DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK. YES, TPTB, I DO, DON'T DENY IT. AND I ALSO OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE ELSE NOT ASSOCIATED WITH THE SHOW.

Little white lies

"Call you up in the middle of the night
like a firefly without a light
you were there like a blowtorch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning
so tired that iI couldn't even sleep
so many secrets I couldn't keep
promised myself I wouldn't weep
one more promise I couldn't keep

It seems no one can help me now
I'm in too deep
there's no way out
this time I have really lead myself astray

Runaway train, never goin' back
wrong way on a one-way track
seems like I should be getting somewhere
somehow I'm neither here nor there."
-Runaway Train, Soul Asylum

It was close to midnight when Flack found himself trudging up the stairs of his in law's house. Slightly let down from a rather ugly 5-2 Rangers loss and the from the ribbing he'd taken from his Sarge and his buddies, all die hard Coyotes fans. They were good guys -all ex military- who liked nothing better than their beer and wings, and that night, picking on the New York City boy. They shared stories about time spend over seas and the wars and combat they'd seen and the injuries they'd received, and in turn, listened intently to stories about serving in the NYPD and about the bombing that Sarge had previously told them had nearly taken Flack's life. They said little about Kieran's abduction. Other than they were happy to hear that the little guy was safe and sound now, and that they'd been a hair shy of going down to New York City themselves and hunting the SOB down themselves.

He was tired. Exhausted in fact. Going to bed close to three am the night before and getting up before nine am, on top of all the sun he'd gotten being out that day with his family, had done him in. All he wanted to do was freshen himself up and cuddle up to his wife and have a decent night's sleep. If his throbbing back and head would let him. He'd only had two beers, but the simple buzz from that alcohol had done a number on his head. It was the months and months of abstaining coming back to kick him in the ass. His father in law was aware of his struggles with alcohol and had kept a close eye on him the entire night. Flack had cut himself off at a couple. Knowing that the more he had, the more problems he was going to have in his marriage. And more problems were the last thing his marriage needed. Especially at a time when, despite the traumatic experience they'd just gotten through, things had never seemed better. If anything, Kieran's kidnapping had brought them closer together and made their love and bond stronger. It had taught them that they could trust one another completely, and that together, they could survive anything.

Even triplets. The thought of his children, safely and peacefully growing inside of his wife, brought a smile to his face. He reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hall, dimly lit by a small plug in light at the opposite end, taking a detour into Kieran's room to check on him. It had become somewhat routine for Flack. To quietly let himself into his son's room in the late hours of the night or wee hours of the morning, and fix his son's blankets and tuck him back in and stand staring at him, wondering what he'd done to ever deserve such a blessing in his life. He'd been doing it since the first night his son had spent at home, and didn't expect to give up the practice any time soon. Kieran would always be his baby. His first born. Nothing, and no one, could ever take that away.

Kieran was sleeping sideways in his crib. His covers kicked off and lying in heap in the corner of the mattress, his favourite blankie tucked securely under his arm and his thumb in his mouth and his legs hanging out from between the bars.

"Not good, K," Flack whispered in the dark, silent room. He reached into crib, and placing his hands under the baby's arms, gently pulled his son into the middle of the bed and turned him the proper way. "Someone's gonna come in here and bump into you and hurt your legs…and you gotta keep your blankets on, buddy."

Kieran murmured in his sleep and turned over onto his side, thumb still planted firmly in his mouth.

Flack sighed at the sight and took hold of his son's hand and pulled the thumb out. Fighting back a chuckle when Kieran immediately put it back in. "Your mom's going to have a fit if you need braces when you grow up," he said, gathering up the two blankets in the corner and straightening them up before lightly draping them over his son's peacefully sleeping form. "Love you, buddy," he said, and placing two fingers to his lips, reached out and laid them on his son's forehead. "Sweet dreams of sweet things."

Kieran sighed contently and nestled his face into his security blanket.

Flack smiled and checked one last time that his son was tucked in securely before slipping from the room. He closed the door slightly and took the three steps to the spare room. The light was turned on in the ensuite bathroom and the door was cracked open, illuminating the dark room just enough so he didn't trip over, or bang into, anything. Frowning at the sight of all their luggage and bags arranged neatly by the closet.

Sam appeared to be fast asleep. Lying on her left side, facing the door, his pillow clutched tightly to her chest, a box of tissues sitting by her head. Her soft breathing the only sound in the room. Flack peeled off his long sleeve navy and light blue stripped shirt and the white t-shirt he wore underneath and tossed both on the chaise lounge that was at the end of the bed. He removed his jeans and socks and laid them aside as well before heading into the bathroom in just his boxers.

He spent several minutes cleaning himself up and than went back into the bedroom in a t-shirt and scrub style pants that Sam had left on the sink ledge for him and sat down on the edge of the bed and rolled his head back and forth in hopes of working out the kinks in his muscles and than took off his watch and sat it on the nightstand.

The mattress shifted underneath him and there was a soft rustling of sheets as am moved behind him. She curled her arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to the small of his back. The simple touch of her lips to such a sensitive area causing shivers to overtake his entire body.

"What time is it?" she asked in a quiet, sleepy voice.

"Just after midnight," he replied. "I thought you were sleeping."

She smiled against his back. "I was faking it."

"Thought you said you never fake," he teased, rubbing her hand softly.

"I don't. At least not when it comes to anything important. Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah…until the Rangers lost. Your night was okay?"

She nodded and yawned noisily and rolled away from him and onto her other side.

"Kieran was okay?" Flack asked. "He was good?"

"He was an angel. Shockingly enough."

"So what's the deal than?" he asked, as he climbed into bed and lay on his side behind her, her back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck and rested his hand on her shoulder. "You sound kind of pissed. You mad because I went out tonight?"

"What?" she looked over her shoulder at him. "No. Of course not. You're allowed to have a life and hobbies outside of our marriage, Donnie. I don't keep tabs on you. You know that I trust you enough to not go out and act like a single guy and do something stupid."

He kissed her softly. "So than what's going on?" he asked, pushing her hair away from her neck and pressing his lips to the sensitive spot below her ear.

"What do you mean?" she responded with a question of her own.

"I mean what's pissed you off? Because you're not yourself. I've been with you long enough to know when something's up your ass, babe."

She giggled at that. "Well I can tell you that it's not you that's up my ass," she said, and pressed the bottom half of her body tightly against his.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "You have one beautifully dirty mind," he informed her. He slowly and softly trailed his fingertips along her shoulder and down her arm, feeling her shudder against him and the goose bumps that took over every inch of her body.

"It's your favourite part of me," she mused.

"I don't know about that. There's a few other things that are at the top of the list. So are you going to tell me what's up? I come home and you're in a little mood and all our stuff is packed. Something must have went down to make you want to leave."

"I want to go home," she told him.

"Okay…I get that much. But are you going to give me some reason why?"

"I'm homesick," she responded.

"You're homesick? How's that even possible? Both Kieran and I are here with you."

"I know…but I miss the big city. I miss our apartment and our own bed and our friends. That's all."

He nodded slowly. "You know that I know you're full of shit, right?"

She sighed. "It's a long story, Donnie," she told him.

"So? You going somewhere? Have a hot date or something? We can lie here talking all night if that's what it takes to get it out of you."

"My mother…there's this guy that she works with. And even when I was with Zack, she was always trying to hook me up with this guy's son. Allan Larson. He's an obnoxious prick and I wouldn't give him the time of day than, and I refuse to give him the time of day now. He was so over the top when I was with Zack that Zack paid him a little visit one night."

"Probably the one decent thing that asshole did the whole time you were with him. What does this have to do with…"

"He showed up here tonight," Sam told him. "While you were at the game. Because my mother told him I was back in town."

"Did she also tell him you were in town with your husband and your son? And with the three babies you're pregnant with?"

"He said she did. I guess it didn't bother him. Didn't stop him from bringing me flowers."

Flack snorted and shook his head and rolled over onto his back. "We can't go anywhere without some damn ex boyfriend of yours showing up," he complained, a forearm over his eyes . "Zack, Chester Lake, now this asshole."

"Allan Larson is not my ex boyfriend," Sam informed him and turned over onto her side to face him.

"He just wishes he could be your boyfriend," Flack snorted.

"You are totally missing the point of what I am trying to tell you," she huffed. "Can you cut the jealous husband crap for two seconds please?"

"You don't think that that's a big deal? Some other man bringing you flowers? Your mother trying to set you up on a date with someone?"

"Donnie, knock it off. I am married to you. I gave you a son. I am pregnant with three of your babies. Give this jealousy a rest. Okay?"

He held his hands up in self defence. "Okay…okay. Fine. What are you trying to tell me?"

"If it makes you feel better, I told him to take a hike and shove his flowers up his ass. It's the issue with my mother that's bothering me."

"What's the wicked witch done now?" he asked, laying a hand on the back of her head and looking at her in the moonlight.

"We got into a thing. About how she disapproves of my marriage and thinks that you and I rushed into things and only got married because I was pregnant. And a whole bunch of other nonsense shit that I knocked her down a peg or two about. And than I gently reminded her that all of this? Her fancy house and car and designer clothes? She only had all of this because of Sarge. That she's from the ghetto just as much as Adam and I are and she's no better than either of us."

"Good," he said with a nod. "About time you stuck up for yourself."

"My mother knew, Donnie," her voice was quiet. "About my father. About what he was doing to be all those years. She knew and never did anything. She was just happy that he was leaving her alone and getting his needs fulfilled somewhere else."

He stared deep into her troubled, tear filled eyes. He couldn't say that he was overly surprised about her revelation. He had often wondered how her mother couldn't have known what was going on. And how in the hell she could have possibly let it go on for so long. How she could have put her children through such agony and torment. Which was one of the many reasons that made it so impossible for him to warm up to the woman.

"She knew," Sam repeated, a tear slipping down her cheek. "She knew and she let him do it. I was five years old, Donnie. I was five years old and she knew that…"

He laid two fingers over her lips. "I know," he told her, his voice a near whisper. "I knew all along that she knew."

"Why?" she asked. "Why would she let him do that? Was I that bad of a kid? Did I do something wrong? What did I do that wrong that she felt I deserved that? Does she hate me that much?"

"You didn't do anything wrong," he told her. "You didn't deserve that. And I don't know why she didn't stop it. Why she didn't just grab you and Adam and take off. But she didn't and you and your brother are suffering long term from that and that's not fair to either of you."

"I'm so screwed up," she sniffled. "What he did…it's screwed me up. Mentally. Sometimes even intimately. Ever since what happened to Kieran bringing all these memories back, things haven't been exactly what you call normal between us, Donnie."

"Sammie, we're dealing with things. Just since last night alone we've come leaps and bounds. I understand why you're being the way you are. I accept it. I'm not holding it against you. We'll work on anything that comes our way and we'll get past it. Okay? Don't ever think that I'm not supporting you."

"Boy, I bet you never imagined your married life to be like this," she laughed dryly and wiped her eyes. "A nut job for a wife."

"Sammie, do you remember what I told you? Shortly after we got together? When you said that you had way too much baggage and issues and that it wasn't fair for me to have to deal with all of that? Do you remember saying that to me?"

She nodded.

"And do you remember what I told you? I told you that I was a big, strong guy and that all that baggage. That I was more than ready, willing, and able to help you carry it. Do you remember that?"

She smiled. "That was probably the most romantic, wonderful thing you ever said to me," she said.

"I meant it, baby. I meant it than and I mean it now. You don't have to go through anything alone. I'm here. I'm always going to be here. Whatever affects you, affects me. And we'll deal with it together? Okay?"

"You shouldn't have to…"

He raised his head and kissed her softly. "I want to. I'm your husband, Samantha. We're in this life together. Until death to us part, for rich or for poor…"

"Hmmm…" she frowned, her nose and eyes crinkling. "That last part there was my least favourite of our vows. I think it should be changed to for rich or for richer."

He smirked and combed his fingers through her hair. "You're a goddamn gold digger," he complained.

"Yeah, right," she laughed. "Gold digging on a cop's salary. Okay. It's not your money I'm after, Donnie. Trust me."

"Good. Because we have a joint account so you know just how poor I really am. Makes me think that if you're still with me, that maybe you actually are in this for love."

"Well that's just wishful thinking on your part," she teased. "Me and you? Lust and nothing but. The sex is so good that we can't walk away. So good that we have devoted the rest of our lives together as opposed to never having that kind of sex ever again."

"I wouldn't go that far," he said. "It's not that good."

"Excuse me?!" she slapped his chest. "That's mean! You have said it before many, many times. I am the best you've ever had."

"You are," he confirmed. "But I'm in this strictly for the love, babe. That blinding, overwhelming, kick you in the ass love that brings you do your knees and drives you insane."

She smiled. "I am becoming quite fond of you," she said. "You're starting to grow on me. You're okay to have around."

"You'd miss me like hell and go crazy with grief if you woke up one day and I wasn't around anymore," he said.

She nodded, growing sombre. Tears threatened again and she leaned down to kiss him. Long and soft. "I don't even want to think about that," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

"Neither do I," he said, and running his hand over her hair, laid it at the back of her neck. "I love you, Samantha. So much. And whatever we come up against, we can get through it. You know that right?"

"I do," she said confidently. "And I love you, too."

He smiled and pulled her towards him by the back of the head and covered her lips with his in a long, soft and lingering kiss. Finding himself pushed back onto the mattress as she slid her body up and along his without their mouths ever losing contact. He buried his fingers in her hair, giving that one kiss all he had, wanting to, and unknowingly achieving, make her feel safe and secure and most of all loved. At the feel of her tongue pushing against his lips, he gently tugged on her hair to get her to break from the kiss.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking both confused and concerned.

"Nothing's wrong," he replied. "I just…I don't know if it's a good idea…especially after what we were just talking about with your father."

"Why does that bother you?" she inquired, leaning down to presses kisses to his ear and along his jaw line.

"Maybe because you're my wife and I love you and the thought of him doing that makes me sick to my stomach."

"What I'm doing makes you think of what my father did?" she asked, trailing her lips against his cheek to his mouth. She kissed his lips softly. "I make you sick to your stomach?"

"What?" he blinked. "No…that is not what I said. I said the thought of him doing that to you makes me sick to my stomach. Why would you think I meant something else?"

"I was just checking," she reasoned, and sitting on his stomach, slipped her hands underneath his t-shirt and along and up his chest.

"Does it feel like you make me sick to my stomach?" he asked, nodding down at his body. "Look where you're sitting. Tell me if that feels like you make me sick to my stomach."

She smiled. "Feels like someone is more than ready, willing and able."

"I am. It's just…I don't know. Us, making love after talking about your father? It just seems…I don't even know what it seems like. A little strange I guess. That that is even on our minds after…"

She leaned down to kiss him, her hair falling over his face and shoulders. Meeting no resistance, just full compliance and exuberance when she slipped her tongue into his mouth for a second time. His hands rested briefly on her hips before sliding up the back of her pyjama top, fingertips grazing up her spine and than back down to the small of her back. She shivered at the sensation and drew away from him, staring down at him in the moonlight, their breathing ragged and chests heaving.

"I need you to help me forget," she whispered. "I need you to get rid of all those memories I have."

"I know, Sammie. But…"

"Please," she said. "Please make love to me and help me forget. Help me heal from this, Donnie. Because without you, I don't know if it's ever going to go away or be better again."

"It will. I promise you that it will. You need to give it some time, baby."

She shook her head. "I need you," she told him, and grabbing the bottom of her shirt in both hands, pulled it up and over her head and tossed it aside. "Please make this go away."

He saw the tears that threatened in her eyes, the pleading and almost desperate quality to her voice. The way the silver of the moonlight played on her creamy skin and alluring curves. He reached up and laid a hand along her face and pulled her down to him, covering her lips in a long, deep, sensuous kiss. Moaning into his mouth at the feel of his fingertips drifting along the small of her back and up her side, resting just below the curve of her right breast.

He rolled her gently onto her back and propped himself beside her on his arm, wanting to avoid putting any of his weight on her stomach. His lips drifted to her ear, where he traced the outer edge with the tip of his tongue before allowing his mouth to travel down onto her neck. His free hand softly cupping and caressing one breast, her fingers playing with the nipples.

"Tell me you love me," she breathed.

He drew back to look at her. "I love you, baby. So much. From the moment I saw you. And I'll always love you."

"Always?"

He nodded and kissed and licked his way along her collarbone. "Always," he vowed.

"That's a tall order to fill there, Detective."

"Maybe," he grinned, kissing the underside of her chin, than her lips. "But I think I'm the perfect man for the job."

She raised her head to kiss him passionately. "I think so too," she said.

His lips and hands travelled down her body, his mouth lingering on her pregnant stomach. "You are so beautiful," he told her, looking up at her with love and respect and admiration in his eyes.

She smiled and touched his face softly. "You know," she said. "I can think of a couple ways you go show me just how much you love me and just how beautiful you think I am. That you can prove to me that you are the perfect man for the job."

"Yeah?" he ran a hand along her leg and to the inside of her thigh as he bent to kiss her stomach. "Well I guess I better get to work than."

She sighed as his lips moved further down his body. "I guess you should," she said dreamily.

Flack woke to sunlight streaming through the bedroom window and the sound of his son babbling and shrieking happily in the next room. He found himself laying on his right hand side, a protective and loving arm around his wife's warm, peaceful figure as she slept soundly on her side, her head on his pillow and a soft smile on her lips. The covers drawn over their naked bodies and a gentle breeze trickling into the room from the open balcony door.

He yawned noisily and rubbed at his tired eyes. Despite the now insistent and impatient bellowing that was now filtering in from the bedroom next to them, Flack made no move to get up and start his day. He lay there and trailed his fingertips over the delicate, beautiful facial features of the love of his life. He brushed his fingers across her smooth forehead and over her eyes, her long, dark lashes falling on her pale cheeks. Travelling down the bridge of her nose before he softly kissed the tip.

She murmured and rolled over onto her back with a long, content sigh, her hair falling over her face. He grinned and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck before pushing her hair away from her face. It was than that he noticed the slight bruising to her left cheek and the small bump and tiny cut just under her eye.

What in the hell, he thought. He wondered if Kieran had accidentally head butted her or kneed her in the face while they were playing. He loved nothing more than rough housing and didn't know his own strength.

He kissed her temple and received another sigh and pulled back to look at her just as her eyes flickered open and focused on him.

"Good morning," she said, giving a sleepy smile.

He kissed her. "Good morning," he responded. "Very," he kissed her once more. "Very," another kiss, this time to her cheek. "Very," he kissed her forehead. "Good morning."

She rubbed the tip of her nose against the tip of his. "Eskimo kisses," she said with a giggle.

"You're like a ten year old some times, you know that?"

"I keep you young," she declared.

"What's going on here?" he asked, gently touching her injured cheek. "Looks like you went about half a round with Tyson."

"I went half a round with Kieran," she replied. "We were playing in the backyard and I was lying on the grass and he fell and got me with his knee. Nothing major."

"You've got to be more careful, Sammie. Especially now. You know how hard he likes to play, and if he ever gets you in the stomach…."

"It was an accident," she said. "But you're right. I shouldn't be doing stuff like that anymore. Just he loves to play and I didn't want to tell him to leave me alone and hurt his feelings. Next time I just won't give in to the rough and tumble stuff and get him interested in something else. It's just…"

A knock came to the closed bedroom door.

"I'll be out in a second," Flack called. "I hear him. Just give me a few."

"Take your time," Sarge's voice responded. "I've got him. Just wanted you to know that I've got everything under control. He can have French Toast?"

"That's fine, dad," Sam told him. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he said. "Enjoy."

They lay listening to the older man talking animatedly to his grandson as the two of them made their way down the hall and than the stairs.

Flack grinned at Sam. "Did your dad honestly just tell us to enjoy ourselves?"

She nodded. "He's a dirty minded perv just like you," she said and curled her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

"Guess we shouldn't disappoint him," Flack said, peeling the sheets away from her body.

"No," she giggled as his lips and the slight stubble on his cheeks tickled the side of her neck. "I guess we shouldn't."

"Your mother told me about what happened," Sarge said to his daughter, later that morning as they stood at the kitchen sink.

Sam was up to her elbows in soapy water and Sarge armed with a dish towel. Watching through the window as Flack entertained Kieran by throwing a tennis ball around and having Jericho bound around after it.

"How much did she tell you?" she asked, looking down at the cup that she scrubbed vigorously.

"Everything. From Allan Larson showing up at the door with flowers to her slapping you and telling her that you'd be out of the house first thing this morning."

"I'm surprised she admitted that," Sam snorted. "You know how she just loves to be the victim and make everyone else look bad."

"She feels really bad about what she did," Sarge said.

"Sure she does," sarcasm dripped from Sam's voice. "Only thing she feels bad about is her wounded pride. Because I finally stood up for myself and called her on the way she is How she acts like this stuck up rich bitch when in reality, she started out as nothing more than a teenage mother on welfare and ended up being a druggie and an alcoholic who let her husband abuse his kids. She must be really proud of herself."

"Your mother has come a long way," Sarge gently defended his wife. "She's turned her life around."

"You turned her life around," Sam told him. "And it's too bad that in the process of treating her like a Queen and buying her whatever she wanted, you couldn't buy her a personality transplant. She's no better than I am. She thinks it makes her a better person? Because she has money to burn and drives some fancy car and lives in gorgeous house? She's no different than me. She's just some girl from Crown Heights, Brooklyn."

"And you've come a long way yourself," he said. "Once you moved out here you got your act together. Went back to high school, got your diploma, went on to university. Got a great career and now a great husband and a wonderful little boy. And three more babies on the way."

"And what about everything in between?" she asked. "What about everything else I fucked up in my life?"

"Everyone makes mistakes," Sarge responded.

"Zack was more than a simple mistake," she said. "That was one monumental screw up. And what about my childhood? Or lack there of? And Adam's? She stayed with our father knowing what he was doing to me and she just sat back and let him beat the shit out of us. Do you think that's okay?"

"No," Sarge sighed. "But I think that it was a long time ago and you need to come to terms with it, accept it and get on with your life. Because the longer what happened with your father eats away at you, the harder it will be to get over it and it will start affecting the life you have now."

"Trust me," Sam said, setting a plate in the rinse water. "It already has. Let's just say that I'm damn lucky I have a husband that is so understanding. Because most would have screwed off by now, or at least found someone on the side that could give them what they wanted. Thank God we got away from the that little issue for the time being."

"I think it's more because he loves you with everything he has more than him being so understanding," Sarge told her.

"Or a bit of both. Mixed in with tons of patience. Because trust me, dad. I am probably the world's most difficult person to love. And he makes it seem to effortless. He doesn't judge me or hold things against me. He just loves me. And he deserves a lot better than what I have been giving him in return."

"I see how much you love him, lady bug. It's in your voice when you so as much say his name. It's in your eyes and in your smile when you so as much look at him or he enters the room.

"I treat him like shit, dad," she said. "There are times I treat him like complete shit and I…" she fought back emotion and shook her head. "He doesn't deserve that. It makes me feel like crap when I treat him like that. And I'm trying to change. I am. I try not to be like that. But it's part of me. Part of who I am. Maybe I'm just too damaged to be with anyone."

"That's a load of shit," Sarge declared. "What you are is too busy feeling sorry for yourself all the time. You dwell on the past. On your father and what he and your mother were like. On Zack and how he treated you. On all the crappy choices you've made. That's all in the past. This is the present. That.." he nodded out the window to where Flack was supervising Kieran as he rolled in the grass with the Jericho the dog. "That is your present and your future and if you don't let go off all this other shit, you're going to lose everything. You'll push him away. And you don't want that. I know you don't."

Sam didn't respond.

"Deal with the crap that's hanging over your head and maybe you'll actually find yourself being happy."

"I am happy," she argued. "I am happy with my life. With my husband and my son. With my career and my friends. I just got over a hell of an ordeal with Kieran so excuse me if I'm not Mary fucking Sunshine at the moment. But I am happy."

"Samantha, you're my daughter. Maybe not by blood, but I've been your daddy for nearly eighteen years now. I know you very well. And I love you more than anything. But forgive me when I tell you what a crock of crap that is. You are incapable of being happy."

She snorted.

"You put on a good show. You laugh and smile and act like you're happy. But I see it in your eyes. And if I can see it, than you can rest assured other people noticed it, too."

"And you say I talk a lot of shit," she smirked.

"Say what you will. It's the truth. And if you value what you have. If you truly love that man, than you'll deal with what happened in the past and trust him with your future. Because you're right, the way things have been? The way you've been. He does deserve better than that."

"Well now that I know how you really feel," Sam struggled with tears. "Mom and I agreed this morning to work on things. On us. That me and Don and Kieran would stay. Now I'm not so sure."

"That's something else you do," Sarge said. "You run away when something doesn't sit right with you."

"I don't need to listen to this shit," Sam told him, and removing her hands from the water, dried them on her sweat pants. "You want to talk to me like an adult, come and find me."

"I want to help you, Samantha," Sarge caught her by the wrist and pulled her back to the sink. "I just want to help you. Like I used to when you were sixteen and finally getting a decent life. Le t me help you."

"What can you do, dad? Seriously? What can you do?"

"There's someone I want you to go and talk to," he replied, and reaching into pocket of his jeans, pulled out a small piece of folded writing paper. "It's someone from your mother's past in Crown Heights. When she was just a young girl in high school around the time she met your father."

Sam took the paper and opened it. "Lincoln Scott," she read. "Who the hell is he?"

"Like I said, he's someone from your mother's past. She just told me about him this morning. She doesn't know I wrote the name down and that I'm giving this to you."

"But what does someone from her past have to do with me? Why would I want to talk to him?"

"Because your mother," Sarge sighed heavily. "Your mother has always thought that he was your father."

Sam blinked. She looked down at the paper in her hands, than up at her 'father'. "Why would she keep something like that from me?"

"I don't know. Like I said, I didn't even know a damn thing about this fella until now. But I really think you should…"

The sound of the screen door that led from the kitchen to the deck opening caught them by surprise and Sam jumped, and hurried shoved the paper in her pocket as Kieran came running in, arms outstretched.

"Mommy!" he chirped, planting a huge kiss on her cheek as she scooped him up.

"Sammie," Flack stuck his head into the kitchen. "I gotta take an important call from back home. You okay with him?"

She nodded. "Fine. I'm fine. Is everything okay?"

"Just one of my old guys. He needs some help working some things out for an old case."

"Don't these people know you're on vacation?" she asked.

"I was the arresting detective," he responded. "He needs to talk to me."

"Well I'm not stopping you," she said. "Take your call."

He frowned. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Go and take your call," she said, and smiled.

"Alright," he said, scepticism in his voice. "You sure that…"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "What would be wrong with me?"

"You never know," Flack said and disappeared from the doorway.

Sam sighed heavily and attempted to put on a happy smile for her son.

The closet was slowly filling with skeletons once more.

Flack dialled the long distance number and sat down on the top stair of the front porch. He'd wanted to be as far away from his family, most importantly his wife, when he made the call. The number was all too familiar. And had appeared on his call display more than a dozen times since he'd arrived in Arizona. The owner of the number leaving just as many messages that he'd erased as quickly as they were left. He'd finally gotten up the nerve to put an end to the bullshit.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked, as soon as someone picked up.

"Hello to you, too, Don," she snorted. "You're in a cheery mood."

"I don't have time to play games with you, Jess. What do you want? You keep calling me."

"And you keep ignoring me."

"I am on vacation with my family," he reminded her. "What makes you think I'd answer?"

"We need to talk," Angell told him.

"About what? And don't say a case. You just used that in your messages in case Sam checked my voice mail. So cut the shit and tell me what you want."

"We need to talk," she repeated. "About us."

He laughed. "About us? There is no us."

"But there was. And there could be. And I want there to be and I think you do too."

"You're fucking delusional," he snorted. "I'm married. I have a wife. A wife that I love more than anything in this world. And I'm not tossing her and my family away for you."

"I don't mind being the other woman, Don," she said, ignoring him. "At least for a bit until you figure out what, and who, you really want."

"You're insane!" he hissed into the phone. "You've got some serious screws loose, girl."

"Why are you denying that there's something there? Something we both feel? That we haven't been able to get rid of even though we're with other people."

"Jess, listen to me…"

"Are you going to deny it, Don? Are you going to deny that there's feelings for there? I saw it in your eyes. I know you have feelings for me. Are you denying that?"

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "I never said that," he responded. He stood up and headed down the stairs and across the grass. Needing to be away from the house.

"Which is exactly why we need to talk."

"No," he said. "We don't. Because even though there's feelings there, or chemistry or whatever the hell you call it, there's never going to be anything between us. Do you understand me? NEVER. I am in love with my wife and I'm going to spend forever with her. And you need to cut your single white female, Fatal Attraction bullshit off. Do you hear me?"

"Does Samantha know about us?" she asked.

"What? What is there for her to know? There's no us!"

"You just said…"

"I just said there's no us!" Flack snapped. "Get it through your fucking head!"

"Does she know there was an us?" Angell asked.

"I told you that she did! What the hell…"

"Does she know about the baby?"

Flack stopped his pacing. "Don't fucking throw that up in my face."

"I take that as a no. So she doesn't know? About the baby that I was pregnant with and aborted. Because you didn't want it."

"There was no proof that that baby was mine, Jess. You even admitted it could have been two other guys'."

"And there was no proof that it wasn't either. Because I took care of it like you wanted."

"Like I wanted? An abortion was your choice! That was all you! I told you that if you wanted to have it, that that was fine. That if a paternity test proved it was mine, I'd pay child support. I told you that! That I wanted nothing to do with you but that I'd take care of my kid. Did I not say that?"

"So Sam doesn't know," Angell concluded.

"No. She doesn't. And she doesn't need to."

"Hmmm…well I'd hate for me to tell the wrong person. Because you know first hand that a lot of people have really big mouths around here."

He laughd dryly and shook his head. "Don't even think about it, Jess."

"Shouldn't be keeping secrets from your wife, Don."

"What do you want from me!" he shouted into the phone. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"I want me and you to sit down and talk. When you get back to the city."

"Fine," he said. "Fine. But I'm telling you right now, I am not leaving my wife. I am not busting up my family. Understand me?"

"We'll talk," she told him. "I better go. Get back to work."

"Yeah, that would be a good idea," he snorted.

"We'll talk soon."

"Don't call me here again, Jess," he warned.

"'Bye, Don," she said and hung up.

He pressed end and looked down at the I-phone in his hand. Gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. Clenching his jaw together so firmly it actually ached.

For the first time in his life, Don Flack was dreading going home.

Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing. I appreciate each and every one of you! Even the lurkers! Please drop me a line folks! It would mean the world to me after the God awful shitty week I've had!

Thanks to:

Laurzz (especially for giving me the courage to go with the F/A at the end there)

muchmadness

Hope4sall

Laplandgurl

Forest Angel

Soccer-bitch

Bluehaven4220

GregRox

wolfeylady

Kassandra J

Mjels

ImaSupernaturalCSI

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