DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN..YOU KNOW THE REST

A/N: I WANT TO GIVE A BIG SHOUT OUT TO LAPLANDGURL AND THANK HER FOR HER LITTLE INSIGHT INTO MODERN DAY CHASTITY BELTS THAT LED INTO THE CONVERSATION AT THE BEGINNING OF THIS CHAPTER. AND FOR HER OTHER IDEAS. THANKS, GIRL!

SPECIAL WELCOME TO: MJELS

In the land of the rising sun

"You're my woman
And you're my woman
You bore my child, Lord
I want to thank you
And no one else will do
Baby, you, you are my sunshine
I am your guiding light
Like a ship out in the night
Returning for a light.

And it's really real
The way I feel
It's really real
Lord have mercy
Look into my eyes
And you realize
Is really, really, really real."
-You're My Woman, Van Morrison

Samantha yawned noisily and sipped a cup of blueberry green tea. It was shortly after midnight and the rest of the house was in darkness and silence as she and Flack took up residence on her parents couch in the basement. Watching CNN and relaxing. Sam sat with her legs stretched out and her feet propped on the coffee table. Her hair still damp from the long, refreshing, candlelit bath and clad in a pair of navy blue scrub pants with OCME written across the ass in big white letters and an NYPD t-shirt. Flack, in a pair of red and blue plaid pyjama bottoms and a Mets shirt, lay stretched out on his side with his head on her thigh and a hand resting lightly on her stomach. His eyes closed, body rising and falling with each steady breath he took. Sent off to sleep by the soothing, delicate sensation of his wife softly stroking his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

"Next on Anderson Cooper 360, the modern day chastity belt. Husbands are going to great lengths to keep a watchful eye on their wives. But how far is too far? Meet the makers of the womens underwear equipped with a GPS chip."

Sam snorted and reached for the remote control that rested next to her on the arm of the couch. "I just lost all respect for my boyfriend," she commented.

"Don't change that!" Flack's eyes snapped open and he reached out to snatch the remote from her hand. "I want to watch that part."

"I thought you were asleep," she said, attempting, unsuccessfully, to yank back the controller.

"I was almost asleep until I heard chastity belt, women's underwear and GPS chip."

"Go figure that would be your type of thing," she snorted.

"Underwear with GPS capabilities? Sammie, we are probably witnessing the unveiling of the greatest invention ever."

"You honestly can't be serious," she frowned as she looked down at him.

He nodded. "Let's just leave it on long enough to find out how much they are. And where you can get them. Because I am so buying you a pair for your birthday. Maybe a few pairs depending on the price."

"Well there goes the diamond I wanted," she sighed dramatically. "Instead I get high tech panties."

"What's wrong with the diamond you already have?" he asked. "How can you complain about an engagement ring that cost me ten grand. And never mind what that diamond band thing cost me."

"I was not complaining. You far surpassed anything and everything I ever wanted in an engagement ring. But there are some really nice right hand diamond rings out there."

"What the hell is a right hand ring?" Flack asked, turning up the volume on the television as Anderson Cooper came back on. He sat up and leaned forward and picked up his glasses sitting on the coffee table and slipped them on.

"Uh...something tells me it's a ring that goes on your right hand," she replied.

"Okay, smart ass. I mean what the hell is the different between a ring made for a left hand and a ring made for a right hand?" he inquired, lying back down on the couch, on his back this time, his head in her lap.

"Engagement ring and wedding band on the left, Donnie," she sighed exasperatedly.

"Who made that rule? Why does it have to go on the left?"

"I don't know. Some cultures were it on the right. But the majority believes it goes on the left because that hand is directly in line with the heart."

"That's definitely something a woman made up," he declared. "This guy is a modern day genius," he said, nodding at the television, where the maker of the GPS undies was proudly talking about, and showing off, his wears.

"His wife cheated on him and he thinks all women are bad and needed to be kept in check," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "And look at those thing. Grannie panties."

"Well maybe he makes them in boy shorts of thongs or something," Flack told her. "Twelve hundred US for three. Not bad."

"Twelve hundred for three granny pants? Are you insane?"

"Remember that website," he instructed. "I'm going to order you nine of them and put them on Master Card."

"I don't think so," she said. "Why do I need GPS underwear?"

"So I can keep track of you," he responded, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. "I wanna be able to find you if I think you're up to something."

"Okay, let's get a couple of things straight here. First, I love you more than anything in this world and would never cheat on you. Second, I'm four months pregnant with triplets. I look nearly six months. Where the hell am I going to go? And who in the hell would want me when I'm knocked up?"

"My first case back, after the bombing, was this dead guy on the Brooklyn Bridge. He had this real elaborate way planned of proposing to his girlfriend. Big fancy ring, lights on in the Patterson Building that spelled out Marry Me, the whole nine..."

"And what does this have to do with me needing GPS underwear?" Sam inquired.

"To make a long story short. He was in love with another woman. A stripper. And she was pregnant. So Mac and Stella went and interviewed said pregnant stripper. So my point is, when you asked who would want you being knocked up, the answer is lots of guys 'cause some perverts get off on stuff like that."

She laughed and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. "You mean perverts like you?" she asked.

He grinned. "Hey, I'm allowed to be turned out by it. I'm the one that got you pregnant."

"Hmmm...." she said, running her hand along the top of his head. She loved the feel of his brush cut, and had developed an obsession of sorts, of constantly stroking and rubbing his head. Which drove him nuts to no end most of the time. "Danny might have a slight argument with that."

Flack snorted. "As if Danny Messer is that virile. And what is it with you crushing on Danny anyway?"

"I am not crushing on him. I just find him cute. It's that Staten Island accent he's got going on. And his glasses. He looks much better with them on than without. And the way he says BOOM," she sighed contently.

"And you say you don't need GPS underwear," he snorted.

"Oh please. It's you and only you and you know that. Don't be so sensitive. Like you don't find other women attractive."

"I do. But I don't tell you and make it so damn obvious. You like Danny so much, than maybe we should do that wife swap thing. You for Lindsay. But unlike the show, this will be the x-rated version."

"I don't think so!" she exclaimed. "I'm not letting you have sex with another woman! Especially my best friend! What's wrong with you?"

"Who said anything about Carmen? I said Lindsay."

"That's who I meant," Sam told him.

"Let this thing go with Devine already," Flack sighed. "She wasn't the one who said anything about you. Just because her husband is a jackass with a big fucking mouth doesn't mean she's like him. She's been trying to call you and you've been screening the calls. Just suck it up and pull up your big girl pants and talk to her. There's no reason for you to be acting like this."

"She sided with Tim," Sam argued. "And with Stella."

"Stella and Carmen thought they were doing the right thing job wise by Stella pushing to process K. And did he get processed in the end? No. Did she make good on her threats to get a court order against us to submit him to processing? No. Mac and the DA saved the day and there's enough evidence to go to trial. It was professional, Sammie. Not personal."

"Still think Stella shouldn't have been such a bitch about it," she huffed.

"Stella's been a bitch about a lot of things for a long time. It's probably the baby hormones making her even worse. She'll be off soon anyway and you won't have to deal with her. Maybe when she comes back she'll have mellowed the fuck out."

"Don't defend her," Sam said. "Don't let your Stella crush kick in."

He frowned. "My Stella crush? What the hell is that suppose to mean?"

"You know. The massive crush you have on her that always make you feel the need to rush to her aid and defend her."

"You're kidding me right?" he rolled over onto his stomach and looked up at her, his eyes narrowed as he searched her face in an attempt to figure out if it was genuine hurt on her face or if she was putting it on.

"Don't deny it," she said, sipping her tea. "More than one person has told me about it."

"Yeah? Well those people are full of shit. And you can go back and tell them that if they want to tell you crap about me, than come to me and say it to my face. 'Cause I'll knock them the fuck out."

"You are being sensitive tonight," she said.

"Maybe I am. But maybe I don't appreciate people telling my wife I have a thing for another woman. Stella? They're crazy. And so are you for believing that shit, babe."

"You're always the one that goes running to help her," Sam reasoned. "The one that always defends her if someone says anything bad about her."

"Tell me one time that I've ever run to her aid. Tell me. Enlighten me."

"That whole thing she told me about with her ex-boyfriend Frankie. It was you that stayed at the hospital with her the whole time."

"She shot and killed him. Out of self defense because he was going to rape and murder her. I went there, to her apartment, with Mac and he was the one that asked me to stick around at the hospital after she was processed and get her version of things. That's it. I was doing my job. Don't read into it."

"You couldn't have just taken her statement and left?"

"She's my friend, Samantha. Would you leave any of your friends alone after going through something like that?"

She didn't respond.

"I didn't think so," he said and rolled over onto his back once more. "And I meant give me one time I did that since I've been with you. Since I've been with you, dating or married, have I ever rushed out to take care of Stella?"

"She's called you tons of times looking for help and..."

"That's not what I asked you. I've asked you if I have ever rushed out to take care of her and help her? Have I?"

She shook her head.

"Okay than. So shut the fuck up about it."

She frowned. "Get off of me," she demanded.

"Don't be like that. I was just..."

"I said get off of me!" she snapped, and twisted her body away from him so that his head slipped off her lap. "Don't fucking talk to me like that," she said, slipping off of the couch and standing up. "You can't talk to me like that just because I'm your wife."

"And you can't talk to me like you do just because I'm your husband, either," he informed her. "You actually accuse me of having a thing with Stella?"

"I never said you had a thing with her!" Sam argued. "I said you had a crush on her. Big fucking deal!"

"You're the one that's making a big deal about it, Sammie. Don't turn this around on me. Okay? Stella is just my friend. I don't have any romantic feelings for her whatsoever. And honestly, what happened before you came into my life, is really none of your business."

"Okay, so now that I know where you stand on the whole keeping secrets from each other thing..."

"I never once said I was going to keep anything from you. I just said..."

"That it's none of my business. Fine. You're right. You're always right. Doesn't that just make you feel like a big man that you're always right about everything?"

He sighed heavily and sat up and switched the channel on the television. "Just be quiet and go upstairs and go to bed before you say something really stupid," he told her.

"Don't fucking try and dismiss me!"

"Samantha...go to bed..."

"Fine. You want to be an asshole? Fine. And for the record, what happened in my life before I met you is none of your business either. So when it came to Zack, you should have just stayed the fuck out of it!"

"Whatever, Sam. Just let your deranged, idiotic ex boyfriend just snatch you off the street and rape and pillage you and dump your dead body somewhere. You actually think I'd let that happen?"

"Zack and me were none of your business and you..."

"You asked me to help you!" he yelled. "You called me and asked me for my help! When you found out that he was coming to New York City you asked me to find him! Did you not ask me for help?"

"I did. But..."

"I didn't have to help you. I know that. But I wanted to help you! Maybe it was because I felt bad for you all alone in the big city. Maybe it was because I liked you and thought by being your hero you'd like me back. I don't know why I did it. But I did and I don't regret it and you holding it over my head like that? That's not fair, Samantha. And you know it. What would have happened if I hadn't have cared enough to help? Do you ever think about that? Do you ever think where you'd be now? Where'd we be now?"

She sighed.

"There wouldn't be a me and you, Samantha. There wouldn't be a marriage and Kieran and more babies on the way. There'd be nothing. Because you'd either be stuck married to that piece of shit or dead. And if you ask me, the life you ended up with is a hell of a lot better than either of those options."

"Don, I..."

"Our lives aren't perfect. I know that. We're not perfect. We have to work our asses off to keep things on track. But I love you, Samantha. Only you. There is no one else but you and there will never be anyone else but you. And you can call me overprotective and possessive and tell me I'm jealous all you want. But there is nothing I wouldn't do to keep you happy, safe and right where you should be."

"Donnie, I'm not going anywhere! How did all of this start over some stupid thing on the television about GPS underwear! I don't understand this! I don't understand why something so simple and fun turns into these big issues with us! Why is that Don? Do you know? What is wrong with us and our relationship that everything turns into a fight?"

"Nothing is wrong with us, Samantha. We just fight. It's what we do. It's our thing."

"Well I don't want it to be our thing," she said, plopping back down beside him on the couch. "I hate how everything turns into a fight and we say things to hurt each other. I hate how it makes me feel afterwards. Why can't we just be normal?"

"This is normal," Flack told her, running a hand over her hair before settling it on the back of her neck.

"Well if this is normal, I'd hate to see what strange and obscure is like," she laughed. "It just seems... I don't know...like we hate each other sometimes."

"Do you hate me? Sometimes?" he asked. "And be honest, Sammie."

"I could never hate you. You're my husband. You're Kieran's father."

"But..."

"But there's times I don't like you very much," she admitted. And promptly burst into tears. "I can't believe I just said that!" she cried. "About my own husband? I'm a complete bitch."

"Don't cry, baby," he pulled her into him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "Why are you crying?"

"Because of what I just said!"

"You were honest. Hell, there's some times I don't like myself either."

"It's the way you are sometimes. The things you say to me or the way you treat me. I can't take it. It's not you that I don't like. It's the way you are sometimes."

"Would it make feel better if I admitted there's times I think you're the biggest bitch in the entire world and that I'd love to strangle you?"

She smiled against his chest. "We have a serious love-hate thing going on, don't we?"

"A little. But I like to think that the love part far surpasses the hate part."

"It does," she said, sniffling as she sat up. "You know I love you. That I'd do anything for you. And that there's only you. You know all of that, right?"

He nodded and laid his hand on the back of her neck and kissed her. Long and soft and tender. "I love you," he said, and pressed his lips to her forehead. "We're going to be okay, Sammie. We've come this far. We just need to work on things."

"We're constantly working on things," she lamented.

"So it's a lifelong process," he shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere? Are you? Say for like the next forty, fifty years?"

She shook her head.

"Well than we have a lot of time ahead of us to work on things, don't we? We've always got love on our side, Sammie. That's all we need and everything else will eventually fall into place."

She sniffled. "You've been watching way too much Doctor Phil and Oprah since you've been off."

"Actually, it's the Cosmo magazine you left in the bathroom a couple weeks back," he teased.

She laughed. "Lindsay brought that home for me. Did you read the headline on the front?"

"Which one?"

"The 'ten sex positions and moves that every man wishes you'd try'. Did you see that?"

"I did."

"Did you read it? And don't lie to me."

"I read it," he admitted with a sigh. "And there's about five of them I agree with. The other five I'm either not into or we've already done them."

"Well when we get home, rip that article out and when, and if, I'm ever normal again, we can try those five you like."

"It's not that you're not normal, Sammie. You're just dealing with some shit. Things will go back to the way they were soon. Okay? We'll talk to that therapist and things will get better. No rush. I'm certainly not complaining about getting so much head."

"I would hope you wouldn't complain," she laughed and wiped her eyes. "Before all this happened you were always bitching and moaning you didn't get it enough. Now it's too much."

"I was just commenting, babe. Not complaining."

"Good. I was going to ask you what was wrong with you if you were. Other men would be telling you how lucky you are."

"I'm lucky in more ways that one."

She smiled and kissed him. "You can be so corny, Donald Flack Jr. If people only knew your corny, sappy side."

"My corny and sappy side stays between us. Kapish? I got a reputation to uphold."

"Big bad police man," she teased and kissed him once more. Than yawned noisily.

"Am I that boring?" he asked with a laugh.

She shook her head and rested her forehead against his. "I'm exhausted. From the flight and the drive from the airport and our activities earlier."

"We should get some sleep," he kissed the tip of her nose. "If we're taking the monster mini golfing in the afternoon."

She nodded. "And don't be teaching him to cheat either. You always cheat."

"I do not. You just suck at mini golf."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He captured her lips in a smouldering kiss. "I've always told ya, babe. Don't be showing it unless you're going to use it."

"I just may use it when we get upstairs," she said, pulling away and standing up. "Will you check that everything is locked when you go up? I'll tidy up down here. And check on the baby? Just make sure he's okay?"

"I can do that," he agreed, flicking off the television and standing as well. "Don't be long, okay?" he pecked her cheek. "You and the trippies need more sleep."

"Yes, daddy," she said and winked playfully at him.

He smiled, patted her lightly on the ass and headed for the stairs.

"By the way," she called. "That thing you did earlier with your fingers and your tongue?"

"What about it?" he paused on the stairs.

"You've never done that before. That was very...interesting. In a holy shit, mind blowing kind of way."

He chuckled. "You can thank Cosmo for that," he said, and disappeared up the stairs.

Sam grinned and shook her head and tidied up the family room. Fixing the blanket that lay draped across the couch and neatly organizing and arranging the throw pillows. Her mother was a clean freak. If the woman wasn't working full time, she was cleaning house with every spare second she could grab. Things had to be just perfect. No leaving anything lying around. And if you touched something, put it back in the exact same place you got it from. Because the woman just knew. She knew when something was out of place by a mere hair. Quite the difference from when she was a piss poor, strung out mother of two living in the projects and subjecting her children to both abuse and squalor.

It was one of the things that burned Sam's ass the most. The fact that her mother could allow that to happen, and than years later, find herself on the lap of luxury and still be a goddamn raging bitch. She was never happy. Never grateful for the second chance she had gotten with her life. She was constantly miserable despite having a beautiful house and a fancy car to drive and expensive clothes to wear. And a man that adored her despite how crazy she was.

Her mother didn't deserve all of that. And as much as Samantha despised herself for sounding, and feeling, so bitter, there was an immense satisfaction in knowing that her mother was so unhappy with herself. Because maybe, just maybe, it was her guilty conscience kicking her in the ass for never taking care of her children better.

And just to make a point that she was a grown woman and fed up with being treated like a child, Sam decided to mess the pillows and blanket up again and leave her dirty tea cup sitting on the arm of the couch.

Just because.

She turned the lights out and headed upstairs. All the lights were out safe for the fluorescent lamp on the underside of one of the kitchen cupboards that Sarge always left in throughout the night. The spacious home was eerily silence as she made her way through the kitchen and down the hallway towards the stairs, yawning noisily and rubbing her stomach and thinking about all of the things she'd had planned for the next couple of days, never mind the next three weeks. She passed by the den and the main floor laundry room and the hall closet, and was a mere foot from the small bathroom when the door flew open and someone jumped out at her.

She screamed. A blood curdling scream that could wake the dead. Than found one strong hand clamped over her mouth as a second grabbed her by the front of the pyjamas and dragged her, kicking and screaming into the bathroom. A light was flicked on and she found herself looking up into the amused, sparkling eyes of her husband. He removed his hand as he struggled to hold back his laughter.

"You sonofabitch!!" she shrieked and beat on his chest with her fists. "You scared the living shit out of me!"

"Who did you think it would be? Everyone else is asleep and no one could break in without the alarm going off."

"I wasn't expecting someone to jump out at me like that!" she laid a hand over her pounding heart. "It's not funny, Donnie."

He bit his lip and nodded.

"No...no it's not," she argued. "Not funny at all. I nearly peed my pants! I can't feel them because they haven't started kicking or anything yet, but I am pretty sure the trippies are going crazy in there. What would you have done if you scared me so bad I went into early labour?"

"I'd feel like shit. But you didn't go into an early labour, so it's all good."

"No!" she cried, slapping his chest again. "It's not all good! My heart feels like it's going to explode! I can't believe you'd do something like to me! Did you honestly think I'd find that funny?"

"A little," he admitted. "I didn't expect you to get as spooked as you did."

"Jesus, Don," she breathed deeply. "Don't ever do that again! Okay? That wasn't nice. At all."

"I thought it was pretty funny," he said. "Who knew you'd scream and wet yourself?"

She frowned as he burst into laughter. "Asshole!" she hissed and shoved him away and made for the door.

"Baby, come back..." he caught her by the wrist. "I'm sorry," he managed through his laughter. "I didn't mean to scare you that bad. I thought you'd get a little spooked and that was that. I didn't think you'd nearly have a stroke. I'm sorry."

"You're mean," she declared, tears welling in her eyes, her lower lip wobbling.

"What? Come here," he wrapped both of his arms around her slender waist and pulled her close. "I honestly didn't mean to scare you that bad. I never thought you'd freak like that. I'm sorry," he kissed her forehead. "Don't cry. I didn't mean it," he kissed her nose. Than her lips. "Feel better yet?"

"A little," she mumbled.

"Poor baby," he said. "Give me a kiss and I'll make the bogey-man go away."

"Screw you!" she laughed and shoved him away. "That was mean you know it!"

"It was. Very mean. Absolutely. But I honestly did not mean to scare you that bad, babe. Okay? Take a deep breath and take it easy."

"Please don't ever do that again," she said. "You really scared me."

"I promise you I will never, ever scare you again," he vowed and kissed her. "Are you going to be okay? Need a drink of water or something?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay. I think my heart will calm down eventually. I'm never going to be able to sleep now. That's how bad you scared me! I can't believe you would do something like that."

"Okay, so I'm an insensitive bastard. But I really thought you might laugh about it."

"I'll laugh about it after I've calmed down," she said. "Jesus Christ, Don..."

"Want me to take you upstairs and cuddle with you? Leave a night light on?"

"This is not funny!"

He smirked. "I love you, Sammie. But yeah...it is funny."

She glared at him.

"It is. Okay? Sorry. I can't help it. I'm bad," he shook his head. "So bad. I think you need to take me upstairs and punish me."

She grinned. "I am not getting into any perverted fantasies with you, Mr Flack."

"Come on. I know you," he rested his forehead against hers and slipped his hands up the back of her shirt, his fingertips trailing along the soft skin at the small of her back. "I know shit like that turns you on. Getting scared like that. Are you honestly going to tell me that you're not the least bit turned on right now? That a scare like that didn't make you the least bit horny and hot for me?"

She just smiled.

"You are so dirty, Sam. It's one of the reasons why I married you. 'Cause you're so cute and innocent looking and deep down...." he shook his head. "If mommy and daddy only knew."

"Why don't you stop talking and teasing me so much and kiss me and maybe I can show you just how dirty I am?" she suggested.

He grinned and did as he was told. Covering her lips with his in a toe curling, blood rushing kiss that left the hair on the back of your neck and arms standing on end. Among other things. "If you're not ready to..." he began, breaking out of the kiss, pushing her hair behind her ear and over her shoulder as his lips found her neck.

"No..I feel more than ready to," she told him, her hands slipping underneath his shirt and undoing the tie on his pyjama pants.

"Might not be such a good idea," he said. "Considering how noisy you are. We go upstairs, your parents' room is across the hall and..."

She reached for the locked on the door and turned it. "Who said anything about going upstairs?" she asked, and yanking him by the front of the shirt, pulled him down into another deep, intense kiss.

It was quarter to nine in the morning when Flack found himself, still bleary eyed and nursing an aching back and tender ribs, wandering into the massive, country style kitchen at the back of the Chambers house. The radio that was mounted under one of the cupboards was turned on and tuned into the local pop station. The room smelled of cinnamon and fresh coffee. Kieran, babbling noisily away, was in the high chair his grandparents had purchased for him and feeding himself toast with strawberry jam and slices of banana and pieces of cut up peaches. Jericho the dog parked at his feet, anxiously awaiting anything that made tumble to the floor. Clint, a bowl of cornflakes with chunks of banana in and steaming mug of coffee in front of him, had his newspaper open but one eye on his grandson and the other on his step daughter. So was leaning over the island in the middle of the room, picking at fruit salad and a cinnamon bun while she had the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder.

Sarge gave a smile and a nod in greeting as his son in law entered the room. "Women," he mumbled, and stared pointedly at his daughter. "Always yapping. It's like she's damn seventeen years old again."

"Hang on for second," Sam said into the phone, than covered up the mouth piece as she accepted a kiss good morning from her husband. "There's fresh coffee and I made some of those Pillsbury cinnamon rolls that you like," she told him, nodding in the direction of the counter to her left.

"Hell freeze over or something?" Flack asked, pecking her cheek and softly rubbing her stomach.

"Maybe I just thought you deserved something nice," she replied. "You know, considering..."

Sarge cleared his throat noisily. "Your mother hears that..."

"She's at work dad," Sam told him. "So unless she has hidden cameras and surveillance equipment everywhere..."

"I wouldn't put it past her," he snorted. "I don't mind the lovey dovey, kissy face stuff. But you're mother..."

"She's just a prude," Sam complained. "You need to give in to her more. Give her more sex and go fishing and golfing less."

"Never," Sarge declared. "Fishing and golfing are the only things that keep my sanity now that I'm retired."

"Only two things that keep my sanity and I'm thirty years from retirement," Flack sighed, moving to the counter to pour himself a coffee.

"That's what you get for marrying my daughter," Sarge told him. "I warned you before hand, didn't I? And you didn't listen. Ask me, going into this willingly? You deserve everything you get. And I didn't know you like fishing."

"He doesn't," Sam said. "Only fishing he's ever done is for the mutated, two headed bass off of Battery Park. He just likes anything that gets him out of the house."

Flack grinned.

"Do you blame the man?" Sarge asked. "He's married to you!"

"And he loves every minute of it, dad. Be good or I'll spike your Metamucil with arsenic. I work in a lab, remember? I have all kinds of access to chemicals and poisons. Better yet, I'll crush up a handful of Viagra and drop them in your coffee and mom will be in her glory for a couple of days."

"You are just as evil as your mother," he declared, a smile on his face.

"Worse," Flack said. "Much, much worse. And who are you talking to this early in the morning?"

"Early? It's almost nine am. Boy, you can tell who gets up the most with the baby. And I'm talking to my favorite country bumpkin."

"You've been gone all of what? Not even twenty four hours and you and Lindsay are already yapping on the phone?"

"She misses me," Sam informed him. "I'm sorry if no one misses you."

He kissed her a final time before carrying his coffee and a cinnamon bun to the table.

"Hi, daddeee," Kieran chirped happily and gave that dimply smile.

"Hey, buddy," Flack pulled the high chair next to him and leaned across the tray to press a kiss to his son's forehead. "Give me a kiss."

Kieran planted a noisy, wet one on his father's lips.

"Sleep good?" Flack ran a hand over his son's hair. Or lack there of. "You didn't wake up all night. You like your room?"

The toddler nodded and pointed across the table. "Gwampie," he said. He pointed at the floor. "Awg."

"Whose that?" Flack asked, nodding in the direction of his wife.

A huge, beaming smile crossed Kieran's face and his eyes sparkled. "Mommeee...." he gushed, with so much love and affection on his face and in his voice that Flack felt his heart skip a beat.

"You love your mommy, huh?" Flack asked.

"Uv mommy," Kieran agreed.

"Yeah," he sighed and watched Sam as she chatted away. "She's something else alright."

"I don't know Lindsay...." Sam laughed heartily. "Personally, I say screw the horse. I just want to ride the cowboy."

Sarge coughed noisily. Both his and Flack's eyes widened as they stared at her.

"What?" she asked them. "She's listening to the song Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy. I was merely making a comment."

Flack shook his head and sipped his coffee.

"My husband is giving me dirty looks," Sam said into the phone. "I think he's just upset that he's not the cowboy."

"Samantha..." Flack glared at her. "Your father is right in the room."

"I have heard worse," Sarge assured his son in law. "You should have heard her as a college girl when she came home in the summers. All her little girl friends and her did was yap on the phone all day and talk about what men they liked. Never heard such filthy talk in my life."

"Hmmm...." Sam said into the phone once more, as she chewed on a strawberry. "Don and I have never really had the need to use that stuff...but if you're in the market for something a little different, there's this adults only store over on east eighty-two that is just unbelievable. I bought that little outfit there... the one that I showed you the other night....yeah...." she giggled. "That one. The naughty school girl."

Flack sighed heavily and shook his head.

"Hey if that's what you guys are into, that's your business," Sam told her friend. "Did I tell you what Don and I tried?...yeah...it was weird but surprisingly enough, enjoyable...no, the marks from his fingers went away after a couple of days and my neck was as good as new..."

Sarge snickered. More at his son in law's embarrassment than at his daughter's choice of conversation.

"Well tell Danny that we're not that sick," Sam laughed. "Okay...well don't forget about that store...alright...bye for now...me loves you too..." another giggle. "Okay...bye..." she hung up the phone and set it on the counter and went back to her breakfast. "Donnie, Danny wanted me to tell you about a case he caught last night," she said.

"Did you tell him I was on vacation?" Flack asked.

"You might want to hear this one," Sam replied. "This dead girl they found at the Ritz Carlton. Three thousand dollar a night suite and six hundred dollars worth of lingerie and expensive champagne and caviar."

"And?"

"Cover your ears dad if you're squeamish. This one might get to you."

"Girl, I have served in wars and seen some heavy duty blood and gore," Sarge reminded her.

"Don't say I didn't warn you. Apparently, there was an overwhelming odor in the room."

"How long the body been there?" Flack asked. "Full decomp or what?"

"No decomp. It wasn't the smell of death. It was the smell of urine."

Flack arched an eyebrow.

"Apparently, the fellow that killed her accidentally during erotic asphyxiation, had an unusual kink," Sam said.

"Don't keep us in suspense," Sarge told her.

"I guess he's into relieving himself on his ladies after sex," she said, concluding her story.

Flack nearly choked on his coffee.

"There are some sick bloody people out there!" Sarge exclaimed. "Next time keep things like that to yourself."

"I warned you," Sam said, holding her hands up in self defense. "Now you know exactly what Don and I see, and deal with on a daily basis. Donnie more so because he's the one chasing people down and getting shot at it and bit by perps and got knows what else."

"You people do not get enough respect, or gratitude," Sarge declared, and toasted his son in law with his coffee cup.

"I love this song!" Sam suddenly exclaimed and rushed over to the counter and cranked the volume on the radio. Sexy Back by Justin Timberlake blasting through the speakers as she sang and danced her way around the kitchen. Much to Kieran's delight, who began kicking his feet and clapping and laughing hysterically.

"Is this a common thing?" Sarge asked the younger man across from him. "Is she always this...."

"Nuts?" Flack inquired. "She has a tendency."

"Come on, Kieran," Sam scooped him out of his high chair and put him on the ground. She offered him her hand. "Dance with mommy. Show grandpa and daddy how you shake your booty."

The toddler happily obliged, shaking his tiny body with everything he had and jumping up and down as he held onto his mother's hand, giggling and shrieking excitedly.

"So now I know exactly what you two are doing when I'm at work," Flack commented, a smile on his face, his heart filled with so much surreal love, as he watched his wife and son as they 'danced' and laughed together.

"Isn't it fun?" Sam asked. "We have a lot of fun. You don't know what you're missing out on."

"You got a hell of family there," Sarge observed, a proud grin on his face.

Flack nodded. "She's nuts," he said. "But she's my wife and I love her. And I wouldn't give her up for anything in the world."

"So?" Danny asked, from where he sat at the Flack's kitchen table, a pen in his hand and the rental application form in front of him. "They having a good time so far?"

"They sound like they are," Lindsay replied, as she sat the phone on top of the fridge. "Apparently, the three of them are going mini golfing this afternoon. Sam says the temperature there is suppose to be near eighty today."

"Lucky them," Danny said. "Suppose to snow all day here and not get above zero. And it's the beginning of March for crying out loud. Maybe we should have went to Arizona too."

"I have done enough traveling lately," Lindsay said, standing behind his chair and laying her hands on his shoulders and kissing the top of his head. "I am perfectly content where I am. How goes the good fight?"

"Don't know why we have to fill this out," he grumbled. "Super already said we could have the apartment."

"Everything has to be in writing, you know that. Did he say when the apartment would be ready?"

"Just said that once the family packs up all the stuff and moves all the shit out at the end of the week, it would take him a few days to clean the place and paint and get it in perfect condition. So a week, two at the most hopefully."

Lindsay pressed a kiss to her boyfriend's cheek. "Sam and Flack are going to be so surprised," she said, taking a seat across from Danny.

"They're going to shit," he declared. "I'm sure they'll love the idea though. Us being that close. Especially with you taking care of Kieran when she goes back to work. And being able to help out when the triplets arrive. And it's a two bedroom. So when, and if, we get the baby...."

"We will, Danny," she assured her, reaching out and laying a hand over his. "That lawyer Flack found for you is amazing and he already said that it's an open and shut custody case. You'll get your son or your daughter."

"We'll get our son or our daughter," he corrected her. "You're going to be their mom. Are you ready for that?"

"I've never been more ready," she said. "And the name that we've picked...for a boy or a girl....it's beautiful....."

"Only seems right. I wanted to honor my three best friends in the world. Even the one that isn't with us anymore. Aiden Donald for a boy. Aiden Samantha. I think they're great names."

Lindsay smiled. "I think they're perfect. But I know you're gunning for a boy."

"I can not lie," he said with a grin, and entwined his fingers with hers.

"I'm so excited for this, Danny," Lindsay gushed. "Our own place. But I can't help but find the place we picked a little...I don't know...weird...."

"Why's that?" he asked.

"Considering who lived there before. What kind of person he was."

"Once it's all cleaned up and re-done, anything that will remind us of him will be gone," Danny told her.

"But the memory of what he did will still be here," she said sadly.

"That's going to be here for a while. It has nothing to do with the apartment. It's just something that's never really going to go away."

"Not for a while anyway," Lindsay sighed.

Danny nodded in agreement and went back to the application.

The application to ensure they would be the new tenants of the apartment once occupied by Jack Doyle.

Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you!!! Even the lurkers! Please drop me a review folks!

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