DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN…YOU GUYS KNOW THE REST

A/N: ANYONE WHO CAN ACCURATELY TELL ME THE FIVE SURPRISES, WINS A DELICIOUS CYBER COOKIE! JUST FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES. AND THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE LOVE SONGS OF ALL TIME. IF YOU HAVEN'T HEARD IT, YOU REALLY SHOULD.

SURPRISE! X 5

"Better than I was
More than I am
And all of this happened
By takin' your hand
And who I am now
Is who I wanted to be
And now that we're together
I'm stronger than ever
I'm happy and free
Oh, it's a beautiful thing
Don't think I can keep it all in, no
And if you asked me why I changed
All I gotta do is say your sweet name
It's your love
It just does somethin' to me
It sends a shock right through me
I can't get enough
And if you wonder
About the spell I'm under
It's your love."
-Its Your Love, Tim McGraw and Faith Hill

Flack set the remainder of neatly folded t-shirts and jeans and three pairs of boxers and as twice as many pairs of socks on the top of the things he had previously packed for his three day trip to Cincinnati. It was quarter to twelve in the afternoon. His flight didn't leave until three o'clock, but he wanted to stop by the lab and say goodbye to everyone and hopefully, if her schedule permitted, take his wife for a quick bite to eat and spend some time with her before they went their separate ways. In the two years that they had been together, it would be just the second time they'd be apart for longer than forty eight hours, and have thousands of miles between them. The first had been for a week that took in the last Fourth of July. She'd taken Kieran on his first ever plane trip and gone to spend some time with her folks. She had been upbeat and excited about going, but Flack had quickly found out, at one in the morning the same night she had left, that you couldn't always judge a book by it's cover.

She had been homesick and miserable and cried for damn near half an hour to him on the phone. He'd been on nights and thankfully the shift had been relatively slow and somewhat dragging and he'd had the time, as he sat at his desk and signed off on case reports and reviewed his guys' work, to listen to her and quietly and soothingly reassure her that she was going to have a great time. And that the week was going to pass by before she even knew it. Before the end of the call, he'd must have said I love you over two dozen times and somehow, someway, talked him into downloading MSN Messenger on his computer at work and signing himself up for a screen name so he could chat to her during his down time, and at home. So they didn't use up long distance charges and have a massive bill after just seven days.

Whatever he could to do make her happy and dry some of those tears was enough for him. No price was too small or too big as far as he was concerned. He tucked a shaving kit and a small bag of personal items underneath his clothing and shoes -one pair for dress, as a suit and tie was required for the meet and greet dinners Friday and Saturday, and the final meal Sunday afternoon- and the Adidas sandals that Sam hated so much and had attempted to toss on more than one occasion. He'd saved them from certain doom time and time ago and each time she saw him wearing them she'd grimace and shake her head and say "Oh, Donnie.." as if it was the silliest, most absurd thing she'd ever seen.

He hated to burst her bubble by telling her he felt the same way about the lime green Crocs she'd bought while pregnant with Kieran. She'd worn those damn things faithfully, and although she'd returned them when she'd gone back to work and kept them in a bag in the back of the closet, he knew, now that she was expecting again, those damn things would be making their resurgence very soon.

He closed the lid on the medium sized black wheelie suitcase resting on the bed and zipped it up and locked it tightly. In the matching carry on, he'd packed Sam's I-pod -how in the hell he was going to survive the music she listened to, he had no idea. But she had offered it to him and it was the thought that counted- case files that Gerrard demanded by done by the time he got back to New York City and on his boss' desk first thing Monday morning, a couple of pens and his badge, NYPD identification and his holster and service weapon. Along with a letter from the Department of Homeland Security confirming that he was indeed a police officer in New York City and was licensed to carry the firearm. Said letter had to be handed in at the security station, the serial number on his weapon checked and matched to that on the letter, and his credentials and identification looked over thoroughly.

Bunch of shit, considering he, as good as any other flier, could easily snap in the middle of the flight and go postal on everyone aboard. Not that he would, but it could happen to anyone, cop or not. And the fact that he could have his gun on his person, but not a pair of scissors or a razor or a nail file made absolutely no sense. And no clear liquids. In case he was planning on attacking the plane with a flammable substance and setting himself and everyone else on fire. A nine millimetre semi automatic Glock was fine, just hold the phone on the sharp objects and water.

People were fucked. Flack was sure of that. They'd never been the same since nine eleven and would probably never be the same again. You couldn't look at the guy across the aisle from you on a flight and wonder if he had been screened as well as you had and if he had any weapons on him or if he'd converted his size ten Nikes into shoe bombs that would bring the whole plane down and kill everyone on board. You couldn't have a simple case of bad nerves and the sweats and a sick stomach because you were terrified to fly. People thought you were jittery and suspicious and 'up to something'. Which was why he was surprised Sam had managed to get to New York from Arizona when she came back to her hometown without someone alerting the air marshal on board and having the flight diverted. Because that woman was terrified of flying. Even thinking about getting on a plane nearly sent her into a state of blind panic.

Which was why he doped her up an hour before he put her on any flight. Not that she was high. She was just relaxed. She needed to be unless she wanted to have the pilot on alert and air force jets accompanying the plane because there were worries she was going to snap and do everyone on board in. Without those sedatives, Samantha Flack's name was going on the national no fly list.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't that bad. She wasn't in danger of doing anything stupid. But her fear of blowing up or crashing or being hijacked was so intense, that she would never set foot on a plane in her normal state.

Thank God for Valium. Greatest invention ever. Hands down.

He lifted the suitcase and sat it on the floor and took one last look around the room. He didn't want to leave anything behind that he might need.

Hell, he didn't want to leave anything behind period. He didn't want to be getting on the flight and travelling nearly seven hours to a place thousands of miles away from his one year old son and his pregnant wife. He didn't want to be stuck in mid air while she was down safely on the ground experiencing her ultrasound and getting to see their new baby for the first time. He wanted to be with her. Holding her hand and kissing her temple and telling her he loved her and was proud of her as they saw their child together. Instead he was stuck in a flying tin can at thirty-five thousand feet, wondering just what was happening at that appointment.

And to make matters worse, there were no non stop flights to be had heading out of LaGuardia. So he had to fly to Atlanta, get off, rush through an airport he'd never been too before, and hopefully successfully find his connecting flight to Cincinnati.

All in the name of serving and protecting.

He sighed. Scolded himself for being too damn emotional and sentimental when it came to his family. He made the bed and fluffed the beds. So Sam could come home and have a neat and tidy bed to collapse into at the end of her day. It was a small, simple thing to do, but hopefully she'd appreciate the gesture.

Flack checked his watch. Time was of essence. Certain he left nothing behind or unaccounted for, he pulled up the handle on the suitcase, draped the strap from the carry on around it and than snagged the garment bag that hung on the back of the door.

He paused in the doorway and looked back at the empty room. At the empty bed.

It was going to be the longest three days of his life.

But at least it wasn't a lifetime.

Danny was tired. No. Scratch that. He was beyond tired, actually. He was physically and emotionally spent and exhausted. An early morning call in had found him in the Sheep's Meadow section of Central Park, ankle deep in wet snow and shivered as he stared down at the partially clad female dead body that lay face down in a frozen pool of dark red blood. Listening to Chester Lake, in that soft, compassionate voice of his give the facts and nothing but. The dark cloud in his eyes and the frown on his face indicating that despite outward appearances, the job bothered him more than he let anyone realize. He was a damn good detective. He was thorough and precise. He liked order and nothing but the hard core truth. Everyone like working with him, and so far, he was proving that he could handle himself with the big boys, and that he was a valuable asset to the tight knit team.

No identification had been found on the vic. Not surprising considering she was found in just her bra and panties. No birthmarks or tattoos or anything that would set her apart from the millions of other Caucasian females that took up residence in New York City. She was five foot eight and a hundred and twenty pounds according to Sid, who had had to defrost the body to get an accurate weight. The extreme cold and conditions had made it nearly impossible for him to determine TOD. The best he could do was somewhere between the last eighteen to twenty four hours. Danny had rolled his eyes and bit back a smart ass comeback when he'd found out that information. But really? What was to be expected when the vic's liver resembled something you'd by in the frozen meat department at the grocery store.

Cause of death had been dissection of the carotid artery and jugular vein. With a sharp object.

Well no shit, Danny had said. Unable to keep the comment in, despite the foul looks he was getting both from Sid and Samantha who stood beside him, unbelievable green in the face for someone who made nearly daily trips to the morgue and could handle the most foul, grotesque and bloody scenes without even batting an eyelash. She'd blanched the moment they'd set foot in the morgue and the sights and smells and odours had hit her. Danny had fear a few times that she'd just up and puke but she'd held it together. She'd simply covered her nose and mouth with the neck of her eggplant purple turtleneck and asked muffled questions and kept her eyes off the DB as much as possible.

So there was no identification on the victim and no accurate time of death and no clue on what exactly had caused her untimely and horrifying demise. The only thing they knew at that point in time, was that based on the scene, she had been killed exactly where she had been found lying. There were no footprints in the snow to photograph or cast that may lead them to a possible perp because a fresh two inches of the white powder at fallen after her death and had masked anything usable.

Such was Danny Messer's life. The only hope now was that there was some kind of salvageable trace on the vic's sparse wardrobe that could aide them in their investigation. The rape kit had come back clear. No semen, no vaginal fluid, no signs of intercourse consensual or otherwise. In fact, their victim had been a virgin.

The question to figure out was what a virgin in a four hundred dollar pantie and bra set was doing out in said items in Central Park in the dead of winter. In the middle of the night. And who the hell was she? Lake was currently downstairs running her photo through the missing person's data base. And in an effort to determine what had killed their fair maiden, Samantha had retreated to the reconstruction lap to add insult to injury by inflicting more damage on an already dead pig.

Which was where Danny was heading as he stepped off the elevator and onto the thirty-fifth floor with a carry out tray of a tea and a coffee in one hand and Sid's autopsy report in the other. He'd initially thought Samantha had gone nuts when she requested de-caf tea. She never drank that crap. And as he stood in line to place their order, it got Danny to thinking. About how there'd only been one other time that Sam had been unable to stand being in the morgue. And when she had consumed de-caf tea as if it was water. And those two things had began at the exact same time.

When she was pregnant with Kieran.

He was definitely going to kick hers, and Flack's ass, for not telling him that nice little piece of news.

He was no more than five feet from the elevators when he heard the loud DING accompanying the arrival of the second lift and the doors sliding open. Followed by a familiar voice calling to him.

"Don't you ever work, Messer?"

"Very funny, Flack," he said, as he stopped walking and turned to face his best friend as he strode towards him. Loaded down with a garment bag and a wheelie suitcase with a carry on dangling from the handle. Comfortably and casually dressed in a pair of loose fitting faded grey jeans, hiking boots, and a white button down shirt under his open ski jacket.

"Running away from home?" Danny asked jokingly. "It's usually not best to show up at our wife's place of employment and let her know you're leaving her. Most guys just up and do it, you know?"

"Yuck it up, Mess," the detective said, and reaching into one of his coat pockets, pulled out his keys. Home and vehicle. He dropped them into the middle of the carry tray. "Only thing I ask is that when you pick me up on Sunday night at the airport, that the damn tank be filled. All the way."

"Still can't believe you're actually lending me your baby," Danny commented.

Flack frowned. "My baby? I thought I made it clear my wife was off limits."

"Ha-ha. You're cute. You're just in this happy little mood 'cause you're escaping hell for a couple of days."

"Trust me, Dan-o," Flack said as they headed down the hall towards the labs together. "If Gerrard wasn't on my ass about this conference being beneficial to my career, I wouldn't be going. Last place I want to be is thousands of miles away from my wife and my kid."

"You sentimental bastard," Danny chided. "I can't say I blame you though. Considering Brooklyn's got that doctor's appointment today."

"What's that got to do with anything? I don't take her to every simple appointment she has."

"I know. But you know, it must be killing you to miss this one in particular. Considering she's pregnant and all," Danny slipped it in smoothly, and glaced sideways to see what kind of reaction he'd receive from his best friend.

Flack gave a little smirk and shook his head. "She wasn't suppose to say anything."

"She didn't. I figured it out all on my own. When she nearly tossed her cookies in autopsy and than asked me to get her a de-caf tea on my coffee and donut run, I put two and two together. How long you guys known for?"

"Since Christmas Eve," Flack admitted.

"And you never said anything? Neither of you told me?"

"There's only a few people that know. Don't take it personally. Only people we've told are my parents and Adam. And Carmen but she found out totally by accident."

"Hold up, hold up," Danny stopped walking and slapped his best friend's arm with his file. "Adam knows? Adam knows before me?"

"Adam's Sam's brother," Flack reminded him. "He's the baby's uncle."

"So am I. Or so I thought."

"Not the same thing, Messer. Adam's the biological uncle. And as much as it sucks to hear this, sometimes, Adam has to come before you."

"I'm hurt, Flack," Danny said and began walking once again. "Not just hurt. Crushed. Scarred for life."

"Quit being a whiny little bitch. We weren't going to tell anyone until after she had the ultrasound to date the pregnancy. More specifically, until she was past the crucial first trimester."

"Why's that?"

"Because too many things can go wrong in the first trimester. That's when ninety percent of miscarriages take place and we didn't want to tell everyone and get everyone all happy and exicted and than have to go back and break the bad news if something happened."

"Nothing happened the first time around," Danny said. "With K. Sure there were some issues throughout the rest of the pregnancy and…"

"We just didn't want to tell anyone," Flack cut him off, sounding defensive.

"Alright…alright. Don't get pissy now. I was just saying. So you happy? About having another rug rat on the way?"

Flack smiled and nodded.

"Little surprising you guys are doing the parenting again so soon," Danny admitted. "I seriously wasn't expecting another Flack offspring for at least a couple of years."

"We were going to wait until Kieran was two, two and a half before we started trying again," Flack said honestly. "Than we just decided why wait. Happened a lot sooner than either of us expected it to, but that's alright. More the merrier, right?"

"Absolutey. Congratulations, Don. It's great news. And don't worry, your guys' secret is safe with me. When the two of you are ready to tell everyone else, than so be it. I take it you're not here to kiss me goodbye, huh?"

"I love you, Mess, but no."

"B's just done in reconstruction taking her frustrations out on a pig. An animal one, in case that needs clarification."

"B?" Flack asked with a smirk. "She actually lets you call her that?"

"Shh…she doesn't know. That's between me and you. Nothing but pure love and affection for her, you know that. So what's the deal with that neighbour you were checking out? The one you told me about day after K's party. You never followed up on it or what?"

Flack sighed. Jack Doyle was a twenty-something general labourer that had moved in across the hall from them less than two months ago. He hadn't seen the kid since the day of Kieran and his joint party and they'd had a brief encounter in the elevator when Flack was returning from running to the store to pick up extra milk and juice and pop. Doyle had seemed friendly enough. He was pleasant and polite and made small talk on the short trip to the seventh floor. He knew Flack was a cop. Apparently Doyle was an insomniac and had heard someone coming out of the apartment at three in the morning just after he moved in, and when he looked out his peep hole, he'd seen Flack locking the door, and got a glimpse of his badge and gun.

And than he started asking Flack personal questions. About his wife and kid's first name. And told Flack how he had seen mother and child briefly in the laundry room one afternoon a couple weeks back and had wanted to make friendly with them but had felt shy and awkward around such an attractive woman.

That elevator could not have reached the seventh floor quick enough. And as Flack bid farewell to his new neighbour, he'd spent some extra time fiddling with his keys when in reality he was just standing and listening. For anything that might prove his suspicions right that there was just not something right about this Doyle character. And as he stood there, he had heard, not one, but two dead bolts clicking shut and a chain being drawn across the door.

Flack was all for protecting yourself and your home. But in a building with surveillance cameras at every available exit and in the parking garage, and the only way to gain access through the front door was for visitors to know your security code and be personally buzzed up, Flack found two dead bolts and a chain a little excessive.

He'd brought it up to Sam later that there was something not quite right about their neighbour. The guy seemed creepy. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something there that spelled trouble. She'd scoffed at him and told him he was being paranoid and ridiculous. Just because someone commented on how cute your child was and asked their name didn't mean they were a pedophile. He probably just liked kids, plain and simple. And in all intents and purposes, with Doyle as quiet as he'd been the whole time he'd been living there, he was in essence, the perfect neighbour. So what if he had security issues? So what if he seemed a little too friendly? Maybe he was just a recluse or he was trying hard to make friends.

"Not everyone is evil, Donnie," she had said.

"Not everyone is nice either," he had shot back. "You may trust everyone, but I'm thinking about you and K here. And I'm checking this guy out first thing tomorrow. Running his name through the system and calling the super."

Sam had looked at him as if he'd completely lost his mind. She'd then announced she was going to bed and didn't' want to hear any more nonsense, and if he was planning on continuing with his 'issues' to please take said issues to the couch.

That was the end of that. But not the end of Flack's wariness.

"I decided to listen to Sammie and give the guy the benefit of the doubt," he told his best friend as they walked the halls of the crime lab. "We've been seeing more and more of him around the building and he's pretty friendly. But I don't know… I swear that that guy's shady as all hell, Danny," Flack said. "Something is just not quite right. I can't put my finger on it, but something is not right."

"You want me to run his name?" Danny asked. "See if he's got something to hide?"

"I don't know. On one hand, I'm telling myself that I'm overreacting. On the other hand, I'm telling myself to trust my instincts."

"You got a wife and a kid to protect, Flack. Two kids now. Go with the instincts."

"I think I'll hold off," he said, although his gut was telling him to do the opposite. "If I come home on Sunday night and she tells me she had problems with him or felt weird, than I'll do something about it than. I don't' want her thinking I'm suffocating her and being overprotective. If she says she's not worried, than I'll try not to be worried too."

"I still think you should…"

Danny was interrupted by a Fed-Ex delivery man hurrying into their path and stopping to face them, envelope in hand.

"One of your colleagues said that one of you was Danny Messer?" the delivery guy asked, eyes flicking back and forth between the two men.

"I'm Danny Messer," the CSI confirmed.

"This is for you, sir," he handed Danny the envelope. "If I could just get you to sign here.." he held out his clipboard and pen.

"What's going on here?" Danny asked, as he printed and signed his name in the correct spot. "Fed-Ex guys are serving people now? Someone suing me or something?"

"Not that I know of. Now could you tell me where I can find a Sheldon Hawkes? I need him to sign to show proof of payment for your items."

"Down the hall, third door to your left," Danny told him. Than looked at Flack when the delivery guy bounced off down the hall. He held the envelope up, a questioning look on his face.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Flack said.

Although he already knew what exactly was in that envelope that his best friend was now tearing into. His wife had come clean, three nights ago, about how she'd purchased Danny a return flight to Montana. She hadn't had a choice but to admit it after he accidentally stumbled upon several emails Lindsay had sent her regarding the upcoming trip and how nervous and exicted she was.

Flack hadn't said much when Sam had rambled on and on about what she'd done and why it was justified. At the end of her long winded explanation, he'd simply shook his head and warned her about keeping her nose out of other peoples business and told her that he didn't want to hear anymore about it. That he didn't want to discuss it with her or nothing. What happened there on out was up to Danny. And only Danny.

The one thing he'd forgotten was to ask how she'd managed to buy the tickets when he had refused to cough up the credit card.

Damn you, Doctor Sheldon Hawkes, he now fumed silently. And watched and waited for his best friend's reaction.

"Airline tickets?" Danny frowned at the smaller envelope he'd pulled from the first. Royal blue and emblazoned with the American Airlines logo. "Hawkes is sending me on a trip? What for?"

Flack shrugged.

Danny opened the envelope to have a look on the information printed on the return ticket. His eyebrows arched. His eyes widened. Flack swore that the CSI even stopped breathing.

"Why the hell would Hawkes do this?" Danny said, his voice a mere whisper.

"It wasn't Hawkes, Messer," Flack told him. "Hawkes is just an innocent bystander who unfortunately got sucked into someone elses evil plan."

"You did this?" Danny asked accusingly.

Flack held up his hands in self defence. "Hell no. I didn't even know about this until two nights ago and Sam…"

"Sam did this? Brooklyn did this? Brooklyn's sending me on a trip to Montana?"

Flack nodded. "Now before you go all freaking out on her, Mess, hear me out. 'Cause I feel the need to defend my wife in all of this. Both Sam and I know that you're completely miserable with Erica. And I know that you're having a baby with her and all that and you feel obligated, but trust me. Dan-o, staying with someone you don't love just because they are having a baby is not the smart thing to do."

"You don't know her, Flack. You don't…"

"No. I don't know her. Outside of her being your girl and Sam's cousin, I know shit about her. And you know why? Because she's made it that way. She's done that, Danny. She doesn't like being around me or any of the other members of the team because she can't stand the shop talk we do. Because she's living off her ex hubbies cash while we're just blue collar, every day Joe's living pay cheque to pay cheque."

Danny shook his head.

"Don't deny it, Messer. You know it's true. And I know it hurts like hell to hear the truth. But if anyone is going to give it to you straight up, it's me. You say you love her, you say you want forever with her and all of that, but what has she said about you, Danny? What has she promised you? Only thing she's done is threaten you with that baby she's carrying. About how she'll take off and you'll never see it if you even think about leaving her."

The CSI sighed.

"I know you want to be in your kid's life. I know that. But don't let her scare you into having a life outside of that baby. I know a lot of lawyers, Danny. A lot of good lawyers that can have her ass in a sling in a heart beat for threatening you like that. And I know other lawyers, more sneaky and sly ones, that can not only do that, but have that kid taken away from her the second she pops it out."

"I can't do that," Danny said. "Take the baby from her like that."

"Why the hell not? She doesn't want the baby because she wants to be a mom. She wants the baby to keep you were you are! To keep you trapped! She has you by the fucking balls, Danny! Don't put up with that shit!"

Danny shook his head and stared down at the tickets in his hand.

"You love Lindsay, and I mean truly love her with every ounce of your being and every inch of your soul? I know what that's like, Danny. To love someone that wholly and completely. To love them so much you can't think straight or eat or sleep properly when things are going shitty. To love them so fucking much that you'd lie down and die for them. I know what that feels like. And trust me, I know it's as scary as all hell."

Danny nodded.

"But I also know that I wouldn't give that up for anything in this world. Because the woman that I feel that way about, who married me and had my son and is giving me another child, loves me just the same and that makes all the pain and suffering bullshit worth it. To know there's that one person that loves you wholly and completely and supports you know matter. There's no goddamn feeling like that in the world , Danny."

"But that's you and Brooklyn, Don!" the CSI argued. "That's you guys! You two found that! You created that! And it's something we all want but seldom fine. You were the lucky one. You found that!"

"And so did you, Danny!" Flack fought back. "Only she's not in New York City! She's in Montana! I know that and you know that!"

Danny drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Look, you're my best friend," Flack said. "All I want is for you to be happy. You deserve that. And right now, I know you're not happy. You're fucking miserable and it's killing me. You need help moving your stuff out of her place? I'm here. You need help finding a lawyer to secure your baby once it's born? I'm here for that, too. I'm always here for you, Danny and you know that."

"I know, Flack…I know…"

"What happens now is up to you, Danny. You've got the chance, take it. Or you'll be spending the rest of your life wondering what if. And that's a fucking painful existence."

The CSI nodded.

"If Lindsay is who you truly want, if she's the love of your life. There shouldn't be anything stopping you for going to see her and telling her that. Okay?" Flack offered a supportive smile and slap on the shoulder and began making his way down the hall.

"Where are you going?" Danny called after his best friend.

"To find the love of my life," he said simply.

"I gotta pee so bad," Sam announced, as Adam, with one hand on her elbow and the other on the small of her back, helped her up onto the examination table in the dimly lit ultrasound room.

"I personally don't know how the hell you could keep a litre of water in such a tiny bladder," her brother commented, as he waited for her to settle herself before taking a seat in the chair next to exam table, right next to the left side of her head.

"Don says I'm a camel," she giggled. "And he wonders how in the hell I eat as much as I do."

"That is one of the greatest mysteries of all time," Adam said with a soft chuckle. He reached out and laid a hand on the top of his sister's head and stroked her forehead with his thumb. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded and gave a nervous smile. "Why wouldn't I be?" she inquired.

"Because you're terrified of flying and your husband is currently at about thirty-five thousand feet," Adam told her.

"You just had to remind me of that," she grumbled. Than laid her hands on her flat stomach and looked up at the ceiling. She was fighting tears. From hormones and out of control emotions.

"It's okay, Sammie," Adam told his sister, stroking her forehead.

"I miss him," she said. "I actually miss him. And he just left."

"And there's something wrong with that?"

"I just saw him two hours ago, Adam. I shouldn't miss him this soon."

"There's no time limit on missing someone," her brother said. "And you're nervous about him travelling and you're here, waiting to have an ultrasound to see a baby that the two of you created together. And he's not here and I know how desperately you wish he was."

She nodded and let a tear trickle down her cheek. "I'm sorry, Peanut," she said sheepishly as she brushed the tear away. "I'm scared something is going to happen to him and he'll never get to see his baby or Kieran again. You know how I am with flying. And if something happened while he's up there…I couldn't take living without him, Adam."

Her brother smiled softly.

"And I know that sounds pathetic and weak. But I love him more than anything else in this world and he's my everything. And I just want him to get there safe and sound and than get back here to me safe and sound."

"He will," Adam promised, and pressed a soft kiss to his sister's temple.

"I doubt he gets like this when I go away," Sam said with a small laugh.

"Don't underestimate him. He was worried sick about you and K when you guys went to mom and dad's."

Sam looked over at her brother. "He was?"

Adam nodded and used his thumb to clear a stray tear of her cheek. "He'd never admit it to you, but he was a nervous wreck after he came back from the airport. And he did nothing but talk about you and K constantly. Which he already does mind you, but he did it even more. He even told me he missed you, Sammie. That he missed you and loved you and hated sleeping in the bed without you."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Was he drunk?" she asked suspiciously.

"No. You know he doesn't drink anymore. He was stone cold sober. He called me and…"

Her eyes widened. "He called you?"

Adam nodded. "He called me and said he needed to talk so we met at the Dunkin Donuts by Gussie's apartment."

"And?" she pressed.

"And he looked like hell, Sammie. All bleary eyed and unshaven. He was just a mess. And he told me that he couldn't sleep without you in the bed next to him. That he loved you and missed you and how would he ever survive a lifetime without you when he couldn't survive one night."

Tears welled again. Her lower lip wobbled. "Donnie said that?"

"Every word," Adam confirmed.

"Wow…" she breathed and looked up at the ceiling once again. "Miracles really do happen."

"Come on," Adam chuckled. "Like there's ever a doubt how much that guy loves you? You're his everything, Sammie. You're his entire existence. Don't ever doubt that."

"When did you become so graceful and poetic with your words?" she teased her younger brother.

"When I fell madly and crazily and desperately in love with Gussie. It changes a guy, you know."

Sam smiled and winked at her brother as the door to the room clicked open.

"Samantha Flack?" the fresh faced tech with her strawberry blond hair pulled into a pony tail asked cheerfully.

Sam nodded.

"My name's Ashleigh," the tech introduced herself. "I'm going to be preforming your sonogram today. I noticed on your chart that you're here to have the pregnancy dated and to have a quick look see at the baby if he or she is cooperating?"

"I hope he or she cooperates," Sam laughed. "My son peed during his last ultrasound. It's how we found out he was a he. Just opened his legs and that was that."

"Well, it's too soon to tell sex, but it would be nice to catch the heart beat. So this is your second pregnancy?" she asked, taking a seat on the chair in front of the ultrasound machine.

"It's actually my third," Sam admitted. "I..uh…I had a miscarriage about seven months ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ashleigh said sincerely. "And you have a son at home?"

Sam nodded. "Kieran. He's a year old."

"So you're children will be nice and close together. That's always nice. I read in your chart that there were some concerns about this pregnancy?"

Adam arched an eyebrow and looked at his sister intently.

"My triple screen test came back showing an increased chance of having a child with a genetic defect or a chromosomal abnormality," Sam said with a sigh. "But that happened with my first pregnancy too and my son is fine so my husband and I agreed to just take things at face value and that whatever happens, happens."

"You have a strong marriage by the sounds of it," Ashleigh smiled.

"Sometimes," Sam admitted. "We love each other. Whether it's a strong time or a weak one. Love is what gets us through some days. Most days, exactly."

The tech smiled at Adam. "You must be so proud of your wife, Mr Flack."

"I am," he beamed at Samantha. "I'm very…" his head snapped around and his eyes widened when he realized what the tech had just said. "What?…Oh my God…no…she's not my…she's my sister…"

"Ooops," Sam said, and giggled.

"She's my sister!" Adam exclaimed, looking and sounding mortified. "She's not my wife! That's not my baby! She's my sister!"

"We get the picture, Peanut," Sam told him.

"Well, are we ready to begin?" Ashleigh asked, and switched the machine on.

"Ready as we'll ever be," Sam sighed.

The second Flack put the key card into the slot on his hotel room door he heard the phone inside of the room ringing. It was shortly before eight in the evening and he was exhausted from the separate flights he had to take and the running around at Hartsfield-Jackson airport attempting to find the proper gate for his departing flight to Cincinnati. Only to find out, when he got there, that said flight was delayed by an hour and a half by inclement weather.

The flight had gone incredibly smooth and easy. He'd even managed to dose off a bit, despite the fact that his thoughts were consumed by what was going on in New York City. Sam's appointment was long over by than, and he was surprised that she hadn't called him or even left a message on her voice mail to say how it went. Or even downloaded a picture to his phone so he could get a look at their baby. He felt like shit for missing such an important time. But the business trip, all expenses paid by the department, had been planned long before that pregnancy test had ever come back positive, and Sam understood how much it meant in terms of furthering his career.

And he needed to further his career. For the sake of his family and being able to adequately provide for them, he needed to step up his game and take things more seriously.

The cab ride from the airport to the hotel had been long and draining on his nerves. All Flack wanted to do was get inside his room, pick up the phone and call home. Check on Sam and Kieran. On the new baby. To hear the news from her. If there was really any to give at that point in time. He wanted to know just how far along she was so they could start planning things. Or at least started considering when to plan things. He'd already decided to head to the bank first thing Monday and apply for a mortgage. Than start looking for a house. Something small and unassuming. A starter home. More than likely in another borogouh to get away from the insane rents and cost of living in Manhattan.

At least the NYPD hadn't gone cheap when it came to the hotel. The Hyatt Regency was four star and came highly recommended by a friend of Chief Sinclair. And from what Flack had seen in just the spacious marble foyer with the gold and crystal chandeliars, the place was damn nice.

But it wasn't home.

The phone was on the sixth ring when he finally got the door to unlock and he pushed his way inside the dark room. He hastily flicked on the lights by the switch alongside of the door and tossed all his luggage onto the floor just inside the door and made a made dash for the telephone located on the small nightstand that separated two Queen size beds. The room was spacious and boasted plush wall to wall cream coloured carpeting and the beds were adorned with rich looking brown and cream brocade comforters and pillow shams. A massive wall unit sat in front of the beds and held a complimentary wet bar and a plasma tv. All the comforts and than some.

But it still wasn't home.

Flack snatched up the telephone. Now on it's tenth ring. Why the operator hadn't come on to ask the caller to leave a message was beyond him. But it was obviously something very, very important to warrant letting it ring that much.

"Flack," he said in way of answering.

"You just can never turn off that cop part can you," Sam teased.

The sound of her voice brought a smile to his face. "Force of habit," he said. "Everything okay?" he asked her. "You're okay? Kieran's okay? The baby's okay?"

"Yeah…" she answered. "We're fine. We're just…Kieran's just sitting on his rug having his last drink and snack of the night." Kieran's rug was actually an orange, black and yellow scattered mat that said in front of the kitchen sink. That he'd adopted as his favourite place to have his drinks and snacks. " Do you want to say hi to him?"

"Sure. Put him on."

"Okay…give me a second, baby," she said.

Flack took a seat on the edge of one of the immaculately made beds and ran a hand over his weary face and toed off his boots as she listened to his wife attempting to coax their son into talking on the phone.

"Kieran…daddy's on the phone…he wants to say hi to you. Do you want to say hi to daddy?"

"Daddy?" Kieran asked curiously. And Flack could just picture the one year old looking around the kitchen, searching for the familiar face.

"On the phone, Kieran," Sam explained calmly. "He's on the phone. Daddy's not here. He's on the phone."

"Daddy?" Kieran asked again.

There was a slight rustling noise and Kieran's soft breathing and Sam's voice telling him to say hi to daddy.

"Daddy?" the toddler asked again.

"Hi, buddy," Flack greeted him, feeling emotion choking at him at the thought of being so far away. "You being good?"

"DADDEEE!" he squealed happily. "Hi, daddeee…"

Flack smiled. "Are you being good?" he repeated.

"Yeah," the toddler replied. "Dwink."

"You're having a drink?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to be a good boy for your mommy? Go to bed when she tells you to?"

"Yeah…mommy?"

"Put mommy on the phone," Flack told him. "I'll see you when I get back, okay?"

"Tay," Kieran said.

"Say bye to daddy," Sam encouraged. "Say bye-bye."

"Bye-bye daddeee!" Kieran chirped.

"'Bye, Kieran," he said in return, and cleared his throat noisily.

"He's already bathed and in his jammies and ready to go," Sam told her husband as she got back on the phone. "You're emotional, aren't you, Donnie." It was more a statement than a question.

"A little," he admitted. "I just..I don't know..it's just been a long day."

"It's okay," she said softly. "We love you and miss you too."

He smiled.

"Your flights were okay?" she asked.

"One was delayed because of heavy rain," he replied. "It's why I'm so late getting in. And the traffic was bad and it's shitty weather here and…" he sighed. "I just want to come home," he said.

"Sunday," she told him, sounding positive and upbeat. "It's only two sleeps."

"Seems like two hundred," he admitted. "How about you? Your day was okay?"

"Yep. It was okay."

"How'd the ultrasound go?" he asked. "Everything went okay?"

Silence on the other end.

"Sam?" he asked, wondering if she'd hung up. "Sammie? Samantha?"

"I'm here," she said. "I just…I don't know…I think we need to…"

He heard the tears in her voice. "What the hell happened?" he asked. "Did something happen to you? Did something happen to the baby?"

"No. I'm fine. The baby's fine. We're fine. It's just…jesus, Donnie…I don't know…"

"They found something wrong?" he fought to keep the panic out of his voice.

"No. Nothing is wrong. I swear to you nothing is wrong. It's just…we really need to talk."

"Isn't that what we're doing, babe? What's going on? Why are you crying? And don't lie to me and say you're not. I can tell."

"I'm fourteen weeks," she told him. "So I got pregnant in mid November."

"So you're three and a bit months," he concluded.

"Yeah..it's just..Donnie, I don't know how to tell you this. I don't know what we're going to do."

"About what, baby? What's wrong??"

"I need to…" she sighed heavily. "I need to send you something, okay? Can you hook up your lap top and I can send you something? Please?"

"It'll take me a few minutes. Want me to call you back?"

"Yeah..I think that's best."

"Okay," he said and sighed. "Give me a few and I'll call you back."

"I love you," she called to him before he could hang up.

"I love you, too," he said. "Just take it easy, baby. Whatever it is, it's going to be okay."

"I know," she told him and hung up.

Flack hung up as well and went to his luggage and found the bag that held his lap top. He carried it over to the table by the window where the internet hook up was and within minutes had the notebook powered up and on line. He slipped his phone from the carrying case on his jeans and flipped it open and dialled the familiar number.

"You're ready?" she asked in way of greeting. Far more choked up and emotionally than she had been when she hung up.

"Yeah…go ahead…Sam, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I'm sending you something in an attachment. Okay?" she asked, ignoring him.

"That's fine. But you are you going to tell me…"

"You just have to see something," she told him.

He sighed and took a seat in one of the chairs and waited in silence until the notification came through that he had a new message in his inbox. Had it been his work account and not his personal one, he was sure that the inbox would have been flooded by now. But he kept one for business and one for just family.

"Are these pics from your ultrasound?" he asked, and clicked open the message and hit download attachment.

"There's three," she replied.

"Okay…" he said, clicking on the first image. "Why so many? And what am I exactly looking at in the first one?"

"That's a heartbeat," she told him.

Tears threatened again as the realization that this was actually happening, that he was going to be a father again, hit him full force.

"And the second one?" he inquired and clicked on the image.

"Same thing," she replied.

"Why is it…?"

"Just check the third one," she said.

He humoured her. Opened the third and final image. "Looks just like the first two," he said. "Why are you sending me three photos of the same thing?"

"I'm not," she told him. "It's not the same thing, Donnie."

"Looks like it to me. I only needed to see one, baby. You could have showed me them all when I got home."

"No," she said. "I couldn't have. You don't understand."

"So? Enlighten me here."

"It's three pictures because…Donnie, I don't…"

"Just tell me, Sammie. Okay? Is there something wrong with the baby's heart or…?"

"No. Nothing is wrong. I sent you three because…" she took a deep breath. "Because it's one picture…one picture for each baby."

The words hammered home. Time seemed to stand still. He heard nothing but the pounding of his heart. His hands trembled. His chest ached. He saw nothing but that last image of the screen. Of one heartbeat. One of three. Belonging to one of the three babies his wife was carrying inside of her.

"Donnie?" she asked tearfully.

"Excuse me?" he responded. "Three?"

"We're having triplets, Don," she told him, her voice shaky. "Three babies."

"Triplets," he squeaked. Unable to process the information.

"It was something like a one in ten thousand chance," she told him. "And guess what?"

"We were the ten thousandth couple to have sex that night?" he suggested.

"I know this is a shock, Donnie. I damn near died when the tech bolted up from her chair and announced she was going to get the head radiologist and went running out. And than he came in and he was poking and prodding around with the ultrasound thingy and Adam's nearly hyper ventilating he's so scared something terrible is wrong and I'm crying and shitting myself.."

"Samantha…"

"..and than the radiologist starts pointing things out. Three of this and three sets of that and three heart beats and three heads and I was thinking what in the hell am I going to tell my husband and…"

"Samantha!" he nearly shouted into the phone to get her to be quiet.

"Yes?" she asked meekly.

"Triplets?" Flack needed a little clarification. "As in three?"

"As in three," she conceded.

"Jesus Christ…" he breathed and closed his eyes. "Are they absolutely sure?"

"Donnie, there was three of everything. I saw it with my own two eyes. I know this is crazy and it's shocking and it just blows your mind…"

"I love you," he said.

Silence.

"Sam?"

"I love you, too," she told him. "What are we going to do?" she asked.

"I guess we're going to have triplets," he replied.

"But I mean what are you thinking?"

Flack sighed heavily.

"I'm thinking we're going to need a bigger place to live," he answered.

Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! MOB has taken a back seat for now but I promise I will not abandon it. The muse just wants me to concentrate on this story for a while! So thanks for the support! And as usual, please show some love and review!

Special thanks to:

Laurzz

muchmadness

brrtmclv

hope4sall

wolfeylady

shopaholic20

Forest Angel

Bluehaven4220

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