DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER, OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY KIERAN.
SPECIAL WARM WELCOME TO: REBANDMEL
The hits just keep coming
"I never thought that I had any more to give
you're pushing me so far
here I am without you
drink to all that we have lost, mistakes that we have made
everything will change, love remains the same
So much more to say, so much to be done
don't you trick me out, we shall overcome
'cause our love stays ablaze
We should have had the sun
could have been inside
instead we're over here
Half the time the world is ending,
truth is I am done pretending
too much time to love defending,
you and I are done pretending."
-Love Remains the Same, Gavin Rossdale
Kieran's infectious, boisterous giggle filled the apartment and drifted into the bedroom, greeting Flack as he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water still dotting his shoulders and arms and torso. It was quarter to ten in the morning and sunshine streamed through the blinds on the bedroom window. Four days had passed since the altercation on the balcony. Since he'd nearly destroyed his marriage and lost everything that was amazing in life. His wife and his son and his unborn children that were all that mattered to Flack, and when he'd seen the seriousness in her eyes and heard it in her voice, he had come to the realization that he needed to smarten the fuck up. She wasn't kidding around when she said she'd walk. And he knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself and their children. It wouldn't be easy on her and she'd struggle, but she'd be more willing to do that than put up with his shit.
Things had to change. He had to change. And he made the decision, as he quickly towelled off and dressed, that he was going to stop at nothing to get things back to the way they were. To put all the secrets and lies and demons behind him. To earn back his wife's trust. No matter how long that took. Because while they continued to sleep in the same bed and live under the same roof, things were far from being normal. She shunned any form of affection and barely spoke more than a few words to him on a good day.
He couldn't live like that. Most of all, he couldn't live without her and his kids. And no matter how hard it was going to be, it was time to swallow his pride and suck it up and grow some balls and deal head on with not only their shit, but his own. Before it was too late and he lost her for good.
He journeyed out of the bedroom and down the hall and into the living room. Carrying his suit jacket and his tie hanging loose around his neck. Badge and holster clipped to the waist of his pants. He paused, watching his son with a bemused smirk on his face, as Kieran, in a pair of Happy Feet pyjamas, ran in circles in the middle of the living room, staring down at the floor and laughing hysterically.
"What'cha doing buddy?" Flack asked his son, running his hand over the toddler's shorn head as Kieran paused to catch a breath. Hiccups raking his tiny body, his chest heaving from excursion.
"Dat!" Kieran cried, pointing at the rays of sunlight on the hard wood floor and than continuing on with his game. "DAT!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs, laughing once more. "DAT! DAT! DAT!"
Flack grinned and headed into the kitchen. Where his wife, in a pale blue, terrycloth bath robe over her Winnie the Pooh flannel pyjama, her feet bare and her hair pulled up into a sloppy ponytail, stood leaning against the counter by the stove, rubbing her pregnant stomach with one hand and munching on toast and honey with the other. A cup of steaming tea beside her.
"Good morning, babe," he greeted, a laid a hand on her stomach and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"Morning," she returned, with a hint of a smile. "I made you some coffee if you want any," she told him, handing him a clean mug from the drain board and nodding towards the fresh pot on the counter.
"Thanks," he said, taking the mug from her and moving to pour himself a coffee. In the living room, Kieran continued to laugh noisily, the bright, uplifting sound echoing around the apartment. "I think he's gone nuts or something," Flack commented. "He's out there running around in circles talking to himself and giggling. Any clue what he's actually doing?"
"He's chasing his shadow," Sam responded, biting into her toast. "He's done it three mornings in a row. I guess it's his new thing."
Flack nodded. "Just like your new thing is sleeping on the couch?" he asked casually, sipping his black coffee. It was steaming hot and incredibly strong. Just like he he liked it.
"You were snoring really bad last night," Sam told him. "I needed to get some sleep. That wasn't going to happen if I stayed in the same bed as you. It's not personal, Don."
Don. It was just Don now. Or even worse at times, Donald. She'd retired the more affectionate Donnie four days ago. And as much as he had bitched and moaned and complained about that name when she'd first started it, he would now give anything in the world to hear it again.
He gave a small smirk. "Sure as hell felt personal," he said.
"You mean as personal as it felt to find out my husband kissed, and enjoyed kissing, a close friend of mine?" Sam asked. "While our son was missing and while I'm pregnant with his child. His children, I should say."
Flack sighed heavily and leaned against the counter beside her. "I guess I deserved that," he said.
"I only slept on the couch because of how bad you were snoring," Sam told him. "It was loud enough to wake the dead and I was having some massive hot flashes and needed to be somewhere I could open the window."
"You could have just elbowed me in the head and told me to shut the fuck up," Flack said.
"I did. Three times. Don't turn this into a huge thing."
He cast a glance down at her tiny hands as she dipped a piece of toast into a small serving of a honey in a bowl to the side. Feeling relief when the diamonds in both her engagement ring and anniversary band sparkled brilliantly. "Guess that's a good sign, right?" he asked. "That you're still wearing your rings."
She frowned. "You actually thought I'd take them off? You're still my husband, Don. I'm still your wife. Just because we're going through stuff doesn't mean I don't want to be married to you and spend forever with you. Just because I'm pissed off doesn't mean I'm going to take my rings off. You actually think I'd be that hurtful and spiteful and disrespectful to you because we're having some issues?"
He shook his head. "Guess I just thought this might be the last straw and maybe you wanted out."
"I don't ever want out," she said in a scolding tone. "I love you. That will never change. I just love myself too and I just want you to respect me more and not take advantage of me. Not take me for granted. Because how would that feel, Don? If something happened to me and I wasn't around anymore? And I'm talking permanently. As in off the face of the earth."
"Don't talk like that," his voice was quiet and solemn as he stared down at his coffee.
"That would feel like shit wouldn't it? Because I know how I would feel if something happened to you. Which was why we both need to stop treating each other like we do. Taking each others presence for granted. Anything can happen and I don't want that on my conscience for the rest of my life. All the things I've said to you out of anger or how I treated you out of spite."
"I don't want that either, babe," he said. "If something happened to you…" he sighed. "I couldn't live with all that regret hanging over me. Things I should have said or done. That would kill me."
"We need help, Don," she sounded and looked, close to tears.
He nodded in agreement. "Whatever it takes," he said sincerely. "And I know it's going to take a long time for you to trust me again. For me to even rebuild any form of trust. I just want to know that it will come eventually."
"It will," she promised. "But it's going to take some time."
"I know," he sighed and ran a hand over his weary face. "I know."
"Do you want anything to eat?" she asked, moving to the fridge and opening it and taking out a plastic container of strawberry cheese danish. "I hate eating alone. And seeing as I can't seem to stop eating…"
He managed a small smile. "I'm good," he told her. "I'm not hungry."
"You have to eat something," she argued, snapping over the container and taking out a danish. "I can't have you wasting away while I become a blimp."
"Do I look like I'm wasting away?" he laughed. "I weigh more now than I ever have in thirty one years. I'm in better shape now than when I went into the Academy. Something tells me I won't waste away. If anything.." he took a bite of the breakfast treat as she held it up to his lips, "…I'm going to pile on the sympathy weight again. Happened with Kieran, too."
"That's because you're such a good husband," she declared, taking a bite of the danish herself and setting it on her plate. "You don't let me suffer alone."
He gave a smile and laid a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her into him. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he breathed in the soft scent of her shampoo that still lingered from her shower the night before.
"I'm going to get my grimees all over your shirt," she told him, wrapping her arms around him, her hands on his back.
"So I'll change," Flack said. "I've got other shirts. I just want to hold you without you trying to push me away. That's all I want. To feel that closeness with you again. To try and get that back."
"I want that back too. I want to feel that bond again. I've always felt that with you. From you. I was always able to feel it in the way you looked at me and the way you touched me or kissed me. When we made love. And now…" she sighed heavily and rested her forehead against his chest, fighting tears.
"What about now, babe?" he asked, kissing the top of her head and stroking her hair.
"Now I don't feel that. And it's not you, okay. Because you still look at me that way and kiss me that way and touch me that way. It's just…I don't even know what it is anymore. Everything with Kieran bringing back stuff about my father and this thing with Angell. I feel like I'm going insane, Don."
"It's going to be okay," he whispered into her hair. "Me and you are going to be okay. We always are. Right?"
"Right," she agreed and smiled up at him. "I just…I can't take much more."
"I know," he said and pecked the tip of her nose. "Once this whole thing with Angell is taken care of, me and you can go on with our lives. Me, you and our children. Because that's all that matters to me, Sammie. You know that."
She nodded and allowed him to kiss her. Long and soft and sweet. "You're still going to see her after work?" she asked.
"You're still going to come with me? Meet me there?"
"Lindsay said she'd watch Kieran," Sam told him. "So I'll be there."
"And you promise me you won't lose it? Because the last thing I want, or need, is you freaking out and something happening to those babies. Speaking of which," he slipped a hand between them and placed it on her stomach. "How goes things in there this morning?"
"It goes," she sighed. "They've been going nuts since about six this morning. I hope when they arrive, they're schedules will be a bit more organized. Like maybe all sleep at the same time."
"That's just wishful thinking," Flack said, grinning at the movement inside of her. "They'll probably be all ass backwards just to annoy us."
"Probably," she laughed. Than gave a small gasp, followed by a slight wince and a giggle. "Did you feel that?" she asked. "Right by my belly button? Now that hurt. Someone in there packs a hell of a kick. Did you feel it?"
"It felt beautiful," he said, his voice quiet and filled with emotion.
She smiled and laid her hand over his. "It's surreal, isn't it? The thought of there being three in there?"
He nodded. "What's even more surreal is that we managed to make three at the same time."
"Well, if I've learned anything since we first met, it's that if something is going to happen, it's going to happen to us."
"You can say that again. It's been a journey and a half."
"One you would take over and over again," she declared. She removed her hand from over his and pulled back slightly so she do up the last two buttons on his shirt and flipped the collar up before attending to his tie for him. "I'm an old pro at this now," she said.
"I like when you do that for me," he told her.
She smiled. "I like doing it for you," she said, quickly, and expertly, tying his tie and tightening it. "Do you think you could do something for me now?" she asked,
"Anything," he replied.
"Do you think you could kiss me? Like really kiss me? It's been too long since you've really kissed me."
"It's only been four days," he said with a grin.
"To me that's a life time," she declared.
He took her tiny face in his hands and covered her lips in a long, deep and tender kiss. Feeling her sigh against his mouth and feeling her hands grip the front of his shirt tightly.
"Me!" a voice suddenly chirped below them. "Me!"
They both laughed and glanced down at their son, tugging at his father's pant leg.
"You got great timing, kid," Flack told the toddler.
"Just wait until we're trying to indulge in other things and he's bursting into the room to sleep between us," Sam laughed, as her husband kissed her a final time before stepping back as he reached down to scoop their son up into his strong arms.
"Me!" Kieran cried, touching his father's lips. "Me, daddy!"
Flack pressed a tender kiss to his son's lips. Only to receive a wet, sloppy, noisy one in return. "You kiss like your mother," he teased, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Excuse me!" Sam laughed and swatted his chest. "You're always telling me what a great kisser I am."
"You are," her husband agreed. "I just like bugging you. Come here," he reached out with his free hand and caught her by the front of her robe and pulled her back into him. "You guys are my everything, you know that?" he kissed her forehead, than Kieran's. "You're all that matters."
"You're all that matters to us, too, Donnie," Sam said. "You know that."
"I missed that," he told her. "You calling me that."
She smiled. "I missed that, too. I miss a lot of things to be honest."
"Me too," he said. "It's going to get better. I promise. I'll do whatever it takes to make things better, babe. Don't lose faith in me, okay? In us? Promise me you won't."
"I promise," she said, and laid her head on his chest.
Kieran reached out and pushed some hair away from his mother's face. "Hi mommeee," he purred.
"Hi baby boy," she said. "Can I have a kiss?"
He nodded and leaned over and pressed a soft, tiny kiss to her lips. Than to her nose.
"You are definitely your father's son," Sam giggled. "He's learned that from watching you, Donnie."
"Like I said, Sammie. His greatness comes from me."
Flack's department issued cell phone, resting on top of the microwave, rang noisily.
Sam groaned audibly. "They just know how to ruin the moment, don't they?"
"Always," Flack said and sat Kieran on the ground and snagged his phone and flipped it open. "Flack," he answered, than listened to the voice on the other end of the line.
"Mommeee," Kieran yanked at the bottom of her robe and used the sign for eat. Than drink.
"You just had breakfast an hour ago," Sam informed him, as her husband moved into the front foyer to hear dispatch better.
"So?" Kieran gave a shrug and a cheeky grin. "Tirsty," he told her. "Ungy," he rubbed his stomach.
"You are definitely a Flack, mommy's little man," she said, and scooping him up, slipped him into his high chair and buckled him in before going to the fridge and taking out a sippy cup of grape juice. She sat it, and half of her danish, on the tray. "Everything okay?" she asked Flack, as he came back into the kitchen and snagged his suit jacket from the chair he'd draped it over.
"I gotta go," he said reluctantly and kissed her softly. "Homicide in Crown Heights."
"Why does that not surprise me?" she snorted.
"You want me to try and meet you at K's appointment?" he asked, slipping into his jacket.
"If you can make it," she responded. "If not, that's okay too."
"I'll see what I can do," he said and pecked her cheek. "Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything, okay?"
She nodded and walked him to the door, getting his long, wool winter coat from the closet as he slipped into his shoes and laced them up. "Be safe," she told him, handing him the coat.
"Always," he said and kissed her a final time and shrugged into his coat. "Give K a hug and a kiss for me."
"I will."
"And you guys behave," he said, as he laid a hand on her stomach. "I'll call you later," he told his wife, unlocking the front door.
"I love you," she said, as he stepped out into the hall. "Always. You know that right?"
He smiled and pecked her forehead. "I do. And I love you, too."
She stepped out into the hall, leaning against the door, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched him head for the elevators. "Please be careful, Donnie," she called.
"Aren't I always?" he asked.
"Uh…no."
He grinned. "I'll be a good boy," he promised, than gave a final wave before stepping onto the elevator as the doors opened.
You better she thought with a smirk and headed back inside.
Four hours later, Flack found himself, armed with old case files of the four victims of the murder/suicide that had greeted him at the Wellington Street housing complex, stepping off the elevator onto the thirty fifth floor.
His crime scene had been across the street from the exact same group of tenement town homes that his wife had once grown up in and endure sheer and utter hell at the hands of her own father. He hadn't even known until that day that that was where she'd grown up. She'd never given him the exact address or area she'd spent her childhood in, and he had never asked in order to avoid bringing back to many unwanted memories. It had been Adam, grateful to be out of the lab and doing some field work -being groomed by Mac for a possible CSI promotion Flack was pretty sure- who had told him that those run down buildings had been where he and his sister had grown up.
Flack was pretty sure Adam wouldn't have said a word about it either if Flack himself hadn't walked out into the living room, needing a break from the bloody mess in the kitchen where the bodies lay, and found his brother in law, staring out the window and across the street, his lips set in a grim line and tears threatening. He had asked Adam what was wrong and at first the younger man had shook his head and tried his best to go back to his work. Flack had pressed. Not used to seeing his brother in law in such an emotional state. He'd become quite close to the kid and loved him like a brother. A much geekier little brother, but he still loved Adam nonetheless. It had taken some forceful pressing, but Adam had eventually told him that Sam and him had grown up across the street. Unit 17. And that being there and seeing that house, a place he hadn't been near since he was nearly twelve years old, was damn painful.
Adam had since recovered well and was now holed up in the trace lab. Flack had gone onto the computer the minute he'd returned from the scene and ran all the names of their vics. Each had extensive records and each had spent some impressive time in prison for drug trafficking, carrying illegal weapons, and assault.
"Hey, Dan-o!" he called to his best friend as he spotted the CSI stepping out of ballistics. "Hold up a second."
"What's up, Flack?" Danny asked, as the two men met in the middle of the busy hallway.
"Old case files on Damien Thomas and his brothers and cousin," Flack held them up. "Seems our boy and those nearest and dearest to him all had skeletons in their closets. Big ones. All of them had impressive rap sheets."
"What for?" Danny inquired.
"Drug trafficking mostly. Thomas got pinched trying to sell coke to an undercover six years ago and spend some time in Sing Sing. All of them had drug and weapons offences and assault charges under their belts. I got a call from Narco, too. That was nearly fifty kilos of coke they'd pulled out of that old freezer in the basement."
"That's a good haul," the CSI said, whistling lowly. "Think maybe it was a double cross? That Damien Thomas found out that his family was going haul ass with his stash and make themselves rich?"
"Who knows," Flack responded. "Only person who knows for sure what went down in that house is Damien Thomas and he's dead. You guys find anything else in that house that shows someone other than the deceased parties could have been around when these shootings went down?"
Danny shook his head. "Not a damn thing. As far as the evidence is showing, those four were the only ones around at the time. Doesn't mean that there wasn't someone else there.."
"Just means you're going to have a hell of a time proving otherwise," Flack concluded.
"Exactly. But, I did find out that some of the bullets picked up at the scene, did not come from any of the weapons that we recovered. Two of the bullets pulled from Thomas' youngest cousin, Jeremy Davies? Belonged to twenty two. All the weapons at the scene were nines. So these little babies," Danny held up the small plastic baggy in his hand. "Are gold right about now."
"So hello mystery person," Flack said. "Anyone find any casings that came from twenty-twos at the scene?"
Danny shook his head.
"What about prints?" the detective asked. "Pull anything off of them bullets?"
"I was just heading off to do that. Keep your pants on would you? And I hate to burst your bubble, but the chances of getting anything off of fragments like this? Slim to none. Now maybe if we had a first class ballistics expert in our midst.."
"Don't even think about it, Messer," Flack said as they headed down the hallway towards the fingerprint and DNA lab. "No way Sammie's going anywhere ballistics so dream on. She's Mac's secretary now. That's it."
"Don't let her here you call her that," the CSI laughed. "She's liable to kick your ass. So me and Montana were starting some wedding plans and…"
"Already?" Flack asked. "Haven't you guys only been engaged a few days."
"Five, actually. Five days and three hours and thirty seven minutes. But whose counting? Anyway, we were talking about some things and we're going to go with something small. Just the team and our immediate families. Nothing major. We're scouting for a small church or some nice outdoor place. Around the end of July."
"So soon?" Flack asked.
"So soon," Danny snorted. "So soon says the guy who had his girl knocked up within a month and a half of hooking up with her and was married by the end of the year. Lindsay and I just don't see a reason to waste anymore time. We wasted enough time and enough chances to last us a life time. Whole point of all of this, is that I was hoping you'd be able to make good on a promise you made me a while back."
"What promise is that?" Flack asked.
"The one that you made me when I first met Erica. That you'd have my back no matter what decision I made."
"I always have your back, Dan-o. You know that."
He nodded. "Well, now that I've made a decision, regarding my future, I was hoping that maybe you'd put your money where your mouth is and be my best man."
Flack smiled and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. "I'd be honoured to," he said.
"Good. 'Cause if you had have said no to me considering you were Mac's best man, I would have kicked your ass."
"Like I'd ever say no to you," Flack chuckled. "You're not going to hug me, are you?"
"Nah…" Danny waved the idea off. "But is it wrong that I want to?"
"No. Just if you value your life, you wouldn't do it."
"That's not a nice thing to say to the captain of Team Flack," Danny declared.
"Captain of what?"
Danny stopped walking and turned to face his best friend. "I gotta show you what I got made at that printing place over on Broadway and 45th," he said and unbuttoning his lab coat, held it open to reveal a white t-shirt with big red letters across the chest that read TEAM FLACK.
Flack couldn't help but chuckle. "What in the hell…"
"I got one for Montana too," Danny told him. "And for Hawkes and Adam. Hawkes won't wear his because he's not into that type of thing, but he wants you to know that he supports you and Sammie a hundred percent. Adam's got his own on as we speak. You like?"
"In a strange and obscure kind of way," Flack said.
"Check this out," Danny closed his lab coat once again. "Hey, Speed," he nodded in greeting as his colleague wandered past him, his nose buried in a file. "Check this out."
Speed looked up as Danny opened the lab coat. Giving him full view of the shirt.
"Mature, Messer," Speed murmured, and kept walking without so as much a second glance to Flack.
"Carmen's making him ride the couch since that whole incident with the press," Danny said, chuckling as he and Flack once again headed down the hall. "He's not talking to you?"
Flack shook his head.
"And he has the nerve to say I'm not mature," Danny snorted. "He's the one who had the big mouth and he's avoiding you? Only reason he should be avoiding you is to avoid getting his head punched in."
"The thought has crossed my mind to re-arrange his face," Flack said. "Wouldn't do any good though. Would only get me in huge shit with the brass. Can't jeopardize my job in any way. I've got too many people relying on me to bring home the bacon and pay the bills."
"You ever hear any more about this shit with Doyle?" Danny asked.
Flack shook his head. "As far as I know, it's not going any further."
"Well if it does," the CSI said. "I've got your back no matter what. You know that right?"
Flack nodded. "Thanks," he said sincerely.
Danny clapped him on the back. "What are friends for? Now stop for a second and give me a huge hug."
"Fuck you, Messer," Flack laughed and pushed his best friend away from him. "Keep your hands to yourself."
"What?" he asked. "Your wife doesn't like to share?"
"Sammie's not the sharing type. Sorry."
"Too bad," Danny sighed as he slipped into the DNA lab. "Me and you could have had something hot and great."
"Shut up and get to work, Messer," Flack said, continuing on his way to Mac's office.
Danny whistled noisily down the hall. "I see what you're wife sees in you just from the back view!" he called.
Flack just smirked and shook his head and kept walking. Hearing Danny's infectious laugh echoing behind him.
The pediatric audiology department was located on the third floor of Women's and Children's Hospital. Kieran's appointment had been scheduled for one thirty in the afternoon. His second appointment since he'd gotten the tubes inserted into his ears, he'd become somewhat or a pro in the testing room. The light were turned down to a bare minimum while he sat in his stroller facing a one way mirror while his mother took up residence in a chair in front of him in an attempt to keep his attention focused on her. The technician behind the glass spoke and made noises of various volumes and pitches through different speakers surrounding the room. All Kieran had to do was look towards the sounds and a toy, hidden in a dark box , would light up and start playing. It was simple. Yet he had barely passed previous tests he had had before and after his tubes had been inserted.
Samantha knew they were doomed the moment the tech lowered the volume of her voice and Kieran showed absolutely no sign he'd heard a damn thing. All she had been able to do was sit there and internally pray and beg for him to react. To just cast a glance in the direction of the noises. Fighting back tears at the realization that her son just could not hear. That despite the surgeon's reassurances that the tubes would improve his hearing by allowing excess fluid to drain, the procedure hadn't made a lick of difference. No sooner did they step out of the testing room and were ushered into a conference room, she had found herself bombarded with things that her frustrated, frightened mind just simply couldn't comprehend. Boarder line normal hearing in both ears, sensorineural hearing loss, amplification devices. The hits just seemed to keep on coming. She felt so overwhelmed by the news and the incidents over the past month and a half, that she had begged the tech to just leave her alone, to just back off. Than proceeded to put her face in her hands and bawl like she never had before. The alarmed tech had than ran out to call the social worker on call, and the next name on Kieran's chart listed as next of kin and who to call in an emergency.
The social worker had already arrived and was attempting to calm Samantha down when Flack, shown the way by the department's receptionist, was shown to the room. Kieran, unaffected by all the craziness, sat off in the corner playing with some of the many hospital owned toys, doing more flirting with the med student assigned to keep an eye on him than actual playing.
He'd been on his way back from breaking the news to Damien Thomas' family that their son and brother had murder two of his brothers and a cousin, when the audiology department had called him and asked him to come to the hospital right away. That his wife was in a state. At the current moment, as he stepped through the door, she was quiet and sitting on a floral print couch, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes with a wrinkled tissue.
"Mister Flack," the social worker stood and offered her hand. "I'm Rebecca Walsh. I was called down here to speak to your wife. I'm sorry that you had to be called out of work."
"Don't be sorry," he said, shaking her hand and than taking a seat on the couch beside Sam. He laid a soft, comforting hand on the back of her neck and placed a tender kiss on her temple. "My family is always more important than my job."
"Considering the seriousness and important of your job we thought that maybe your wife was overreacting by expecting you to come all this way. We…"
"My wife and my son come first," Flack interrupted her. "What's this about?"
"Your son's hearing test," Rebecca explained as she took a seat across from them. She opened a file resting on the small coffee table between them and removed a sheet of paper that she held out to Flack. "You've already seen what result paper looks like obviously."
"A few times," he said and took the paper from her. "Didn't make much sense to me than so why don't you just not waste my time and tell me what's going on."
"Kieran's deaf," Sam cried. "He's deaf, Donnie! He can't hear anything!"
"Of course he can, Sammie," Flack argued. "He just looked over here when you said his name."
"He failed his test," Sam told him. "He failed it!"
"He didn't fail," Rebecca corrected her gently. "He showed a difficulty in hearing voices and noises at softer volumes and pitches."
"Border line normal hearing!" Sam exclaimed, pointing at the paper in Flack's hands. "Border line normal! What the hell is that suppose to mean?"
"It means that…"
"It means he's got some hearing issues," Flack cut the social worker off. "We get it. So what happens now?"
"I'm really sorry that you had to come down here for this, Mister Flack," Rebecca apologised again. "If you're wife hadn't have overreacted…"
"First off, do you see the badge and the gun?" Flack asked. "It means I'm on the job still. So it's Detective Flack. Second of all, in case you haven't noticed, my wife is pregnant and she doesn't need the extra stress I know you people are known to dump on people. We've just come off possibly the worst two months of our lives. Our son was put through a hell of an event, so excuse my wife if she gets a little emotional when it seems as if people are kicking her while she's already down."
Rebecca blinked.
"All I want to know is what this means," Flack continued. "Borderline normal hearing. What do we need to do to work on this? Make it better?"
"As I was explaining to your wife," the social worker said. "Kieran has what is known as a sensorineural hearing impairment. Where there's damage to the inner ear or to the nerves leading from the inner ear to the brain."
"And you know this how?" Flack asked. "Are you an audiologist or an ENT on top of being a social worker?"
"No. I'm strictly a…"
"Strictly a social worker," he concluded. "So what's going on? A renowned hospital like this can't have a specialist come and talk families about stuff like this? They just get you to read a bunch of words off a piece of paper?"
"Donnie…" Sam said quietly, rubbing his thigh. "Don't get upset."
"I've got a reason to be upset. We pay how much money to these people to do these tests? Hearing tests and ENT appointments and surgeries. All of that and they can't be bothered to have the proper people talk to us about this?"
"The audiologist is very busy," Rebecca explained.
"Yeah?" Flack nodded slowly and stood up. "Than you tell him that when he's not busy to give either my wife and I a call and than, and only than, will we come back here and discuss anything about our son. Come on, Sammie," he offered his hand to his wife.
She curled her fingers around his and stood up.
"You'll need to stop by the receptionist and book more tests for your son," Rebecca told them.
"He has a name," Flack informed him. "Kieran. That's his name. And I'm not booking shit until someone who knows what the hell they are talking about gets in contact with us. A social worker? Come on. That's the best they could do? Kieran," he called over to his son and waved him over. "Let's go buddy. Time to go home."
"Daddeee!" Kieran cried and raced across the room and threw himself at his father's legs.
"I'll pass along your message to the audiologist," Rebecca said as she and the medical student headed for the door.
"You do that," Flack said without looking back at they left the room. "Come on, K. Let's get your coat and stuff on, buddy."
"He did really bad, Donnie," Sam sniffled, watching as her husband snagged their son's winter jacket and hat and mitts from the stroller sitting across the room. "He didn't react to any of the softer noises. I just kept begging him in my mind to look over and he never did."
"Maybe he was just distracted," Flack reasoned, kneeling down to bundled Kieran into his jacket. "Were you playing with him too much maybe?"
"I just was showing him a book."
"Were you talking to him? If you talk to him he might not have heard what else was going on."
"I've been to these tests half a dozen times now," Sam defended herself. "I know not to talk to him. He just didn't hear those noises, Donnie. Plain and simple."
"He hears fine at home," Flack reminded her, zipping Kieran's coat up and slipping the NYPD winter hat onto his son's head. "Maybe he just didn't want to cooperate today. He's stubborn. Like his mother."
"He didn't hear them," Sam insisted, as Flack buckled their son into his stroller. "There's no excuse. He just didn't hear them."
"There's nothing wrong with his hearing." Flack told her, using his foot to release the brakes on the stroller.
"But they…"
"Get your coat and your bag and stuff and I'll walk you guys to your car," Flack said.
She reluctantly reached for her jacket and shrugged into it. Slinging her hobo style purse over her shoulder, she followed him to the door, opening it so he could push the stroller through. "He might need a hearing aid," she said.
Flack snorted.
"Donnie, if he can't hear properly than…"
"There's nothing wrong with his hearing, Samantha. My son does not have a hearing impairment. Okay? There's some other reason he did bad on that test. There's nothing wrong with him. Understand me?"
She sighed heavily and nodded meekly as he headed out the door. Leaving little more for her to do than follow.
She answered the door in a simple black wrap style dress that showed off her amazing figure and lean, silky legs. Her thick, luxurious dark hair fall about her shoulders and framed her smooth, flawless face. Her perfume permeated his senses the second they came face to face. There was no denying that she was a phenomenally beautiful woman. But she wasn't his woman and he didn't want her to be. And after the day he had had, Flack was in no mood for any type of bullshit.
"I was afraid you weren't going to show up," Angell said, eyeing the attractive man on her door step. His dress shirt wrinkled and un-tucked, his tie long gone. His eyes and face weary. A five o'clock shadow dusting his jaw.
"I got held up a bit," Flack told her. "I've had a hell of a day with Kieran."
"Is he okay?" Angell asked, opening the door farther and motioning for him to step inside.
"He's got some issues with his hearing," he replied, stepping into the apartment and toeing off his shoes and setting them by the door. "It's nothing Sammie and I can't take care of."
"Want me to take your coat?" she asked hopefully.
What he really wanted to do was get the fuck out of there. The sight of dozens upon dozens of candles lit in the living room and a bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket on the coffee table, accompanied by two crystal wine glasses, turned Flack's stomach. Angell obviously had lofty plans. Plans he wanted no part of. But if things were going to go down like he wanted, he needed to play along for the time being.
"Sure," he smiled warmly. Almost flirtatiously. Shrugging out of his jacket, he held it out to her.
She returned the smile and stood on her tip toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
As she headed for the closet to hang up his coat, Flack glared at her back and quickly used the back of his hand to wipe off the lipstick she no doubt left behind.
"Care for a drink?" she asked, leading the way into the romantically lit living room.
"I'll have one. I can't stay too long. Family stuff, you know?"
Angell nodded. She plucked the bottle of wine from the ice and pulled out the cork. Pouring two glasses, she held one out to him. "I'm glad you're here, Don," she said, taking a seat on the couch.
"I told you I'd be here," he said, sitting down beside her. "You wanted to talk and here I am. So let's talk. What do you want from me, Jess?"
"You know what I want from you," she told him, sipping her white wine.
"I can't give you what you want," Flack said. "I'm a happily married man. I love my wife and my family. I'm not losing Sammie or my kids for you. I'm just not. I don't need someone on the side when I'm perfectly happy with what and who I have."
"Just give it a chance, Don," she encouraged, laying her hand on his knee. "It was amazing what we had. The connection we had. Every time we made love…it was incredible. We were incredible. And I miss that. Don't you miss that?"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jess. But I can't do that to my wife."
"She doesn't have to know," Angell argued. "It can be our little secret."
"And what about Hawkes?" Flack asked. "Are you forgetting about him?"
"He doesn't need to know either. No one needs to know but us. We can go on with our lives and have us on the side. And when you realize that it's me that you really want and you come to your senses…"
"I love Samantha, Jess. She's my wife. The mother of my children. She's who I want. Just her. You'd just be second. And no woman wants to be, or deserves to be, second."
"Some day I can be first," she said in a near whisper. "This is just between me and you, Don. It doesn't leave this apartment. In fact, we can start tonight and…"
A loud knock came to the apartment door. Blessedly and thankfully sparing Flack from having to take the charade any further. He hid a satisfied smirk behind his glass as he sipped his wine and Angell hurried off to answer the door. Murmuring about how other tenants weren't suppose to let people off the street in, that no one could get up to the apartments unless they rang the buzzer. And that whoever it was on the other side of the door was in for a rude awakening.
Angell angrily snapped open the dead bolt lock. Cursing whoever was on the other side for putting a temporary halt on that night's action. "Look," she said, as she yanked the door open. "Whatever the hell you're selling I don't.."
All words suddenly escaped her at the sight that greeted her.
The sugary sweet, overly friendly smile of Samantha Flack.
And the furious, dark and hurt eyes of Doctor Sheldon Hawkes.
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! And to all of those who have added me to their favourites and alerts. I appreciate each and every one of you! Please R and R folks! Makes my day!
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