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

Coping skills

"Been climbing trees I've skinned my knees
My hands are black the sun is going down
She scruffs my hair in the kitchen steam
She's listening to the dream I weaved today
Crosswords through the bathroom door
While someone sings the theme-tune to the news
And my sister buzzes through the room leaving perfume in the air
And that's what triggered this.
I come back here from time to time
I shelter here some days.

A high-back chair.
He sits and stares
A thousand yards and whistles
Marching-band (Boom-ching)
Kneeling by and speaking up
He reaches out and I take a massive hand.
Disjointed tales
That flit between short trousers
And a full dress uniform
And he talks of people ten years gone
like I've known them all my life
Like scattered black 'n' whites."
-Scattered Blacks and Whites, Elbow

Flack was anxious to get on the road. It was a late Friday afternoon and the start of a rare joint weekend off with his wife. Judging by short range weather forecasts and the brilliant blue sky and warm glorious sunshine beaming down, it would give him the opportunity to be out and about with her and the kids. He couldn't stand being cooped up in the house when most of his work days were not spent sitting behind a desk or dashing to and from meetings.

As much as he liked and enjoyed the extra responsibility and respect, and of course the money, that came with his title, Flack missed being out in the field. Investigating cases and working collectively with a team to piece together a puzzle, the interaction with witnesses and victims. He even missed raids and chasing wackjobs around the city.

Now he was the guy that was called in to handle disputes between the detectives and other departments within the NYPD and to take over when things got too much for the average run of the mill detectives to deal with. He was the Chief of Detectives right hand man, made much easier by the fact that his boss was his former partner years back and one of the closest, truest friends Flack had ever known.

If Sinclair had have still been around sitting at the top, Flack would have said no way when the chance for advancement as Inspector came up and spent the rest of his career as a captain. But a run of bad luck with the bottle and gambling and a string of illicit affairs with call girls and women within the department had sent Sinclair's career down the toilet nearly ten years ago. He never made it to that coveted Commissioners position.

Gerrard had been promoted to Chief, and in the shock of all shocks, Mac had been given the Inspector spot. Even more shocking was how well him and Gerrard actually ran their department. Under the watchful eyes of both men, the detective bureau and the Crime Lab boasted record numbers of solved cases for nearly three years.

Than Gerrard's wife became gravely ill with cancer and he packed in his career to become a family man. Mac spent two years as Chief of Detectives with Scagnetti as his understudy before the mayor offered up the role as Commissioner. Scagnetti was than bumped up, leaving the door wide open for Flack to walk into the Inspector's chair, if that's what he wanted. At first he hadn't been entirely sure that he was cut out for the job. Despite making his way up the ranks, he'd never had the best managerial skills, and the department wanted him to take night courses in business management, public relations, and interpersonal skills to better prepare him for a more illustrious position in the NYPD.

It was the extra schooling that had almost held him back. He'd never been a straight A scholar. He was lucky if he pulled down Bs in high school and joined the academy just to avoid post secondary education because the thought of spending more time hitting the books bored the hell out of him. And night courses when he had six kids at home? He barely had time with his kids and his wife to begin with and hated the idea of missing out on things with them by having to study. It had been Sam, and his parents, that had pushed him to take the leap. A higher spot on the NYPD totem pole meant more money to take care of his family and more Benjamins in his pension plan once it came time to retire.

Providing for his wife and his kids had always been the first and foremost thing Flack had concerned himself with. He'd long ago given up his quest of making a name for himself. That had been an immature, often selfish quest. An attempt to show his father, and all the naysayers within the department, that he was just as good, if not better than his old man. Flack Jr's big fuck you to Flack Sr. But once he and his dad made up and let bygones be bygones, the animosity and the desire to prove himself had slowly evaporated. And than, and only than, had Flack been able to, without even trying, surpass his father career wise.

Flack's first stop, once he managed to get the last of the paperwork out of the way, would be to visit his old man at Flushing Care Manor Centre, a nursing home ten minutes from where his parents had lived for nearly sixty years. He'd been a resident there for four years now, ever since the Lou Gehrig's had left him bid ridden and unable to function on his own.

At first, the muscle weakness he'd initially began to show seven years ago while Sam was still pregnant with Liam had been passed off by the doctor as just something that happened with age. Months went by and soon his father was having coordination problems. He was tripping constantly over his own two feet and dropping things. Then he started complaining about how tired his arms and his legs felt all the time. And after that, his speech quickly became slurred and hard to understand and he had difficulty performing mundane, every day tasks like buttoning his own shirt and brushing his teeth and combing his hair.

It wasn't until his behaviour became bizarre and frightening to his long time wife that Flack started to wonder if there was something seriously wrong with his old man that the doctors were missing out on. Three times she'd called her oldest son in the middle of the night in hysterics because she couldn't get his father to calm down. His dad had started going through periods of uncontrollable periods of laughing and crying and it was scaring the shit out of his mother, and Flack didn't want his mother to be living in fear in her own house. She'd done enough of that in her younger years when he kept her too frightened to leave him.

Flack had gone over each time she'd called, in the wee hours of the morning, leaving four kids and his very pregnant wife home alone while he slept in one of the spare rooms and made sure his old man didn't do anything stupid. And when Sam went into labour, alone because he was off tending to his parents, that was the last straw for Flack. He called up his brother and told him to get off his lazy ass and start taking care of his parents. Flack wasn't the only son and he had a large family and now a newborn that needed him to be around. Chris either started helping out, or his parents were both put in a care facility. No questions asked. Chris and Allison and their kids moved in shortly after that.

His dad's health went downhill from there and he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's when Liam was two years old. Eight months later, he was admitted into the nursing home. The disease had affected his speech and his swallowing and chewing and he had to be put on a feeding tube to be get nutrients into him and prevent him from wasting away. Now, in what Flack hoped was the last stages of the disease, his father did little more than stare with glassy eyes, his mouth agape. He barely moved save for blinking and could no longer communicate or show that that he even realized you were in the room let alone acknowledge that he knew who you were.

Flack had long ago stopped taking the kids, except for Kieran, to visit their grandfather. It was too traumatic for them. Kieran was a tough kid and was able to accept the condition that his grandfather was in. All three girls left the place bawling each time they were there and had nightmares afterwards that sometimes went on for weeks. Liam was too little to realize what was going on and didn't need to see something like that. Declan understood, in whatever way his brain could process that information, that his grandfather wasn't going to be around much longer.

Or Flack at least hoped that was the case. It was hard seeing his father suffer like that. The big, strong, proud man that he had feared for so long as a kid reduced to lying in his own piss and shit with a feeding tube sticking out of him. And despite the fact that they'd 'kissed and made up' long ago, there was still a part of Flack that was still very much pissed and bitter for what his father had done to him and his brother and his mother when they were growing up. All the beatings they had all endured and the constant put downs that reduced your confidence to shit and the bookies that can banging on the door in the middle of the night looking for his old man, threatening the rest of the family was Sr was either out working or getting shit faced drunk somewhere.

Some of that pain would never go away. And a part of him would always hate his father regardless of how much he loved him now and how strong their relationship was or what an outstanding grandfather he'd been. It was a piece of Flack that never healed and he didn't think ever would.

But he went twice a week, Tuesday and Friday to visit, and at his last time there, he'd noticed that his father was having a hard time breathing. The nurse had said that the doctor had been in earlier, and said that Flack Sr's breathing muscles were close to shutting down completely. And when that happened, he'd be placed on a ventilator to sustain life. His mother had made the decision to go with a breathing tube. Flack could not comprehend why anyone would want to make someone suffer even longer. Hadn't the old man been through enough? Why keep him alive when he had no quality of life left?

He'd gone home furious at his mother and grieving for his father. And that night he'd broken down to his own wife about it and begged her and pleaded with her to never let him live like that. That if he ever got that sick and was suffering that much, to just cut her losses and spare him any more agony and just let him go. It wasn't fair to her, or him, to let things continue like that. She said little more than 'If that's what you want, Donnie', and held him as he sobbed like a baby in her arms.

Now it was Friday and it was time to make that trip into Queens and to his father's bedside. And Flack was dreading it. The only thing that kept him going was the thought that maybe things would be over soon and these were the last days with his old man. It sounded cruel and vicious, but it was the honest to God's truth.

Afterwards, before heading home and taking the kids over to the park for Liam and Mikayla's soccer games, he planned on making a little pit stop at Santucci's place and giving Daria a piece of his mind. And than filling her parents in on what their precious daughter had been up to.

Flack wasn't the kind of parent who usually got involved with his kids' trials and tribulations with peers. Unless there was violence and threats and intimidation involved, he and Sam stayed out of it and let their kids fend for themselves. But he just could not let Kieran's confession go by the way side. What that girl had done was wrong and inexcusable and she had to realize there were consequences for making such a horribly stupid decision.

He finished the last of the reports he'd needed to get through by the end of the day and scrawled his signature at the bottom left corner of each page. He slipped the papers into the respective folders and tossed the pen in a holder on his desk and powered down his computer before pushing his chair away from his desk and standing up. He stretched until his back cracked before loosening off his tie and undoing the top two buttons on his shirt. His weapon and holster were locked in the safe behind his desk and he opened it up and clipped the holster to the waist of his pants before making sure the safety was set on the gun before sliding it into its holder.

Once home, the firearm and the clip of ammunition would be safely stored in two different places. He'd heard way too many horror stories of curious children getting a hold of handguns and either killing themselves or a little friend accidentally. And he wasn't taking that chance with his family. At the same time, if anyone every broke into the house and threatened his family, he was still fully able to get his weapon and defend them. He hoped nothing ever happened where he had to something that extreme.

Flack grabbed his suit jacket, briefcase and the small stack of folders on his desk and headed out, pulling his office door shut until there was a soft click indicating it had locked. Scagnetti's door was closed tight, but Flack could hear his old friend and now boss having it out with someone over the phone. It came with the territory. There wasn't a day that passed by that Flack himself didn't have at least half a dozen screaming matches with some idiot over the phone.

He'd just rounded the corner and was on his way to drop the reports off at the reception desk when the new intern Paige came hurrying towards him from her temporary cubicle, a file folder in her hands and a distressed look on her face.

The girl was first class pain in the ass. For someone that graduated from New York State with a police foundations degree, she knew absolutely nothing about departmental procedures or police work whatsoever. She asked the same, mundane questions time and time again and never seemed to 'get it'. He inwardly groaned when he saw her. She'd seemed to latch onto him as a mentor and he had no tolerance or patience for stupid people. On top of it, in her revealing clothes and way too much makeup, she was a little too friendly and flirtatious for his liking.

As Kieran had put it ever so eloquently that morning over breakfast, "The new girl is so ghetto, dad."

"Inspector," Paige said breathlessly. "I am so glad that I caught you before you left. I needed someone to sign off on my time sheet."

"You could have just asked Debbie to do that," Flack told her, nodding in the direction of his secretary, who was slowly packing up to go home and pretending she wasn't listening to the conversation taking place several feet away.

"I was told specifically to have a supervisor do that."

Out of his corner of his eye, he saw Debbie roll her eyes and mouth bullshit. Flack knew it was bullshit too. And that there was more to this young woman in front of him that he cared to think about. Last thing he needed was someone like that causing him problems professionally and personally.

"Can I take those for you, Inspector?" Debbie asked, coming out from behind her desk and holding her hand out as she nodded to the files in his hands.

"They're ready to be shipped off to the Commissioner's office," Flack told her. "Thanks."

She smiled and gave him a look that clearly meant 'Good luck with that one' before heading back to her desk.

"Now what is it you want me to do?" Flack asked the intern.

"I just need you to sign this," Paige replied, holding a clipboard to her chest.

Debbie coughed noisily, Flack smirked. He knew exactly what this young woman was up to.

He motioned for her to hand the clipboard over. There was no way in hell that he was going anywhere near her chest. He wasn't giving her an opportunity to saw he'd done anything inappropriate. "Paige," he said, as he moved to Debbie's desk and grabbed a pen. "I'm sure that when you started here, you were told by the head of employee relations what the standard of dress was here."

"Of course. Blouses and sweaters, skirts, dress pants, comfortable shoes…"

Flack nodded and scribbled his name on the time sheet. "Then can I give you a small piece of advice?"

"Sure."

He handed the clipboard back to her and tossed the pen onto Debbie's desk. "When you come to work on Monday, dress a little more modestly."

Paige's eyebrows arched. "Sir?" she asked.

"Hon," Debbie said, as she slipped into her jacket and grabbed her purse. "What the Inspector is trying to say is that when you get to work Monday morning, make sure your booty isn't showin' and your girls aren't peeking out. Okay?"

Paige blinked.

Flack grinned at his secretary as she stepped around her desk and slipped past him. "Thank you, Debbie," he said. "Have a good weekend."

"You too, Inspector. Have a nice couple of days with your lovely family. And tell that Kieran he looks better with that hair cut and I am expecting him to score me a goal tomorrow," she held up his files, now securely enclosed in manila envelopes. I'll drop these off in the interoffice mail on my way out."

"Thanks," Flack said. "Have a good weekend, Paige," he said to the intern and prepared to follow his secretary.

"I met your son yesterday," Paige said, quickly scooping her purse and jacket from her cubicle and hurrying to catch up to Flack. "He's very sweet."

"Kieran," Flack told her. "He's my oldest. He's fifteen." He stressed his son's age. Hoping the girl was taking it to mean, 'He's fifteen, don't even think about it'.

"He looks just like you. I bet you hear that all the time."

Flack nodded. "My wife hates hearing it so much seeing as she went through hell while she was pregnant. She'd like some kind of recognition for doing all the work."

"Have you been married long?" Paige asked curiously.

"We had our fifteenth anniversary this past Christmas Eve."

"That's a long time."

Flack nodded. "Sometimes it seems like just yesterday, some days it feels like a lifetime ago."

"And you have other kids?"

"I have five other kids," he told her, reaching out to press the down button for the elevator.

Her eyes widened. "Five? Six in all?"

"I have thirteen year old triplets. Two girls and a boy. And a ten year old daughter and an almost seven year old son."

"Wow…that's…wow…"

Flack chuckled. "Funny, sometimes I sit at the dinner table and look at all these kids and I think that exactly. Wow. But, despite all the craziness and madness that comes with them all, I wouldn't give any of them up. My wife and my kids are my life."

Paige smiled and sighed dreamily. "I hope one day I find a man that says that about me," she said.

"Trust me," Flack said, as they stepped onto the elevator. "It happens when you least expect it."

"Is that what happened with you?" Paige asked. "With you and your wife?"

"One minute, I was pissing and moaning to myself about my shitty existence and the next I was checking out this amazing woman sitting on a bench in front of the crime lab. I can even remember to this day what she was wearing and the way the sun made her hair sparkle. And thinking what a bitch she probably was."

Paige laughed. "And was she?"

"For a little while. Didn't matter though. I was gone the second I looked at her."

"Love at first sight?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it love. Something else at first sight. And the love happened later. But believe me, kid, if it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone. I am living and breathing proof that there is someone out there for everyone. It's just a matter of waiting and hoping. Keeping faith. I never thought I'd ever get married and have kids. And now look. A wife, two dogs, a house with a pool and six kids. Surreal."

"But you like your life? You wouldn't change anything?"

"Wouldn't change it for all the money in the world," he declared. "I like to think my wife feels the same way."

"Is your wife in police work too?"

"She works customs and immigration for the Department of Homeland Security. She was a crime scene investigator. We worked together for a long time before she moved on to another career. Which was a Godsend."

"You're wife sounds like a pretty amazing woman," Paige told him.

Flack smiled broadly. "She has her moments," he said.

A half and hour later he was pulling into the nearly vacant visitors parking belonging to the nursing home. Anxiety ate away at his chest and his stomach and he had to sit for several minutes just to get up the courage and the nerve to walk in there and spend some time with what used to be his father.

He killed the ignition and set the alarm and locked the doors via the remote on the key chain before dropping his keys into his pants pocket. He was so lost in his own thoughts and worries as he headed for front entrance, that he didn't see the familiar face sitting on a bench at the end of the walkway, a carry tray of coffees resting beside her, black mule shoes kicked off as she sunned her bare legs.

"Hey, handsome," she greeted cheerfully, standing up and smoothing down her just below the knee black skirt.

He smiled, and laying a hand on the small of her back, kissed her softly. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I thought maybe you could use a little company," Sam replied.

She knew how difficult and heartbreaking it was for him to see his father in the condition he was, and that while nothing would make it easier, at least having someone there with him would ease the pain just a little.

"Whose with the kids?"

"Kieran's fifteen, Don. He's more than capable of watching them for a while. I left him a message on his cell phone that we wouldn't be too long."

"Addie better not be there."

"He knows the rules. Give him a little more credit. And besides, Daria is there. It's her couple hours with Declan. Remember?"

He cringed at the thought of that girl being anywhere near Kieran. Near any of his kids for that matter. He'd forgotten about Friday's being here normal time to spend helping Declan with homework of after school activities. But it made it easier for him to confront her without having to drive all the way to Brooklyn to do it.

"Here," Sam turned around and scooped up on of the take out cups of coffee. "I figured you could use a little pick me up after your long day. What with getting called out a six in the morning. That hasn't happened in a long time."

"Thought I was past early morning call outs," he said, flipping back the tab on the lid of the coffee. "You ever notice that even now, I always get called out at the most inopportune times?"

"I've noticed," she sighed. "But after fifteen years I've grown accustomed to it. Besides, I was able to finish the job myself quite nicely."

He smirked and sipped the coffee. He frowned a little at the taste, pulled the lid off and took a whiff of the aroma drifting out of the cup. He grinned as he put the lid back on and arched an eyebrow at her.

"What?" she asked innocently, sitting down on the bench and grabbing her own cup of tea and sipping it. "I just figured I'd add a little extra something to calm your nerves a little. Take the edge off."

"Where'd you manage to get Bailey's if you came here straight from work?" he asked.

"I stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle and than I went to Starbucks and asked for an extra large cup, only filled three quarters with coffee and than I went back to the car, opened the bottle and dumped some in."

"And where's the bottle now?"

"I drank it."

He frowned.

"Yes, that's it, Donald. You've uncovered my secret drinking problem. I am pissed drunk when I come home from work every day. I drink it all while I'm sitting on the Queensboro Bridge. Just so I can function around your evil, spawns of Satan."

"Well obviously you're not drinking enough based on your breakdowns in the last week alone."

"Don't tempt me. I may sit in my car in the driveway and polish the bottle off. And don't worry, it's locked in the trunk."

"Good," he said. "'Cause if it wasn't, I could arrest you for having an open container of liquor in your car."

"Arrest me, huh?" she smiled over the rim of her take out cup. "Go ahead. Cuff me, lock me up. I'll even let you strip search me."

He bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "That comes later," he told her.

"You and your promises," she sighed. "I called the school board on my lunch break. We have a meeting with the principal, the EA and a trustee next week. Tuesday night. So you'll have to tell your mistress she can have you on Monday, Wednesday and Friday next week."

"That has been your running joke for fifteen years," Flack said, sitting down beside her. "Where the hell would I find the time or the energy for a mistress?"

"You tell me," she teased, leaning into him and giving him that playful smile that crinkled her eyes and nose.

"You're the only one, Samantha. You've always been the only one," he assured her, and wrapping his arm around her slender shoulders, drew her close to him. "So why do we need to go to a meeting? I thought we agreed to find another school and pull him out of this one."

"That's what I told them. I said that my husband and I had discussed what has been going on lately and that we decided in Declan's best interest, we are finding him another school. And that I would appreciate it if they sent me a list of Catholic high schools in New York City that fit the criteria we need for Declan to do well."

"You realize he's probably going to end up in another borough, don't you? Or farther away but still in Queens County. Because the only other high school remotely close to us Holy Cross and that's guys only."

"What's wrong with that?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. But remember the huge stink Kieran put up when we said we were sending him there when he graduated from Holy Rosary? You would have though it was the end of the world because he wasn't going to be around girls."

"Well I doubt Declan would mind," Sam said.

"Well I'd rather him be around girls."

She arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I don't want something screwing up in his head if he's around guys all the time. You know, if he's around them he may think it's okay to be with one of them."

She laughed. "That's the silliest thing I've ever heard!"

"It's how I feel, okay? I'd just feel better if he was around girls and guys."

"Fair enough," she said. "So that rules out sending him to Mosignor McClancy, too."

"I did however briefly consider Robert Land Academy. For Kieran mostly."

"What? Your oldest son suddenly needs to go to a military school?"

Flack nodded slowly and sipped his coffee. "Sometimes I think it's the best place for him."

"I'm sure your parents considered it at one point in time for you and your brother too."

"You kidding? My dad used to threaten to send me there every day from the time I turned twelve and started getting a little too mouthy and getting into fights at school. I even think he pondered shipping me off to a seminary once or twice."

"You a priest?" Sam laughed. "That's even more hilarious and outrageous than me wanting to be a nun when I was younger."

"But Kieran," Flack shook his head. "I mean, he's generally a good kid. He does well in school for the most part, he hangs out with the right crowds, he's not out doing drugs or drinking. At least as far as we know. It's not like he's out committing felonies or anything. And we've always had rules for all the kids and we've always been strict about them."

"You so more than me," Sam said. "You've always been the strict one. The disciplinarian. So why all of a sudden are you second guessing yourself and how you've raised your kids to this point?"

"I never raised them. You did. You did most of the work. You busted your ass to work and take care of them and keep things at home running smoothly. I was absent for the most part."

"That's not true," Sam corrected him. "You're there when we need you the most. You work hard, Donnie. And the job requires you to be more devoted to it than your family sometimes. And I don't fault you for that or hold it against you. You know that."

"It shouldn't have to be that way," Flack said quietly.

"No. But it is and I've long ago accepted that. So what is this all about? Because of whatever went down with Kieran yesterday?"

He sighed. "He just told me some things that made me think somewhere along the line I fucked up pretty bad with him."

"Look, I don't know what the two of you talked about. I don't want to know. Because that's between you guys and if he wanted me to know, he would tell me himself. But if this has anything to do with him and Addie, we're damn lucky is sex is all that he is doing. Like you said, he is a good kid, Don. He's a little smart with his mouth. They all are. And that's something we need to crack down on."

He nodded in agreement.

"But him having sex is the least of my worries. As long as he doesn't catch an STD or get her pregnant. As long as he's always careful. There's so much worse, like drugs, that he could be doing. You've seen kids younger than him completely fucked up and hopeless. And he's nowhere like that and we're lucky."

"I just…Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that kid's head."

"He's a teenager. Teenagers do things that make no sense to outsiders."

"I know that, but.." Flack paused before continuing, not knowing if he was prepared for the reaction he might get from his wife. "Your son told me he lost his virginity when he was thirteen."

Her eyes widened a little. Yet she calmly nodded and continued to sip her tea. "To who?" she asked.

"That's not important. What's important is that he was thirteen and had sex. Thirteen, Sam. That's just not right. You know what my father would have done to me if I'd ever told him that about me? He would have kicked my ass all over the city. I mean, you're not surprised?"

"A little," she said. "But I always suspected he wasn't a virgin anymore. He's mature for his age. More so in looks than in behaviour. I've been out with him and he's had college age girls hit on him. Right in front of me. He's a big kid and even I have to remind myself that he's not older than he is sometimes. I'm more surprised that it happened when he was so young. And that it wasn't with Addie."

"Well I'm glad you're able to take it so good," Flack said dryly, and got off the bench to throw his empty cup in the trash.

"What do you want me to say? That I'm shocked? I'm not. He's fifteen. I know what I was like at fifteen and after what you told me last night, you shouldn't be shocked either. You were doing the same things at that age. And look at the trouble you got yourself into."

"That's just the point," Flack told her. "I don't want him getting himself into something he can't handle."

"And sending him to military school is going to solve that problem?" Sam asked, getting up from the bench as well and tossing her cup in the garbage.

"Okay," Flack said. "So that would be a drastic measure."

"Just a little," Sam agreed, laying her hands on his sides.

"So what do we do, Sam? How do we make sure he doesn't end up in trouble? Any of our kids for that matter?"

"We just trust them enough to make the best decisions for them and hope for the best," she replied. "That's all we can really do."

"But that's hard," he lamented. "Because I always worry about them getting hurt."

She smiled and rubbed his sides. "That's what growing up is all about, Don," she said. "Making mistakes and learning from them. Getting hurt and having your heart broken and coming out on top in the end. No one ever said life was easy or perfect. And like you told me a long time ago, if life was perfect, it would be too damn boring."

He grinned. "You actually remember me saying that? That's a long time ago."

"I remember a lot of things," she told him. "There's a lot of really good memories I have stored away."

"And a lot of really, really, really bad ones," he added.

Sam shrugged. "The bad comes with the good. We made it through, didn't we? Even when things seemed the darkest. When we could have lost each other. We survived and we're better for it. Or at least I like to think we are."

He ran his hands over her hair and down her face, holding it gently in his hands as he kissed her gently. He rested his forehead against her nose. "Thank you," he said. "For being here."

"I just wanted to be here for you," she told him. "It doesn't happen very often where you actually let me be the one comforting one."

"Because it's my job," he said.

She smiled and pecked his chin. "Well today," she said and stepped back and took his hand. "It's my job."

He took her hand and entwined his fingers with hers and led the way up the path towards the front door.

"One question though," she said.

"What's that?"

"Do I get hazard pay for this?" her eyes twinkled playfully as she smiled up at him.

"Smart ass," he said, and pulled her into him for a long, deep kiss. "I'll give you your pay later," he said and winked at her.

"Does this job come with benefits?" she asked.

"The best benefits of all," he replied. "And you get unlimited use of the handcuffs."

She laughed. "Sounds like a job made especially for me," she said, as he pulled open the front door and let her step into the building first.

"It's a job I know you're highly qualified for," Flack told her. "And one I know you're really, really good at."

"You know," she said, as they headed for the elevator. "You are a very lucky man."

"Yes," he agreed with a nod. "I am."

The new girl seemed alright. Kieran usually didn't bother too much when his sisters brought friends home. When there were too many girls together, things got way too loud and way too giggly and he hated being the brunt of their jokes and of the endless requests from his sisters' buddies to take his shirt off so they could see his muscles. It was immature and annoying and he hated having to clean up after them so that his parents wouldn't get home and rant and rave about the disaster they'd left the family room in.

Girls were slobs. Kieran was sure of it. They made more of a mess than him and his brothers and his father combined. Even when Addie got with all of them, she transformed into an air head. And that he could just not deal with.

But the new one seemed okay. Alessa was petite and willowy like his mother and had waist length curly dark hair that reminded Kieran of his Aunt Stella and cousin Tiana and really pretty aquamarine eyes. She was pretty period. She had pale flawless skin and perfectly white, straight teeth she showed off whenever she smiled. And she smelled good. He didn't know much about women's perfume, but he knew that he liked this particular stuff and he made a mental point of asking her about it before she went home.

Yesterday at school he'd been put off a bit over the fact she had a chaffuer that dropped her off and meals delivered that were made by a personal chef. Or the fact she wore designer shoes and carried around a designer handbag to go along with the uniform every kid at the school was subjected to wearing.

But after she'd tagged along home with the Flack kids that afternoon, Kieran realized this girl was pretty cool. She was smart and funny and had a nice laugh. She wasn't at all stuck up and bitchy like he'd been expecting. And she didn't seem to 'into' him, which was the best part of all. She seemed to be into being friends and not expecting anything more than that like most of the girls from school that Reghan and Alannah befriended.

Now she was sitting on the back deck with Reghan and Alannah, the three of them in swimsuits despite the fact that the pool wouldn't be ready to go for weeks yet. The three girls were laughing and gossiping as they painted their toe nails and listened to music on the radio Alannah had brought out and drinking pop and munching on junk food. Down on the grass, Kieran had dragged out the sprinkler and turned it on, sitting on the grass as he supervised Liam and Mikayla jumping through the water. New York was in the midst of a record heat wave for that time of the year. Even weirder was the fact that long range forecasts predicted frost for new weekend.

World's coming to an end, Kieran thought, and took a sip of Gatorade from the plastic bottle sitting on the grass beside him. His dad always said the same thing when the weather was screwed up. His eyes drifted over to the wooden play set on the other side of the yard, where Daria was keeping an eye on Declan as he climbed to the very top. As far as Kieran was concerned, the girl was nothing but a high priced babysitter. What was so hard about watching a kid play on the swings and climb a jungle gym? She was supposed to be doing things that helped him learn and develop better. All Kieran saw was her standing around, tossing her blond hair about and thinking she was Queen Shit in a halter top and shorts.

And why the hell would she dress like that around kids anyway? It looked like she was heading out to the beach or out to pick up guys. And she should have had something up top to even hold a shirt like that up in the first place. She was a royal bitch who looked down on everyone. Not that she had a reason to. Both her parents were cops and Kieran had heard the stories that Uncle Rick wasn't even her real father. That her real dad was some asshole cop that had stolen drugs from a raid his dad was in charge of and was selling them on the streets and had killed some kid who unknowingly stumbled upon him getting ready to peddle his wares.

Same asshole cop that had tried to rape his mother while she was pregnant with Mikayla. He would have gotten away with it too, even she hadn't left her purse in Uncle Tim's car and he'd gone back to where he let her off and traced her most likely path. He'd been able to stop the attack before it happened, and had, from what Kieran had heard, laid the beating of a lifetime on the prick. Kieran never told his parents he knew that story. He'd been at Uncle Danny's one night and had heard him telling Aunt Linds all about it.

"Mind if I sit?" a voice asked from above him.

Kieran looked up. Alessa was smiling down at him. "Sure," he said.

She plopped down onto the grass alongside of him and leaned back on her hands, her legs stretched out.

He couldn't help but give her a once over. He was a guy after all. He was pretty sure that despite being married fifteen years, his dad checked out other women once in a while. He noticed she had a navel ring. He found that quite sexy. He didn't know any girls that young who would have one. She was fourteen and Kieran didn't know any other fourteen year olds that had parents who would go for something like that.

He tried not to look anymore. Reminding himself that he had a girlfriend.

"You like?" Alessa asked.

"Hmm?"

"My toes," she told him. Holding up a foot. "Do you like?"

He looked down at her feet. "They're pink," he said, stating the obvious.

"But do you like them?"

He shrugged. "They're alright," he said.

"You don't say much, do you," Alessa stated.

"I don't have anything to say," Kieran countered.

She sat up and checked him out from head to toe. Trying not to be too obvious about it. He was a really good looking guy with his nearly shaved head and his blue eyes and strong features. She could tell, in a baggy Michael Jordan polo shirt and cargo shorts that he had a great body on him. The shirt was a little tight in the biceps and his shorts showed off nicely toned legs.

"You plan on becoming a cop?" she asked, nodding at the backwards NYPD ball cap on his head.

"This is my dad's hat," he replied. "He works for them. My dad's a cop. An Inspector, actually."

"I know that. And that's not what I asked you. I asked you if you wanted to become a cop."

"It's one option I'm considering," he told her. "I've got a few. And a long way to go before I have to decide on anything."

"So your dad is an Inspector with the NYPD. What does your mom do?"

"She's a federal agent. She works for the Department of Homeland Security. She was a cop too but she quit a while ago."

"So she goes after terrorists and stuff?"

Kieran shook his head. "She's in customs and immigration. Nothing too exciting. She gets enough of that at home with all us kids."

Alessa nodded and looked over to where Daria and Declan were kicking around a soccer ball. "What's wrong with your brother?" she asked, genuine interest and a little sympathy in her voice. "All Reghan told me was that he was different."

"He has Down Syndrome," Kieran explained. "You've never heard of it?"

"I've heard a bit. But I've never seen it."

"He's got an extra copy of the twenty first chromosome. Instead of two, he's got three. As soon as my mom got pregnant with the triplets, he had it. It's just something that happens. So he's slower than regular kids. It's a developmental disability. Why? You think he's weird or something?"

Alessa shook her head. "I think he's sweet. I really liked it when he hugged me and stuff and didn't even know me. He's a really nice kid. I'm glad that me and him are going to be friends."

Kieran smiled. It was the first time that someone didn't say something mean about his brother when he told them about Declan's problems. He was tired of trying to educate people. And tired of how ignorant and shallow people could be. He decided there and than that this girl was worth getting to know better.

"What happened to your knee?" Alessa asked, leaning forward to size up the long, jagged scar that stretched vertically over his knee cap.

"I blew my knee out playing hockey last year," Kieran replied. "Had to have reconstructive surgery and physiotherapy and all that. Almost couldn't play again. But I just wear a brace all the time."

"You're not wearing it now," she pointed out.

He grinned. "I didn't bother. I didn't want it to get wet fooling around with my sister and little brother."

"Do you like having so many sisters and brothers?"

Kieran shrugged and sipped his Gatorade, offering the bottle to Alessa.

"Thanks," she said, and took it and take a long sip before handing it back.

"It's all right," he responded to her question. "I mean, I've always had someone to play with growing up. I was never lonely. But it gets a little noisy and crazy around here sometimes. My mom and dad are doing a good job taking care of all of us though."

The soccer ball came flying in their direction, and Kieran intercepted it before it could hit either one of them. By the force of the kick and the smirk that was on Daria's face as she jogged over to retrieve it, Kieran knew she'd meant to do it.

"What what your fucking doing," he cursed as he stood up and chucked the ball back with enough force that it made the palms of Daria's hands sting as she caught it.

"Watch your mouth, Kieran," Daria said. "Or I'll tell your mommy and daddy and they can wash your mouth out with soap."

"Thanks for my mommy and daddy you have a job," he shot back, using the front of his shirt to wipe sweat from his face. And giving the ladies a nice view of his chiselled abdomen and the top part of his boxers peeking out over his shorts.

"Like you have anything to show that's worth looking at," Daria snorted.

He smirked. "I was gonna say the same thing about the big girl top you're trying to wear and failing miserably at. And you just wish you could get a piece of this, Daria. I mean, now that I'm not a little boy anymore. Or maybe that's how you like them."

The young blond woman blushed furiously. "You're an obnoxious bastard, Kieran Flack," she declared, and stomped away.

"What was that all about?" Alessa asked, as he rejoined her on the grass.

"Nothing or no one important," Kieran replied.

Daria was just walking to her car parked on the street when she saw the two familiar SUVs coming down the street and than pulling into the driveway.

"Hey, Aunt Sam," she greeted, as the older woman climbed out from behind the wheel and gathered two boxes of important work papers from the backseat.

"Hey," Sam returned, shutting the back door with her hip and setting the boxes down on the paved driveway. "Sorry we're late. The visit with your uncle's father went longer than we expected. How'd things go?"

"Good. Declan was great. We just worked on some gross motor stuff today. He kept me busy with climbing and the soccer. How was work?"

"It was work. And I'm glad it's the weekend. I better get in and start supper before the natives start rioting. Uncle Don has the check book. He'll write up what we owe you for the week."

Daria was employed by special services at home, a government based agency that found special needs care givers for children up to the age of eighteen. She'd taken courses in First Aid and CPR and than took on Declan and three other clients with special needs. It looked great on a resume and the money helped with paying for her books when she went to college in the fall for the Development Services Worker program.

Because the amount of funding was based on what a family's gross annual income was, Declan was only allotted two hours per week. But she had worked out a schedule with her aunt and uncle and they paid her for extra shifts she put in. And they were more than fair. Far surpassing the ten dollars an hour the agency gave her.

She journeyed over to where her uncle was gathering things out of the back of his SUV. She'd always been close to him and had loved him at one point as if he were her own father. Even though he had made it perfectly clear he saw her as a niece and nothing more. Father's never loved anyone the same way they loved their own children.

"Hi, Uncle Don," she chirped, long ago having retired the nickname Uncle Blue.

"Daria," he said simply, pushing closed the rear door of the SUV and setting his jacket and briefcase on the roof. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat for the check book and a pen. "How much would it be if I paid you for two and a half weeks?" he asked.

She frowned. "You only owe me for a week, Uncle Don. This week. You're not behind on anything."

"I wanted to give you a decent amount seeing as after this week, you won't be working for us anymore."

She blinked. "What?"

"You have another week scheduled out with your aunt. Am I right?"

Daria nodded. Wondering what in the hell was going on.

"I'll pay you for this week, next week and half a week. So you don't fall short when it comes to paying your folks room and board and what not. Fair enough? How much would it be?" Flack uncapped the pen and opened up the check book. When the girl hesitated, he sighed heavily. "You put in fifteen hours this week and were slotted in for twelve next week. So I'll toss in another seven on top of that. So that's thirty four. And we agreed to what? Eighteen an hour?"

She nodded, too stunned to speak. Not knowing what she'd done wrong to be loosing her job. She'd always been nice to Declan. Done everything that her aunt and uncle had asked.

"That's six hundred and twelve but I'll bring it up to six two five," Flack told her, writing out the check before ripping it out of the book and holding it out to her. "And that's damn generous, Daria. Considering I shouldn't be giving you a goddamn thing over than the whipping your mother obviously should have laid out a long time ago."

"Uncle Don, what….?"

"Listen to me very carefully, Daria," he spoke in a calm, quiet, serious voice. "If you had have been one year older when you took advantage of my son, I'd lock you up for statutory rape. Understand me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she declared.

"You know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you deciding it was a good idea to have sex with a thirteen year old boy. My son. You really think that wouldn't get back to me?"

She didn't respond. Tears of fury and embarrassment welled in her eyes.

"And don't give me that poor, poor pitiful me crap. The whole I grew up most my life without a daddy so I ended up a bit messed up bullshit. A lot of kids grow up with only one parent and they don't make screwed up decisions like that. And if you dare even stand here and deny it or try and make it out that my son is lying, I'll be personally escorting you back to Brooklyn and sitting down and having a nice chat tonight with your parents."

She swallowed noisily.

"I've called your dad. Me and him are getting together Monday to discuss this. I haven't told him what I want to talk to him about, but I suggest you go home and tell him and your mother the truth. You're going to have to explain to them why you no longer work for me and your aunt. And lying to them will only make things worse. Understand me?"

She nodded and wiped away hot tears that spilled down her face.

"And if you ever come around any of my kids again, Daria, the next time we talk face to face won't be so pleasant. Got it? Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Uncle Don," she managed, and folding the check, pocketed it and headed for her car. "Just so you know," she called to Flack. "I didn't think there was anything wrong with it. And he wanted it to happen and didn't say no once."

Flack smirked and chuckled . "You don't get it, do you. He was thirteen. He had just turned thirteen to be exact. You were sixteen, Daria. And in my books, that makes you a pretty sick, twisted little girl. You knew it wasn't the right thing to do and you did it any way."

She shook her head. "He wanted it just as much as I did."

He shook his head in disappointment and disapproval and gathered up his things.

"Goodbye, Daria," he said simply, and walked away without ever glancing back.

First off, a great big thanks for hope4sall who found that amazing song at the beginning for me!

Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing!! I have decided to concentrate on this story more. I am really enjoying it and MOB and I aren't quite getting along at the moment. The muse is telling me to stick with this one. Although there will be regular updates for the other, this one is the baby right now!!

Thanks to the following:

Hope4Sall
Bluehaven4220
Brrtmclv
Laurzz
Marialisa
Wolfeylady
muchmadness
Evaflack001

I know there's more of you reading this! I check the stats! So please be kind and leave a review so I know who you are!