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

A not so ordinary day

"Hey, dad, look at me,
Think back and talk to me
Did I grow up according to plan?
Do you think I'm wasting my time doing what I wanna do?
'Cause it hurts when you disapprove all along
And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't pretend that I'm all right
And you can't change me."
-Perfect, Simple Plan

A/N 1: I just want to say a special welcome to marialisa!

A/N 2: This is a present chap. By present, I mean Flack and Sam and the kids older. The other chaps with them all younger will be referred to as past chaps. Just so there's no confusion. Enjoy, BEG75

Halfway through her stack of asylum applications, Samantha took a break. She couldn't bear the thought of sitting in that cluttered home office for another three hours straight. As comfortable as the revolving and reclining leather chair was, her back and legs were stiff and her ass was sore. Too lazy to run upstairs to grab her glasses, her eyes were blurry and burned as if they were on fire.

She needed a chance to stretch her legs and work out the kinks in a body that wasn't getting any younger. Grab some fresh air and a make a fresh pot of tea. Maybe toss together something for lunch and throw some laundry in the wash and tidy up a little. It was impossible to keep the place spotless and sparkling with six kids who seemed incapable of picking up after themselves and a husband who couldn't seem to remember that his socks and underwear went in the laundry basket, not on the floor beside it.

Kieran's room looked like a cyclone had hit it. No matter how many times he had privileges taken away or was threatened with groundings, the kid just couldn't seem to keep the place clean. Dirty and clean clothes co-mingled on the floor and threatened to explode from the dresser drawers.

The bed was, as usual, unmade. The sheets looked as if they hadn't been changed in over a month. Books and video games and DVDs and school work littered the desk and floor. The laundry basket was filled to the brim. She understood his desire to do his own wash. He was a young man now and hated the idea of his mother doing stuff for him. But at the same time, actually getting off his ass to throw stuff in the washing machines would be a good idea instead of letting it pile up.

She simply closed the door and made a mental to note to tell the kid to clean the place up and do some wash or he wouldn't be playing any hockey or going anywhere that weekend. Reghan and Alannah's room was at least somewhat better. They were like The Odd Couple. Reghan was obsessed with cleanliness and her sister was nothing short of a slob. Her side of the room was cluttered and chaotic.

Declan's room was always clean. It made him feel like a big boy and responsible by keeping his room tidy. And he was just starting to learn how to do his own laundry. Although there'd been a number of instances where he had put nearly a whole bottle of detergent in one load of clothes and flooded the basement with suds. Liam and Mikayla were pretty good about keeping things clean, although there always seemed to be toys scattered from one end of the room to the other.

She gathered up the two smaller kids laundry and dumped it into the basket from the master bedroom and carried everything done to the basement. Where even more laundry awaited her. Thank God for two washers and two dryers or it would take days to get everything done. With the four loads gathered from upstairs and the piles on the utility room floor, she estimated she had at least ten, if not more loads of wash to do.

And this is my life? She thought, as she dumped some soap into each washer and tossed in the loads and waited for the water to fill before setting the timer and heading back upstairs. Nearly tripped over Maximus as he stretched out at the top of the landing. If it wasn't six kids to watch out for, it was the dogs. And if it wasn't massive amounts of laundry, it was a staggering amount of money that was spent to feed them all. She often wondered what in the hell had ever happened to being able to come and go as she pleased. No one to answer to or rush home to.

Don Flack Jr is what happened. And she knew her life would be damn lonely without him and their kids.

She stumbled over Cujo as he scampered between her legs as she went to step into the kitchen. She stumbled forward into one of the chairs, which slid across the floor and into the water cooler. Which in turn toppled over and sent water from one end of the room to the other.

She stared at the mess with a hand to her forehead and tears in her eyes. Laugh or cry? She wasn't sure which.

I need a vacation, she thought, before grabbing a mop and setting to work.

An hour later, she sat out on the back deck with a mug of tea and the leftovers she'd brought home the night before from the restaurant. A large plateful of veal parmesan she'd warmed up in the microwave and dug into as she sat at the patio table in her house coat and bare feet, flipping through a wrinkled copy of a tabloid magazine that Reghan had left lying around the house. It was a little cooler outside than it had been in the past couple of days but it felt good to have the gentle breeze tickling her bare skin.

She thought about lighter, non work related issues. About the summer and getting the pool ready for the season. About weeding and planting the gardens at the back. About how quiet it was going to be with both Kieran and Alannah gone for three weeks to hockey camp and Declan, Liam and Mikayla attending day camp through the local Y. Reghan was the only one sticking around, although she had enough friends to make sure she never got bored.

Sam sighed contently and closed her eyes. To be in the house with no squabbling kids battering each other and slamming doors and demanding all of her attention and to play referee and judge, jury and executioner at times was pure heaven. Nothing but complete and utter silence save for the birds that chirped in the surrounding trees and the next door neighbour humming as she worked in her garden. Mrs Fergus had been in the neighbourhood for nearly three decades.

Her husband had been a member of the FDNY. A platoon chief. He'd died several years before and she'd been alone ever since. All of her kids and grand kids lived out of state and only visited on major holidays. She had no other family members to help her out, so Flack and Kieran took turns doing manual labour for her. Fixing things and mowing the grass and shovelling the snow. For which she always repaid them by sending over delicious home baked goods and presents for the kids at birthdays and Christmas.

She finished her lunch and downed her tea and stood up and stretched. A little too much, apparently. A sharp pain caught her in the left chest and took her breath away and brought tears to her eyes. Her knees nearly buckled and she had to place her hands on the table top to prevent herself from going down.

Aftermath from the shooting. She may have been wearing a vest that day, but she'd been shot at close enough range to collapse her lung and crack her sternum. And nearly seven and a half years later, if she moved too quickly or strained too much or the weather was exceptionally damp or cold, the pain came back to haunt her.

The discomfort passed and her breathing returned to normal and her body relaxed. She opened her eyes and brushed tears away on the sleeve of her robe.

Life went on, but in many ways it would never be the same. She'd been unable to function in the job that she had loved and she'd been damn good at. She'd had to give up something she adored to pursue something she could barely stand at times. She couldn't take the risk of staying with the crime lab. She was too much of a hindrance. She was too frightened to be left alone and it wasn't fair to anyone she worked with to have to cover for her if she bailed at a scene. And the thought of tarnishing the integrity of the lab because her fears made her careless and hasty had been enough to make her realize that leaving was the best for everyone involved.

She missed it everyday. But was thankful for the lifelong friendships she'd formed. Those people had been by her side through thick and thin. Supported her and Flack and their family through some sad, difficult times. And she couldn't imagine her life without them.

She had the made the smartest decision of her life when she decided to leave Arizona and the disaster that was Zack behind. She had come to New York just hoping for a clean break. A new start. Instead she'd gained a second family. And a husband and six kids. If anyone had have told her seventeen years ago that she'd be married to the love of her life and bear him half a dozen children, she would have laughed and asked if they were insane. But it had happened.

And she realized, as she stood there in the comfort of her back yard, staring up at the bright blue sky, that she loved her life. Problems and all.

And she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

It was quarter after four by the time Kieran stepped off the subway three blocks from One Police Plaza. Lugging his heavy backpack over one shoulder as he lumbered up the stairs of the station and out onto the bustling, noisy existence that was midtown Manhattan.

It was often that he made the journey to his dad's work alone. Mom had a paranoia about him taking the subway out of Queens. Too many weirdos, she said. Although at six feet and nearly two hundred pounds of muscle, Kieran was pretty sure that he could take care of anyone that messed with him. His dad had taught him a long time ago how to stick up for himself. Using his fists. Not that dad promoted or condoned using violence to solve a problem, but he always said that if someone started shit with you and came at you, you had every right to defend yourself.

Kieran admired his father. Had since he was just a little boy. His dad was tall and big and tough. He didn't put up with any crap. From anyone. Didn't matter size or shape or status, his dad wouldn't tolerate bullshit from anyone. He said what he felt and dealt with the consequences. He wasn't afraid of anything. And if he was, he didn't show it. He said a cop's worst enemy was weakness. That the perps could practically smell it and pounced on you when they did.

His dad was an amazing cop. He hadn't always realized just what his dad had given to the job. The sacrifices he had made and the pain and suffering he had gone through to get where he was now. As a kid, he just thought it was cool that his dad was the law and the order and got to wear a badge and carry a gun. As he matured and asked more questions and listened closely to the answers, he'd been in sheer awe of what his dad had accomplished for just a guy from Queens with a grade twelve diploma. From a simple uniform to an Inspector. Each time Kieran looked at his father despite all of their differences, it was with love and respect.

He was twelve when he found out about the bombing. Growing up, he'd always noticed the painful looking scars that marred his father's chest and abdomen. He'd always just assumed that they were by products of a dangerous job but never gave a second thought to how they actually got there. Until one day, as pre-teen, he'd asked his mother out of the blue what had happened to dad. She'd been reluctant to tell him. Going no further than to say he'd been in an incident at work and almost didn't make it. That it had happened before they had met and it had taken him a long time to talk about it even to her.

It was left at that. Kieran could tell his mom wasn't too comfortable with talking about it and he didn't push it. Three days later, his dad had come knocking at his bedroom door shortly before lights out and sat down beside him and said that his mom had mentioned he'd asked about what had happened all those many years ago. And that he thought Kieran was old enough to hear the truth.

He'd cried when his father had told him the story. Talking candidly and openly about being trapped in a bomb explosion and how Papa Mac had saved his life. And how when the pain from rehab and physiotherapy had seemed too much to bear, he had wished that he had died that day. But that he hadn't given up and was grateful that he'd summoned up enough strength and courage to do take one day at a time. Because if he hadn't, Kieran and his siblings wouldn't be there. And his kids and his wife were the most important things in his life.

And Kieran had put his arms around his father and sobbed into that big strong chest as his father stroked his hair and rocked him like a baby. It was the last memory he had of feeling that loved by his dad.

Until the night before. Hearing his father tell him he was proud of him and loved him had blown him away. But it had lightened his step and put a permanent smile on his face.

Now if only dad would lighten up on the whole cop thing, Kieran thought, as he popped his iPod into his ears and pressed play.

Even at just fifteen, he knew it was his destiny to follow in his dad's footsteps. To be the next Flack to proudly serve the city of New York. It was the path that was laid before him and that Kieran was determined to follow. He hoped his dad would one day accept it and respect his decision. And look at him with pride. He knew his mom would support him no matter what. Mom was just like that. She was open minded and didn't believe in pushing people to do something that would make them miserable in the end.

He often wondered how his parents ever managed to get together. They were opposites in so many ways. Mom was tiny and slight and dad was over six feet and went a good two twenty. She was insanely smart and highly educated . Book smart, his father often called it. Whereas dad was all about the streets. Common sense was his best friend. That and the fact he was big enough, and mean enough to put someone through a wall if need be.

And while his parents were different in some respects, they were also very similar in others. They were both stubborn and hot tempered. Sarcastic to a fault. Mom always got the upper hand during witty exchanges. She was way too quick for dad in the smart ass comeback department. Half the time, Kieran was pretty sure that his father didn't know if he was coming or going in that relationship.

But they loved each other. Kieran never doubted that. He saw the way his dad looked at his mom. His feelings were written all over his face. And the way mom would sense him staring at her and turn and smile at him…

It made Kieran smile to himself as he thought about it. And he hoped, as he stepped through the automatic doors at One Police Plaza and headed for the elevator, that his parents would always be that way. That they'd never fall out of love or forget everything they had achieved together.

He stepped out onto the twentieth floor and hung a right. The soles of his running shoes squeaking slightly on the highly polished marble floor as he headed for the reception desk. He waited patiently behind a UPS driver, pressing stop on his iPod and yanking out the ear phones before stuffing the player into his pants pocket. He pulled off his backwards ball cap and shoved it into his backpack. Dad would kill him if he walked into his office wearing a hat. It was one thing he didn't tolerate well. Ball caps indoors.

Debbie, the normal secretary that served for both the Inspector and Chief of Detectives, smiled warmly at him as he sidled up to the desk and reached for the clipboard that held the visitors sign in sheet. She was close to sixty and had been serving as his dad's receptionist since he got his promotion. She knew all the kids' names and birthdays and never forgot to send them cards. She was the one that kept his dad's schedule organized and the one that if need be, sent his mom flowers if he was dangerously close to forgetting a special occasion.

"Haven't seen you here in a while," she said, as Kieran printed and signed his name. "Your dad mentioned this morning that you were coming by. It's good to see you again. How's school going?"

"Okay," he replied with a shrug. "Could be better, could be worse."

"You've grown at least four or five inches since I've seen you last," Debbie told him, sitting back in her chair to appraise him. "Heavier, too. And you are looking more and more like your dad as you get older."

Kieran smiled. He was constantly being told how much he resembled his father. The dark hair and the vibrant blue eyes that seemed to capture attention every where he went. Same nose and ears and jaw structure. He was his father from head to toe and didn't mean being reminded of that. Hell, a couple more inches and some extra pounds and they'd share the same build, too. And mom was always complaining that he shared his smart ass attitude with his father as well.

"Mom says that all the time," he said.

"How's she doing?" Debbie asked.

"Good. Working hard, as usual. Going crazy with dad and all us kids around. I think she needs a vacation."

"Well with the gang she has, she deserves it. Your dad's down in his office. You can go right down."

"Thanks, Debbie," he said, and headed off down the hall.

Kieran hadn't gotten ten feet when the door to another office opened up and a frazzled looking young woman rushed out and nearly collided with him. As she stopped short, her foot caught in the carpet and she tripped slightly. The papers she carried in her arms tumbling to the floor as she lost her balance. Falling smack into his chest.

She was about twenty-five. Small and willowy with her sandy hair in a chin length bomb. A little too much makeup and a blouse that was just a little too low cut and a skirt that was more than a little too short. Kieran supposed she was okay looking. If he was into older women. Which he wasn't.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, extricating herself from his chest. "I was in a rush and wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's okay," Kieran assured her, crouching down to assist her in cleaning up the papers.

"This is my first day here," she said, stuffing papers into their respective files and standing up. "I'm a little scattered brained at the moment."

"No problem," he assured her. "My mom's like that all that time."

"I'm Paige," she said. "I'd offer you a hand, but…"

"I'm Kieran," he told her.

"That's a nice name," she smiled. "Are you lost or something? You don't look old enough to work here."

"I'm not. I'm just in high school. I'm here to see my dad."

Paige arched an eyebrow. A little disappointed to hear that this big, strong guy was actually just a high school kid. Looks could be truly deceiving. "Your dad?" she asked.

"Don Flack," he said. "Well, Inspector Flack, I should say."

"Inspector Flack is your father?" her eyebrows lifted.

Kieran nodded. "Come on, you can't tell me that you didn't notice I look just like him. Everyone says it. I'm used to it. And it's not like it's a bad thing. My dad's an alright looking guy."

"You're father is a very handsome man," Paige agreed, than bit her lip when she realized she had said too much.

Kieran frowned. He didn't know if he liked the idea of this young thing talking that way about his father. And walking around dressed the way she was with everything on display. She was a little too flirty as far as he was concerned, and the thought of her around his father on a constant basis was unnerving. Not that he thought his dad would ever do anything stupid and cheat on his mom. But the temptation was there and Kieran didn't appreciate it. And he knew his mother wouldn't either.

"I have to get going," he said, stepping past the flustered young woman.

"It was nice to meet you Kevin." she called after him.

He smirked. Not bothering to correct her. He wasn't planning on making her a part of his life so what did it matter if she called him the wrong name?

All he hoped was that she didn't have plans on making herself part of his dad's life.

Flack was at his desk,suit jacket tossed in a nearby arm chair and his tie loosened and the top two buttons on his shirt undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Leaning back in his chair with the phone pressed to his ear, taking notes on a yellow legal pad that sat on his desk. A frown of both displeasure and concentration on his face as he listened to Danny talk about the lack of cooperation the crime lab was getting with DHS over the case the day before.

The Feds were insisting, that seeing as the captain had copped to both running a drug smuggling operation and transporting illegal aliens to the states for an alarming 100,000 a person, that they should get the credit for the bust even though it was Rick Santucci who, working with a DHS agent who hadn't known his ass from his elbow, had managed to squeeze the confession out of the captain.

On top of that, three of the refugees were now in the hospital in critical condition with what doctors suspected was malaria. The rest of the survivors were being closely watched for any signs of the disease. In a state of madness brought on by high temperatures, the same three had gone crazy being locked up in the cargo area of the ship for so long and had murdered, and attempted to cannibalize, their ten victims. The suspected malaria meant that anyone working in close proximity of any of the refugees or the dead was at risk of getting ill. That included all the CSIs, who thankfully all felt fine, and Samantha who'd crouched over the one body and pulled his passport out of his pocket.

"I don't really know what you want me to do," Flack said into the phone, looking up as his son appeared in the open doorway of his office. He waved Kieran in and went back to his phone call.

"There's gotta be something you can do to set things right," Danny was saying. "They can't just poach our arrest like that. And them holding out on files and that passport…you must be able to do something."

"Messer, they're the United States government. Nothing I can possibly say or do will change their minds. And even if I go to the commisoner and he suggests getting a subpoena, it's highly unlikely any judge in this state will go against the government."

"Can't you at least talk to Sam?" Danny asked. "Get her to ease up a little?"

"You're asking me to commit marriage suicide," Flack replied, watching as his son wandered around the office, looking at things mounted on the walls that he'd seen a million times already but never seemed to tire of.

He wondered, as he observed his first born in those baggy, navy blue cargo style pants, Adidas shoes he'd been grown out of in a month, and a white polo shirt that was starting to get a little too tight , when in the hell he'd gone from being an eight pound newborn to a strong, tall, confidant young man.

"I'm just asking you to talk to her and see if you can't get her to cooperate just a bit," Danny said,

"This is out of my hands, Messer. Sam's not even on that case now. She handed over custody of that passport to the head of Immigration last night. She's just working on asylum applications now."

"Fucking bitch," Danny said with a heavy sigh.

"I'll ignore the fact you just called my wife a fucking bitch," Flack told him.

"I wasn't referring to your wife," Danny argued. "I was referring to this whole bullshit mess."

"Outta my hands, Messer. All I can do is put a word in to Scagnetti or the commish and see if they can do anything about it."

"Well that's a start," the CSI said. Than his tone become more light hearted. "You know, you're almost as useless as Gerrard."

"I've got a long way to go to catch up to him," Flack said. "Are we done here? 'Cause I'm off the clock and I have more important things to do than work."

Kieran smiled to himself. It made him feel good to hear that he was more important than the job to his father. He dropped his back pack in one of the chairs in front of the desk and sat down in the other. Leaning forward, he reached out and turned the two wooden picture frames around to look at the photos inside. He'd seen them many a time before but was always amazed to realize his father was a family pictures on his desk kind of guy.

One of them was of the six kids taken last Christmas. Mom had been making them go for family holiday pictures since Kieran was just a toddler. The other photo of his parents was taken at Aunt Carmen's wedding a long, long time ago.

"How was school?" Flack asked, as he hung up the phone.

"It was okay," Kieran replied, turning the frames back around. "I found out today that I have to write a paper for sociology. About my family. Something life altering that's happened to us and how it was dealt with."

"So what are you going to write about?" his father asked. "Your mom's shooting?"

"Mom was okay though," Kieran said. "I mean, she was never going to die or anything. When that guy came after Papa Mac when I was just little and you got in the way, you nearly died, dad. It was a while before you even got to come home and even when you did, it was nearly a year before you got to go back to work. And you even said you weren't a hundred percent for a long time. You lost half your liver and still have part of the bullet lodged near your spinal cord. That's a pretty huge deal."

"You already wrote about that in your grade nine year," Flack reminded him.

"I know…and I got an A plus, remember?"

Flack smiled. "I remember. Your mom still has that paper stored away somewhere. So what are you going to do this year?"

"I was thinking about doing it about Declan," Kieran said. "About how you and mommy felt when the doctor told you he wasn't a normal kid. And all the stuff you guys have had to do to get him where he is. All the therapy and specialists and what not. Just how you guys cope with it day in and day out. That kind of thing. I need to come up with a page of questions to ask. Like an interview. Do you think that sounds okay? You and mom would answer some stuff?"

"Sounds great to me. You'll just have to watch what you ask your mom. She still gets really emotional about it. It's harder on her than it is me."

Kieran nodded. "She still has a hard time accepting it some days, doesn't she, dad."

"She has her moments where she thinks about it a little too much. Future stuff. And it gets her down. But she's doing a great job with him. With all of you guys, actually. Six kids and a job? It's not easy on her."

"I know. Mom's a pretty strong lady. I mean, she has to be to put up with you."

Flack smirked at that and reached over to turn off his computer and tidied up the files on his desk. He pushed his chair away from the desk and stood up. Stretching to the point his back cracked, he scooped his suit jacket up from the back of his chair.

"Dad?" Kieran asked, as he stood as well and picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.

"What?"

"What's going to happen to Declan when you and mom are too old to take care of him? Or if something happens to you guys? Will I have to take care of him? I know that sounds really mean and selfish, but I don't think I could do that."

"Well, hopefully nothing will happen to me and your mom. And if it did and all you guys are still young, you and Liam and Mikayla would go to Uncle Danny's and Declan and the girls would go to Aunt Carmen's."

"No one can take us all together?" Kieran looked troubled by that thought.

"That's a huge responsibility to expect someone to take on," Flack told him. "You guys would be okay if you had to be separated. And, when me and your mom are old, we're hoping that Declan will have learned enough self help skills to be living somewhat independently. Maybe in a place that has some sort of supervision and other guys and girls like him."

"Do you think he might have a girlfriend one day?" Kieran asked, following his dad to the door. "Or a wife even?"

"It's possible," Flack replied. "Who knows? Anything could happen. He could go to community college for all we know. There's lots of time ahead of him to do lots of things. And I think, if we all support him, he can do whatever he wants. Who knows what life has ahead for him. For any of us. One day at a time, K. All we can do is take it one day at a time."

Kieran grinned. "That's deep, dad. Especially for you."

Flack smirked and laid a hand on the back of his son's neck and steered him out the door. "Let's go wise ass," he said.

After they picked up the equipment he'd need for his game on Saturday and had his skates sharpened, Flack and Kieran headed for Madison Square Garden. The place held a lot of good memories for both of them. When Kieran was just a kid, Flack had won seasons tickets to the Rangers for being the most valuable player on the NYPD hockey team. Kieran could still remember being jealous, and heart broken at the thought of his dad and probably uncle Danny going to all those games. Until opening night, when a couple hours before, his dad had walked into his room and tossed a Jaromir Jagr jersey on the bed and told him to hurry up and get dressed. That they were taking the subway into Manhattan and needed to leave soon if they wanted to make it on time.

It had been the greatest night of Kieran's young life. Spending opening night of the Rangers with his dad. Eating hotdogs and popcorn and all kinds of junk food that he was warned not to tell his mother about. It wasn't the game that had mattered. It was getting to spend the time with his father, who readily admitted himself, wasn't around a lot because of his job.

Uncle Danny never went to a Rangers game all year. It had been a thing just for father and son. And Kieran would cherish those memories forever.

As they walked down 33rd Street and back to the car blocked a few blocks away, they sipped drinks and enjoyed the warm sunshine.

"I want to get a tongue ring," Kieran announced, as he chewed on a piece of lemon meringue flavoured fudge.

"You want what now?" Flack asked, pausing before taking a sip of his coffee.

"Get my tongue pierced," his son replied.

"Why?" Flack inquired.

Kieran shrugged.

"You really want to walk around with a piece of metal in your mouth? Makes you talk all funny. Not to mention what it can do to the back of your teeth. Talks all the enamel off. Why would you want something like that?"

"How do you know so much about tongue piercings?" Kieran asked in response.

"I know someone that used to have one," Flack replied.

"Really?" Kieran sounded surprised. "Someone I know?"

His father nodded.

"Who? Uncle Adam? I can so see him having one. Aunt Carmen even? Uncle Tim told me she was a little wild when she was younger."

Flack shook his head at each name. "Your mother," he said.

"What? Are you serious? Mom?"

Flack nodded. "Shortly after we got together, she got a little drunk one night and we ended up at this tattoo and piercing place and I paid for her to get her tongue pierced."

"Get outta town," Kieran laughed.

"I'm serious. Her tongue was all swollen and sore for a week. She could only take liquids. No solid food. And she had to rinse her mouth with peroxide and water so it wouldn't get infected. And than she talked funny after it did heal. Which for your mother, is nothing new considering how bad her accent can be sometimes."

"But what was it like afterwards?" Kieran asked. "When it healed. Was it worth it? I mean, when you guys…you know…was it worth it?"

Flack grinned as he thought about what things had been like with that piercing. "Every cent I spend on it was worth it ten fold," he said.

"You're a lucky man, dad," Kieran declared. "Guys would kill to be in your shoes. What made her get rid of it?"

"She went in to have an operation when she was pregnant with you and had to remove it. By the time she even thought about putting it back in, it had closed over."

"Bummer," Kieran said. "Bet ya missed it, huh?"

"I grieved for a bit," Flack laughed. "So? What's the deal?" he asked, sipping coffee. "Why do you want to get a tongue piercing? And don't give me because it looks cool. Because it doesn't."

"Promise you won't be mad?" Kieran asked.

"That is a promise I can not make as a father."

Kieran sighed and sipped some strawberry smoothie. "I wanna get one because I heard it helps you give better oral."

Flack nearly spat coffee all over the place. "This conversation is over," he told his son.

"I'm being honest, dad. You asked me and…"

"You're fifteen years old, all right? I don't want you to be having oral sex let alone be talking about it with me. What else are you doing? You just doing that or you doing other stuff too?"

"Just that," Kieran admitted.

"Giving or receiving?"

"Both."

Flack sighed and shook his head. "From here on out, you and Addie don't get into your room alone, out in the backyard alone or even in the basement alone. Got it?"

"It's no big deal, dad."

Flack stopped walking and turned to face his on. "You're wrong, Kieran. It is a big deal. Oral sex is a huge deal. You just don't walk around doing it to every random girl you come across. Especially at fifteen."

"I've only ever done it with Addie," Kieran said. "And I'm sure mom isn't the only woman you've done it too."

"You're right. She isn't. But what I do with your mother means more to me than anything I ever did with other women that had come before her. Oral sex, intercourse, whatever. And when you're with someone that you're madly in love with, everything is so much better. When you're older, you'll get that."

"I am madly in love with Addie, dad," Kieran told him.

"Give me a break," Flack said, and started off down the sidewalk again.

"It's true," Kieran said, chasing after his father. "I do love her. I know you think that's stupid because we're so young and all that. But I know my heart and how it feels. I love her."

"You're fifteen years old!" Flack argued, pulling his keys from his pocket and using the remote on the key chain to turn off the alarm on the SUV five feet away and unlock the doors.

"Your heart doesn't know ages, dad. Age is just a number."

"And you're number is fifteen, Kieran. And because you're only fifteen, I am still responsible for you. And when I tell you that there's no more alone time for you and Addie, I mean it. Kapish?" Flack yanked open the front passenger door and motioned for his son to get in.

"Dad, would you just…"

"Kapish?" Flack repeated, a stern tone in his voice. His eyes dark and serious.

Kieran nodded and climbed into the car, slipping on his belt as his dad slammed the door and went around the other side of the vehicle.

"I don't want to be a grandfather any time soon, all right?" Flack asked as he climbed behind the wheel.

"We're not having sex," Kieran told him.

"Bullshit," Flack snorted and started the ignition.

"We're not dad! I swear to you we're not! We've come close a few times but Addie always chickens out 'cause she's a virgin."

"Hope you're using condoms, kid," Flack said, ignoring his son's protests as he pulled out into traffic.

"Dad, we are not having sex. I just told you that we almost did but Addie gets freaked 'cause she's still a virgin and…"

"Are you?" Flack asked, stealing a glance at his son.

"Am I what?"

"A virgin. And be honest with me, Kieran. You want to be able to talk more to me about things? Well here we are. Talk. And don't bullshit me, son."

Kieran sighed. "I haven't been one for a while now, dad," he admitted.

Flack shook his head in disbelief. "How long is a while?" he asked.

"Couple of years."

"Thirteen!" Flack roared. "You lost your virginity at thirteen!?"

"You wanted me to be honest," Kieran said quietly.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Flack fumed. "Who? Tell me who."

"It doesn't matter, dad."

"It fucking matters to me! Who was it? Do I know this girl? Someone from the neighbourhood? From school? Who?"

"An older girl," Kieran told him. "Someone you know. But not from the neighbourhood. Or school."

Flack thought of all the names in his head. And came up with only one that wasn't in the neighbourhood or Kieran's school. He was so lost in thought and anger, that he didn't see the red light ahead until he was nearly on top of it and had to stomp on the brakes.

He turned furious blue eyes on his son. "Daria," he said, the name a bitter taste in his mouth. "Are you fucking kidding me, Kieran?"

"It only happened a couple of times, dad," Kieran backed himself up against the door. For once in his life physically afraid of his father.

"When did this happen? At my house? If you dare even tell me that this happened while she was suppose to be keeping an eye on you guys, especially Declan and Liam and Mikayla, I swear to God Kieran, I will park somewhere dark and desolate and beat you black and blue."

"It wasn't at our house, dad. I swear to you it wasn't."

"Where Kieran?"

"Uncle Danny's. When I went for stayed over night with them because I was going to Darien Lake with them for the weekend. Uncle Danny got called in to work and Daria was coming along to help Aunt Linds supervise all the kids and…everyone was sleeping and we were in the living room and…things just happened, dad."

"You said yes? You were into it?"

Kieran nodded. "It's not an awful thing, dad. Guys lose it to older girls all the time."

"Maybe. But the guy we're talking about here is my son. My then thirteen year old son. She took advantage of you and.."

"No, dad," Kieran argued. "She didn't. I was a willing participant! I was into it."

Behind them a car honked impatiently when the light turned green and they failed to move instantly.

Flack turned back to the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles ached. "For fuck sakes, Kieran," he fumed.

"I'm sorry, dad. It only happened a couple of time. That's it."

"Once is enough," Flack informed him.

"I'm sorry if I disappointed you!" Kieran cried. " I'm sorry if everything I do disappoints you!"

"You know what? You're right. You do disappoint me. Big time."

"Dad, I…"

"Enough, Kieran. I've heard enough from you."

Kieran sighed heavily and looked out his window. Tears welled in his eyes and his chest ached. If his dad didn't hate him before, he sure did now.

It was shortly before six in the evening when Flack pulled the SUV into the double drive and killed the ignition. The half hour drive had been completed in utter silence. He was livid with his son. It had taken all the will power he had not to park somewhere and wallop the shit out of the kid's ass. And that frightened him. He'd never used physical punishment to discipline his kids. Not that he hadn't thought about it from time to time. He'd just been able to control the urge and deal with things in a calmer manner.

"Go inside," Flack said at long last, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry, dad," Kieran's voice had a desperate, pleading quality to it. "Please…I didn't do anything wrong! You wanted me to be honest and I was!"

"I want you to go inside and go to your room," Flack ordered in a quiet voice. "I want you to stay there and I don't want to hear from you or see you for the rest of the night. Am I clear?"

"Please, dad," his son shook his head, near tears. "Don't be like this."

"Am I clear?" Flack repeated gruffly.

"Yes, sir," Kieran managed meekly, and unbuckling his seat belt, opened the door and climbed out of the SUV and hurried up the driveway. Not looking back as he rushed up the stairs and into the house.

Flack closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. He wondered where the hell him and Sam had ever gone wrong with their first born. When had things screwed up so bad that Kieran thought losing his virginity at thirteen was a good idea. Had they been to lax on him? Had they not been strict enough or enforced rules properly? Or was it solely his father's fault for not being around more? For putting the upbringing of his children almost solely on his wife's already overburdened shoulders?

He heard the screen door open and opened his eyes to see his wife, in a pair of denim Capri shorts and a simple t-shirt and bare feet come down the steps and towards the car. Watching as she crossed in front of the SUV and than climbed into the seat recently vacated by their son.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked. "Kieran just came into the house crying and carrying on about you hating him. Than he ran up to his room and slammed the door and locked himself inside."

Flack sighed. "We had a disagreement."

"About?"

He contemplated telling her. Than decided against it. "It's a personal thing, Sam," he responded. "Just between me and him. All you need to know is that I'm really fucking pissed at him right now and I don't think I handled things the best way."

She frowned. "He's not dropping out of school is he?" she asked.

"No."

"He's not doing drugs, is he?"

"No. Nothing like that. When I calm down, I'm going to go up there and have a talk with him. A calm talk to smooth things over."

Sam just nodded. Realizing she wasn't going to get any more information from her husband.

"Well," she said. "When you're ready to come in and spend time with me and your other five kids, supper is ready."

She leaned across the seat and laid her hand on the side of his face and kissed him softly.

He managed a smile and watched as she slipped out of the car and headed back across the grass and up the stairs. Than disappeared inside the house.

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes once more.

I need a fucking vacation, he thought.

Two hours later, with a plate of microwave heated food in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, Flack found himself using his foot to rap on the closed door to his fifteen year old son's bedroom. He was dreading what lay ahead of him. The honesty that he knew was going to come out of the two of them, and the apology he knew his son deserved.

"Go away!" Kieran shouted from behind the closed door. "I already told you to leave me alone Declan!"

"It's me, Kieran," Flack said. "Open up. I brought you something to eat."

He heard the rustling of sheets as his son climbed off his bed and the soft footsteps across the carpeted floor. Followed by the clicking of the lock.

"I figured you might be hungry," he said, as his son stuck his head out the door.

Kieran looked down at the plate. His eyes were rimmed red and puffy from crying.

"Come on," Flack tried to sound as light hearted as possible. "When do you ever turn down your mother's Shepard's Pie? Or any of her cooking for that matter?"

Kieran sniffled noisily. "I'm not too big of a fan when she makes liver," he said.

"Who is?" Flack asked. "I know you're hungry, Kieran. Just take it and let me come in. Just for five minutes?"

He sighed.

"Please?" his father asked.

Kieran couldn't remember the last time his father had ever asked a question and used the word please. He nodded and took the plate of food and the can of Coke and held the door open with his foot so his father could step inside.

"At least you cleaned your room," Flack said, eyeing the place in appreciation and approval. "Looked like a land fill in here this morning your mom said."

"Wasn't much else for me to do but that and home work," Kieran grumbled, taking a seat in the middle of his rumpled bed. "Mom already took out the Xbox and the tv as punishment for being too much of a slob. And I didn't feel like going on line."

"That's a first," Flack said, sitting down in the chair at the desk across the room. "That's usually the thing you do as soon as you get home."

Kieran shrugged and dug into the plateful of food.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Kieran sat with his eyes on his plate the entire time, and his father sat watching him intently.

"Look," Flack finally said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. Playing with the wedding band he sported on his left hand. Twirling it around and pulling it up to the middle knuckled and than sliding it down again. Over and over. A nervous habit Kieran had picked up on a long time ago. "I just want you to know that I'm not pissed at you, Kieran. And I'm not going to punish you for anything."

"Coulda fooled me," he said. "You seemed a little more than pissed."

"It's not every day you hear your kid lost his virginity at thirteen," Flack reasoned. "Especially to an older girl, whose not only the daughter of people who work under me, but also my other son's special needs worker. And believe me, that's going to stop. I'm going to deal with Daria. Me and her mother and Uncle Rick are going to have a nice long talk."

"I didn't tell you to get anyone in trouble," Kieran said.

"I know. But this isn't something to be taken lightly. At least not to me. You were thirteen years old. Putting her at sixteen. You may not have a problem with that, but I do. And I know, if I was to tell your mother, she'd have an issue with it to."

"Are you going to?" Kieran asked, sipping Coke. "Tell mom?"

"I don't think it's anything she needs to know," Flack replied. "One day she might find out inadvertently, and I can imagine you'd rather tell her than let her find out from other sources."

Kieran nodded.

"I was shocked and I was pissed, K. And I reacted out of concern and love for you. You're my first born son. Your mom and I went through hell to get you into his world healthy. So to hear something like that…just try and put yourself in my shoes, son."

"I know I pissed you off, dad. And that you're disappointed in me. You said that already."

"I said some things out of anger," Flack admitted. "But it's not you I'm disappointed in. It's the situation you got yourself into. And not just you. Daria put you in it too and she had no right to do that. And I'm sorry that I said what I did. I really am. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"Well, you did," Kieran said.

"I know. And I'm sorry. Just as least tell me you were careful. That she was careful."

"We used protection, dad. She was very careful."

Flack nodded. Relieved.

"Can I ask you something?" Kieran asked. "In all honesty?"

"Of course."

"How old were you? The first time you had sex?"

"I was fifteen," Flack answered. "She was sixteen. The daughter of one of your grandpa Flack's work buddies. Our families were tight, me and your uncle Chris always hung around this girl and her older brother. I always thought she was kinda cute and one night, when we were at her place and her folks were out, she told me she had a crush on me and kissed me. And, well, the rest was history."

"Do you regret it?" Kieran asked.

"Only thing I regret is not being more careful. Two months later she was telling me she was pregnant."

Kieran's eyes grew wide. "She what?"

Flack nodded in confirmation.

"And it was yours?" Kieran was shocked.

His father nodded again.

"So somewhere out there we all have another brother or sister?"

Flack shook his head. "Her dad made her have an abortion and shipped her out of state to live with relatives. She never told him I was the one who knocked her up."

"Did grandma or grandpa know?"

"Your grandfather would have skinned me alive if he ever knew."

Kieran shook his head in disbelief. "Jesus, dad…does mom know?"

"That's one thing I have never told your mother about my past. And she knows a lot."

"Think you'll ever tell her?"

Flack shrugged. "One day, maybe…but do you see why I worry about you Kieran? You have so much ahead of you. More than what I had at your age. You've got all of this talent in hockey and your mother's brains. I want you to go far in life. And getting yourself in a situation like I was almost in…you don't want that, son. And I don't want that for you."

"I understand, dad. But I love Addie. I really do. I haven't been with any other girl since that thing with Daria. And I'll wait forever for Addie if I have to."

Flack smiled. "You're only fifteen, Kieran. And forever is a long way away. And as hypocritical as this sounds, I'd rather you wait until you're really ready and really in love with someone before doing it again. 'Cause trust me, when you're in love with someone, it's far better than anything else in the world."

"You ever wish you were a virgin for when you met mom? Or that she was one?"

"Sometimes," Flack admitted. "But we were a lot older when we met than you are now. And we both had lives before each other. And we accept that."

"Don't you ever get bored, dad? Want someone else? Being with someone for sixteen years? That's a hell of a long time."

"It's not that long when you love someone, Kieran," Flack said. "And I've only ever wanted your mother from the day I met her. And I'll say it again. Sex or making love or whatever you want to call it, is a thousand times more amazing when you really love someone. When I'm with your mother, every time is special. And one day, you'll see what I mean."

A knock came to the door.

"Dad?" Reghan's voice. "Mom says Uncle Tony is on the phone. Something about that case from yesterday."

"I have to take that," Flack told his son reluctantly.

"It's okay, dad. I understand. And I think you've said all you needed to say."

"Finish your dinner," Flack said, and got up and headed for the door.

"Dad?" Kieran called.

He paused before opening the door.

Kieran sat the plate of food on the floor and climbed off the bed and went to his father. He wrapped his arms around his father and embraced him tightly. "I'm sorry," he said, laying his head on Flack's shoulder.

"It's okay, K," Flack said, hugging his son in return. Pulling away, he took his son's face in his hands and pressed a kiss to Kieran's forehead. "I love you, son," he said.

"I love you, too, dad," he responded, letting the tears slip down his cheeks.

Flack smiled, brushed the tears away with his thumbs. "I'll always love you and be proud of you, Kieran. No matter what. Always remember that. Okay?"

"Okay," Kieran sniffled.

Flack let his son go and turned to the door. "And by the way," he said, hand on the door knob. "It's a no to the piercing. Even if your mother did have one a long time ago."

Kieran grinned. "I figured you say that. Tattoo?"

"How about we wait until your sixteenth birthday and than we discuss that? Deal?"

"Deal," Kieran agreed, and watched as his father slipped out of the room.

I'm my father's son, he thought, and a smile spread across his face.

Those words had never made him feel as proud as they did at that moment. And he only hoped, when the time came, that he was half the man and father that his dad was.

Thanks to all of those who are reading and reviewing! And to the lurkers! I appreciate each and every one of you guys!

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