DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN....YOU KNOW THE REST. ALTHOUGH JUDGING BY LAST NIGHT'S EPI, TPTB CERTAINLY ARE FORGETTING WHO DOES OWN THIS STORY AND MOB. ENOUGH SAID....
A/N: WHILE I NORMALLY DON'T TALK POLITICS OR SHOW FAVORITES:
GO OBAMA!
NOW THAT THAT IS OUT OF MY SYSTEM, ENJOY!
A New Dawn Breaks
"I see you Mary in the garden
In the garden of a thousand sighs
There's holy pictures of our children
Dancin' in a sky filled with light
May I feel your arms around me
May I feel your blood mix with mine
A dream of life comes to me
Like a catfish dancin' on the end of the line
Sky of blackness and sorrow (a dream of life)
Sky of love, sky of tears (a dream of life)
Sky of glory and sadness (a dream of life)
Sky of mercy, sky of fear (a dream of life)
Sky of memory and shadow (a dream of life)
Your burnin' wind fills my arms tonight
Sky of longing and emptiness (a dream of life)
Sky of fullness, sky of blessed life (a dream of life)
Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight."
-The Rising, Bruce Springsteen
Early morning sunshine streamed through the window. Bathing the occupants in the cramped, uncomfortable hospital bed in warmth. Outside the temperatures struggled to get above freezing and a light trickle of snow added to the inches that already blanketed the ground. Her eyes opened slowly, gradually adjusting to the bright rays of sun that cascaded onto her weary, tired face. She was briefly oblivious to her surroundings. Her brain had forgotten where she actually was and why she was there, stuck in that blissful state of awakening where everything seemed warm and cozy and safe. She wasn't aware of the fact she was in a hospital bed or that she'd spent more than twelve hours in a drug induced fog. All she was aware of was that strong, protective arm around her and that warm, soothing body against hers.
She rolled over onto her side and snuggled closer into her husband. Tucking herself under his arm and burying her face in his neck, her arm lazily falling across his mid section. Her peaceful, carefree stage interrupted by the sharp hiss of pain that erupted from her husband's lips.
"Baby..." he spoke through gritted teeth. "You gotta watch my ribs."
At the sound of agony in his voice and those words, her eyes snapped open in alarm and she propped herself up on her elbow and took in the sight before her. The stitches near his temple and the ones that began at his right eyebrow and disappeared into his hair line. The bandage on his left bicep that just barely poked out from the sleeve of his t-shirt. The split lip. She carefully and gently lifted the bottom of his shirt, her eyes widening at the sight of his heavily tapped ribs.
"Donnie..." she bolted into a sitting position and reached out to use her fingertips to gently inspect the wounds on his face. "What in the hell happened to you?"
"Dean Lessing," he responded. "This is what he did to me when I went to get Kieran back."
"What? What do you mean when you went to get Kieran back? What are you talking about?"
"Lessing called Mac," Flack explained, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. "Told him that he wanted to meet me face to face. So I could say goodbye to my son. That I'd understand, because of surviving the bombing, why he needed Kieran so badly."
Tears threatened in her golden eyes. "He has Kieran? He still has him?"
Flack shook his head. "I offered, to make a switch. Myself for Kieran. Lessing went for it. I managed to get Kieran from him and to safety before Lessing figured out that I was wearing a wire and it was all a set up."
"And this is what he did to you because of that? But how..."
"He told me get on my knees and put my hands on the back of my neck. He held a gun to my head. He was going to execute me. Right in front of Kieran and Lindsay."
"Execute you? Kieran and Lindsay...what....?" her brain, still somewhat muddled from medication, couldn't comprehend what he was telling her.
"Lindsay was there, pretending to be you."
Sam frowned.
"It's a hell of a long story, baby. Lessing called Mac and told him that he wanted us both to be there to talk to us and say goodbye to Kieran. But you were in here and right out of it so Lindsay agreed to go in your place. I managed to convince Lessing to exchange Kieran with me because Lessing was in need of a soldier. And he felt Kieran was the chosen one because he was my offspring and I survived the bombing."
"Is it really that confusion or does it only seem that way because I still have some of the drugs in my system?" she asked.
"Lessing thought I'd understand why he needed K because he and I are comrades in arms," Flack explained patiently. "His exact words. I convinced him to let me take K's place. I was wearing a wire and an ear piece and I was suppose to send a verbal signal for ESU to move in. Only Lessing figured shit out before than and made me get on my knees and held a gun to the back of my head and planned to execute me."
Her eyes were wide in both horror and disbelief. "And than? He obviously didn't go through with his plan."
"I managed to over power him and we got into it. This is what he did to me. Busted ribs, bruised kidneys, nearly torn sacroiliac muscle. Stitches. The whole nine."
"And Lessing?"
"He looks a hell of a lot worse than I do, trust me."
"What did you do to him? Put him in the ICU?" she asked, tenderly exploring the stitches above his eyebrow with her fingertips.
"The morgue, actually," Flack replied.
"You..."
"Lindsay," he told her. "Lindsay had my gun and she shot him. In the head. Killed him instantly."
"Is Lindsay okay?"
Flack nodded. "She was shaken up but she wasn't hurt in anyway. Good thing she was there, huh? Imagine if it had have just been me and K? Something tells me he doesn't know how to handle a gun. I mean, I know he's the son of the ballistics bitch and all..."
"Please don't try and make light of stuff like this," Sam said, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I don't want to think about what would have happened if she hadn't have been there."
"Neither do I," he admitted, and wrapped his arm around her, wincing at the pain in his side and at the sight of where the bullet had been removed. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and closed his eyes and relaxed at the feel of her fingers tracing lightly over his stitches and the scent of her hair and the warmth of her body. "Just so you know," he said. "I got shot in the arm, too."
"Excuse me?" she asked, drawing back to look at him.
"When Lindsay shot Lessing he was over top of me with the gun against my forehead. Her shot was a through and through. Ended up in my left bicep. Just a flesh wound. They removed it in the ER."
"Donnie, I don't want to think about..."
"Than don't think about it," he said, and kissed her forehead. "But you know, that if anything ever happens to me..."
"Please don't talk like that," she begged.
"If anything happens to me, you know that my will is in the closet in that lock box, right? That you're the executor and you and K are the beneficiaries? You know all of that, right?"
Sam nodded. "Please," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut. "Don't talk about this."
"I'm just saying that..."
"Please...just stop..." she pleaded. "Just stop. You're here and that's what matters. Nothing happened to you and I don't want to think about what would happen to me and Kieran and the triplets if something did. Okay? You're here and you're alive and that's what I want to concentrate on. That and Kieran. Is he alright?" she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Please tell me my baby is okay."
"Kieran's fine," Flack told her. "He's a little dehydrated and has a touch of hypothermia, but it's nothing that's not treatable. He's only a blondie. I never thought I'd see the day when two people as dark as we are would have a blue eyed blond."
"What are you talking about?" she asked. "Am I still really stoned or..."
"Our son? Our black haired son? Lessing took a bottle of peroxide to his hair. And I love my son with every fiber of my being and he's my entire world, but trust me, baby. He makes one ugly blond."
She couldn't help but laugh at that. And at the thought of what her son looked like with anything other than his silky black hair. "Thank God it's only hair and it will go back to its normal colour eventually," she said.
"It's going to take forever for it to go black again. Trust me, Sam. He's nearly white. It's hideous. Absolutely hideous."
"But he's okay, right?" her smile disappeared and her voice and eyes turned serious. "Kieran's okay? No one hit him or anything like that? He wasn't physically abused? Lessing didn't hurt him?"
Flack shook his head.
"Thank God," she breathed and briefly closed her eyes as she said a silent thank you to the higher powers for the safe return of her baby.
"But there is something I need to tell you," he said. "About K."
Her eyes snapped open and focused on him. "Donnie...that tone...that tone scares me."
"Jack Doyle. Our neighbor? The one that scooped him?"
Sam nodded. "What about him?"
"He's a registered sex offender. He did time, twice, for molesting kids under the age of five."
"And he was living across from us? Why would the super move him in across the hall from a toddler? The super would have had to have known about it before he rented Doyle the apartment. The kind of information has to be released."
"I don't know why he was living there or if the super knew. But I'm going to find out and raise fucking shit if that sonofabitch knew and still let him live across from us knowing he was a pedophile. But right now, that's the least of my worries. The fact is is that he's the one that took Kieran and..."
Terror registered in her eyes. Her voice was a near whisper. "What did he do to our son, Donnie?"
Flack sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Sammie..."
"No," she shook her head vigorously. "No. Don't say your sorry because when you say sorry it means that something horrible happened to our son. And stuff like that..something like that did not happen to our son."
"It did happen," he told her, laying a comforting hand on the back of her neck, his voice quiet and calm despite the fact rage and disgust was bubbling over inside of him.
"No, it didn't," she pushed his hand away from her. "It didn't happen! Why would you say something like that! It didn't happen to Kieran."
Flack reached for her again. "Danny and Adam found proof and the doctor says there's damage and he needs to be processed..."
"Well they're wrong!" she cried, her face ashen. "Adam and Danny are wrong! They didn't find anything! And the doctor is wrong! There has to be another explanation for something like that! And I am not letting anyone process him for anything when nothing happened to him!"
"Samantha, listen to me, baby..."
"No! You listen to me! He's fine! Kieran's fine! There's nothing wrong with him! Everyone is just wrong! No one saw anything, no one found anything. They're wrong! Okay? They're wrong and so are you and..."
"Samantha..." he took her face in his hands, forcing her to look him dead in the eye. "Listen to me. You need to listen to me, okay? Danny and Adam found biological trace evidence in a diaper that Kieran had been wearing..."
She shook her head.
He tightened the hold on her face. "There was blood that they matched to K and semen that they were able to match to Doyle..."
"No..." tears spilled down her cheeks. "You're lying. Why are you saying these things about your son?"
"The doctor said that there was damage done. Obvious signs of sexual assault."
"Why?" she whimpered. "Why are you saying these things about our baby, Donnie?"
"Because it's true. Because I didn't want you finding something like this out from a complete stranger. Someone is going to have to process Kieran so that the case against Doyle is strong and there's no legal loop holes he can worm his way out of. Are you hearing me, Samantha? Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
"He's our baby," she whispered. "Why would someone do that? Why our son?"
"I don't have those answers, baby. I wish I did. I wish I had some kind of magic wand I could wave and make all of this go away. But it happened and we're going to have to accept it and find a way to deal with it. As a team. Because it's not K that's going to suffer. It's going to be us and we need to get a handle on that."
"Please tell me he won't remember," she pleaded. "That he won't remember what happened and what it felt it."
"Only thing he's going to remember is me bringing him home to you. That's all. But we know and we'll remember and we're going to need some help, Sammie. You know that right?"
She nodded. "I left him alone. In the apartment. I let this happen to him."
Flack shook his head. "You didn't know that someone was going to break in and kidnap him. How many times have you left him in the locked apartment to go to the laundry room or go downstairs to check the mail? And all those times, nothing went wrong."
"It only takes one time," she argued. "One time! And because of something stupid I did look what's happened to him."
"This was not your fault, Sammie."
Panic suddenly crossed her face. "You're going to take him away from me, aren't you." It was more a statement than a question.
"What?" he brushed her tears away with his thumbs. "No. Of course not."
"You said that if anything ever happened to him you'd take him and I'd never see him again..."
"Samantha, I just said that out of anger."
"Please don't take him from me," she begged. "Please. Don't leave me and take my son away from me. Because I need him. He's my everything and I can't live without him and if you were to take him..."
He pressed a soft kiss to her lips to silence her. "I would never, ever take Kieran away from you," he declared. "You're his mommy. I'd never take him away from his mommy."
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm sorry I let this happen to him. I never meant..."
"You need to stop blaming yourself," Flack cut her off. "Because this wasn't your fault. I've never blamed you and I never will blame you. And you need to quit thinking that you caused this. It happened. We can't change that. But we can change what happens from here on out. With K and with us. Because we can't let what happened destroy our family, Sammie."
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
"We're going to deal with this as a family," he responded. "And we're going to go and see our son and we're going to hug him and kiss him and play with him and in a few days, we're going to take him home and try to get our lives back in order. And we're going to go to Arizona and leave New York behind us for a little while. Spend time together. Something we don't get much of a chance to do."
"I'd like that," she sniffled.
"We will get through this, Sammie," he promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We will. But it's going to take a while for things to stop hurting so much."
"What if they never do?" she asked. "I know people say time heals everything. But what if that isn't true? What if it hurts this much a year from now as it does right now? What than?"
Flack shrugged. "Than we keep dealing with things until one day we wake up and it doesn't hurt so much anymore. There's no time limit, baby. All that matters is that he's alive and he's safe and he's back with us. Everything else...everything else is secondary. Let's just be grateful he's alive. Okay?"
She nodded.
He pressed his lips all over her face, kissing her tears away. "Tell me what you want to do first," he said. "Tell me how we can start this whole healing thing off. Tell me what the first step is."
"I want to go and see my son," she responded. "I need to see my son. I have to see him."
"Are you ready to see him? After hearing this?"
She nodded. "I need to see him," she whispered. "Please take me to see him."
"I promise you things will get better," Flack said.
"I know," she told him, kissing his lips softly.
She was just terrified of how long getting better would take.
Stella was already pacing outside of Kieran's room when Sam and Flack, accompanied by Danny and Lindsay, both exhausted and bleary eyed and in desperate need of coffee, made their way slowly and carefully down the hall hand in hand. Flack had refused to use the wheelchair. He hated feeling like an invalid and a weakling, and despite his wife's and friends' arguments that it was in his best interest to just suck it up and swallow his pride and use the damn chair, he insisted that he was fine. And despite his best attempts to disguise the unbelievable pain and discomfort he was in, those closest to him knew better. So they took things slowly in order to spare his throbbing back, stopping every several feet to let him rest and catch his breath.
But it was more annoyance than agony that was in his eyes and written all over his face as he observed his colleague and friend wearing out the tiles in front of his son's room, her evidence kit and camera bag in hand.
"You look like you should be in bed hooked up to some pain killers," Stella said to Flack, stepping in front of the small group as they approached the door to Kieran's room.
"And you look like you're not here on a social call or to check to see how we're doing," he responded. Pain making him more irritable and touchy than usual.
Stella gave a small, cool smile. "How are you feeling, Sam?" she asked. Clearly an afterthought. was It was clear that she was there for one reason and one reason only. The job.
"I'm a bit better," the tiny brunette replied, tightening her grip on her husband's hand as if she was in need of some protection from the big bad wolf. "They actually let me out into the general population. No straight jacket or meds. I guess that's saying something."
"No one ever thought you were crazy," Stella told her. "We would never think that or say that about you."
"Funny," Flack said. "The press let us think differently. Or did they just mistakenly attribute quotes to you and Speedle?"
"We were taken out of context," Stella responded.
He snorted. "Sure you were...so what's going on? Why are you here? Sam wants to go and see Kieran and..."
Stella moved to block the way to the door once again. "I can't let you guys go in there right now."
Sam frowned. "Why not? My son is in there. I haven't seen him yet. I just want to see him."
"No one can see him until he's processed," Stella explained. All business.
"People have been seeing him all night," Danny argued. "All kinds of nurses, doctors. Carmen's been in there, Flack's mom. Flack and me. What's so different now?"
"I need to collect evidence," she explained, as if the process was foreign to them all. "Kieran's been disturbed too much since he came in last night. We've probably already compromised evidence and if he's handled anymore we might lose it completely and than we.."
"I know how the goddamn job works!" Danny snapped. "But his mother hasn't seen him yet! Let his mother see him and than you can go in there and do what you gotta do. What is the huge issue here?"
"The issue is that we're forensic investigators and we need to collect evidence," Stella fought back. "It's what we do. The premise of our job doesn't change because the victim is someone we know."
"Maybe not, but when it's someone you know, you'd think your compassion and empathy level would improve just a bit," Flack told her. "Nothing in the job description says you have to be a cold hearted bitch."
"I resent you saying that!" Stella snapped. "I resent you insinuating I don't care or that what happened to K isn't tearing me up inside."
"I wasn't insinuating anything," Flack said. "I was just calling it like I see it."
"I just want to see my son," Sam told her. "I just want to hold him and kiss him and tell him I love him. That's it."
"You touching him will only compromise the evidence further than it has," Stella responded. "You of all people should be on my side here. Your one of the ones that follow things by the book."
"But this is my son!" Sam exclaimed. "This isn't just another case."
"To me it is," Stella told her.
"Now tell us how you really feel," Danny snorted. "That's how you feel about K, huh?"
"You're reading into that!" Stella said with an exasperated sigh. "What I meant was that..."
"What you meant is exactly what you said," Flack told her. "That he's just another case. Just another notch on your belt at the end of the day."
Stella shook her head. "That is not what I said! I just can't allow anyone to see him and..."
"She's not anyone!" Flack snapped. "She's his mother! And she hasn't had the chance to see him yet. What the hell is the big deal?"
"Don..." Sam laid her hand on his arm. "Calm down. Don't get so upset."
"When did you suddenly lose your heart, Stella?" the detective asked her. "That baby sucking it and your brain right out of your body or what?"
"Look, Flack," she fought back. "I don't need to take your shit, alright? Your just the parent here and..."
"That's right. I am the parent. I'm his father and that's my name on the forms to make all the decisions regarding his care. And if I say his mother sees him before you do than that's the fucking way it is."
"Do you want me to subpoena you?" Stella asked. "Because I can get a court order banning either of you from seeing him until I do what I have to do."
Flack shook his head. "You fucking bitch. You'd do that to, wouldn't you? You would actually do that to us."
"If getting the job down takes me going to court and making Kieran a temporary ward of the state..."
"What?!" Sam snapped. "A temporary ward of the state? Why the hell....?"
"You two are preventing me from getting the evidence I need. Evidence that is in the best interest of Kieran and other innocent children that I collect. And because you've already shown lack of judgment once by leaving him alone..."
"Are you kidding me?!" Sam shrieked and lunged forward, as if making a move to either slap or strangle the woman. "You have got to be kidding me!"
"Why don't we go and let Flack and Stella talk about this," Danny suggested, playing peace maker as he laid a hand on Sam's back. "You getting yourself upset over this isn't going to solve anything."
"And what if I tell you I don't want you processing him?" Sam asked.
"Than I get another investigator to do it," Stella replied.
"I mean what if I don't want anyone processing him. At all."
"Than that shows your judgment is even worse than I thought it was," Stella responded.
"You fucking bitch," Sam hissed. "Wait until you have that kid, Stella. You just wait. You think it's so goddamn easy to take care of a kid and work full time and take care of bills and house work and making meals and maintaining a marriage? You think that's easy? Well let's wait and see and when you make a major fuck up I can throw it in your face and hold it over your head for the rest of your natural born life."
"Well first off, I wouldn't make a monumental fuck up like you," Stella informed the petite brunette.
"You aren't going to blame what happened on me," Sam fought back. "This wasn't my fault."
"It was no one's fault," Flack said. "Can you just go with Danny and I'll take care of this? Please, Sam? Can you do that for me?"
"I don't want anyone touching him," Sam told her husband. "I don't want him photographed, I don't want swabs taken. Nothing."
"That's fine," he assured. "Just let me talk to Stella and..."
"We need the evidence, Samantha," Stella implored. "I need to photograph the damage that was done and take samples and..."
"And I said no," she said adamantly. "Donnie told me that there was blood and DNA found."
"That doesn't prove he molested Kieran," Stella argued.
"Explain to us how in the hell semen got into his diaper," Danny said. "'Cause to me, there's only one way it could have gotten there."
"He's denying it," Stella told the group.
"Let him deny it," Flack said. "We have his DNA and the only way it could have gotten there is by him raping my kid."
"I can't hear this," Sam cried. "I can't...I just can't hear this anymore..."
"Danny would you....?" Flack addressed his best friend.
"Come on, Brooklyn," Danny draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. Than did the same with his other arm around Lindsay. "Check this out, I'm the luckiest guy in the world. I got two beautiful women to keep me warm at night. Let's just go for a little walk and let Flack and Stella hash this out, okay?"
Flack watched the three of them head down the hall and sighed heavily and turned back to Stella.
"I need to process the evidence, Flack," she said.
"First off Stella, my son is not evidence," he informed her. "Second, Doyle's DNA and Kieran's blood in the diaper should be enough to get a conviction. It doesn't take an Einstein to figure out what he did based on that evidence alone. Third, there's me, Mac and Danny that can all testify that Doyle said Kieran was his type and that any kid who was old enough to crawl was in the right position."
"And we also have Doyle threatening to file a charge of assault against you because you thought it was a good idea to go into a closed interrogation and nearly crush his throat!" she snapped. "And than scaring him with an unloaded gun."
"I got him to cough up Lessing," Flack said. "So he pissed his pants in the process."
"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "You're always the one that will do anything to solve a case. To send someone as sick and twisted as Doyle away for a very long time. Why are you being like this?"
"Because this isn't just a case, Stella. Okay? This is my son. I'm not a cop in this. I'm just a dad. But the cop in me knows that the evidence you do have and what Doyle said and his past, are enough for a conviction. No one is doing a sexual assault kit on my son. Not you, not Carmen, not a forensic nurse. No one. Understand me?"
"I'll have to file a motion than and..."
"Go ahead," he snorted. "File a goddamn motion. After I file one against you and Speedle for slander and defamation of character because of what you said about my wife. You talked shit about someone that is suppose to be your friend? About my wife? You know what? Fuck you, Stella and get the hell out of here."
"I don't understand..."
"No one is processing my son. I'm sorry you came here and wasted your precious time. But I think it's best that you leave and let me and my family try and heal from this."
"Would talking to Mac help?"
"Talking to Mac would only serve to piss me off even more. And I'm hurting like a bastard and I'm tired and I'm anger and I'm hurt and I just want my life back. So trust me, you don't want to piss me off even more. Just leave Stella. Do me and my family a favor and just leave."
"Fine," she huffed. "Expect either a visit from Mac, a lawyer or social services."
"Don't threaten me," Flack gave a small laugh and shook his head. "I've got more grounds in my baby finger alone with a defamation suit against you and the entire lab than you with me and not wanting my kid processed. In other words, don't fuck with my family, Stella."
"You've changed, Flack," she said. "You know that? You've really changed."
"Yeah..." he agreed, nodding slowly. "When I became a husband and a father, I also became more of a human being. Want lessons in how to become one yourself?"
Stella blinked and than watched, tears of anger and hurt welling in her eyes, as he slowly turned and walked away.
The bonds of friendship had been severed as soon as he'd turned his back. And those bonds were far beyond repair.
The moment had been nothing short of magical and tear jerking. The moment that those vibrant blue eyes had spied that familiar face coming through the door, a bright, ecstatic smile had spread from ear to ear, showing off those dimples, and Kieran had pulled himself up onto his feet in his crib and screeched, in a window shattering pitch: "Mommmeeeeeeee!"
Sam had rushed to the crib, crying tears of immense relief and astounding joy and sadness and hurt for what her child had suffered, and hurriedly put down the railing and scooped her son up into her arms and showered him with love. She ignored the horrible mess that was his own black hair and instead rained kisses down on his cheeks and on his belly and had tickled him until his giggle could be heard down the hall. Than she'd sat, in the chair by the window, and cuddled him tight and blue eyes had locked on golden ones as she talked to him in a quiet, reassuring and soothing voice. They had stayed there for what seemed like a life time. Until they had both falling asleep with peaceful, content smiles on their faces.
The move to the care by parent room had been an easy, welcoming one. It was a spacious, bright and cheerful room with pale yellow walls and white curtains and cream colored carpeting. A dark wood crib and a changing table sat against one wall while a queen sized bed with simple forest green bedding was pushed up against the other. A small table and two chairs were located by the window. They had their own private bathroom with a sink and a toilet and a shower stall and a coffee maker and a microwave and bar fridge. Even a television to watch and a radio to listen to.
While Danny and Lindsay had left to clean themselves up at the apartment and run some small errands before returning to the hospital, Chester Lake had shown up out of the blue for a visit. Smiling that warm, gentle smile and talking in that quiet, reassuring voice he possessed. After nearly twenty minutes of playing with Kieran with the Little Tikes dump truck and police car that Lake had bought him just an hour before at Toys R Us, the detective had gotten down to the real purpose of his visit.
"Mac asked me to come and see you guys," Lake said, as he sat in a chair he'd procured from another room and Flack and Sam took up residence at the table by the window. The three sipping beverages and eating snacks that Sam had gotten down in the gift shop. Kieran played quietly with his new toys at Lake's feet
"We don't want Kieran processed," Sam told him. "We agreed on that."
"And that's fine," Lake assured her. "Mac went over the evidence and he and the DA agree that there's enough to go to trial. And of course, because he's so young, Kieran wouldn't have to testify. They may ask the two of you to give victim impact statements. But that's months away."
"So what are you here to talk about?" Flack asked. "Mac wouldn't have sent you here just to tell us that."
"Mac asked me, because of my experience in special victims, to come here and talk to you about where things go from here. Personal wise, with your family. There will be a trial. And depending on what Doyle does, or doesn't tell us, what you hear there will hit hard."
"We know that," Flack said. "We do this job too, Lake. Remember? It's not like we've never been to court to testify before."
"But this is different," he explained. "Because this isn't a complete stranger that you met by chance and you're trying to help. This involves you and your son. It's personal and the things you're going to hear are going to painful and horrifying and startling and you both need to prepare yourselves for the things you will hear about your son."
"We'll think about all of that when the time comes," Flack said. "What we want to know is about right now. Right now and how we deal with what happened to Kieran."
"Are there any questions you guys have about what happened or what might happen in the near or distant future?" Lake asked. "Things you'd like to say, stuff you'd like to get off your chest?"
Sam shook her head and looked down at her son playing so happily, babbling away cheerfully. The ordeal the last thing on his mind, but the first on hers. All that mattered to him was that he was with his mommy and daddy and had food to eat and toys to play with. Nothing else mattered to him. And when he sensed her watching him and looked up and cocked his head to the side and gave her that charming, almost flirtatious smile, her heart melted.
"Tuck, mommy," Kieran said, holding aloft his toy. "Tuck."
"Truck," she corrected him. "It's called a truck, K."
"Me," he said. "Me K."
"Yes, you're K," she agreed. "Your name is Kieran."
"Me K," he chirped, and went back to his playing.
"What about you, Flack?" Lake asked. "Anything you feel you need to say?"
"Yeah. There's something I need to be honest with you about. And with Sam," he said and sighed heavily. "I love Kieran. With everything I am and everything I have. But when I look at him? Every time I look at him I think about what that asshole did to him. And I don't want that to be the first thing I think about. I don't want to be playing with him or reading him a story and that be what's on my mind. I don't want to be hugging and kissing my son and worrying that it's going to remind him of what that guy did to him. And I know that's a stupid, idiotic way to think. Because I'd never do anything to hurt my son. But I can't stop myself from thinking those things."
"No one would ever, ever think you'd do anything like that to your son," Lake told him.
"I know that," Flack said. "It's just that...I don't know. I don't want him thinking I'm going to do something to him."
"He wouldn't think that, Donnie," Sam said. "Your his father. He knows you'd never hurt him. I know you'd never hurt him. You hate even spanking him."
"I just think about it every time I look at him," Flack admitted. "And I don't want that being what I am thinking about all the time."
"It's going to take a while," Lake told him. "It's just fresh and new and it's going to be first and foremost in your mind for a while. But a time will come where what happened to Kieran, both with Lessing and with Doyle, will be on the back burner. But that's going to take a while."
"How long?" Sam asked, her voice quiet, staring down at her hands as she fidgeting with the diamond engagement ring she wore. "How long will that take?"
"There's no set time," Lake replied. "I wish I could tell you that in a month it's not going to hurt as much. Or that in a couple weeks, you won't think about it anymore. But I can't do that. I want to. Badly. But I can't."
Sam sighed heavily and sniffed noisily and reached for the box of kleenex sitting on the window ledge. She tore several tissues out and cleared her throat noisily and dabbed at her eyes. "I just...I just feel so guilty," she said. "Because it was me that left him alone."
"I won't tell you that you won't feel guilt to some extent," Lake said. "It's normal to feel that way and to lay blame. But I will tell you that this wasn't your fault, Samantha. And I don't think Flack feels this was your fault either."
"I've already told her that. That I don't blame her for what happened," Flack said. "She loves Kieran and she wouldn't intentionally do anything that would hurt him."
"I'm his mom though," she argued. "I'm his mom and I'm suppose to protect him and I didn't. I left him alone and look what happened to him. I gave Reed Garrett that interview and look at everything that's happened because of it. Look at what happened to Kieran. Look at what happened to my husband, Chester. Look at him. Lessing was going to kill him. Look what he did to my husband. And it's all because of what I did."
"You didn't do anything," Flack told her. "I don't blame you. For anything. I told you that, baby."
"I know...I just..." she wiped at her eyes. "This never should have happened to Kieran. It happened to me and I never..."
"You mean with what happened with your father?" Lake asked.
Sam nodded.
Flack looked at his wife, than at the detective. "How did you know about that?" he asked Lake.
"Chester is the only person other than you that knows," Sam told him. "About my father. No one knows but the two of you. I told him when I was fourteen and than you almost twenty years later. You're the only two, Donnie."
"What happened with your father was horrible," Lake told her. "And that never should have went on for as long as it did. You didn't deserve that. And you didn't ask for it or cause it anymore than Kieran asked for and what caused what happened with Doyle. You know that right?"
"It's just that when I think about what he did to Kieran, I think about what happened to me and I haven't thought about that in years," she cried. "And now all of a sudden I can remember everything. What my father smelled like and what his hands felt like and the things he said...and I don't want to remember those things."
"It's okay, baby," Flack reached across the table and ran a hand over her hair. "We'll get you someone you can talk to about that. We can talk about it. Okay?"
She nodded again.
"It's common, being an abuse victim yourself, that something like this would bring back suppressed memories," Lake assured her. "That's normal, Samantha. And you can get help to deal with things like that."
"I'll get you help," Flack promised her, stroking her hair and her cheek before dropping his hand to the table and reaching for her left hand. Entwining his fingers with hers he rested their joined hands on the table top. "Whatever you need," he told her. "You know I'll do anything for you, Sammie. You know that, right?"
She nodded and gave a brave smile and picked up her tea with her free hand and took a long sip.
"So where do you two want to go from here?" Lake asked. "As a family. Even as a couple."
"I don't know," Flack admitted. "We've never had to deal with something like this before. I don't know. I guess maybe counseling would be a good thing."
Sam gave a little laugh. "You suggest counseling?" she asked, a teasing smile on her face.
"Whatever it takes," he vowed. "Nothing is too big or too small."
"I think counseling is a good idea," Lake said. "That the two of you would benefit from it. I've seen too many good marriages fall apart because of anger and grief. And I hate the thought of that happening to the two of you. I have some people that I can call. That can help you guys. They will even come to your place to talk. So it's less impersonal."
"I like that idea," Sam said, her thumb gently rubbing back and forth across her husband's. "What about Kieran?" she asked. "Do you think he needs someone? I mean, I know he's only thirteen months and he doesn't seem to remember what happened..."
"If there's one small glimmer of light here, it's that it this did happen when he was so young," Lake told her. "Not that it makes it any less horrible or painful. I find the younger they are, the harder time I have of dealing with it. But he's under two and that's when the real process of storing memories begins. So it's highly likely he will have no recollection whatsoever of what happened to him. The way he is now?" he nodded down at the toddler playing at their feed. "That's a blessing. He's happy and almost back to perfect health. All that matters to him is that he's back with his mommy and daddy."
"What about later on?" Flack asked. "When he's older? Like with Sam, a lot of things never came back to her until she got older. She repressed a lot of things. Could that happen to him?"
"It could," Lake replied. "But it's highly unlikely. Samantha was much older and it her abuse went on for a span of four, five years. If you do notice, when he's older, that he has a lot of aggression or he's acting out or has a problem, in his teens with intimacy, either frightened of it or engaging in promiscuous behavior, than repressed memories could be the cause."
"The aggression wouldn't surprise me though," Sam admitted with a small laugh. "I mean, look who is father is. And Kieran is all his father. From head to toe, inside and out. Don's the epitome of aggressiveness and assertiveness. It's impossible for Kieran not to get some of that."
"And say he doesn't remember," Flack said. "Do we ever tell him? Because there's always that chance he's going to hear about how he was abducted and molested. It's all over the newspapers. So I don't think we can get away with him never knowing. So is it better that we tell him before that happens or is it better he finds out that way and than asks us questions?"
"It's entirely up to you how you want him to know," Lake responded. "But in my opinion, not only is it best that he knows what happened, but it's best that you be the ones to tell him."
"And than what?" Sam asked, crying once more. "And than he hates me? Hates me for leaving him alone and not protecting him better? For letting someone do that to him? Because that's what's going to happen."
"You don't know that," Flack told her. "And he's not going to blame you or hate you. You're his mommy, Sam."
"My mommy," Kieran chirped and looked up at her. A smile crossed his face and he dropped his toys and shuffled over on his bum towards her, and using her legs, pulled himself up onto his feet. He reached out for her. "Mommy, up...up mommy..."
She dabbed at her eyes with the kleenex and leaned over and scooped him up into her arms. She kissed his cheeks and cuddled him close to her chest.
"Wuv, mommy," he said, shoved his thumb into his mouth and rested his head on her shoulder.
That was all she needed to hear to put all her doubts and fears aside.
"Are you sure you don't want to come downstairs to the cafeteria?" Sam asked her husband four hours later, as she stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at him.
He was lying on his right side, facing the television and watching a re-run of Friends, while Kieran, on his knees behind him, was playing with his father's hair and the white gold chain around his dad's neck in between bouncing up and down on the mattress.
"I'm sure," Flack told her. "I've got another one of them headaches and I just took a Tylenol three."
"Did they do an MRI or a Cat-Scan, Donnie?" she asked, bending down to rub his leg softly. "Because you keep talking about those headaches and your vision going fuzzy."
"It's just the concussion, babe," he assured her. "They did an MRI and said that it's pretty bad one. Told me I'll have some dandy head aches for a bit."
"But if it persists for too long you will go back and get checked, right? Because than you could have that post concussion syndrome and..."
"I will call a doctor if it continues for too long," he promised. "And he's already said that I need to see him ophthalmologist. That the pressure from the concussion has probably caused some damage to my retinas. So you know what that means..."
"I am not sure how I feel about the idea of you in glasses," she sighed. "But I'm sure you'll either be dashing or adorkable."
"Adorkable?" he grinned. "Is that another Samantha Flack-ism?"
She nodded. "You'll call the eye specialist right when we get back from Arizona? Actually, call him before and you can get the glasses before we leave and..."
"I will call the guy when I am good and ready. Okay?"
"You are one stubborn man," she declared, and going to the side of the bed, leaned over and kissed him softly. "What do you want me to bring back? We can have a little dinner party in our suite with DL."
"DL?" he asked.
"Danny and Lindsay. Get with it, Donald."
"You are on strange woman," he declared. "And bring me whatever. You're my wife. You've been making me meals for how long? You know what I like."
"So difficult," she grumbled, and kissed him again. "Want me to take K so you can get a little peace and quiet?"
"He's fine," Flack told her. He felt Kieran tug on the back of his t-shirt. He flopped over onto his back with a dramatic groan and a "You got me!" and grabbed a hold of his son and lifted him high above his head.
"Please be careful," Sam pleaded. "Don't drop him."
"Sammie, relax. We are on a bed and I have done this how many times and never dropped him?"
"Yeah, well you've never had a bullet hole in your one arm either," she said. "Just watch him."
"Tell mommy to be quiet," Flack said to his son, tossing him in the air and than catching him. Kieran shrieked in delight. "Say mommy, you nag at daddy way too much. You're suppose to be nice to daddy. Especially when he has ouchies. You're suppose to wait on him hand and foot and kiss his ouchies better. Particularly the ones below the waist."
"You are a goddamn pig," Sam declared. "I thought a good knock to the head would take some of your pervertedness away."
"Never," Flack said, and tossed Kieran in the air once more. "It's who I am, baby. You'd miss the pig part of me too much."
"No I wouldn't. You'd still be a cop."
"Now that is low," he declared.
"Joking, honey. Joking," she snuck a kiss to his lips. "I'll be back in a little bit. No wild parties, okay?"
"Not making any promises," Flack said. "Your son might want a kegger."
"God, please don't teach him anymore of the things you did as a teenager," Sam sighed and scooped her wallet from the table and then headed for the door. She slipped her feet into a pair of lime green Crocs Lindsay and Danny had brought from the apartment. "I'll be back," she said and opened the door. "I love you guys."
"We love you, too," Flack called. "All four of you. Be nice to my trippies."
"You should be telling them to be nice to me," Sam responded. "I've got the most wicked heartburn already."
"Three more black haired babies," Flack said. "And speaking of hair...K's looks like shit."
"It will grow out eventually," she sighed. "I'll be back."
"Alright," Flack said as she shut the door with a soft click.
He listened for her soft footsteps. As they disappeared down the hallway. He heard the door at the end of the hall open and shut.
"We are not waiting that long for your hair to go back to normal," he said to Kieran, as he sat his son on the bed and despite pain shooting through his body, climbed off the bed. "Come with daddy," he held his arms out to the toddler.
Kieran took his dad's hand, laughing with glee as his father let him jump off of the bed. Flack went to the duffel back that Danny had brought back from the apartment earlier and rummaged through it for the one specific item Flack had asked his best friend to not forget. Kieran stood beside him, watching with wide, interested eyes.
Flack pulled out a small black plastic case and stood up. "Come on, K," he waved for the toddler to follow him into the bathroom. "Come with daddy."
Kieran toddled along happily, not protesting as his father scooped him up and sat him down on the lid of the toilet.
"Stay there," Flack told him, and opened the container and took out a pair of hair clippers. He plugged them into the socket by the sink. "Be a good boy for daddy, okay?"
Kieran nodded.
"This might scare you a bit, buddy. But it's for the best. Trust me."
He turned the clippers on. The baby giving a small start, but not showing too much bother or annoyance at the noise. He did however, begin to wail, loud and persistent, the moment that those clippers began slipping through his brassy blond locks.
It took mere minutes to rid his son of Lessing's handy work. It was a sign of shedding the whole incident. A cleansing of sorts. With all that blond hair now in piles on the floor, Flack felt somewhat liberated. That he'd gotten back the control he so desperately craved.
"Trust me, K," he said, as his son's wailing finally ceased and he looked up at his father with huge , fat tears dripping down his cheeks. "That hurt you more than it hurt me."
He ran a hand over his son's new brush cut. Like Sam said. It would grow back normally eventually.
Flack looked at himself in the mirror. Than at his son sitting so forlornly on the toilet lid. He sighed and cleaned the hair from the clippers.
He looked at himself once more time in the mirror.
"Your mother is going to kill me," Flack announced, and turning the clippers on, proceeded to shed himself of his own hair.
And as the last clump fell to the floor, tears spilled down his cheeks. Tears of relief and hope and faith.
And renewal.
Life could now start to go on.
Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all the lurkers! I know there's lots. But please, please drop me a line, folks! Much love, BEG75
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