DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN…YOU KNOW THE REST

A/N: WE MADE IT TO 600 FOLKS! CONGRATS TO MUCHMADNESS FOR BEING THE 600TH REVIEWER! SHE IS THE PROUD WINNER OF AN UNFORTUNATELY IMAGINARY TRIP TO HAWAII.

Defensive manoeuvres

"All night
Hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
Hold on
I'm feeling like
I'm headed for a
Breakdown
I don't know why
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know, right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Me."
-Unwell, Matchbox20

Mini Golf Paradise was located in north Phoenix, twelve miles from the city center. It boasted two elaborate eighteen hole courses. One indoors, and the other far more popular one, outdoors. Each hole came complete with sand traps and water hazards and tricky shots and gigantic statues of paper machete dinosaurs, dolphins and gorillas and more than one small pirate ship. Being in the early afternoon of a weekday, the crowds were sparse and the wait next to nil to tee off on the first hole. The highlight, for a preschooler at least, were the bright neon colored balls and the tiny putters they were given upon registration and payment. Even than the club was too tall and awkward for Kieran to hang on to and control and it became readily apparent that his father would be doing the most of the work in an attempt to avoid his son either hitting and hurting himself, his parents, or a complete stranger.

It took Kieran ten minutes to pick out which color ball he wanted to use. The girl behind the cash was so charmed by the little boy sitting on the counter in his baggy jeans and his little leather sandals and a New York Mets jersey with Delgado 21 on the back and a backwards Mets cap, that she didn't care that he just couldn't seem to make up his mind between the yellow, green and blue. Pink had been in the running until dad had nixed that idea. No way was his kid having anything to do with the color pink. So there Kieran sat – with thankfully no one in line behind them- taking his sweet time and flashing that dimply smile and cocking his head to the side and looking at the young cashier with a flirtatious glitter in his eyes.

"He is soooo cute," the young blond, her hair in pig tails and shiny pink gloss on her lips, a tag bearing the name Precious, attached to her forest green golf shirt, gushed as she tugged playfully at the hat on Kieran's head. "It's easy to see where he got his looks from," she added, giving Flack a gracious, lingering once over.

"Thank you so much," Sam said, smiling sweetly, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Now how much do we owe? Or are the boys getting in free because of their stunning good looks?"

The younger woman blushed and quickly set to ringing up the admittance fee for two adults and a preschooler. "I have to charge a dollar for the baby," she explained. "So that the books balance at the end of the day for how many clubs and balls were rented out and how many bodies the people counter picks up. I know he probably won't be doing much playing himself, but..."

"You have to do your job," Sam finished, as Flack picked Kieran up and set him on the ground. "That's fine. I don't think a dollar is going to break us."

"You'd be surprised how many people get really pissed off," the girl sighed. "That's ten dollars even."

"I better not find any women's telephone numbers in here," Sam commented, as she reached around Flack's back and yanked his wallet from the back pocket of his faded and tattered Tommy Hilfiger jeans.

His comfy clothes, as he called them. The baggy jeans that seemed to hug the ass perfectly and had a small hole on the left back pocket and frayed cuffs and a blue, white and yellow striped Michael Jordan golf shirt. An NYPD ball cap and the hideous Adidas slip on sandals that Sam had tried to toss out on numerous occasions, completing his ensemble. And of course, as usual, he smelled damn good. A mixture of soap and water and Diesel cologne. Her husband was hot. There were no two ways about it. The only problem was all of the other women who noticed it as well. She couldn't feel a slight bit of victory and vindication to think that she was the one he was coming home to and sharing a bed with at night.

"How old is your son?" Precious asked, as Kieran toddled off to check out the nearby Koi fish pond, his father hot on his heels.

"He's fourteen months tomorrow," Sam replied, opening her husband's wallet and pulling out a ten and two one dollar bills. "But he thinks he's fourteen years."

The girl laughed. "He's pretty solid on his feet, huh? My nephew didn't walk that good at even eighteen months."

"He's a strong kid," Sam reasoned. "And smart as hell."

"His name?"

"Kieran," she handed the money over and gathered up the three golf clubs and balls and the small pencil and score card.

"Unusual name," Precious said.

"We're unusual people," Sam told her. "Us New Yorkers are anything but normal."

"How old is your husband?" the younger woman asked. "Out of sheer curiosity."

Sam smiled and leaned across the counter and laid a hand on the girl's forearm. "He's way too old and way too taken for you," she replied, than turned on her heel to head over and join her family.

"Don't even say it," Flack said with a slight chuckle as his wife stepped up beside him at the pond and tucked his wallet back into his jeans. His hand firmly on the back of Kieran's shirt to keep him from tumbling into the water as he leaned dangerously close in order to splash both hands in the cool liquid.

"Can you believe the nerve of her?" Sam huffed, slipping the score card and pencil into his other back pocket. "Checking you out right in front of me. Who the hell does she think she is?"

"She's just admiring the sights, Sammie. Don't fault her for that. Maybe she's never seen a big, bad New York City boy before."

"There's one of those here?" his wife asked, scanning the crowed, a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun. "Where?"

"Okay, smart ass. Don't get nasty now. You love your big, bad New York City boy and you know it," he grinned at her and kissed her softly.

"And what kind of name is Precious?" Sam asked. "Seriously. Who names their kid that?"

"Same kind of people that name their kid Kieran," he teased.

"He has a beautiful name," Sam declared. "A beautiful name for a beautiful baby boy. At least he's not Donald."

"You had have had your way he would have been. Remember? Wanting to name him Donald Flack the third. What the hell is wrong with you? Thank God we already agreed to not go that direction this time around and go back to that Irish baby names book we have somewhere. So we can avoid something hideous. Kieran?" he felt a slight tinge in his lower back as he crouched down beside his son. "What are you trying to do?"

"Ish!" the toddler cried, pointing frantically into the water. "Ish, daddy! ISH!"

"I see the fish, but you can't catch them with your hands."

"ISH!" he exclaimed excitedly and slapped his palms down onto the water and than reached in once again.

"Kieran," Flack spoke calmly and patiently and than placed his hand into the water as well. "See?" he asked his son. "You can't catch the fish. Not even daddy can catch them. And daddy has bigger hands than you do. The fish need to stay where they are okay? Because they can't live outside of the water and you wouldn't want them not being able to breathe would you? You wouldn't want to take them away from their mommies and daddies, right?"

"Daddy," Kieran said, gesturing to his father. "Mommy!" he cried, and pointed towards Sam, who was watching the exchange between father and son with a soft smile of pride on her face.

"But the fish have mommies and daddies, too," Flack explained. "And they need to stay with their mommies and daddies or they'll be sad. And their mommies and daddies will cry. You don't want their mommies and daddies to cry, do you?"

The toddler shook his head.

"So we're going to leave the fish where they are, okay?" Flack dried his hand on the leg of his jeans and stood up. "Come on," he offered a finger to his son. "Leave the fish for now and we'll come back and see them before we leave. After we have ice cream."

"I-keem?" Kieran asked hopefully.

Flack nodded. "If you're a good boy we can get some ice cream. But you have to leave the fish where they are, buddy. Let's go and have some fun and afterwards you and mommy and daddy can have some ice cream. Okay?"

"Tay!" the little boy agreed happily. He wiped his hands on his father's jeans, copying what his dad had done just moments before with his own hand, and stood up and curled his hand around Flack's finger.

"What?" Flack asked his wife, when he saw her beaming at him, her golden eyes sparkling.

"And you second guess yourself as a good father," she responded, shaking her head.

He smiled. "I just try my best," he said, and bent down to kiss her softly.

"No!" Kieran cried, objection to his parents' display of affection. "My mommy! MINE!"

Sam laughed against her husband's lips. "Someone is a wee bit possessive," she said.

"Come here you little stinker," Flack scooped his son up into his arms. "I'll have you know that your mommy isn't just yours. I was here before you were. And if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even be here right now. I played a part in getting you here, too."

"A small but very significant part," Sam said, as he draped his free arm across her shoulders and pulled her close to his side.

"What do you say, K?" Flack asked the toddler. "You wanna go and have some fun? Kick mommy's butt at mini golf?"

Kieran nodded enthusiastically and curled a tiny arm around his father's neck. "My daddy," he said proudly. "My mommy."

Flack smiled. "And that's the way it will always be, buddy," he promised.

"Kieran!" Sam called, standing at the side of the start of the tenth hole, digital camera in her hands. "Look over here! Look at mommy!"

"Do you really need to take so many pictures?" Flack asked, hunched over his son's small frame, holding the toddler's hands and the golf club. The two boys looking like twins in their backwards ball caps.

"We are on vacation," she replied. "A family vacation at that. We may not get on another one for a long, long time. I want to preserve as much as possible."

"Well can you make it quick?" he asked. "Because my back is starting to cramp up."

"Kieran! Look at mommy!" Sam called to her son. "Look over here…you too, daddy…smile guys and say cheese. Say cheese, K."

Kieran gave a huge toothy smile. "Teese!" he cried.

Sam pressed the button on the top of the camera to capture the moment. "That was a really cute one," she said with a giggle, checking the image on the small screen at the back of the camera.

"Can we go now?" Flack asked. "You finished?"

"I'm good," she replied, than watched as Kieran hit the ball. It bounced off a bank of rocks to the left hand side, skipped over the small creek and landed mere inches from the hole.

"Now that was a hell of a shot," Flack declared.

"That was pure, blind luck," Sam said. "How come you two can do so well and I can do so horrible? You're like getting things in three strokes and I'm lucky if I get them in six."

"It's called talent, babe. We have it and well, you don't," he teased. "Okay, Kieran…go and get it."

The toddler took off down the green, one hand holding onto the putter waving wildly over his head and the other keeping a firm hold on the hat on his head.

"He's going to knock himself out with that thing," Sam commented. Frowning when she noticed the slow, painstaking way her husband straightened his back out, and the grimace on his face as he did so. "Is it that bad?" she asked, stepping onto the green and walking over to him and rubbing the small of his back, concern in her eyes and in her voice as she looked up at him.

"Not that bad," he replied, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

"Do you want to sit down for a while? Or we could always just call it a day and…"

He shook his head. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. It comes and goes. Just when I bend over like that for too long…just gets to me and hurts like a bitch."

"Did you take any meds before we left?" she asked, her fingers putting slight pressure on the small of his back.

He winced. "Took a couple oxy-contins. It was fine until I bent down like that."

"My dad sees a really good chiropractor. He could get you in and looked at."

"We already know what's wrong," he said, taking her hand in his as they journeyed down the green towards where their son was crouched down by the hole, fishing his ball out. "It's the sacroiliac. Chiropractor can't fix that."

"I want you to call the doctor when we get home," she told him. "Get it looked at again."

"It'll be fine, Sammie," Flack waved off the suggestion. "He already said it would take a while before things were normal again. It's only been two weeks and a bit."

"I know," she sighed. "But if it isn't better when we get back…"

"I will go see him again," he promised. "What are you doing, Kieran?" he asked.

"Dis!" the toddler exclaimed and held aloft a bright green ball.

"I can't believe you taught him to cheat like that!" Sam cried. "He's not just putting his own in the hole, he's putting yours in there, too! You two have a lot of nerve!"

"I didn't think he'd actually learn that quickly," Flack said. "I only had him do it twice."

"Well I guess twice is enough. You're going to have to start over from the beginning. That's just not fair that you get it in two shots and I still have to keep going."

"All's fair in love and war, baby," Flack said, and kissed her softly.

"You're so mean!" she huffed. "Come here, baby K. You come and do this for mommy."

"Me?" he asked, and toddled over.

"Don't do it, Kieran," Flack warned. "Don't help the enemy."

He stopped in his tracks and looked at his mother, than at his father and back again.

"Come here," Sam encouraged. "Be nice to mommy."

Kieran smiled and journeyed over to where she was standing.

"Can you pick that up?" Sam asked, nodding down at the bright pink ball. "Can you pick that up and put it in the hole for mommy?"

"Tay," he replied and bent down to scoop it up. And proceeded to hurry over to the hole and drop the ball into it.

"There," Sam had a wide, victorious smile on her face. "Now I made it in two shots, too."

"You are such a cheater," Flack sighed as he marked down their scores. "And you, Kieran, are a traitor."

"He's loyal to his mommy," Sam said, stepping beside her husband to take a peek at who was winning. "Never underestimate what he would do for his mommy."

"Guess it's a gene us Flacks have," he mused. "Consider I all but walk to the ends of the earth and through hell for you."

"You wouldn't have it any other way," she told him, stroking his back and pressing a kiss to his arm. "Admit it, you quite like all the excitement and craziness I bring to your life."

"Well I wouldn't go that far," he said and kissed the top of her head.

"Your life would be so boring without me in it, Donnie," she declared, walking over to where their son was scooping all of the balls out of the hole and attempting to cradle them in his tiny hands.

"I'd have a hell of a lot of less grey hair and migraines," he said. "That I do know."

"You'd miss me too much," Sam told him, assisting Kieran with carrying everything. "If something happened and I was gone tomorrow, you'd miss me. You wouldn't know what to do without me."

He nodded in agreement. "Well let's just hope we never have to find out how I'd manage if you weren't around. Think we can make some sort of deal? You stick around for a while so that I don't go insane with grief? You spend say, the rest of your life with me, so I don't ever have to go through losing you?"

"I think that's a pretty reasonable deal," she said, smiling at him as she scooped their son up into his arms. "Think you can stand it? Being married to me for the rest of your life?" she asked.

"Oh absolutely," he replied confidently, following her to the next hole.

A group of school kids and their teacher supervisors- ten bodies in total- were already there and still in the process of playing through. Giving those behind them a chance to sit on the wooden benches on either side of the cobblestone pathway.

"I am getting so fat," Sam lamented as she plopped down on the bench.

"You just thought of that out of nowhere?" Flack asked, taking a seat beside her, than lifting Kieran onto his lap. He was starting to wonder if they should have brought the tether along as a safety precaution. The kid could not sit still for a minute and was already squirming and fussing on his father's lap. He kept a tight grip around his son's waist with one arm, while draping the other across his wife's slender shoulders.

"I've been thinking about it all this morning since I got out of the shower and caught a look at myself in that full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door," she said, zipping open Kieran's back pack and taking out a bottle of vitamin water. She fought with the cap for a half a minute before huffing noisily and holding it out to her husband. "Put them awesome arm muscles to good use, honey," she said.

He removed his arm from around her shoulders and easily twisted the top off the water.

"I have you trained so well," Sam gushed and winked at him and kissed his cheek. "Anyway, I nearly died when I saw myself in that mirror. How do you stand looking at me?"

"Well, maybe because I love you and find you amazingly sexy and I don't see anything wrong with your body."

She frowned. "You need to wear your glasses more," she said. "Because I am starting to get huge already."

"What did you expect?" he asked, putting his arm around her once more and running his fingertips along her bare arm. "I mean, there's three in there. You didn't really think you'd be as small as you were when you had Kieran, did you?

"I was huge with Kieran!" she cried. "Huge! So now what? I get three times as huge?"

He sighed and shook his head. "This is a no win situation for me," he said.

"All I'm saying is that I am getting fat. And if you can't see it, than you really are blind."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "You are not fat," he said, and removing his arm from around her, laid his hand on her stomach. "You're pregnant. Major difference. And you're pregnant with triplets. So you're going to get big. Sorry, babe. No way around that."

"Damn you and your evil sperm," she grumbled.

"Evil? Ask me it's super sperm. Genius sperm, in fact. Three babies at once? Now that was pure, blind luck. And if it makes you feel any better, I don't care how big you get. I'm a self proclaimed chubby chaser."

She pulled back and looked at him, a frown on her face, the bottle of vitamin water poised near her lips. "Pardon me?"

"What? What did I say?"

"Did you just call me chubby?" she asked.

"No…what I said was that I am a chubby chaser. Doesn't matter to me if you're tiny or big. You're still Samantha. You're still my wife and I love you whether you're a size two or a size twenty-two."

"Jesus Christ!" she cried. "Don't say something like that! Size twenty two!!"

"I didn't say you'd end up that way. I'm saying that you are having triplets and you're going to be putting the weight on and after they're born, if you're big, it's not going to bother me. Just want you to know that, okay? So you're not self conscious about it and worried that I'm going to run off and find myself a girlfriend or something like that. You're the only one I want, Sammie. Even if your ass if the size of a double wide."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "You started that out so romantic and sweet and than tossed in that part at the end."

"I am just letting you know the way it is. It will not bother me in the slightest if you're never a size eight again."

"I was a size five when we first met," she informed him, sipping her drink. "I wasn't a size eight until after I had Kieran. Actually, I was a size ten for three months after him. I worked my ass off to drop those two sizes."

"And what did I tell you than? I told you not to worry about it. That I didn't care. Because it's not the outside of you that I love the most. It's how warm and bubbly you are and how you love me and work so hard on our marriage and our family. How incredibly intelligent you are. There's so many amazing things about you, Sammie. And they all just help me fall in love with you more and more every day."

She smiled and pressed her lips to his cheek.

"Mind you," he added, and taking her water from her, took a long sip. "It sure doesn't hurt that you're incredibly hot."

"You're such a man," she sighed. "And whose to say you'll still love me if I do have an ass the size of a double wide?"

"I say that I will," he told her. "Because only I know exactly how much I love you."

"You are such a sappy bastard," she said, and laid her hand on the side of his face and kissed him softly. "But I love you regardless."

"I love you, too," he told her, and pecked her forehead. "And you," he said to his son, kissing the back of Kieran's neck and tickling his stomach, causing the toddler to burst into giggles. "Although sometimes the two of you make it very, very hard not to kill you both."

"And like you're just the innocent victim," Sam scoffed playfully, getting to her feet and slinging the backpack over her shoulders once again as the large party of people before them began making their way off the green. "You have a tendency of driving people nuts, you know."

"Maybe," he said and stood up. "But you'd be miserable without me."

She smiled. "Well I hope I never have to find out just how miserable."

An hour and a half later they found themselves at the small ice cream shop located near the batting cages and the arcade. While Flack took a phone call from one of his 'guys' regarding a long standing open case, Sam took Kieran by the hand to order some treats for the family. It had been a fun afternoon filled with a lot of laughs and a lot of memories that she'd cherish for a long time. Seeing the two most important boys in her life spending time together was more special to her than anything. Father and son didn't spend enough time together in her opinion. It was no one's fault. Just Flack's unpredictable hours made even more so since he became a supervisor. But to see him cuddling and telling their son he loved him and giving the toddler his utmost attention, was nothing short of magical to see. Especially the way Kieran listened to his father so intently and looked at him with the utmost love and adoration.

As they waited in line, Kieran holding on tightly to his mother's hand and impatiently swinging her arm from side to side, a young family with a little raven haired girl slightly younger than Kieran in a stroller, stepped beside them and offered polite smiles and nods.

Kieran immediately went to the stroller and stared intently at the pretty girl occupying it. The two babies smiled and touched each others faces and hair, both mothers keeping an eye on their respective children in case someone decided to get nasty in their exploration and scratched or hit, or in the worst of circumstances, bit. Instead, the complete opposite happened. Kieran leaned into the stroller, grabbed the little girl by the face and planted a sloppy, wet kiss directly on her lips.

The parents of the lucky recipient of the kiss were both amused, and charmed by the flirtatious little blue eyed boy in the backwards baseball cap. Their daughter was equally as flattered. Her cheeks had turned bright pink and she giggled and sat forward in her stroller and reached out and grabbed Kieran and yanked him towards her and graced his lips with a kiss of her own. Samantha was both shocked, and embarrassed that her son would even do something so brazen. She apologized profusely and longed for a rock to hide under and reigned her son in by keeping a firm grip on the back of his shirt. Wanting nothing more than to ream him out and scold him. Instead, she placed her order for two soft serve vanilla and chocolate cones and tossed a ten on the counter and told the cashier not to worry about the change and juggled the two cones in one hand while directing her son by the shirt back to where his father waited for them.

"You will not believe that your son just did," Sam said to her husband, handing him the one cone after he flipped his phone closed and sat it on the table.

"Which one was it? Picking his nose, picking his ass or playing with himself?" Flack asked, unfazed, as he scooped his son up with one arm and lifted him onto his lap.

"He's not you or Danny," Sam huffed and sat down in the chair across from him. "He just grabbed some little girl and kissed her! Grabbed her by the face and planted one on her. Just out of nowhere!"

"His first kiss, huh? He's got me beat by about six years. Way to go, K. Give me five," he held his palm out to his son.

Kieran slapped it noisily with his hand.

"Was she cute, buddy?" Flack asked, holding the cone out for his son to eat. "Did you at least make an impression on a hottie?"

"It's the little girl with her parents at the ice cream stand," Sam told him. "Black and red stroller. She's got a pink and white flowered sundress on and white sandals."

Flack looked over towards the crowd ordering ice cream. "A brunette, huh? Nice. He's got good taste. Trust me, K. The brunettes are the ones that really rock your world. Look what happened when I met your mom. She came along and just blew my…"

"Don't say it," Sam warned. "Don't even think it. How can you teach him things like that?"

"I was going to say that you just blew your mind. Get your damn mind out of the gutter. You get laid in the bathroom and look what happens to you. You just become all horny and perverted on me."

"That's the baby hormones, my dear," she said, licking her ice cream.

"Just think, that little girl can now go and brag to her day care buddies that she got lucky with some bad ass from New York City."

Sam frowned. "You are seriously disturbed, you know that? Who was that on the phone? Which one of your cronies?"

"Just one of the younger guys. They've got a brother that owns a car lot down in Jersey City that says I can either sell my truck to him and purchase something somewhere else, or trade it in."

"We're getting a new car?"

"You've got a new car. I'm getting a slightly used one."

"Why don't you sell it and take some of the money from Zack and buy a new one?"

"'Cause we need all the money we can get to buy a house," he reasoned. "With what we have in the savings and the loan from the bank and the money my parents are giving us, we should be able to get something decent. As long as it's in another borough and we don't stay in Manhattan. We stay there and the only thing we'll be getting is something even smaller than what we already had."

"I thought we agreed on either Queens or Long Island," Sam said.

"Long Island is a hell of long commute," Flack told her. "You want to be commuting from there every day? Especially on the days you decided to take the subway instead of braving the traffic?"

She sighed. "Good point. So I guess Queens it is."

"Lots of nice neighbourhoods in Queens," he reminded her. "And there's lots of good schools and parks and what not just a few blocks from my folks."

"I thought you didn't want to live near your folks," she said.

"I said I didn't want to live within walking distance of my parents. That way we avoid them being on our door step constantly. Something tells me, if we get too close, my mom will get just like the mother on Everybody Loves Raymond."

Sam's eyes widened at that thought.

"So we'll find a place that's close, but just far enough that they have to drive or take a bus to come and see us. And Queens is also closer for Lindsay to come and help out now that she's working for us."

"She's a Godsend," Sam declared. "And this thing about you wanting a new car. What made you decide to get rid of the Yukon?"

"I want nothing that reminds me of Lessing. I want to get rid of everything and anything that makes me think of that guy."

"By why would…?"

"It's just something I need to do, Sammie. Okay? No big deal. Plus the truck I'm getting is a hundred times better."

"A truck? As opposed to an SUV?"

He nodded and ate some of the ice cream before offering to Kieran once again. "Guy said he could get me a good deal on a Honda Ridgeline. Remember the one that we saw that time when we drove down to Coney Island?"

"Is there going to be enough room for all of us?" she asked. "I mean, you have three kids on the way. We're going from being a family of four to being a family of six."

"Fits five full size adults," he replied. "So there's more than enough room for everyone. But if we ever all went together somewhere, considering all the crap kids come with, we'd probably have to take two vehicles anyway. It's a sweet truck, babe. Gunmetal grey. Just like you like."

"If that's what you want and you think it's okay for the family," she said. "I just don't want you getting something that isn't going to be beneficial to all of us."

"Sammie, just trust me for once. I'm not going to buy something just for the sake of buying it. Okay? Don't worry about it. I have it all under control. Your dad called and left a message on my phone by the way."

"What did he want?"

"Guess he's got a buddy with access to a private box at arena. You know, home of the Phoenix Coyotes."

"And…." she pressed.

"And they're playing tonight and he asked me to come along to meet all his buddies. And normally, I wouldn't ask you if I could go out with the boys while we're on a family vacation, but…."

"Spit it out," she said.

"But they're playing the Rangers tonight. My Rangers are in town. And these are box seats and there's no way in hell this opportunity will ever come again because I'd never be able to afford box seats in a million years and the Rangers are on a tear and number one in their division and I'd kill to go to this game."

"And you're actually asking me permission?"

"Not permission, per say. More like I'm running it by you and seeing how you feel about it. Considering it means you'd be alone the majority of the night with your mother and Kieran. But I wouldn't be asking if this wasn't a once in a lifetime thing. A private box, babe. When am I ever going to get that chance again?"

She sighed and ate her ice cream and considered the request. "You so owe me," she said at last. "You know that right?"

"Whatever you want, babe. Jewellery, clothes, flowers every day for the next three hundred and sixty five days. Whatever. You just name it and I'll do it."

"Whatever, huh?" she grinned and licked ice cream off of her fingers. "Be careful what you say. There's a few things I can think of that you could do for more on a continual basis."

"Whatever. Just tell me what it is."

"Just go to your hockey game, Donnie. I'm just teasing you. You don't owe me anything in return. Wait, I lied. I wouldn't mind undying love and gratitude."

"You already get that," he said.

"Frequent back massages and foot rubs when I'm farther along with your triplets would be nice," she sighed.

"When did they just become my triplets?"

"Maybe when you asked me to let you go out with the boys on a family vacation," she responded with a grin. "And I don't think you rubbing my back and my feet is too much to ask."

"You're right, it's not. In fact, it seems like I should be doing a hell of a lot more considering you are having three of my babies at once."

"Hmmm…." she thought. "I like the idea of breakfast in bed when we're both off, too. And a couple of bubble baths here and there."

He grimaced.

"Private box, Donnie. Once in a lifetime chance."

He sighed. "Just promise me, not bubbles that smell like flowers. That I just can not take, okay?"

"The Rangers, private box, a night out with the boys when you're suppose to be on a family vacation," Sam rattled off. "I mean, how badly do you want to go?"

He hung his head and shook it slowly. "Just please…nothing that smells like flowers. Anything but flowers."

She smiled victoriously. "You're a good man, Don Flack Jr."

The boys had left shortly before six in the evening. Sarge and his buddies always met somewhere before hand for a couple of drinks and a bite to eat. Samantha was grateful that her mother seemed to be in a pleasant mood when she stepped through the door shortly before six thirty. Chatting happily and bearing Chinese food for supper and warmly embracing both her daughter and her grandson who sat in his high chair making a mess out of the bread and canned Zoodles his mother had prepared him for supper.

It had been a long time since Sam and her mother had been able to be in the same room without either, or sometimes both, fighting the urge to strangle the person in front of them. They were able to talk openly and civilly and share a bottle of red wine and laugh and talk about past memories in Arizona. Both steered clear of any talk of the past in New York City, and of what had happened to Kieran. It was the first time in her life that Sam wasn't made to feel like she was a child and that she was below her mother. That her thoughts and feelings and opinions were important and respected. She'd never considered her mother a friend. It was strictly a parent/child relationship. And a poor one like that. And she was hopeful that his change in her mom was a permanent one.

Kieran had just been put down for bed after a long session in the bathtub and his last milk of the night, and her mother had retreated to her home office to get some work completed for the next day,when Sam found herself heading for the front door to answer the insistent ringing of the door bell.

She blinked at the sight that greeted her when she opened the door. A massive bouquet of brightly coloured, beautiful and fragrant flowers was the first thing she saw. The second wasn't a delivery man. It was the smiling face of Allan Larson. The fairly attractive, youngest son of her mother's boss at the marketing firm she toiled away for. Allan was tall and slender with short sandy blond hair and vibrant green eyes and a lazy smile. He was also the most obnoxious, conceited bastard Sam had ever met. Which was why, despite her mom practically pushing him on her before Zack came along, Sam had stayed far, far away and never gave the wrong impression. All the money and good looks in the world would never make up for a lack of a personality.

"Samantha," Allan drawled, in a southern accent he'd inherited from his mother, a former Texas debutante.

"Allan," she coolly greeted. "Long time no see."

"Too long," he said. "These are for you," he held out the flowers.

She gave a small smile and accepted them graciously. "Thank you. They're beautiful. So…what are you doing here? Was my mom expecting you or…."

"Your mother told me that you were in town," he responded. "And I was hoping that I could tempt you with the offer of after dinner drinks."

"My mom told you that I was in town?"

"She mentioned to my father that you were staying here for a while. He passed the news along to me."

"Did she also happen to mention that I'm married? And that I have a one year old son and triplets on the way?"

"She mentioned something along those lines," he confirmed.

"So I guess that would give you an answer to your offer, wouldn't it? I have a husband. So thank you, but drinks are a definite no," Sam held the flowers out. "And while these are beautiful, the only man I will accept flowers from, save for my father, is my husband. So thank you but no thank you."

"They are just flowers, Samantha."

"I don't accept flowers from other men," she remained firm. "So take them home and give them to your mother. Give them to the housekeeper. Throw them out. I really don't care. Just I won't accept them and that's that. So if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my son. Have a good night."

He laid a hand on the front door to stop her from closing it in his face. "Now is that any way to treat an old friend?"

"No. It's the way to treat an unwelcome visitor. I've taken down guys a lot bigger than you. If you keep this shit up, I will lay you out right here and right now and than brag about it all over town. So do me a favour and take your ass off my parents' door step and piss off!" she shoved his hand off the door and slammed it in his face and locked it tightly. She pulled the curtains aside that framed the long, slender window alongside the door and peered out, watching as Allan considered ringing once more, his finger poised just over the bell. "Don't even think about it asshole," she murmured, than sighed in relief when he simply turned on his heel and stomped down the front steps.

"Who was that, honey?" her mother asked, as she appeared in the doorway of her office.

"You know damn well who that was!" Sam cried and hurried down the hall angrily. "Allan Larson! That stuck up, pain in the ass sonofabitch that you always wanted me to hook up with even when I was with Zack!"

"Allan stopped by? Isn't that sweet of him."

"No! It's not sweet of him, mother! He brought me flowers!"

"So he's a gentleman. You're probably not used to that kind of treatment."

"You mean I'm not used to other men showing up on my doorstep when my husband isn't around and giving me flowers? No. I'm not used to that. But I happen to be married to a wonderful man and I don't appreciate you insinuating otherwise."

"When was the last time that you were treated like the loving, amazing woman that you are? When was the last time you were treated to a beautiful night out and gorgeous things and…"

"I don't need that kind of shit, mother! And for your information, Don and I do go out on nice dates. He does buy me nice things. He has flowers waiting on my desk some mornings. He shows up out of the blue with breakfast or lunch. Just because I'm not a spoiled, mean little bitch like you are doesn't mean he loves me any less. It just means I don't take him for granted and expect him to buy me things!"

"You deserve the best, honey. And I don't see how he can give you the best."

"Mother, let me make something very clear to you. I don't want anything from him and I don't expect the world from him. I love him and he loves me and we live a relatively simple, unassuming life. We have a beautiful little boy and more babies on the way. I don't need anything any materialistic from him! I just need him! So do me a favour and back off of him!"

"Samantha, just listen to me…"

"No," she shook her head and held up her hand and headed for the stairs. "I'm not listening to you. I am so tired of having to defend myself and my husband to you."

"Think about the life you have!" Lynne implored, grabbing her daughter by the arm and turning her around to face her. "Having to work full time for the city. A husband who is a highly underpaid city employee himself. Who could have done so much more with his life had he had the brains to go to college and do so much better for himself!"

"Mother!" Sam snapped, pushing her mother's hand off of her. "Do not talk like that about my husband! Do you understand me?! You know nothing about Don. Because you refuse to look past the fact that he's blue collar. He's very, very smart. He could have gone to university. Easily. But he didn't. Because he was trying to prove himself to his father. And you know what? Don is an awesome cop. He's great at his job and he's well respected within the department. And he's a damn good husband and father and you have no right to bad mouth him like that!"

"You rushed into things!" Lynne cried. "You were so desperate and anxious to have someone love you and accept you after Zack that you settled for the first thing that came along! Got yourself pregnant by the first man that showed remote interest and than got sucked into marrying him out of some sense of obligation!"

"Listen to me!" Sam yelled, and grabbed her mother roughly by the tops of her arms. "I didn't marry him because I was afraid of being alone! I didn't just settle! I didn't marry him because I was pregnant! I married him because I love him! More than life itself! I would die for him, mother! Do you understand what I am saying to you? Are you hearing a thing I am saying?! I love him! And he loves me! Our marriage isn't perfect! We're not perfect! But we have love! And that love will get us through anything!"

"Sometimes love isn't enough, Samantha!" her mother argued.

"No. You're right. Sometimes it's not. And that's what we have mutual respect for. You know, you have the nerve to stand here, all holier than thou, like you're up on this pedestal and we're so far down below you! When you were a lot younger? Where were you mother?! Where were you?! Or have you somehow forgotten that part of your life?!"

"That part of my life is in the past," Lynne responded.

"Than let me remind you. You were living in the projects in Crown Heights, Brooklyn! With an alcoholic, druggie of a husband who beat your kids and molested your daughter! For years he used me as his second wife! And you were just so happy that the asshole left you alone that you never stopped him!"

"I didn't know…."

"Bullshit!" Sam bellowed. "You knew! I know that you knew! And you did nothing to stop him! You did nothing to protect me and Adam! You let him beat us and lock us in the basement and feed us stale bread and rotten meat! You let him leave us there for a couple of days at a time! You let him have sex with your own daughter! Not once or twice! But for years!"

"That was a long time ago!" Lynne snapped back. "Let that go!"

"I can't let it go! Because that fucked me up far beyond anything that you can ever imagine! I forgave you, mom! I forgave you but I will never, ever forget! And you say I got pregnant by the first man that showed interest? I wasn't the knocked up sixteen year old! So don't you fucking stand here and insult my husband! He works a hell of a lot of hours in a dangerous, dangerous job and gets little or no respect or recognition! He takes care of my and his son and he tries damn hard to make things work! He's far more of a man than my father, my real father, could have ever been!"

"Where was he, Samantha? Your wonderful husband? When your son was taken?!"

"He was working. What happened to Kieran wasn't his fault It wasn't anyone's fault!"

"If you weren't living there none of that would have ever happened!"

"It happens anywhere! Kids don't go missing based on their social, economic status! It can happen to anyone And all of this? This beautiful home and lovely things and your nice car? You'd have none of that if it wasn't for dad! Dad saved you! And you treat him like shit! You've been treating him like shit for over sixteen years now! You should be thanking him for getting you the hell out of the mess your life was! But instead you take him for granted and you take and take and take!"

"You don't know…."

"I do know! I do know! Because it disgusts me to admit this, but I am becoming just like you! It makes me sick to my stomach to realize that I am getting to be just like you! Because I refuse to let myself treat my husband that way! I would rather die and spare him the torture of having to have a wife just like you!"

"You ungrateful, spoiled little bitch!" her mother hissed, and slapped her across the face.

Sam laid her hand over her stinging cheek. Tears threatened as she stared down the woman in front of her. Who she no longer recognized, and no longer had a desire to know. "At least we both know how we feel about each other," she said, and turning away, headed quickly up the stairs.

"I didn't mean it, Samantha!" Lynne called after her. "I didn't mean the things I said! I didn't mean to hit you!"

"Spare me, mother! It's too goddamn late for grovelling!"

"I didn't mean it, honey! Please, just…."

"We'll be out of your house first thing in the morning," Sam promised her, pausing in the doorway of the spare room. "We'll be out of here and that will be the last time you ever see me or your grandson or these babies I'm having."

And with that she slipped into the room, the slamming of the door echoing through the entire house.

Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! I have the most amazing fans, and friends, that anyone could possibly ask for! Thank you for all of your continued support for me, and my writing. And of course, for SamFlackie!

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