DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK, BABY KIERAN AND THOSE YOU DON'T RECOGNIZE

THANKS TO ALL OF YOU! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING! YOU HELPED ME REACH 300 PLUS REVIEWS IN ONLY 27 CHAPTERS! TO ME THAT'S INCREDIBLE AND I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT!

Best kept secrets

"If I had my way
I'd corner him and say
Put yourself in her position
All she needs is recognition
Love's not enough when you say it
Don't you know you've gotta mean it
Screwing up the best thing ever
Is something you'll regret forever."
-Sleepless Nights (Never Let Her Go), Faber Drive

It was three thirty in the afternoon when Flack exited the Queensboro bridge and began the fifteen minute drive to the suburb known as Flushing. To the modest, well kept grey brick home that he had grown up in and his parents still called home nearly thirty-three years later. Despite the thaw that had taken place between him and his father after Kieran's birth, there was still a part of Flack deep inside that had ever fully healed from the hurt and torment that his old man had caused him not just as child, but off and on through the last thirty-two years of his life.

He'd never forgive his old man completely for the beatings he consistently laid on his two sons and wife. All the nights he'd come home drunk and ranting and raving about the evils of the world and snap at some small thing one of his boys had done. Physical wounds healed. But the psychological ones lingered and every so often bubbled to the surface. He was fucked up thanks to his old man. He knew that. He knew that his jealousy and possessiveness and his need to have full control over his wife and now his child directly stemmed from seeing his dad treat his mother and his kids the exact same way. In a way, he didn't know any better. That was the role model he had growing up. And no matter how he tried or no matter how many times he vehemently swore he'd never be like his old man, the truth was, to an extent, he was just like him. He had his name, his looks, and the cocky, kiss my ass attitude that served Flack well on the streets but didn't go so well at home.

The difference was that he had a wife that wasn't a doormat. She simply refused to be. She held him accountable for everything he did or said. And called him on it when she felt he was stepping over the line. She didn't tolerate his shit and wasn't afraid to stick up for herself. She would, and had on many occasions, tell him where to go and give him detailed directions on how to get there. In a year, she'd packed his bags on more than one occasion and told him to go. To take his shit and just leave. She wasn't messing around and he knew it. He never left. He had no intention on leaving. The seriousness and legitimacy of her threats kept him scared enough to take a step back and exam the way he was. She loved him but could take care of herself, and their son, just fine on her own. And she let him know that.

He wasn't prepared to live without them. He didn't even know if he could. So he got his act together the best he could and went to therapy when he felt he needed it. He accepted that talking to someone wasn't a weakness. He'd been going to see the same shrink for more than a year and a half and the guy had done wonders in helping Flack keep himself on the straight and narrow. To prevent himself from going that small, extra step from attentive and loving, if not a tad protective, husband, to a full out ignorant and abusive bastard. The shrink had helped him get himself sober time and time again. Alcohol was his struggle and Flack had accepted that. He had fallen off the wagon more times than he liked to admit.

But he wasn't going to be like his father. He wasn't going to bash around his wife and his kid. Kids, now that they had found out Sam was pregnant. He wasn't going to cause the mental or physical anguish that his dad had through the years.

And through the years, through all the name calling and punishments and the heartbreak that his old man had caused him when Flack had found out his father hadn't gave a shit enough to visit him while he was so critically wounded from the bombing, one thing bothered him the most.

The hurtful, bitter words that his father had spoken about Samantha and their now eleven month old son. He would never, ever forgive his father for being so vicious and cruel. For calling his then soon to be daughter in law names and for suggesting that the best thing for Flack's career would be to destroy the life that he and Sam had created together. A tiny, precious life that in the end had transformed Flack into a better man. Because in the end, arrest records and titles wouldn't matter. His life wouldn't be measured by the kind of cop he was. But by the kind of human being he was.

He had never told Samantha about that night at his parents house when he'd gone to tell them about the engagement and the baby. She had been through enough agony in her life without having to hear what a pathetic asshole his father was. Flack doubted he would ever tell her. It simply didn't matter anymore. It was in the past and things were decent between her and his old man. He talked highly of his daughter in law and doted on and cherished his grandson. He was an adoring and attentive grandfather. Flack supposed it was his dad's way of making up for how shitty things had been when he was a kid. He wasn't expecting an apology from his old man. That was like waiting for hell to freeze over. But seeing his dad with Kieran, seeing the father that his dad could have been was almost enough.

But not quite.

Samantha was fast asleep in the passenger's seat, her head resting against the cold window. It never failed. The woman always started yawning as soon as she buckled herself up and was usually out like a light before they even got into the middle of the bridge. If she wasn't driving, it was damn certain she'd be taking a nap. She claimed that the motion of the car did one of two things. Make her sleep, or make her puke. Thankfully, the latter hadn't happened. Although there'd been a couple of moments of severe nausea as they got ready for the return of her parents. Crackers and milk seemed to be working so far. But she could only drink milk and eat saltines for so long before people started wondering if something was up.

They had agreed not to tell her parents until they returned to Arizona. Flack felt bad about it and had been vehemently against the idea when she'd brought it up. It made more sense, he argued, to just spring the news on them while they were there than wait the two weeks until they left and try and find plausible excuses to why she felt as rotten as she did. Sam's argument was that she would rather deal with the inevitable nastiness and negativity her mother would toss out over the phone than in person. He'd sighed and reluctantly went along with the plan. He just hoped pulling it off wouldn't be as hard as he was imagining it was going to be.

His in laws were in the very back. Flack could tell by the silence between the couple that Christmas Eve hadn't been much of a silent night between the two of them. More than likely they had gotten into some major scrap. From what both Adam and Sam had told him in the past, Sarge and Lynne got off on fighting. They fought about everything and anything. Who does that sound like? he'd asked Sam when she had commented about it not long ago. Flack was convinced that Sam had inherited her nagging and her penchant for picking nonsense fights from her mother. All because she not only liked to see him get all riled up, but because she thoroughly enjoyed the wild, crazy and somewhat violent make up sex that ensued afterwards.

Adam was in the middle row of seats with Kieran buckled in tightly in the car seat alongside of him. Gus had left on an early afternoon flight to New Orleans. She had family back home that were dying to see her and unable to travel on their own accord, so she'd made the trip herself. Adam had been disappointed that he wasn't able to join her for the week. He was, after all, her future husband, and her family desired to meet him prior to any wedding, just as much as he wanted to get to them before hand as well. But fate had other ideas. Well, real life did anyways. Mac just could not afford to spare his best lab tech when there were four other less reliable and less qualified techs already on holidays.

Flack's mom had invited Adam along for Christmas dinner when she had heard about his plight from her daughter in law. Patricia had meet Adam on several occasions and found him down to earth and unassuming and well mannered. He was a relatively quiet and unabashedly shy kid. Unlike his older sister in every which way shape and form. And because he was related to her daughter in law, Patricia had adopted the philosophy that Adam Ross was just as much a relative to her as Sam was.

Kieran giggled noisily as Adam, a bright green dragon puppet from Baby Einstein perched on his left hand, spoke to his nephew in a deep, animated voice.

"I'm gonna get you, Kieran Flack…I'm gonna get you and I'm gonna eat you like a big fat cookie!"

The puppet 'attacked' the baby's stomach and Kieran let out a piercing, gleeful shriek that nearly rattled the windows and busted everyone's ear drums.

"Jesus," Sam grumbled, not opening her eyes. "Whose killing the baby?"

"Sorry," Adam said sheepishly. "I forget how excited he gets over this thing."

"I think the two chocolate puddings he devoured before we left the house has something to do with how wound up he is, too," Flack complained.

"Again, my fault," Adam apologized. "I had no idea that Sam had already let him have one and he was climbing all over me while I was eating mine and when he flashes those blue eyes and does that little pout thing he has going for him, I just can't seem to say no."

"You mean this pout?" Flack asked, and stopping at a red light, turned around in his seat and gave his brother in law the exact replica of the pout he knew his son was infamous for.

"That's it!" Adam exclaimed.

Sam laughed. She didn't have to see it to know what it looked like. "That's Don's 'what do you mean I'm not getting lucky?' pout," she said.

"Which means he must not use it very often," Adam said dryly.

Flack chuckled. "Nice one, Ross," he praised. "You're learning well from the master of one liners."

"Why thank you," Sam said with a loud yawn.

"You wish," Flack told her and glanced over at her. "You alright?" he asked.

"I guess," she replied. "Can you turn up the heat a bit? I'm freezing."

"Sammie, it's sweltering in here," Adam complained. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," she said. "I'm just cold."

"Well here than," Adam unbuckled his seat belt momentarily and slipped out of his winter jacket and passed it into the front seat. "Use that to keep warm so the rest of us don't die of heat stroke."

"Thanks, peanut," she said appreciatively and snuggled under his jacket. "You smell good, Adam," she complimented, breathing in the scent off his coat.

"My lady likes me smelling purty," he said, doing up his seat belt. "Seriously though, Sammie, you don't look so good. And if you're feeling hot and than cold like you've been complaining about you might have come down with the flu or something."

"I'm fine, Adam," she assured him.

"'Cause you know, there's been some crazy stuff going around work lately and the last thing you need it to be passing something around, especially to Kieran seeing as he's having that operation in two weeks."

"Adam," she said forcibly. "I am fine."

"You don't look too fine and I'm just worried that…"

"She's fine, Adam, " Flack told him, shooting his brother in law a stern glare through the rear view mirror.

"Alright…alright," Adam held up his hands defensively. "I am just expressing my concern."

"Thank you, Peanut," Sam said. "But really, I am fine. Just really tired and feeling worn down."

"I don't know why," Lynne commented from the far back. "It's not like you do that much. You've been off from work for three days now and I've barely seen you pick up a dust cloth or sweep or mop the floor let alone do laundry or make a meal."

"Oh here we go," Flack muttered.

"It's not like you're run off your feet or anything. When I had you and Adam running around the house, I still managed to get the housework done, make proper meals and work."

"You worked part time, mother," Sam reminded her. "You weren't working forty, sometimes fifty, sixty hours a week and trying to balance all of that."

"You never were much of a homemaker and a cleaner," her mother continued. "And all men like a clean house and home cooked meals."

"Yeah?" Flack asked. "Well I prefer my wife spending her spare time with my son. And if I gotta walk through shit on the floor and eat out of a can or a frozen dinner done in the microwave, as long as my kid is happy and taken care of that's all that matters to me."

"She hasn't been working for almost a week and she's had all the time in the world to keep a clean house," Lynne argued back.

"Our house is clean. It's not like we're living in squalor," Flack told her, keeping his temper in check. "I'm sorry if it's not spotless and we don't have plastic on the furniture. We eat dinner while sitting on the couch watching television some nights. We leave our clean dishes in the rack for a couple days and grab whatever we need right from it if we have to. We let the laundry pile up so it's falling on the floor and we're practically tripping on it. And sometimes, we actually leave the empty toilet paper roll on the spool and leave the full roll on the back of the toilet or on the counter."

Sam buried herself under Adam's jacket and snickered.

"And you know what else we sometimes do?" Flack continued. "Sometimes we eat take out for an entire week. Sometimes even twice on a Saturday. And yesterday, to kill two birds with one stone, I actually brushed my teeth in the shower while I was getting ready for work. Now if that isn't the height of laziness I don't know what is."

"I am just trying to say that…"

"I know what you're trying to say, Lynne," Flack cut her off. "You're trying to say that you're daughter is nowhere near as perfect as you."

"Heavy on the sarcasm," Adam muttered and flashed his brother in law a discreet thumbs up.

"So what if the apartment is cluttered and we can't find our keys most mornings," Flack said. "Hell, hours we work, we can barely find five minutes to take a shit most days. So the dishes and the laundry get left a little longer than they should and we're not eating five course meals every nights. What matters is we're happy and Kieran's taken care of. It's the way we live. We like living that way. And honestly, it's really none of your goddamn business."

"So take that," Adam said with a slight chuckle.

"I don't know how you people can live like that," Lynne huffed.

"I will reiterate what I just said," Flack told her. "We like it and it's none of your business. So keep your nose out of how me and my family live our lives. Maybe if you hadn't have been doing so much cleaning and homemaking way back when you would have cared more about your kids being bashed around and the fact that your husband was turning your daughter into his stand in wife every night for nearly five years."

A stunned silence overtook the other passengers. Lynne let out a loud, startled gasp and laid a hand over her chest. Clearly shocked by what she had just heard come out of her son in law's mouth. Both Sarge and Adam were wide eyed. Sarge in utter disbelief and Adam in surprise that his suspicions had just been inadvertently confirmed after all of those years. Samantha popped her head out from under Adam's jacket and gave her husband a cold, vicious glare. Tears welling in her eyes as she shook her head.

Flack couldn't believe that he had even said what he had. As far as he knew, he was the only person Samantha had ever trusted with the truth about what her father had actually been doing to her as a child. And he had promised her, after listening to her confession with the utmost feeling of disgust and rage flooding his entire body, that he would never, ever tell anyone as long as he lived.

And he'd fucked that up.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Lynne hissed from the backseat.

"You know what? I do. More than you realize. I know that your husband was a sick fucking bastard who liked having sex with a little girl. His little girl. And I know you just sat around and let it happen and let him kick the shit out of your kids every chance you got."

"Donnie, please," Sam practically begged. "No more. Don't say anything else."

"Why? Why can't I say anything? You're my wife. And I'm not going to sit around and let her, or anyone else, talk to you like that. After what went on it that house, right under her nose, she owes you a hell of a lot. And she's damn lucky I even have her in my house and around my son knowing she tolerates that kind of sick and demented shit."

"I never tolerated anything!" Lynne informed him. "Nothing like that ever happened in my house! My husband would have never, ever done anything like that!"

"Holy fuck!" Flack bellowed. "You're defending him!?"

"Don…please…" Sam shook her head. "Stop…just stop…"

"Nothing like that ever, ever went on in my house," Lynne repeated.

"Yes, mom," Adam said quietly. "It did."

"Jesus Christ," Sarge breathed, putting his face in his hands and shaking his head. "You knew about what he was doing, Lynne?"

"Of course not. I never would have let him do something like that. And Samantha would have told me if he…"

"I never told anyone," Sam told her mother. "I never even told Adam. There was one friend I told and I never spoke of it again until I told Don just after Kieran was born."

"But why didn't you tell me? If not back than, as you got older?"

"Why bother?" Sam asked. "So you could accuse me of making things up? It's what you always did when Adam and I came to you about something dad did. So I kept it to myself and told the one person I trusted and than I eventually told my husband. Because he wouldn't look at me like I deserved it. Like I was some kind of dirty whore that wanted something like that to happen to her."

"I never would have thought that, Samantha," her mother said sadly.

"What does it matter now, anyway?" Sam inquired. "It happened. I dealt with it. I went on with my life. And maybe keeping it inside for so long screwed me up. A lot. But I think I turned out pretty good considering. And this is the last time I ever want to talk about it."

"Samantha," Lynne said. "Had I known…"

"It's over, mother. I don't want to talk about it ever again. Not to you, not to Adam, not to dad and not to Don."

"That's fair enough, Sammie," Flack assured her, reaching out to take her hand and entwining his fingers with her and placing their hands on his thigh.

A long, awkward silence fell on the occupants. Until Kieran, oblivious to the tension and shock hanging in the air around him, suddenly gave a musical laugh and kicked his legs excitedly and began gesturing frantically out the window.

"Da-deee!" he cried happily. "Da-deee!"

"What, buddy?" Flack asked, casting a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Tuck," Kieran announced. Pointing a mitten towards his window. Where a tow truck waited at the light beside them. "Tuck…tuck, da-dee."

"It's a truck, K," Flack corrected him, clearly pronunciation the word. "A truck."

"Tuck!" the baby shrieked and giggled and clapped his hands together in excitement.

His innocence and exuberance brought a smile to every face in the car and the thaw slowly began to melt

But it would never be completely unfrozen.

Ten minutes later, Flack was pulling into the driveway of the familiar home on Pinedale Avenue in Flushing, Queens. He parked on the street, behind the burgundy Pontiac Montana minivan that his younger brother Chris had carted his family over in. Flack noticed that his niece or his nephew - or maybe even both in a rare moment of joint peace and solidarity- had erected a snowman complete with one of grandpa's scarves and hats to top it off. Despite it being afternoon and still light out, his father had already turned on the Christmas lights that lined the railing on the front porch and took up residence in the row of bushes along the driveway.

"Where are we, Kieran?" Sam asked, looking into the seat behind her at where her son had just burst into another round of giggling and was bouncing up and down in his car seat and pointing frantically out the window.

"Pa-pa!" he screeched. "Pa-pa! PA-PA!!"

"You know why he likes it so much here?" Flack asked his wife as he killed the ignition. "Because grandpa sneaks him hot chocolate and those little powdered donuts the old man is addicted to."

"Well now I know why he's bouncing off the walls most nights when your mother brings him home," Sam said, unclipped her seat belt.

He caught her by the hand as she went to reach for the handle on her door. "Sam…I never meant for it to just come out like that. About your dad."

She gave a little smile. "I know you didn't."

"I was just really pissed off and I say shit without realizing it when I'm pissed off. I didn't mean to tell everyone like that. And I definitely didn't mean to betray you like that. I told you I'd never tell anyone and…"

She kissed him softly. "It's okay, Donnie. Really. You didn't mean it and no harm was done. It was a long time ago and I dealt with it. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I promised you I wouldn't say anything," he said.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she repeated. "Now can we just enjoy the rest of our first Christmas as family? I know that it's been less than ideal, but you and Kieran are my entire world and I just want to enjoy being with the two of you."

"I think you're forgetting about somebody," he told her quietly, and cast a glance down at her stomach.

She laid a hand on the side of his face and kissed him once more. Longer this time. Much to the chagrin of Adam who was already out of the SUV, but leaning into the backseat attempting to unbuckle his hyper nephew.

"Must you two?" Adam asked. "You'd think you'd take it easy. You don't want another Kieran anytime soon, do you?"

Sam and Flack looked at each other. Content to hold onto their little secret.

"He has no idea," Flack said, bemused. Winking at his wife before opening his door and climbing out to assist his brother in law. "What's a matter, Ross? You gotta masters degree but you can't figure out how to get a baby out of a car seat?"

"It's not as easy as it looks. You do it nearly every day. You've been doing it consistently for almost a year."

"I'm gonna give you Kieran's old carrier car seat and a teddy bear and let you practice. So you're a pro for when Broussard starts popping the kids out."

"I have told you this a million times, Flack," Adam said, stepping out of the way and allowing his brother in law to take over. "Gus and I are going kid-free. We are leaving the childbearing to you and Sammie. I am perfectly content playing uncle for the rest of my life."

"Don't know what you're missing out on," Flack told the younger man as he snapped open the restraints on the car seat. "I always swore up and down that I would never, ever have kids. And when Kieran came along…well let's just say I can't imagine my life without him."

"And neither can I," Adam said. "I mean, I love my nephew and the thought of not having him around kills me. But I also love the idea that after I'm done playing with him and winding him up I can give him back to you guys so you can deal with the aftermath."

"I'm just saying that you should reconsider you're whole stance on not having kids," Flack said, pulling the hood of the baby's winter coat over Kieran's head before lifting him out of the car seat. "There's no feeling like it, Adam. Watching your kid come into the world. It's amazing. Massively gross, but amazing."

"You can handle decapitations, disembowelment's, and all kinds of other horrific, barf worthy things but you can't handle watching child birth?" Adam frowned. "What is up with that?"

"You ever seen what a newborn looks like?" Flack asked, as Kieran wrapped his tiny arm's around his father's neck tightly.

"Sure. I've seen A Baby Story on TLC."

"And you know where a baby comes out of, right?"

"Of course."

"Imagine watching something that looks like that coming out of that spot. And now tell me it's not the least bit gross."

Adam grimaced and grabbed the child's size Bob the Builder knapsack and a garbage bag full or wrapped presents and shut the car door. "Good point," he said, and followed his brother in law up the curb and across the snow covered front lawn. "So…do you think maybe she knew?" he asked, his voice low so that Sam, walking with Sarge and her mother in front of them couldn't hear.

"Who knew what?" Flack asked

"My mother. Do you think she knew? About what my dad was doing?"

"Let's not talk about this anymore, okay? It never should have got said in the first place."

"It was a strange, obscure way of having one of my worst fears confirmed," Adam agreed. "But do you think she knew and never did anything about it?"

Flack sighed. "I hope she didn't," he said. "But I've heard stories where mothers have known that was going on and never did anything about it. I guess they thought the kid was doing them a favour by keeping the husband away from them."

Adam shuddered at that thought. "And Sam's been okay? Since she told you?"

"She deals with it. Every day. And out of respect for my wife, I don't want to talk about this anymore. Okay?"

The lab tech nodded.

"So…what did you get for Christmas?" Flack asked for a change of pace. "From your lady as you so eloquently called her."

"You know, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Get what I'm talking about?"

"Yeah…I do. And I don't need any mental images of you and Broussard doing the nasty."

"So now you know how I feel about having to listen to locker room talk about my sister."

Flack smirked. "You are in fine form today, Ross."

The initial introductions went well. The entire Flack family- even Sr, whom his oldest son suspected had already been dabbling in the drink by his unnaturally easy going manner and talkativeness- was on his best behaviour. He and Sarge hit it off right away. They had similar backgrounds with Sr being ex-cop and Sarge being ex-military, and ten minutes into the visit the two men were already downstairs in the family room tipping back some beers and sharing stories. And escaping the noise and boisterous activity that was infecting the rest of the house. Three kids including one very hyper, overactive toddler were enough to drive anyone insane.

"Seems like your father has a new best friend," Patricia commented to her oldest son, who was in the midst of changing his son's wet diaper in the middle of the living room floor.

Adam was busying himself laying the presents they had brought along under the tree while the other guests had retreated into the kitchen. The kitchen was always the hub of activity.

"They're two peas in a pod, mom. Trust me, they will get along just fine."

"God knows your father could use someone decent to chum with instead of those cronies of his," Patricia sighed, handing her son a clean diaper from the baby bag.

"Don't get too excited, mom," Flack said, as he slipped the diaper under a squirming Kieran and sealed the sticky tabs good and tight. "Sarge lives in Arizona. And Sam and I hope that's exactly where her parents stay. Other side of the world would be good, too."

"Antartica would be nice," Adam agreed, as he stood up and headed out of the living room.

"All is not well on the in law front," Patricia observed.

"Sam's mom's a witch," her son declared. "I'd tell you what I really feel, but you'd probably wash my mouth out with soap."

"She does seem a little…what's the word…critical when it comes to her children. I mean, did I really need to hear about how my daughter in law is lazy? The woman had only been here five minutes and she was on Sam like flies on shit."

"It's constant. It's what I've been listening to since her parents got here," Flack said, snapping up the closures on the inside of the legs of Kieran's denim overalls. "It's driving me nuts. Thank God most nights they've been at Gus and Adam's. But still. What guy wants to hear that shit after he's worked fourteen hours? Never mind that. What husband wants to hear that about his wife to begin with?"

"Just tell the bitch to fuck off," Patricia advised.

Flack grinned and gathered up the dirty diaper and used wipes as Kieran rolled over onto his stomach, got onto all fours and than pushed himself up into a stand. "Watch it, mom. Or I'll be the one washing your mouth out with soap."

"I am just being honest. And I am telling you right now, Donnie, she has so much messes a hair on my daughter in law's head, and I will be on her ass like nobody's business."

"That's it, mom," he laughed as he got to his feet. "Go all cop on her. Sam will just love that. She has a thing for cops, you know."

"Obviously. I can't imagine what else she'd see in you," Patricia teased. "Everything is okay? With you and Sam?"

He nodded and followed slowly behind Kieran so the baby wouldn't go wiping out on the hardwood floor. He was notoriously unsteady on his feet. "Why wouldn't it be?" he asked.

"You two seem a little…I don't know…quiet. Not yourselves."

"Sam's not feeling very well," Flack told his mother. "She hasn't been sleeping well and she had to up the dose on her meds just to deal with her mother. She's a little out of sorts."

"But everything is okay with the two of you?"

"Mom, I just said…"

"I know what you just said. I am just making sure. Because I know the problems that the two of you have gone through. It was one of my spare bedrooms you took over for a few days on two separate occasions when things weren't going so well. Remember?"

"I swear to you, everything is fine with us. Things have never been better, actually. Sam's just not feeling well. Plain and simple."

Patricia eyed her son sceptically.

"What?" he asked with a laugh. "Everything is fine. How many times do I have to say it? Go and ask her and Sam will tell you the same thing."

"Tell who what?" Sam asked, as she stepped into the living room with a sippy cup of apple juice in her hand.

The source of the first issue of the day. She had forgotten to pack a sippy cup for Kieran. Something she had discovered the moment they'd stepped in the house and gotten the kid out of his snow suit. She was damn near frantic over the cup and her mother's sly comment of how her daughter would forget her head if it wasn't attached had only added insult to injury. Thankfully, grandma and grandpa Flack had a stock pile of sippy cups and just about any other item of baby crap you could think of.

"My mom thinks you and I are getting a divorce," Flack told her.

"I never said that," Patricia scolded him. "I merely asked if things were okay with the two of you?"

"Why wouldn't they be?" Sam asked, setting the cup down on the floor where Kieran would see it.

"Exactly what I told her," Flack said.

"I was just commenting that the two of you seemed a little out of sorts," Patricia told her daughter in law.

"I'm just not feeling very well," Sam said, taking a seat on the floor alongside of Kieran who'd plopped down to enjoy his drink. He smiled at her and shuffled closer and leaned into his mother's warm, familiar body. "It's no big deal," she assured her mother in law, combing her fingers through her son's dark hair.

"Anything I can help with?" Patricia asked. "I have just about every cold and flu medication in the house."

"I'm okay," Sam replied with a smile. "Really. There's nothing you can do."

"Well alright," her mother in law said with a sigh. "But I'm going to make you some tea just to be on the safe side."

"De-caf, mom," Flack said, as his mother headed from the room. "If you have it…"

"That stuff tastes like crap," Patricia complained.

"De-caf," he repeated. "Please."

She arched a quizzical eyebrow but said nothing more as she left for the kitchen.

"You haven't told her yet?" Sam asked, as her husband joined her in the middle of the living room floor.

"I didn't just want to spring it on her as soon as we arrived," he replied. He wrapped an arm around his wife's slender shoulders and pulled her into him and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You okay?" he asked.

"My stomach's a bit queasy," she replied, leaning her head against him. "But I had some milk and it helped a bit."

"That's good…but I wasn't talking about that."

She sighed. "I'm fine," she said. "I just wish she wouldn't be so mean all the time. Do you see where I get it from now? All the things I say when I'm angry and we're fighting? Do you honestly see where that comes from? You grow up listening to that and you start to think it's okay to be that way too."

"Sam, you are nothing like your mother. You say things when we're fighting and you're pissed off. So do I. It's just the way we are when we argue. We say mean, hurtful things. I'm just as much guilty of that as you are. But the difference between you and your mother is that you're not saying things to intentionally hurt people."

"But do you see? Why I am the way I am?"

"You're not any way, Sammie. You're just you."

She laughed softly and nuzzled her nose against his neck. "You're so damn diplomatic sometimes."

"No…I just love you and accept you the way you are."

She smiled and pressed a kiss to the underside of his chin.

"You know, you're going to have to go to the doctor and see if it's okay to be taking all those meds while you're pregnant. And we're going to have to find out when it actually happened. Because I would have sworn you had a period in the middle of November."

"I did. But it wasn't much of one. Just some spotting that last a day."

"So you could have hardly been pregnant or just gotten pregnant? Is that normal? To have blood like that?"

"Nothing is normal when it comes to us," she said.

He chuckled lightly. "Ain't that the truth."

Dinner had been a lively affair. A lot of light hearted teasing and conversation and a lot of laughs. Flack Sr entertaining the group with the more funny arrests during his long and rewarding career. Including a story about a perp that had attempted to rob a house on Christmas Eve by gaining access to the home by sliding down the chimney. By the grace of God, there'd been no fire burning that night. Not that it had mattered much in the end. The dumb ass had managed to get himself stuck halfway down and spent nearly six hours trapped in there before the home owners woke up to open Christmas presents and heard someone calling for help. It was a story that his sons and wife had heard more times than they could actually recall. But to see the old man in a joyful, engaging mood was worth listening to tales they had long ago grown bored of.

The men had retreated to the basement after supper to watch television and do what they did best. Curse and swear and drink beer. Adam was in one of the upstairs bedrooms playing video games with Chris' kids while Samantha and Allison and Sam's mother relaxed in the living room and kept an eye on Kieran who was enthralled by all of the toys that his grandparents had showered him with for Christmas.

Patricia busied herself with cleaning the kitchen. She wasn't the type that liked a lot of people hanging around and getting in her way. She liked to do things her way and found that as well meaning as guests were, they just didn't do things properly. So she had shooed everyone out and set to work. Smiling as she listened to her grandson's giggling and energetic babbling and remembering back thirty years ago when his father was that exact same age and interjection energy into the house.

She hadn't given her boys many good Christmases to remember. Their years at home had been more agony and torment and disappointment than anything. A father that was never around and a mother that took on the role of both parents and did her best to keep her family together. She had endured the other women her husband had on the side and the occasional drunken violent outbursts and beatings. Simply because she had loved the man and when things were good they were exceptionally good and when things were bad they were exceptionally bad. Three times she'd packed up clothes for both her and the kids and took off in the middle of the night and spent a week or two at a shelter. Until someone in the NYPD tracked them down and convinced her that her husband was mending his troubled ways and that he just couldn't function without his family. Not that he loved them and missed them and vowed to change. But his job was suffering because of it.

Things got better as her sons got older. They grew up big and strong and could more than handle themselves against their old man. Don more so than his introverted and socially awkward younger brother. Chris spent the majority of his teenage years drinking underage and doing whatever drug was passed his way. His father was constantly bailing him out of one bad situation after another without even so as much batting an eye. Yet if his name sake so as much broke curfew or swore in the house he was in for a world of hurt.

Patricia had come to realize that it wasn't because her husband hated his oldest and first born. It was because he had long ago given up on Chris and expected so much from Donnie Jr. Their son's decision to enter the academy as opposed to head to college on a hockey scholarship had infuriated the old man. He was against his son's desire to be a cop. While Jr saw it as a compliment to his father, Sr saw it as a slap in the face. Because he wanted so much better for his son than to be toiling away for a largely ungrateful city. There was promise there. His grades weren't great but his talent was phenomenal. And as far as his father was concerned, his son had simply tossed a great life away in favour of a difficult and painful one.

Don Flack Sr had come to the realization, as he sat with his son that night outside of the hospital listening to his namesake become emotional while talking about becoming a husband and now a father, that his son's life was anything but painful and difficult. He had a tough job that he was excelling at. He was well respected and admired by his colleagues and his superiors. But what mattered the most was the kind of man he was outside of the job. He was a proud and loving and attentive husband and father. And he was happy. Extremely happy. Flack Sr knew that not only had his son far surpassed him job wise, but as a human being as well. And that if his namesake hadn't made the life choices he had at eighteen, that seven and a half pound infant with a head full of black hair and huge blue eyes and his mother's freckles, resting so peacefully at his mother's beside, never would have made it into the world.

His grandson was everything to him. More so than Chris' two kids. He hadn't been an active figure in their baby days but had been there on a nearly daily basis from the moment Kieran entered the world. He and Patricia tried not to play favourites. But that was damn hard. They spent so much time with that little boy while his parents worked that they had grown accustomed to having a baby in the house after thirty one years. And were saddened in a way that he was growing up so quick.

She was at the sink, up to her elbows in water and soap suds as she scrubbed dinner dishes while others dried off in the plastic rack to her left, when she noticed her oldest son enter the kitchen. She was expecting him to simply grab something to eat or drink from the fridge and than leave again. So she was pleasantly surprised, and a little shocked, when he joined her at the sink. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and snagged a dish towel from the handle of the stove and started attending to the cups and plates already in the rack.

She smiled and arched an eyebrow. "You never did a dish a day in your life when you were living at home," she remarked.

"Couldn't let you do everything by yourself," Flack reasoned.

"It's the way I like to do my cleaning and you know it. How long have you been my son for?"

He smiled.

"You're not in here just to be a gentleman," she said. "You're in here because there's something on your mind and you need your mother to help you work it out. You may be thirty, but you're still my boy and all boys need their mother from time to time regardless of their age."

"I do have something on my mind," he admitted. "But I don't need your help working anything out."

"So there is problems than. With you and Sam."

Flack laughed. "You always think the worst, mom."

"I am a married woman. One who has had her fair share of problems. And Sam just hasn't been herself today. Usually she's the life of every party. Talking and laughing and socializing with everyone. Tonight she just wasn't the Sam we all know. She barely touched any of her dinner and maybe you haven't noticed, but she doesn't look well."

"I've noticed, mom."

"Well if she's ill don't you think maybe she could get to the doctor and see what's wrong?"

"She is going to the doctor. She's going to call her as soon as the holidays are over and the office is open again. But it's nothing serious mom. We already know what's wrong with her."

"Seems like the flu if you ask me. Ever since Kieran got sick there's been one damn virus after another going around your place."

"It's not the flu," he insisted. "Or a virus."

"What, you're a doctor now too?"

"No. But she's not sick, mom. She's pregnant."

Patricia gave a small shriek of both joy and surprise and dropped the glass she'd been washing into the sink with a loud clatter as it hit a plate on it's way down and tossed her arms around her oldest son, trailing soap and water down his back.

"She's pregnant!" Patricia cried, holding her son at arms length. "When did you find this out?"

"Last night. But keep it down, mom. You and dad are the only ones were telling right now. We're waiting a bit to tell anyone else. Especially Sam's parents."

"Your father knows?"

"Not yet. I wanted to tell you first."

"Donnie, that's amazing news!" she hugged him tightly once more. "I had no idea that you two were even trying."

"We agreed to try and have another one when Carmen and Tim got married."

"So it hasn't been that long, than. Honey, that's incredible news. And it happened so quick and effortlessly."

"I don't know about effortlessly," Flack chuckled. "It took a bit of work."

"Yeah, the fun kind," she said and laughed and swatted his arm. "When did you find out?"

"Sam took a test yesterday. We thought at the beginning of the month that she was but the test she took than was negative. She figures it was because there wasn't enough hormone in her body yet to get an accurate result."

"So she's not that far along."

He shook his head. "Month and a half maybe. We're not sure. Things haven't been exactly normal enough to figure it out on our own. She'll get an ultrasound in the New Year to date it."

"Are you excited?" Patricia asked.

"Of course. A little freaked out and nervous, too. I mean, Kieran's not that old. And I know we were trying, but we honestly didn't expect it to happen so soon. We thought a few months down the road at the earliest."

"But you're happy…because this is incredible, Donnie. The two of you are young and it's great for Kieran that he'll have a sibling so close in age to him. You are happy, aren't you?"

"Ecstatic. It's just…I don't know…it's damn scary."

She smiled and curled her arm around his waist. "You did just fine the first time."

He nodded and sighed. "I just don't want to be fuck up, mom. I don't want my kids growing up hating me because I worked so much and wasn't around a lot while they were growing up. I don't want to be like…" he stopped short and shook his head.

"You can say it, you know," Patricia said. "It might do you a world of good to say it."

"I don't want to be like him. That's my worst fear. That I'll be just like dad. And I know you love him mom. And I know things between us are better, but I can't stand the thought of being like him."

"Your father loves you, Donnie. He's always loved you. And he loves his grandson and he'll love any other baby that you and Samantha bring into this world. And he's trying. To make up for the things he did to you."

"I know."

"And I know you're a grown man and all macho and tough. But I also know that deep down you're still hurting like hell for what he put you through. And you know what? It's okay to be angry and hurt. It really is. But you can't let all that anger and bitterness prevent you from being the best father you can be. Because I know you hold back a lot. I see it. I hear about it. You lived with your father for so long that you don't know anything else."

He nodded.

"You're a good father, Don. You really are. But there's more to being a father than putting food on the table and buying him clothes and toys. It's about the time you spend with him and the love you show him. And I know you love your son. But you need to show him that more and tell him more. Or he will grow up and despise you. And I know you don't want that."

"But I'm not that kind of guy, mom. The kind that can just hug and kiss his kid and tell him he loves him."

"He's a baby. And babies need to be hugged and kissed and professed love to. By their mommy and their daddy. Hell, I hope when he's fifteen he still needs all of that. And instead of worrying and stressing so much about being like your father, why don't you pull up your socks and start showing all of us, especially your wife and yourself, that you're nothing like him."

"So what do I do? Just pick him up and hug him and tell him I love him?"

"Yes. That's exactly what you do. Because he's just little, but he idolizes you. And he's going to grow up watching and listening to everything you do and say. And than he'll treat his wife and his kids the exact same way. It's a cycle. So before it's too late, put what your father was like to bed and create you own cycle."

"But how do I do that?" Flack asked.

She smiled and stood on her tip toes and pecked his check. "A little bit at a time," she replied.

Flack found his old man hunkered down in a lawn chair on the covered back porch. Bundled up in a heavy down filled winter coat and a hat and smoking a cigarette. Staring out at the star filled night sky and alternating puffs of the smoke with swigs of beer.

"Heading out soon?" Flack Sr asked in way of greeting, barely glancing at his oldest son as he stepped out onto the porch.

Flack nodded and stood alongside of where his father sat and leaned against the wall. "It's nearly nine o'clock. Kieran's passed out in that portable play pen you guys keep in your room," he said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his own coat pocket and shaking a smoke out.

"Thought you quit," Sr said, as his son pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the smoke in his mouth.

"I did. Five or six times in the past year alone. It's my vice. Sam would rather I smoke than drink."

"How's it going with that?" his father asked. "The whole sobriety thing?"

"Been a year now since I touched booze. I went out night before my wedding and got shit faced and did some stupid crap and decided that was the end of my drinking days."

His father nodded. "Heard you ended up in the drunk tank down at Central Booking."

Flack wasn't surprised. He knew his father had 'informants' within the department that kept him up to speed on his son's comings and goings. He was pretty sure that Gerrard was the biggest stool pigeon out of them all.

"Stupid thing to do, Donnie," Sr said, shaking his head and sipping his beer.

"No harm, no foul," Flack reasoned, and heard his father snort in response.

"At least you didn't turn out like your brother," Sr said with a small laugh. "Worthless piece of shit. Kicks the shit out of his wife when he gets into one of his moods and think it's okay."

"All due respect, dad, Chris didn't exactly have the best role model to mirror himself after."

His father didn't have a comment for that. "Well at least you went the opposite way," he said. "Law abiding, great career, well respected by everyone. Hardworking and dependable. You do go work, Donnie."

That was the closet to a 'I'm proud of you' that Flack would ever get. And he wasn't about to complain about it.

"Thanks, dad."

"And you got a beautiful family. Lovely wife, adorable little boy. Sun rises and sets on my grandson. He's the light of my life."

Flack smiled. "I know…and Kieran loves you. You should have heard him as soon as we pulled up. He recognized the house. Kept screaming Pa-pa at the top of his lungs."

Sr broke into a smile of his own. "He's a joy, that's for sure. You've been blessed, son. You've got a nice life for yourself."

"I'm not complaining," Flack said with a grin. "There's something I need to tell you, dad."

"Work related?"

Flack shook his head and took a long drag of his smoke. "Personal."

"Not getting a divorce are you? I'll have to kick your ass up and down the street if you are."

"Nothing like that. Why do you and mom always assume the worst?"

"Maybe because of the three times last year you showed up here bawling your eyes out about fucking things up and worriying about losing your wife and kid."

"Well it's nothing bad, I swear."

Flack Sr look up at his son. "Well, let's hear it than."

"You're going to be a grandfather again," his son said. "Sam's pregnant."

"When'd you find this out?"

"Last night. She's not very far along but the test was positive."

"And she's doing okay?"

"Other than being sick to her stomach, she's doing alright. We'll get her into a doctor in the New Year. Get some blood work and an ultrasound done and make sure everything's okay with her and the baby."

"Your mother know? She's going shit herself when she hears this. Woman is always going on about the two of you having more babies."

"I told mom a little while ago. She's pretty excited."

His father nodded. "That's great news, Donnie. Congratulations."

"We're just telling you and mom right now. So if you'll just…"

"Keep it on the down low? My lips are sealed."

The back door clicked open and Patricia stuck her head out. "I hate to break this up, boys, but there's a little one in here that really needs to get home and get into his own bed. Unless you're all planning on staying the night or you're leaving him behind. Which, your father and I wouldn't mind one bit."

"Normally mom, I'd say keep him for a few days to give us a break," Flack said. "But we've actually got some plans tomorrow and Kieran's included in them. But thanks. I'll be right in."

She smiled and nodded and disappeared inside.

Flack finished his smoke and dropped it into the old rusted coffee can at his dad's feet. "I need to go. I just wanted to come out and tell you about the baby. Merry Christmas, dad."

"You, too," his father responded. He watched as his first born headed for the back door. "Donnie," he called and got to his feet. "You did good, son. And I don't mean with the job. I mean with your wife and your son and now this new baby. You did real good."

"Thanks, dad. I.."

His words were cut off as his dad did that unexpected. Stepped forward and wrapped both of his arms around him in a tight, warm hug. One hand on his son's shoulder, the other on the back of his neck.

"You did good," he repeated, his lips near his son's ear. "And I'm proud of you."

Tears welled in Flack's eyes at those simple words as he embraced his father.

Christmas miracles did happen.

Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. Thanks even to the lurkers! I know there's lots of you! Please review people! It really makes my day and encourages me to continue!

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