience among other drivers on short supply. Nerves were frayed and tempers sizzling as people made their way home after long stressful days. There'd been many a time she'd found herself stuck in traffic for a good hour, sometimes more, her head pounding and her knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel tightly out of frustration and irritation. Thinking about how much easier on the nerves it would have been to just live in lower Manhattan.

It was a cost and space issue that had sent them looking for places to live in other boroughs. Staying in a two bedroom apartment with four kids had been out of the question. The moment that doctor had pointed out three separate heartbeats on the ultrasound the decision had been made. They had to move. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it. The first thing they did, after picking themselves off the floor at the news they were having triplets, was start looking in the paper and on line for a house that they could afford. They hadn't even bothered looking in Manhattan. Prices were outrageous and even with the money from the sale of the house in Arizona and small loans from the bank and their respective set parents, the most they could afford remotely close to work were two bedroom condos or small, cramped homes with no yard and barely an breathing space. Long Island had briefly been considered but neither liked the idea of a long commute. Sam had nixed Brooklyn before the name even escaped Flack's mouth. She had no desire to move back to the place she had been born and raised in for most of her life.

It had come down between the Bronx and Queens. Flack, as much as he loved his parents and had patched things up with his old man, had no desire to live that close to his family. His mother had always been an outstanding help with Kieran, but he knew full well that if they were anywhere near his parents, his mom and dad would become regular fixtures around their home. And that he could just not deal with. The vision of the meddling mother from Everybody Loves Raymond played over and over again in his head. That was his mother. To a tee. She meant well and genuinely thought she was helping out with all her ideas and suggestions and constructive criticism on how Sam did or did not to the housework and her lack of ability on making creative meals every night. Most of the time the two women got along well and Sam shrugged off her mother in law's behaviour, but as the pregnancy progressed and Sam's hormones hit an all time high, emotions were running wild.

There had been nothing appealing in the Bronx. And when Sam got to her sixth month and it appeared that they'd be sharing their bedroom with triplets for God knows how long, they'd finally come to the collective decision that Queens was the way to go and that they'd find something close enough to his parents that they could visit regularly, but have to drive to do it. His mother had suggested looking at homes that were in the same neighbourhood. How nice it would be to be that close to her son and his family. No way in hell, Flack had thought.

Less than two months before the twins arrival, they finally found a four bedroom house that they could swing on the money they had. It was somewhat of a fixer upper, but there was enough space for all of them and a good size backyard for their children to play in when they got older and was in a quiet neighbourhood. The initial plan had been to stay there forever. It was close to the Catholic elementary and high school that they wanted their kids to attend and a decent drive to and from work. It was their first home and they were proud of it and prepared for the long haul.

Than Mikayla arrived. The fourth bedroom that once was an office now became a nursery and things slowly began to get crowded once again. And than, out of the blue, along came Liam. Liam had been a surprise. No one expected him. The decision to stop at five kids had been made. Five was a handful, and Declan and his needs made it feel as if there were six or seven kids in the house already. Plans were made for Flack to go in for vasectomy. He had his family and was happy with what he had and figured after the hell Sam had gone through bringing his children into the world, getting the snip was the least he could do. Only he got the flu a week before the operation and couldn't have it done and the next schedule appointment was for three months from that date. In the meantime, despite using the patch, Sam got pregnant. Surprise! The news had winded them both. They questioned the results, arguing with the doctor that there was no possible way that it could have happened while she was using birth control. And the doctor had reviewed Sam's file and gotten a sheepish look on her face and told them that the medication Sam had been taking for a bladder infection she'd contracted, had in fact, reacted with the birth control and made it completely ineffective.

So their unplanned baby arrived seven months later and Sam said to hell with that and had her tubes tied at the same time her c-section had been preformed. They weren't taking any more chances of adding to the often out of control brood. Thankfully, the increases in salary that came with their promotions and a savings account and the payout from Sarge's will had enabled them to buy a larger, nicer house in an even better neighbourhood. And everyone in the area knew the Flack kids. Unfortunately, it wasn't always because of how cute they were or the novelty of triplets. Most of the time it was because how loud and unruly and obnoxious the older ones could be. And because Kieran was popular with the girls even at an early age and there were always young females hanging around the house and irritated fathers coming to pick them up.

Sam checked the mailbox mounted by the front door and found it empty. Either there'd been nothing delivered, or someone had actually remembered to take the mail into the house already. There was a half empty can of Coke sitting on the top step and she sighed and picked it up and let herself in the house through the unlocked screen door. She dropped her keys onto the hall table with a clatter and slipped out of her shoes. The tv in the living room was on. She could hear the voices coming from characters from Bob the Builder and Liam's hyper chattering and Declan's slow, stuttering speech. There was no telling who was actually supervising who out of the pair. Declan was closer development and mentality wise to Liam than he was to Reghan and Alannah and even Mikayla. The two boys got along well and when Liam once asked why his brother was older than him but talked kind of funny and liked the same things he did, Sam and Flack had attempted to explain just what was wrong with Declan.

Liam had listened to the explanation with wide, interested eyes. His little brain processing the information as best as it could, than he'd smiled that dimply smile and shrugged.

"Oh well," he'd said. "Just means he's more special. 'Cause if he's got one more thing than everyone else than he's more special than we are."

Liam had never asked again. The explanation his parents gave was good enough for him and his brother was still his brother. Extra genetic material or not. The others accepted their brother and everything that came with him, but there was still that sibling jealousy. That Declan always seemed to get more attention than anyone else. Like all brothers and sisters they fought and called each other names. Kieran and Alannah worried about Delcan having to live with them when mom and dad were too old to care for him anymore. Reghan had said it was okay if he stayed with her, but pointed out, through research she did on the internet, that Declan might be able to live somewhat independently on his own someday. Mikayla and Liam were too young to concern themselves with such things.

"Hi, guys," she greeted the pair of boys camped out in front of the television, school books and various toys scattered around them. The volume up as high as they could possibly bear it. A necessity if you wanted to hear anything over the various music and stomping and yelling going on overhead.

The house was a mess. It was always a disaster zone and looked like a category five hurricane had blown through. Flack liked to call it organized clutter. Sam called it a pig sty. It didn't matter how many times you cleaned or dusted or vacuumed. With that many kids, it was impossible to keep the place tidy.

"Hi, mommy," Liam greeted, glancing over his shoulder but not bothering to tear himself away from his show.

"Hi, mom," Declan came over and circled her waist with his arms and rested his head against her chest.

He was affectionate and lovable to a fault. What was acceptable behaviour when he was younger had long ago became almost an embarrassment. He hugged and kissed and played with the hair of anyone he came in contact with. Parents and brothers and sisters and close friends were one thing. Strangers were another story. And the comments from people on the street that 'that's what Downs kids are like' had become annoying and repetitive. It was a stereotype and Declan had personality traits all his own. He was stubborn and humorous and bubbly. At home he was treated no differently than the others. He was expected to follow the same rules and his behaviour was kept in check. At first, they had been tempted to go softer and easier on him because of his disability. Feeling sorry for him for being different and having to struggle with things that came so easily to other kids.

They excessively spoiled him and never punished him. And he was smart enough to use it to his benefit and manipulate them. Until the developmental pedetrician had scolded them for being that way. Reminding that the Down Syndrome was just part of him. Not all of him. He was a child first and he had to be treated as such. No excuses.

"How was school?" she asked, running a hand over her son's smooth nearly black hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

She didn't mind the extra hugs and kisses. She wished her other kids would be more affectionate. Half the time they were mouthing off or rolling their eyes. Flack on the other hand, as much as he loved his son, just could not handle being hugged and kissed that much. Sometimes Sam wondered if Declan laid the affection on thick with his father because he knew it made dad somewhat uncomfortable and Declan enjoyed seeing the reaction he got.

People may have called the kid retarded, but he wasn't stupid.

"Okay," he replied, than went into a long winded, stammering and stuttering re-cap of his day. Most people couldn't understand half of what he said most days. Even those closest to them struggled and had to look for an explanation. Yet his parents and siblings got it. The majority of the time, anyway.

It took patience and a good attention span to carry on a conversation with Declan. You had to listen carefully and watch his hand movements. He'd never forgotten the majority of the baby signs he'd been taught and still used them to get his point across.

"How w-was your d-day, mom?" he asked at the end of his tale.

"It was long and boring. Did your dad give you your pill?"

Declan shook his head.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Didn't want it."

"You have to have it. Where's your dad now?"

Declan pointed to the ceiling and than followed close on his mother's heels as she headed into the kitchen.

Sam was thankful to see that the dishwasher had been emptied and the small pile of breakfast things washed and put away. There were school books and binders and pens and pencils and a lap top computer littering the table. She rinsed the Coke from the can she'd brought in and dropped the can into the recycling bin by the back door.

"Knock it off!" Flack's voice boomed from overhead.

"She won't leave my stuff alone, dad!" Alannah bellowed back.

"I told you two an hour ago to knock your crap off! One more time and you'll both be staying home and grounded for a week! Got it!?"

Sam sighed and got the bottle holding Declan's prescription from the cupboard above the sink.

"Fight," Delcan said a matter of factly, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Too much," Sam said and dumped a small pink pill into the palm of her hand.

"Dad," Delcan said, and tapped his mother on the shoulder to get her attention. When she looked over, he pretended to slap himself upside the head.

"You're right," Sam agreed. "He should smack them out."

Declan nodded enthusiastically.

She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it halfway with some water from the tap and handed her son both the glass and the pill.

"Take it," she said.

He shook his head and clamped his mouth shut.

"Declan, I'm not fooling around. You need to take your meds. So either take them willingly or I get your dad to come down here and do it. And with the mood he's in right now, I don't think you want that."

That was a scenario that he knew would not go over very well. That dad wasn't one to be messed with when he was a foul mood. He reluctantly popped the pill into his mouth and gulped down the water. Than opened his mouth wide and moved his tongue around to prove to his mom that he had indeed swallowed it.

"Good?" he asked in a sarcastic tone that he'd inherited from his father.

"Good," she replied, than watched as he raced out of the kitchen.

Smart ass, she thought. You're your father's son through and through.

Once, when they were down at Coney Island for some family time, Sam and Flack had been sitting on the grass having lunch with their kids. Kieran had just turned four a couple of months before and the triplets were crowding three. Kieran and his sisters were running around causing havoc chasing seagulls while a still diaper wearing Declan stumbled along behind. He had just learned to walk on his own and was none too graceful on his feet. They'd gotten used to people staring by that time. Flack would always ask people what the hell they were looking at. Not like the kid had two heads or anything.

There'd been another family with small children picnicking nearby that stared and whispered constantly. They allowed their children to play with Kieran and the girls, but when they approached Declan, they hurriedly scooped their kids up. It tore Sam apart and she was near tears right there at Coney Island. And she recognized that stare. That 'I'm so glad my kid isn't like that stare'. It was becoming old hat even if it did irritate the shit out of them. At the end of the meal, the mother approached Flack and in all seriousness asked if Declan had Down Syndrome.

When he confirmed that his son did, the woman looked at him in utter amazement and said, "But he looks so much like you."

"Well who would he look like?" Flack had responded. "The cable man?"

"I mean that he has some of your features even though he has it."

It. That sounded like she was referring to some dreadful disease.

"He's got another forty six chromosomes that are perfectly fine," Flack told her. "So yeah, he has to look like either me or my wife. And you know, your kids could have played with him too. It's not contagious. He's not going to sneeze on them and they'll wake up tomorrow with Down Syndrome."

She left red faced and apologetic.

"Fucking morons," Flack had muttered to his wife when he caught up with his family.

Sam still laughed when she thought about it. And felt a surge of pride in her husband that he was able to just accept things the way they were. It was his blood and that was that. End of story. He'd defend the kid to the death if he had to.

The day's mail was sitting on the microwave. She scooped it up and flipped through the stack as she headed back through the living room and up the stairs to the hub of chaos and commotion. Loud music was blaring from Kieran's room. It all but shook the door and the walls and had to compete with the equally as ear popping music and squabbling coming from the Reghan and Alannah's room. The door to Mikayla's room was shut tight. The homemade NO BOYS ALLOWED (EXCEPT FOR MAYBE DADDY) sign on prominent display. The bathroom door was closed as well and the shower running.

Sam journeyed into the master bedroom, where her husband of fifteen years was working on his own lap top in the middle of the unmade bed in a pair of cargo pants and a t-shirt. Keeping one eye on the computer screen and another on the television in the corner that was tuned in to ESPN.

"We need a vacation," Sam said in way of greeting and plopped down onto the bed, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Your fucking kids are driving me nuts," Flack told her.

"So they're just my kids when they're being bad. I seem to remember you having an active and willing roll in the conceptions of all six. What's the deal with Alannah and Reghan?"

"They're fighting over a sweater. They were in all out cat fight when I got home. Over a sweater. Who fights over clothes?"

"Girls," Sam responded. "You can tell you're not home much. They fight like that all the time over stupid shit. Where's Kieran?"

"Showering. For like the third time since he got home from school. How often does that kid need to shower?"

"He likes to look and smell good for the girls. Remind you of anyone?"

Flack snorted.

"You've had a hell of time, haven't you." It was more a statement than a question.

"I get home and there's toys and crap everywhere. Inside and out. I just clean it up and they mess it up again. Reghan and Alannah are all but killing each other and Declan's giving me a hard time about everything and than Mikayla and Liam get into it because Liam was touching things in her room. And than, to top it all off, the dogs dug a hole under the fence in the backyard and Cujo squeezed through it and made a run for it. Kieran chased him for three blocks."

"And now you're hiding out and doing homework."

"Actually," he said with a grin "I am IM'ing with my mistress."

"She can have you. I'll even pack your bags and drop you off at her place."

"Please. You'd miss me too much," he declared and kissed the top of her head. "I'm working on some budget stuff Scagnetti asked me to go over."

"Are you getting a raise?" she asked hopefully.

"I wish. It's just departmental crap. Crime lab budget is being cut again."

"I am so glad I don't work there anymore," she said and yawned noisily. She sat up and flipped through the mail. "There's a letter from the school board," she told him. "How much to you want to bet Declan's EA funding got chopped again?"

"What the hell good is it anyway? The EA barely shows up and when she does she has three other more difficult kids to deal with. Kid already told us he spends most of his day sitting in the corner learning to print his name and string beads. I know you're all for this integration stuff, but what's the use when he's alone anyway? If he went to that school Hawkes suggested, he'd be with kids like him and learning a hell of a lot more."

"He'd be with just kids with disabilities," Sam said. "And we want him with all kids."

"He has five 'normal' siblings," Flack reminded her, making air quotes at the word normal. "He's around them all the time. He doesn't need to be around them at school too."

"Do you have the thirty grand a year it will take to send him to this other place?" Sam asked, tossing the mail onto the night stand, deciding to deal with the crap and bullshit and bills later. 'Cause if you do I'd like to know where you've been hiding it."

"We can find the money," Flack told her.

"We have six kids to feed and clothe," Sam reminded him. "He's doing fine where he is."

"He's thirteen and can't even read books meant for grade ones yet."

"We knew from the beginning that he may never read. Most are visual learners."

"He should know at thirteen how to read cat and dog and print his name and tie his shoes," Flack argued.

Sam sighed.

"What the hell have they been doing at that school? Shoving him in a closet and letting him fend for himself? Neither the EA or the teacher has done shit the entire year. I thought you filled out one of those IEP or whatever the hell they're called."

"Individualized education plan," Sam said. "And I did and I was assured it would be followed."

"Well guess what? It's not. 'Cause there's no difference now than there was in September when he started high school."

"He's learning, Don. Just not as quick as you want him to."

"Don't give me a lecture, Sam. I know he's never going to catch up to the other kids and be a college graduate. But I want more for him than to be stuck working at community living making plastic cutlery and putting together cardboard boxes. And don't tell me that you think that's good enough for him or I'll call you a damn liar."

"I want what's best for him," Sam said, leaning over and kissing her husband's cheek. "And he'll do the best that he can and make us proud no matter what he ends up doing when he's older."

"I know," Flack said with a sigh. "But you know what else I know? I know that every day for the last thirteen years I've cursed that fucking extra chromosome and wish I could take it out of him. Wave a fucking magic wand and make him like everyone else. And you know I love him Sam. To death. But sometimes…"

"It's okay to be angry," she told him. "You're always telling me that when I get down about it. And what's brought all this on? You're usually so upbeat and positive about things."

"This old fucking bitty when we took the dogs for a walk."

"What about her?"

"Delcan was walking ahead of me with Cujo and this old woman comes up to me and says what a lovely son you have. I've heard Mongoloid children are very sweet and affectionate."

Sam shuddered at the word. "And what did you say?"

"I said he is. But he's from the United States of America. Not Mongolia. That shut her up right fucking quick."

Sam couldn't help laugh. Imagining the look on the woman's face when those words came flying out her husband's mouth. He was very protect of Declan and became extremely defensive when anyone threatened or picked on his son.

"People like that piss me off," Flack said, angrily pounding at the keys on the lap top. "It's ignorant. This isn't the old days where these kids were sent to live in institutions and locked away like they were some shameful, horrid secret. There's nothing wrong with what he has. He didn't ask to be born like that. It just happened. And people need to just get their heads out of their asses about it. You'd think this day and age, they'd be more accepting."

"People are ignorant, Donnie. You can't change the world."

"Yeah, well all I know is that it makes me sick and there could be a lot worse things wrong with the kid than an extra chromosome."

Sam smiled and kissed his cheek once again. "I love you," she said. "And you're the best possible advocate our son could have."

"I should be going to that school and busting some heads."

"Think that will work? Knock out the head of the school board to get us better funding?"

"Worth a try," he said.

Sam grinned and slipped off the bed. "I'm going to get a shower and get ready," she said, shedding clothes on her way to the ensuite bathroom.

"Hey!" he called, before she could shut the door behind her.

She stuck her into the room.

"I don't know how you do it, Sam. All the kids and work. Especially Declan's stuff. I seriously don't know how you manage. But I admire you and I really appreciate everything you do for this family."

She smiled. "You're welcome," she said. "It's nice to hear that once in a while."

"I mean it. You've done a great job holding it all together. I know it's not easy. But I couldn't do it. An hour was enough for me. I see now why people say taking care of kids is a full time job in itself."

"Where's my pay cheque than?" she laughed, and went to close the door.

"Sam!"

She looked back out at him.

"I love you, too," he said.

She winked at him and disappeared into the bathroom.

Kieran was at the kitchen table, eating cold pizza while immersed in homework when his mother walked into the room. His hair was still damp from the shower and he was wearing excessively baggy black dress pants, an untucked and wrinkled baby blue dress shirt and a loose tie. Adidas running shoes completing his ensemble.

He glanced up as she entered. All his friends were constantly telling him how hot his mother was. A MILF they called her. He always called them sick bastards for thinking about his mother that way. This was the woman that carried him for nine months, and, according to the stories his grandmother told him, went through sheer and utter hell to bring him successfully into the world. And while he was the first to admit that his mother was a beautiful woman and that she was strong and feisty, the last thing he wanted to hear was his buddies talking about her in a derogatory way. It was his mom. And he respected her and loved her more than words.

"Kieran, seriously," Sam said, tightening the sash on her deep plum silk wrap dress. "Can you tuck your shirt in and get your father to show you how to do a tie up properly? And you have dress shoes in your closet."

"These shoes are more comfortable," he reasoned. "Besides, I don't want to dress old like dad. And he only dresses like that 'cause of his job. He's actually pretty cool when he's not playing cops and robbers."

"I'm sure your father will be thrilled to hear you call him old," Sam said. "And your hair…"

"Dad used to wear his hair like this when he was younger," Kieran pointed out.

"I know. I've seen the pictures, too. And your father looks much better with his hair really short and so would you."

He rolled his eyes. "The ladies like the way I look, mom," he told her.

She pressed a kiss to her son's cheek. "And pizza? We're going to be eating in less than an hour."

"I was hungry now. I'm a growing boy, mom. I have to keep on the weight for hockey. We're just getting into playoffs. That's a huge deal."

"How was school?" she asked.

Kieran shrugged his broad shoulders.

"What are you working on?"

"Chemistry. I hate it. I don't know why you and Uncle Peanut liked it so much. And I need to get Uncle Shell to look over my biology essay. Do you think he'd read it?"

"If you bring it along tonight, I am sure he'll take it home and look it over and get it back to me or your dad before you have to hand it in," Sam told him. She journeyed over to the sink. On a shelf above the sink were a pair of simple gold hoop earrings. She grabbed them and slipped them into her ears.

"And I need to take my game skates in to be sharpened and I need new shin pads. Can you take me on Friday? I need them for Saturday."

"I work on Friday I have that case to testify in on Monday and I need to go into the office to prepare. Ask your dad. I'm sure he'll pull himself out of the office long enough to take you."

"But both you and dad are coming right? To the game?"

Sam nodded. "Everyone is coming. Your brothers and sisters and Aunt Gus and Uncle Peanut and Uncle Tim and Aunt Carmen. I even think Papa Mac and Stella are going to try and make it."

"I know they're all coming. I mean you and dad. Are you both coming?"

"Have we ever missed any of your games?" she asked.

Kieran thought about it. "A couple of times. Mostly dad though."

"Well since you're dad's become inspector, he has a lot more responsibility within the department. But he's not going to miss an important game. Did you ask him?"

Kieran nodded. "He said he'll be there. I mean, he's supposed to be. He's the assistant coach."

"If he promised you, he'll be there. Is Addie coming?"

Kieran nodded and got up from the table with his dirty plate. He rinsed it at the sink and popped it into the dishwasher. "Of course she is," he said. "She is my girlfriend."

He opened the fridge and pulled out the milk container. Pretending he was going to take a drink straight from the jug, he watched and waited for his mother's reaction, his eyebrows raised.

Sam glanced over. "Kieran Shaun Donald Flack!" she scolded. "Don't even think about it! That is so gross!"

He chuckled. "Just playin' with ya, mom," he said and sitting the milk on the counter, got two glasses from the cupboard above her head. Pouring a drink for himself and another for her.

"Thank you," Sam said with a smile, watching as he returned to the table and settled back down with his homework.

Her first born was still her baby. Although she'd never tell him that. And he was growing into a fine young man. Even if he was a little shit from time to time. She thought of how much he looked like his father sitting there, brow furrowed in concentration, blue eyes riveted on his school work. Kieran was a self described brainer hiding in a jock's body. He pulled in nearly all straight As without trying too hard and had always been a bright, fast learner. But sports and his girlfriend were his two main loves. Much to his parents dismay.

"Can you go and help Declan get ready?" she asked.

"Do I have to? He's only going to fight with me. He only wants dad to help or Daria. His girlfriend."

"She's his special needs worker," Sam corrected her son.

"He's special alright," Kieran commented dryly.

Sam glared at him. "If your father hears that…"

"He'll smack me upside the head. I know, I know. He's daddy's favourite. You know I love Declan. He's just a pain in the ass."

"Kieran.."

"Butt. Pain in the butt. But than all the kids in this house are. Its why you and dad had me first. So I could set them all straight."

"We had you first because that's the way the cookie crumbled kid," Flack said, catching his son's comment as he journeyed into the kitchen. "And get a hair cut. And some clothes that fit."

"These are your clothes, dad," Kieran told him, standing up and gathering and tidying his school stuff. He picked up his empty milk glass and rinsed it at the sink and slipped it into the washer. "They just look better on me."

Flack frowned. "Than get your mother to take you to get your own clothes. You look like a bum. Especially with that hair. Tomorrow after school, you're getting it cut."

"Come on, dad. I'm like Samson. I need my long flowing locks to help me crush people on the ice. I get it cut and I might as well be figure skating out there."

"After school, I'm taking you for a hair cut," Flack informed him. "Even if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming and I have to hold you down."

Kieran clapped his father on the shoulder. A couple of more inches and twenty more pounds and they'd be the exact same size. "You're getting to old for that now, dad. It's why they made you an inspector."

Flack glared at his oldest. "Go upstairs and put on clothes that fit," he said.

"This look is cool," Kieran argued. "It's style."

"It's not going to be cool or stylish if you walk into Mac's party tonight with a tanned ass," Flack told him, a stern tone in his voice. "Don't tempt me, kid. Now go."

Kieran held his hands up in surrender. "By the way," he said to his mom and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "You look really nice, mommy. Regardless of what dad says about your hair."

"That's how short you're getting it," Flack told him.

"I'll think about it," Kieran said, grabbing all of his books and binders and his lap top into his long, strong arms before heading from the kitchen and into the living room. "Come on, Declan. Let's go. Haul ass."

"No," came his brother's response.

"Yes. I'll help you get dressed."

"No," Declan remained firm. "Dad. Want dad."

"Dad's busy," Kieran told him.

"No he's not."

"Yeah, he is."

Sam and Flack listened in amusement as an argument ensued. Their sons battling back and forth for several minutes. No, he's not, yes, he is. Over and over again. Until finally Kieran had had enough and flicked off the television. Which sent his brother into a rage and the two of them became tousling and wrestling in the middle of the living room.

"Kieran will sit on him and crush him," Flack said, observing his children from the doorway.

Kieran finally got the upper hand and none to gently dragged his brother up the stairs.

"God give me strength," Sam sighed, as Flack rejoined her in the kitchen. "What is wrong with our children?"

"They all have the same mother," he reasoned, standing in front of her, an unspoken request to do his tie up for him. He'd been doing his own for years, but there was something sweet and romantic and loving about getting his wife to do it. "Like I was telling you earlier, I had to play referee between Alannah and Reghan. Over a sweater. A juicy sweater at that. What the hell is a juicy sweater?"

"Juicy Couture," Sam told him. "Designer. Stella bought them each one for Christmas."

"Those ugly knit things?"

Sam nodded. "Reghan has a pink one and Alannah's is purple. Which one were they fighting over?"

"All I know is that Reghan had on a purple sweater and Alannah and her were pummelling each other."

"And where's Reghan's sweater?" Sam asked, tightening the knot in his tie.

"I guess she left it at Carmen and Speed's. That last sleep over with Addie and Sophia. She hasn't gotten it back yet."

"And what was Mikayla's issue? I went in after my shower to say hi to her and she nearly bit my head off."

"Some boy at school that likes her friend instead of her," Flack told her. "Guy's a major prick if he doesn't like my daughter better. Look at her. She's gorgeous like her mom. He must have no taste. Probably is a huge asshole."

Sam grinned. "They're eleven years old, Don."

"Still. Another girl over her? My baby girl? Guy's a moron. His father's a lawyer. Defense attorney. No wonder he's such a creep."

"Yep," Sam said, nodding in agreement as she folded the collar of his shirt down. "That explains everything."

"She also was pissed 'cause Liam got in her room and was touching things. She's now demanding a lock on her door and her own phone line."

Sam laughed. "She can demand all she wants. It's never going to happen."

"You know what she told me? She told me I was too cop. You think so? That I'm too cop on them?"

"I love it when you go all cop on me," Sam said with a grin.

Flack smirked and kissed her quickly. "That's why we have six kids," he told her. "Because you like it too much."

He walked over to the fridge and opened it. Pulling out the milk container and three pieces of the cold pizza that were enclosed in sandwich bags.

Sam handed him a glass and wrinkled her nose as he dug into the pizza. "We're eating in less than an hour, Don," she told him.

"Yeah? Well I'm hungry now."

"Funny, your son said those exact words to me about fifteen minutes ago."

"Like father, like son," Flack reasoned. "Come on," he held the pizza up to her. "You know you want some."

"Eww…it has mushrooms and bacon and sausage on it. I think not. Gross."

"Says the woman who loves pineapple on pizza. Fruit does not belong on pizza. So what's the word on the case today? Anything?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," she said evasively and filled her milk glass.

"This is just me and you talking. A wife telling her husband about her day."

"It's an immigration issue. A huge one. I have over ninety refugees looking for asylum in the U.S. That's a whole lot of paper work. I don't know what the deal is with the captain and the crew. We have interrogators speaking to them tomorrow."

"Interrogators, huh? I love government interrogators. You guys gonna use cattle prods to get info from them or go hard core and go with Japanese water torture?"

"Sorry," she said. "We don't take interrogation lessons from anyone born with the last name Flack."

He smirked. "That's harsh," he said.

"All I know, is I have hours, if not days and weeks of paper work ahead of me trying to get these people into the country legally."

Flack shrugged. "Just send 'em all back to where they came from."

She slapped his shoulder. "And you call me harsh!"

"I am just joking, honey," he said.

"Sure you are."

"Maybe we can hire on or two illegals to take out the garbage and cut and water the lawn. Under the table of course."

Sam laughed. "Don, you're a moron."

"I know. I'm a moron and an asshole and an insensitive bastard and whatever other name you can come up with. But in the grand scheme of things, I'm your husband and you love me."

She smiled and he leaned over to kiss her softly.

"Must you?" Reghan asked in disgust, as she and Declan walked in and interrupted the moment. "Seriously, dad. Can't you leave mom alone for once?"

"If I did, none of you wonderful, well behaved children would be here," Flack responded dryly. "So you finally won the battle of the purple sweater, huh?"

"Alannah thinks she's all big and bad because she plays hockey and football and what not, but I can still kick her ass."

"Reghan…" Sam said with an exasperated sigh. "Watch your mouth please."

"Hey, dad," Declan said, wrapping an arm around his father's waist and leaning his head against Flack's arm.

"What's up, buddy?" Flack asked, handing him a piece of pizza and the remainder of his milk.

"Do I have to wear dis?" Declan inquired, holding up the end of his tie.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"Not good answer, dad."

"Because your mom said so," Flack told him, opening the cupboard by his head and taking down a curvy novelty straw that the speech therapist had given Declan on one of his many visits.

Drinking from a straw helped strengthen the weak muscles in his mouth and the hard, flat disk near the top of the straw worked as a barrier to encourage Declan to keep his tongue in his mouth instead of letting it hang into the glass. And in the end, all these little exercises would help improve his speech. So far, they were still waiting. Although many kids, disabled and non disable were a lot worse.

Flack dropped the straw into the milk. It was all old hat now.

"And mom the boss," Declan stated.

"Exactly," Flack agreed. "And she wants us guys to look good for Papa Mac's party."

"Why party?" Declan inquired, sipping his milk.

"Because Papa Mac is old and too tired to work and needs to be out out to pasture," Flack told him.

"Dad, you are so mean!" Reghan exclaimed, clearly disgusted at the comment. "Is Aiden going to be there tonight?" she asked curiously.

"He should be," Sam replied.

"Why?" Flack inquired.

"Just wondering," Reghan responded with a shrug and a dreamy sigh. "I mean, he is Kieran's best friend and all."

"Don't even think about it," her father warned.

"What?" she asked innocently, batting those long lashes inherited from her mother.

"You and Aiden Messer. Don't even think about it."

"Why? He's a nice guy. And he's really cute."

"First off, your thirteen. You're way too young to be interested in boys and you're not allowed to date until you're at least fifteen. And second, even if I was going to let you go out with a guy, he'd be the last on my list. Why can't you be into Eric or Tyler?"

Eric and Tyler Hawkes. Twelve and ten respectfully.

"Uh, hello, dad…Tyler is way too young. He's practically a baby. And Eric is too caught up on Tiana to notice anyone else. It's all those wild exotic curls and jade eyes she got from Aunt Stel. All the guys love her."

"What about Aaron Santucci?"

Reghan laughed. "He's cute and all, but I think he's more into Kieran than he is me."

Flack coughed on the remains of his pizza. "He's what now?"

"Into Kieran. I think he has a boy crush on him. Or he's just full out gay."

"Remind me to never let that kid sleep over here again," Flack told Sam, as he grabbed a paper towel to clean off the mess Declan was making of his face and hands.

"There's nothing wrong with being gay, dad," Reghan informed him. "It's perfectly acceptable. And people should be free to love whoever they choose."

"Well he can love whoever he wants," Flack said. "As long as it's not any of my sons."

"Don't be such a homophob, daddy. There is nothing wrong with it."

"You're right. There's not. And I'm not a homophob. I just don't want any of my kids being gay. Okay?"

"What if I was a lesbian?" his daughter challenged.

"Reghan, honestly," Sam said. "Why do you start these debates with your father?"

"It's not a debate, mom. It's just a question. And it's fun to see dad get all flustered. You know, how his ears go bright red and that vein in his neck looks like it's going to explode."

"Are you a lesbian?" Flack asked.

"Don!" Sam huffed and rolled her eyes. "Don't entertain her, okay?"

"What that word mom?" Declan asked.

"Don't worry about it," Sam replied. "Go downstairs and put some food and water in the dogs bowls. We have to get going soon."

"What it mean?" he insisted.

"It's when two girls are in love and have sex," Reghan informed him.

Declan scrunched up his forehead and his nose as he thought that over. "Sex?" he asked.

"What mom and dad are doing when their door is locked. And the reason why there's so many kids in this house."

"Mom?" Declan needed clarification.

"Go and find Kieran and get him to help you with the dogs and than tell him and the others it's time to go. Okay?"

Declan nodded and leaned into his father once more. "Dad?" he asked, rubbing Flack's back.

"What?"

"Thank you. For pizza. I love you, dad."

"I love you, too. Now listen to your mom and go and do your chores before we leave."

Declan hurried off, leaving Reghan alone with her furious, irritated parents.

"What the hell was that all about?" asked Flack.

"You guys can't shelter him from real life stuff 'cause he has Downs. He needs to know things. It's not like he's stupid. He's real slow and looks a bit different but who cares? Not his fault some damn extra chromosome attacked him when you guys made the three of us."

"Well thank you, Miss Know it All," Flack snapped. "Thanks for your little tutorial on your brother's disability. I had no idea what was wrong with him. We've only gone thirteen years dealing with it and getting him therapy and everything he needs."

"I am just saying that he needs to know this stuff," Reghan defended herself. "Especially when he gets a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend."

A disgusted look took over Flack's face. "For Christsakes," he grumbled.

"They have boyfriends and girlfriends, too. Some even get married. He deserves to have someone to love and to love him. It's normal dad. Don't be so anal."

"I am not anal," Flack argued. "I just don't like the idea of him, or any of my kids, having sex. All right?"

"Kieran has sex," Reghan informed her father. "I saw condoms in his room. Still in the box."

"What were you doing in his room?" Flack asked.

"Please, dad! He goes in my room all the time! Why can't I go in his?"

"Because he's fifteen and needs his privacy."

Reghan rolled her eyes.

"Don't do that," Flack scolded her. "You remind me of your mother when you do that."

"Good," Reghan said as she stood up. "I'm glad at least one of us kids take after her and got her sense and her brains."

"You're a smart ass," Flack informed her.

"Just like you, daddy," she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Than bouncing off, her pony tail swaying back and forth.

Flack looked at Sam. "And you wonder why I wanted all boys."

"Right, and that would have been so much better."

Alannah and Mikayla, coats in hand and shoes on, joined their parents in the kitchen. Mikayla went to her father and wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his stomach. Flack combed his fingers through her thick curls.

"He's not worth it, Mikki," he told his daughter. "First, you're only eleven. Second, if his dad's a lawyer, than this kid is a first class A-hole."

"Not all lawyers are evil, scum suckers, dad," Alannah told him, slipping into one of the chairs.

"Yes, Lani," he said. "They are."

"All boys are first class A-holes," Mikayla sniffled.

"That's not true," Sam assured her, standing behind her older daughter and fixing the braid in Alannah's hair. "Your daddy isn't a first class A-hole."

Alannah snickered.

Flack glared at her.

"But that's different, mommy," Mikayla argued. "He's a boy but he's different."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Because he's daddy and daddy makes everything better."

Alannah laughed. "You poor delusional child."

"There was a time when you wanted daddy to make everything better," Flack said.

"Yeah…'til I figured out that mom's the brains of this operation."

"You're right," Flack agreed. "I'm just have the devastatingly good looks that I was gracious enough to pass down to you all you ungrateful, spoiled brats. And you're actually wearing a dress? These are times I actually remember you're a girl."

"Well I refuse to be a tart like Reghan. But mom made me wear a dress tonight. She said if I didn't I couldn't go to hockey camp with Kieran this summer."

Flack looked at his wife and nodded his approval. "Bribery….I'm impressed."

The phone resting on top of the fridge rang noisily and Alannah lunged for it. Only to have it stop after three rings.

"Mom!" Kieran bellowed from the family room. "Mom! Aunt Linds is on the phone!"

Lindsay Monroe had slipped back into their lives a little over seven years ago. Danny and Erica had had a nasty, bitter split when Erica, tired of being a cop's wife, had decided to take off with her ex-husband who'd she'd been secretly cavorting with since Chloe was just a toddler. Erica decided the high life was the better life and chose the financial payday the ex provided over Danny and his city salary and their two children.

Angell, who had kept in contact with Lindsay after she departed New York City, had called her friend to share some office gossip and just so happened to slip in there that Danny was now a single father struggling to keep his sanity. Angell knew Lindsay had never stopped loving him and couldn't resist playing match maker. Lindsay herself had walked away from a horrible marriage and was feeling down and out and needed a moral booster. Within a week she was back in New York and sleeping in Hawkes' spare bedroom and she and Danny went out for coffee.

Long simmering feelings came to the surface and within six months, Danny Messer had done the unthinkable. He'd gotten married. To his Montana. And they welcomed their own child, a son they named Daniel Messer Jr, three years ago.

Sam and Lindsay had collectively agreed to try their hand at friendship. To put the jealously and issues of the past behind them. They were both older and wise and more mature now. And they found that they liked each other immensely and both wondered why in the hell they'd never tried harder the first time around. Lindsay had become one of Sam's closest, truest friends. Although no one could come close to Carmen in the best friend category.

Flack tapped a finger to his watch as his wife reached for the phone.

"I know," she said. "You get the kids ready and loaded in and I'll be right out."

He smirked. "Is that a request or an order, Agent Flack?" he asked, scooping his keys off the microwave.

"Little bit of both," she replied.

He kissed her softly. Short and sweet. "All right, let's go," he said to his girls. He went to the door leading to the family room. "Kieran! Declan!" he yelled. "Come on! We gotta get a move on!"

"Be right up, dad," Kieran told him.

"Liam!" Flack called as he and the girls headed out of the kitchen. "Reghan! Let's go! Before we're late!"

Footsteps pounded up the stairs from the basement and down the stairs leading to the living room. Utter chaos ensued as six kids scrambled for shoes.

"It's like our own Von Trapp family," Flack called over his shoulder to his wife, who stood in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, watching the madness.

"Well let's just hope they don't break into song," she laughed.

"Don't tempt me, mom," Kieran said. "We are doing Fiddler on the Roof at school this year. I should try out."

"I've heard you sing in the shower," Flack told his oldest son. "Stick to playing hockey."

"I can't get my shoes on!" Liam wailed, on his ass in the middle of the foyer, one foot in the air.

"That's 'cause you got them on the wrong feet you dope," Kieran told him and bent to switch the shoes around on his little brother's feet. Then assisted Liam in doing up his coat.

"Thanks, K!" Liam exclaimed and bolted out the front door.

"Shoulda really used condoms more, dad," Kieran needled his father. "If ya stopped at one you wouldn't have all that grey hair."

"If I'd never talked to your mother that day fifteen years ago, I'd be even better off," Flack teased, pushing his oldest out the door.

"Come on, you'd miss us. Especially mom."

Flack smiled and cast a glance over at his shoulder. To where his wife was pacing the living room with the phone pressed to her ear.

It was amazing how a fifteen year old could be so right sometimes.

The kids were all buckled in and the SUV running and the air conditioning and radio both blaring when Sam finally slipped into the front passenger seat fifteen minutes later. If they'd been heading to a sports event or away camping for the weekend, they would have had to take both vehicles to transport all the bodies and gear.

She dropped her purse on the dash and reached for her seat belt.

"Everything okay?" Flack asked, waiting for her to buckle herself in before putting the vehicle in reverse and back out of the driveway. "Kieran!" he called into the back. "Bend down. I can't see anything over you big head."

"Addie says the same thing all the time," the fifteen year old said. "About my big head."

Sam spun around. "Kieran!" she exclaimed, horrified by the comment, at the same time that Alannah was slugging her big brother and telling him how gross he was.

"Kidding, mom," her son said. "Kidding."

"Good to hear he takes after me in every way possible," Flack commented.

"Donald," Sam shook her head. "Don't encourage him."

"So what was wrong with Mrs Messer?" Flack asked, pulling clear of the driveway and putting the SUV in drive.

"She had a bit of an issue. Chloe started her period and since Lindsay went through menopause right after Danny Jr, she didn't have any pads or tampons in the house and had to send Danny out to get them."

"Mom!" Kieran cried and made a gagging noise. "Way too much information!"

"So Danny came home with every kind of tampon and what not on the market," Sam continued. "Took one look at his daughter's blood and promptly vomited."

"Amateur," Flack snorted. "Try having two girls going through it at the same time and the mother not even in the state. Now that was one of my finer moments."

"Dad! Come on!" Kieran cried. "Bad enough I gotta look at that stuff when I go in the bathroom and Alannah and Reghan leave it lying around. But now I gotta hear ya talk about it too?"

"Addie gets a period too, you know," Alannah informed her brother.

"I know that…but gross! I don't wanna hear my mom and dad talking about it! Its traumatic enough knowing people as old as them are having sex!"

Flack grinned at Sam. "I think he's traumatized for life."

"He's not a baby anymore," Sam said with a sigh.

Flack looked through the rear view mirror and at his oldest child A spitting image of his father. Laughing as he took the good natured teasing from his sisters. It seemed as if just yesterday that he was a curious baby smacking his face off the floor and splitting his chin open. A scar he sported to that day. Now he was fifteen years old and big and strong yet very much still a child.

His first born. His baby.

"He's growing up," Sam said, almost sadly.

Flack sighed and turned his eyes to the road.

"Don't remind me," he said.

Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even the lurkers! Although I do wish you'd drop me a line!