DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY KIERAN.

A/N: WELCOME TO ALL OF YOU WHO HAVE ADDED ME TO ALERTS AND FAVOURITES! MUCH APPRECIATED!

BIG THANKS TO HOPE4SALL FOR LENDING ME HER OC KARLY SHEDD

ALSO, HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL MY AMERICAN READERS! GOD BLESS YOU ALL! ENJOY SOME TURKEY AND STUFFING AND PUMPKIN PIE FOR ME!

AND ANOTHER THANK YOU: TO ALL OF YOU FOR HELPING THIS STORY GET TO 700+ REVIEWS! I AM OVERWHELMED AND FEEL SO BLESSED TO HAVE SUCH GREAT AND LOYAL READERS AND FRIENDS!

Behind closed doors

"I know she's not perfect but she tries so hard for me
And I thank god that she isn't 'cause how boring would that be
It's the little imperfections it's the sudden change in plans
When she misreads the directions and we're lost but holdin' hands
Yeah I live for little moments like that

When she's layin' on my shoulder on the sofa in the dark
And about the time she falls asleep so does my right arm
And I want so bad to move it 'cause it's tinglin' and it's numb
But she looks so much like and angel that I don't wanna wake her up
Yeah I live for little moments
When she steals my heart again and doesn't even know it
Yeah I live for little moments like that."
-Little Moments, Brad Paisley

She woke from a late morning nap to the sound of raucous, hysterical giggling and the sound of tiny feet racing down the hallway and past the bedroom. Shortly followed by the pounding of much larger feet and her husband's loud and assertive voice.

"Kieran! No! Get back here right now!"

Samantha yawned noisily and carefully rolled from her left side to her back, staring up at the cove ceiling as she listened to the exchange taking place between father and son in the across the hall. Flack attempting, in vain, to explain to their son why throwing things in the toilet was not a good idea and why Kieran had to behave and get some clothes on because Papa Mac and his 'special friend' were coming to visit that afternoon and there were tons of things to do before than.

Sam groaned at the thought of spending a few hours with her boss and his mistress. Or was it his girlfriend? Significant other? She wasn't sure what to call this Karly and wasn't sure if she was ready to be chummy with someone that had simply walked into Mac's life and busted his family all to shit. Regardless of Stella's bitchy, cold and insensitive way of dealing with Kieran and his ordeal that morning at the hospital nearly two months ago, she hadn't deserved someone poaching her man off of her. Especially while she was pregnant. Sam wondered just what kind of woman this Karly was to even justify splitting up a marriage, especially with a child involved. Did she honestly think it was okay to be the other woman? Was she satisfied with that title or was she hoping that Mac would just up and divorce his wife and abandon his child to be with her on a permanent basis? Sam didn't know what the girl's deal was, and truth be told, she really didn't care. She had put the issues with Stella behind her and sincere apologies on Stella's behalf had been offered up when Sam had sucked up her own pride and went to visit her massively pregnant friend three weeks ago.

She had yet to meet Karly. That afternoon would be the first, and hopefully last, day that she was going to be spending with the woman. She hated feeling as if she had to make a choice over what side to be on. Team Taylor or Team Bonasera-Taylor. It was just goddamn ridiculous and she didn't have the time, with the fifty million other issues coursing through her mind, to indulge it such petty shit. She had vowed to stay neutral. She didn't talk about Mac and his girlfriend when she was in Stella's presence and avoided conversations surrounding Stella when she was in Mac's company. Deep down, despite the fact that Mac seemed happier and more relaxed and well rested than anyone had ever seen him, Sam hoped that this was just a passing thing in her boss' life. That he was going to get past whatever mid life crisis was afflicting with him and just get his shit back together and go home and kiss and make up with his wife and live happily ever after with her and his family.

Of course, now that things were going more smoothly in her own marriage, Samantha could afford the luxury of being so positive. It had been exactly a month since the altercation with Angell. The woman had asked for, and received rather quickly, a transfer from homicide to narcotics and was currently working out of a precinct in north Brooklyn. Samantha hadn't spoken to Angell since that night, nor had the other woman ever attempted to contact her. That friendship was beyond shattered, and Sam saw no hope of it ever being prepared. At that point in time, she couldn't have honestly cared if she never heard Angell's name ever again in her entire life. All she knew for sure was that she and Hawkes were living together and attempting to repair things. It was a day by day, slow and steady process and Hawkes wasn't one to share stories about his personal life. He seemed relatively happy and still excelled at his job. He hadn't let his girlfriend's attempted infidelity bother him that much apparently.

But that was his and Angell's business. Sam's main concern, or lack of concern, was her own marriage. Things had never seemed better. Her husband, despite his inconsistent, excruciatingly long and tiresome hours, had turned over a new leaf at home. He did chores without having to be nagged at over and over again. He took the initiative to cook dinner or give their son a bath and ready for bed. He took Kieran out every Saturday morning so the two of them could have breakfast at McDonald's, and now, with the snow all melted and replaced by relatively warm April temperatures, go for walks through Central Park and visit the zoo. Kieran's favourite Saturday morning activity was to stand on the banks of the main pond in the park and toss bread crumbs at the ducks and than either run away in sheer terror, or stand there laughing and screeching hysterically, when several of the birds made a break towards him.

Couples wise, things had drastically improved as well. They forgave more and fought less. They did small, meaningful things for each other and told one another they loved each other every spare chance they got. The trust was slowly and steadily building once again. Their marriage was strong and secure, growing more so every day as her pregnancy continued on.

Twenty weeks. Twelve more to go and she'd be admitted into the hospital and put under general anaesthetic and the triplets would be born via c-section. The tattoo on her lower back prevented an epidural, which in turn, prevented Flack from being allowed in the room when his children were born. No spectators when a patient was put right under. Hospital rules. Flack wasn't keen on the idea of not being allowed to witness his babies being delivered, yet at the same time, knew they'd be exceptionally tiny and need rapid medical attention and would be whisked off to the NICU and that he'd only get in the way and hinder the care his children would require.

The fifth month ultrasound had been the day before. And what had supposed to have been a routine appointment had turned into a day long ordeal when the radiologist assigned to looking at the sonogram, had noticed something that wasn't quite right with one of the babies. Sam and Flack had been half way to the parking garage of the hospital to head home when his cell phone had rang and the ultrasound tech who'd done all the work was telling him that the radiologist had noticed a couple of things and had made an immediate appointment with a fetal and maternal medicine specialist.

For an hour they had met with a geneticist and a the specialist. The two 'issues' in question being below normal measurements of the baby's femurs and a two vessel umbilical cord. Both signs of a chromosomal defect. Mixed in with the fact there'd been a less than stellar showing on the triple screen test, the fetal specialist was concerned, as they had been with Kieran, that the baby had one of three defects. Trisomies, they called them. Three copies of a chromosome instead of the usual two. In this case, the most likely cause being Down Syndrome. The less concerning of the three options. The other two were rare and unfortunately, catastrophic and incompatible with life. Both Sam and Flack were familiar with the more horrific of the two. Trisomy 13. That had been the diagnosis Devon and her fiance had received through an amniocentesis. Their child hadn't made it to term and Devon had miscarried just a week before at only twenty-seven weeks.

The news concerning their own child was unsettling, but not life ending for Sam and Flack. When confronted with the fact that the triple screen had also said that something was wrong with Kieran and he was born perfectly healthy, the specialist had admitted that there was extreme room for error with both the blood work and the things that had been found in the ultrasound. 'Normal' babies were born all the time with two vessel umbilical cords and with short femur bones.

"So the kid's short like his mother," Flack had commented, when the doctor had commented that Flack himself was of above average height. "One of them has to be like the mom, right?"

The geneticist had them piped up that there'd been nothing else found on the ultrasound that indicated a problem. Markers, as they were called. More noticeable, overwhelming features that easily identified Down Syndrome.

"So in your opinion, as the professional whose used to seeing this stuff," Flack had said. "Would you recommend us having an amnio or would you just say skip it?"

The geneticist had sighed, looked at the images in front of him and nodded slowly. "I don't think there's anything to be concerned about," he'd admitted. "There's nothing wrong with your baby. Go home and enjoy the rest of the pregnancy."

So they did. They pretended as if that appointment had never taken place. They didn't speak of it again and never mentioned it to their friends or family. Yet, silently, both wondered if maybe the doctors had been wrong. That there was something there to be concerned about. And no matter how far back in their minds they had tried to push the thought of something being wrong with their baby, the thought seemed to gnaw away at both of them. Yet neither told the other what they were feeling. Opting instead to adopt the policy that ignorance was bliss at times.

And right now, listening to father and son squabbling in the bathroom, that policy was a damn good one to have. She giggled softly at her husband's lame attempts at discipline and Kieran's insistent babbling and his even more insistent, angry "NO!" that seemed to reverberate throughout the entire apartment.

She lay in the stillness of her bedroom, eyes closed and her hands resting on her stomach, trying to shut out the noise from the next room. Thinking about all the packing that had to be down within the next month and a half now that they had finally found a house in Flushing, Queens, three blocks from his parents' that they had both liked and agreed on. A centuries old two storey red brick Victorian with new windows, roof and central air and three year old furnace. Three plus one bedrooms and two and a half baths and a fairly decent sized back yard.

The wooden porch that stretched from one side of the front of the home to the other needed to be repaired in spots and new stairs put in. Some of the rooms needed fresh coats of paint and the hardwood floors sanded and re-finished. But it was nothing that couldn't be done in a couple of weekends. They'd submitted their offer two weeks ago and had found out a day later that it had been accepted. Move in date was June 15th. The triplets were scheduled to be born July 3rd. It was going to be a hell of a feat fitting everything in, but not impossible.

In the meantime, life in the cramped two bedroom lower Manhattan apartment went on.

Sam's eyes snapped open at the sound of the toilet flushing, followed by the slamming of the lid.

"KIERAN!" Flack bellowed. "What the hell did you do?!"

No sooner did his father yell, which no doubt scared the piss out of the poor kid, Kieran burst into an ear piercing wail.

Sam pushed the covers off with a heavy sigh. God give me strength, she thought, as she slowly and carefully sat up in bed and swung her legs over the edge. The vertigo that had plagued her through the later stages of her pregnancy with Kieran had reared its ugly head once again. Along with an irregular, yet harmless, heart beat that caused palpitations every time she walked too fast or bent over. Not that she was doing much of both with her increasingly growing stomach in the way. It had been three weeks since she'd last seen her own feet. Something she was not too impressed about.

Kieran's wailing had subsided into pitiful sobs of " Daddeee, Daddeee" by the time she opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Taking the four steps to the small bathroom, she paused in the door way, eyes wide at the sight that greeted her.

Her husband on his knees in front of the toilet, up to his elbow in the water. A furious look on his face as their son, face bright red from screaming, tears spilling down his cheeks and his nose running profusely, yanking on his father's shirt asking for a drink. Kieran was as naked as the day he was born save for the hearing aid over his right ear.

His hearing loss had actually been caused by the tube -which the ENT had successfully plucked out with a pair of tweezers last appointment because the damn thing was falling out- leaving a rather large hole in the poor kid's ear drum. Such holes were common after the tubes shifted and began falling out, but most holes closed on their own and caused no prolonged damage.

Except for anyone the last name Flack it seemed. Because that last name was cursed. And any one either born to it or married to it was destined to have surreal, stupid or evil and dangerous shit happen to them.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam asked. "Why does the baby have no clothes on?"

"Because he's evil," Flack replied. "I was trying to put a diaper on him and he took off. Grabbed the remote control and came in here and tried to flush it."

"You're suppose to keep your eyes on him, Donnie," she scolded, as her son toddled over and curled his arms around her legs and buried his face in her thigh. "Not on eye on him and one eye on the television."

"Hey!" Flack snapped. "Don't insult my intelligence or my daddy skills. I happened to have both eyes on the television."

She frowned. "I can't pick you up, Kieran," she apologized to her son as she stroked his hair. Which thankfully, following the bleach job and subsequent brush cut, had begun to grow back as coal black as it was before. Sometimes peroxide caused irreversible follicle damage. Thankfully, it hadn't been the case with Kieran.

"Mommeee," he whimpered, holding his arms up.

"Kieran, I can't pick you up because it might hurt the babies," she explained delicately and calmly. She doubted he understood a damn word of what she was saying. Or that he had the slightest clue that he was going to be a big brother. But they still drilled it into him each chance they got.

He shook his head vigorously and continued to reach for her.

"Kieran Shaun Donald, listen to me…" she took his tiny face in her hands and bent down to his level, so golden eyes were locked on blue. "Mommy can't pick you up. Because of the babies. I know that makes you angry. But we don't want the babies to get hurt, do we?"

"Baby?" he asked, pointing to her stomach. His speech and comprehension of spoken words had improved remarkably since he had received his hearing aid. The difference in both his vocabulary and personality was startling.

"Three babies," she replied, holding up three fingers. "In mommy's tummy."

"Mommy?" he pointed at her stomach once more.

She nodded. "Right in there. We don't want them to get hurt do we?"

Kieran shook his head.

Sam opened the cupboard under the sink and snagged a Huggies diaper from the extra box kept inside. "Hold onto mommy," she said to her son, than to make it clearer what she wanted, crouched down in front of him and than took his tiny hand and laid it on her shoulder as she quickly and effortlessly, slipped the diaper on his bare ass while he was in a standing position. "Were you being bad?" she asked, showering his chubby face with kisses.

"No bad," he responded.

Flack snorted.

Sam spotted the remote control in question sitting on the sink ledge and frowned. "Babe," she said to her husband. "If the remote control is safe and sound, what are you trying to get out of there? What did he flush? A toy?"

"I wish," Flack mumbled.

"Please tell me it wasn't car keys or a cell phone."

"Worse," he told her.

"Not much can be worse than him flushing a department issued cell phone."

"He flushed your watch," Flack informed her. "Your Esquire watch that I bought you for Valentine's Day last year. The one I paid nearly three hundred bucks for."

Sam's eyes widened.

"You left it on the back of the toilet, babe. Along with your engagement ring and that diamond anniversary band thing I gave you on that carriage ride in Central Park. If he'd have flushed that engagement ring, trust me, he'd be right in that toilet along with it."

"Don't talk like that about our son," Sam scolded him.

"It's a ten grand ring!" Flack cried. "From Tiffany's! And why the hell did you leave your jewellery in here in the first place!"

"Because the engagement ring is way too tight and I had to take it off and I took my watch off when I washed my hands earlier and…"

"And you couldn't put your things in your jewellery box? You've only got three of the damn things," he growled.

"I never thought about it," she admitted meekly, standing up slowly, a hand on the small of her back. "Please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not…" he snapped, than took a deep breath to calm himself, closing his eyes briefly. "I'm not mad at you, babe," he assured her in a softer voice. "I'm mad that our son just flushed three hundred dollars down the toilet and.."

Kieran's tiny hand reached out for, and found, the handle on the toilet. And before Sam could bolt to grab him or Flack could issue a warning, the toddler proceeded to flush it.

Flack jerked his hand out of the toilet bowl, only to have the water, both from the pressure of the flush and his own motion, splash up in his face.

Sam gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth in both shock, and to hold back the bark of laughter that threatened to erupt at the look of her husband, face flushed with absolute fury and supreme agitation, sitting there on his heels staring at both her, and Kieran, as if he was just about to slaughter them both.

"Donnie…" she began, only to have him hold up his hand to silence her. She bit her lip to suppress the giggles and instead of speaking, went to her son and gently and silently, took him by the wrist and guided him towards the door.

"That is the last time you leave me alone with him," Flack informed her, using the front of his shirt to wipe his face before rising to his feet and slamming the lid of the toilet shut. He shook his head slowly and sighed and looked down at the toilet.

"Do you think we should call a plumber?" she asked.

"For what?"

"To get my watch the hell out of there," she said. "That was a beautiful watch."

"Your watch is halfway to the Hudson by now, babe," Flack informed her. "Calling a plumber will solve nothing other than costing a disgusting amount of money."

"Well I need a watch," she said. "I feel naked without one."

"My old watch is in the top drawer of my dresser," Flack told her. "Lots of women wearing guys watches these days. It's a perfectly good watch."

"Have you seen the size of my wrists?" she asked, holding up a hand. "Compared to the size of yours?"

"Take it to a jewellery store and get a band that fits you put on it," he reasoned.

"He's your devil child," she huffed. "Either hire a plumber or…"

"Plumber would cost me more than the damn watch!" he argued.

"…or buy me a new one," she finished. "My birthday is in two and a half weeks after all."

"I already have your birthday gift," he informed her.

"Well tough shit. Now you have a watch to replace. Thanks to Dennis the Menace, here."

"Let's just be thankful he didn't flush his hearing aid," Flack said. "I would have jumped off the balcony for sure had he done that."

"Daddy…" Kieran tugged at Flack's shirt. "Daddy?"

Flack sighed and looked down at his son. "You're a little shit, you know that?"

"Me!" he cried and giggled. "Wuv daddy."

He grinned and scooped his son up into his arms. "You're lucky daddy loves you as much as he does," he declared, pressing a kiss to his son's cheeks. "'Cause if not, you'd be swimming with the fishes right about now."

"Ishes!" Kieran exclaimed and sucked in his cheeks and puckered his lips. The perfect set of fish lips.

Both mother and father laughed.

"What do you say we got and get you dressed and me and you go and get the things we need at the store and find your mom a new watch?" Flack suggested to his son. "Go to McDonalds. Have some chicken nuggets and fries dipped in sweet and sour sauce."

Sam made a gagging noise.

"Bring your mom and Huey, Duey and Luey back one of them hot cherry pies they like so much."

Sam smiled sheepishly and held up three fingers.

"Are you kidding me?" Flack chuckled. "Three? You want three?"

"One," she pointed to the top of her stomach. "Two," she pointed to the right side. "And three," she pointed the left. "Three to feed honey. One each."

"You people are damn demanding," Flack said and kissed her softly. "I can't believe our first born actually did something like that," he sighed as he headed for the bathroom door. "He's suppose to be the angelic, innocent one."

Sam snorted.

"Instead he's a raging lunatic like the rest of the Ross family."

"Watch it wise butt," his wife said. "I have to admit, it was kinda funny seeing you down on your knees fishing around in toilet water. But not as funny as seeing it splashed all over your face."

"You just revel in other peoples misery, don't you," he teased.

"Hey!" she called as he stepped out the door.

He poked his head back into the room.

"Look at it this way, Donnie. At least you know the water was clean. It wasn't one of them times that someone in this house, who shall remain nameless, took a leak and didn't flush afterwards. Now had that happened…now that would have been a goddamn tragedy."

"You're a real comedienne," he said with a smirk as she burst into laughter.

"But you love me!" she exclaimed as he left the room.

"Most days!" he returned. "Only those that end in Y."

She grinned and shook her head. "Wise ass," she said.

The young woman that stood on the opposite side of her door was not what Samantha Flack had been expecting. Despite the rumours that had been swirling the crime lab about the 'other woman', Sam was a firm believer in always passing off what others said as complete bullshit. That she didn't believe a damn thing until she saw it with her own two eyes. She hadn't really formed an opinion of Karly Shedd in her mind. All she knew was that this girl was younger than she was and that she was most likely doing things for Mac that Stella would never dream of doing. In all aspects of their relationship. To each their own, as far as Sam was concerned, although she found it hard to hide her disgust that Mac, someone she trusted and respected and admired more than she did anyone else, would do something like that to Stella and bust up his family.

Frankly, she'd been expecting a walking, talking sex pot in a mini skirt and a top two sizes too big that didn't hide her wears and stiletto heels. Only because Flack had given that description when Sam had made the mistake of asking him what he thought this Karly girl was going to look like. He figured Mac, in the midst of his old age crisis, as Flack called at, had gone out and found himself some sweet, hot, young thing that was the complete opposite of the reserved and conservative Stella.

He wasn't far wrong. She wasa hot young thing with long, dark hair that tumbled down her back and over her shoulders and framed a glowing, flawless face. Slight makeup graced her youthful features. A hint of smoky eyeliner and a dab of blush and peach coloured lip gloss that sparkled. Clad in a cream coloured peasant style dress with a sweetheart neckline and red and blue flowers embroidered along the edge of the skirt and the cap sleeves and a pair of strappy bronze kitten heel sandals. She carried a matching bronze hobo style purse and several chunky bracelets jangled on both wrists.

And Mac was nowhere to be seen.

"Samantha Flack?" the young woman asked nervously.

Sam nodded.

"I'm Karly," she offered a hand. "Karly Shedd. Mac's girlfriend?"

"Nice to meet you," Sam said and shook the younger woman's hand. Noticing the elaborately manicured peach coloured nails boasting sparkling crystals. "Where's Mac?"

"He's looking for a parking spot," Karly explained. "He dropped me off and told me to come up."

Sam's eyes widened. "By yourself?"

The other woman nodded. "Needless to say, I'm nearly wetting myself here."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "I can't believe he'd do that," she huffed and held the door open and motioned for her guest to enter. "Goddamn men."

Karly smiled as she stepped into the apartment feeling a sense of relief at the other woman's obviously down to earth and warm personality.

"My husband isn't around either," Sam said, shutting the door. "I sent him out to get some pop and stuff an hour ago because he forgot it the first time around and I haven't heard from him since. See what happens? Let him loose, alone, in the city and he ups and disappears first chance he can get. I guess I needed to tighten that leash some more."

Karly laughed heartily. She had been 'warned' by Mac about the tiny Brooklyn girl's sense of humour. And had also been told that Samantha Flack didn't indulge in such humour with just anyone. That she saved it for the people that she was the most fond of. So it made Karly more at ease about Mac's decision to introduce her to two of his friends and most respected colleagues. Especially when they were just as close to Stella. She'd been worried about how she'd be treated and received. And so far, it seemed as if those worries were proving groundless.

"Ignore the mess," Sam implored, as she led the way into the living room. "We're in the process of starting to pack and things are a bit hectic and chaotic around here."

Karly glanced around the spacious living room with its high, cove ceiling and hardwood floor and a sliding glass door that led out onto a balcony. She wouldn't exactly call the place a mess. There didn't seem to be a speck of dust on the coffee or end tables or on the entertainment unit that took up nearly the entire wall across from the couch and boasted a large, flat screen HDTV, various video game systems and a stereo, along with numerous DVDs and books. More books and wrinkled magazines were neatly pilled on the coffee table, accompanied by a thick pad of drawing paper and washable Crayola markers. Ta-Doodles, the box read. Short, round markers that looked like a frog, a bear and a pig. The shape of the colouring devices meant to encourage a child's use of the palm grasp. Toys and a portable play pen were neatly arranged along the wall near the balcony door. The apartment was more lived in and cluttered than it was a mess.

"Mac was telling me on the way over that you and your husband and your little boy are moving into a house soon," Karly commented, as Sam motioned for her to take a seat on the couch.

"End of June," the other woman replied. "We can hardly wait. It's already crowded in here with the three of us so you can imagine what hell on earth it would be when three other babies arrive. Would you like something to drink? I've got milk, juice, cherry Kool-Aid, there's some pop still left. I'd offer beer or wine, but we don't keep alcohol in the house."

"Mac mentioned that your husband is a recovering alcoholic…"

"Well I wouldn't go as far as saying he was ever an alcoholic. Just that he was in danger of being one. Thankfully for me and our son, he decided that it was one demon in his life that he didn't leave. Drink?"

"I haven't had cherry Kool-Aid in years," Karly gushed. "I'd love some. Do you need help or…"

"I can still pour a glass of juice," Sam assured her with a smile as she headed for the kitchen. "I've got some finger food stuff in the oven and some veggies and fruit and dip we can either get into now or wait until the guys get here."

"I'm fine right now," the younger woman called to her. "We can wait."

"Well maybe you can," Sam laughed. "But I eat constantly."

Karly smiled in appreciation and offered a thank you when the other woman finally returned with two tall glasses of the deep red Kool-Aid and sat them on the counter. "So you're just about ready to go?" she asked, as Sam, a hand on the small of her back, sank slowly down onto the couch.

"Just about ready?" Sam chuckled as she rubbed her stomach. "I still have twelve more weeks."

"Sorry, I just…"

"It's okay. I'm as big as a house. Most people think I'm way into my third trimester. I'll be glad when it's over. And when it is, my husband is going to pay. Yes, he is. And he's going to pay dearly."

"You met at work?"

Sam nodded. "He's a homicide detective. He works in conjuncture with the crime lab. We actually met on my first day. Things happened pretty quickly after that. We met at the end of March, by the beginning of January we were both married, and had our son."

"Love works in mysterious ways," Karly reasoned.

Sam nodded. "How about you and Mac?" she asked. "How did the two of you meet?"

"I've been a regular down at Cozy's for a few months," Karly replied. "My best friend starting taking me there on Wednesday's to hear the live jazz. And well, there was Mac…"

"A few months?" Sam asked, attempting to hide her surprise.

"Well nothing officially happened until two months ago," Karly made air quotes around the word official.

The petite brunette beside her arched an eyebrow.

"I finally got up the nerve to talk to him," she explained. "For weeks and weeks I watched him and found him so incredibly attractive and my friends kept telling me to make a move and I could never get up the nerve."

"And…" Sam pressed gently.

"And we talked and had a few drinks and that was it."

"It didn't bother you that he was married?" Sam asked. "Did he even tell you he was married?"

"He was honest and upfront. I was leery at first about getting involved with a married man, but he assured me that things had been strained between him and his wife for a while and…"

"She's ready to give birth any day," Sam defended Stella. "Trust me, things have not been strained between them."

"No one knows what happens behind closed doors," Karly reasoned. "How well do you actually know Mac outside of work?"

Sam just sighed.

"I know it's not the easiest thing to accept…"

"You're right," Sam said. "It's not. But I'm a little sensitive about it because there was someone just recently in my life, someone who I thought was my friend, that was attempting to become the other woman in my husband's life."

Karly blinked. 'I'm sorry, I…"

"It's behind me," Sam assured her. "There's quite a few years between you and Mac."

"Seventeen," Karly confirmed. "I've never dated an older man before."

"Me either," Sam said. "Well, give or take a few years. And I'd never been with a younger guy until I met my husband."

"A May-December romance?" Karly asked.

"Not exactly. I'll be thirty-four and he's only thirty one. Acts thirteen sometimes, but that's another story all in itself. So you play violin in the Philharmonic?"

Karly nodded. "I brought some extra tickets for next month. Maybe you and your husband would like to come to a performance with Mac."

"I'd have to run it by him. He's more a Metallica and Kiss, classic rock kind of guy. You study at Julliard?"

"I'm in the process of getting my Phd in Orchestral Studies. I did my undergrad there as well."

"So what will Orchestral Studies get you in the long run?" Sam asked.

"It's really useless in real life," Karly laughed. "That's what my mom always says anyway. I prefer teaching over performing. I make extra cash by teaching kids violin lessons. My hope is that one day I can open a music school. I just love kids. You obviously have a post secondary education."

Sam nodded. "I have a masters in forensics from Dartmouth. And a BA in criminal profiling."

"Impressive."

She shrugged. "It's an eighty thousand dollar diploma that's in a fake leather folder somewhere in the back of the bedroom closet. My husband always laughs about it because he says he didn't just gain a wife when he married me, he also got the remains of a pesky student loan to pay off."

Karly laughed. "And he went to college, too?"

"He went straight on to the NYPD Academy after he graduated from high school," Sam told her. "Being a cop runs in his family so…"

The sound of keys rattling in the lock was soon replaced by the door opening and the apartment being filled with Flack, Mac and Kieran's voices.

"MOMMEEE!" Kieran bellowed from the foyer. "MOMMEEE!"

"I'm in here!" Sam called to him. "In the living room!"

His tiny head appeared from around the corner and his face lit up. "Mommy!" he cried happily and went tearing into the living room.

Karly smiled at the adorable little boy bounding towards them. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but bursting with confidence. He was a precious little thing. Tall and sturdy for his age with short black hair and big, sparkling blue eyes framed by impossibly long dark lashes, Wearing a pair of denim overalls with the words Phat Farm written on the back pocket and a white and green stripped long sleeve shirt. And Diego running shoes with soles that lit up with each step he took.

"So this is Mac's pride and joy," Karly said, running a hand over Kieran's hair.

"This is Kieran," Sam beamed with pride. "Kieran, this is Karly. Can you say hi?"

The toddler stood in front of the newcomer and placed his hands on her knees. He cocked his head to the side and gave a flirtatious, dimpled grin. "Hi…" he chirped.

Karly giggled. "Hi there, cutie. Are you a sweetheart?"

Kieran nodded energetically and continued to stare at her.

Sam tugged gently on one of the straps of his overalls to get him to look at her. "Kieran…why don't you go and play?" she used the sign for play. Thumbs and pinkies extended on both hands, other fingers tucked in as she shook her hands back and forth.

"Pay?" he repeated, using the sign himself before rushing off to his wide selection of toys.

"He's adorable," Karly gushed. "It must be difficult raising a deaf child when both you and your husband are hearing."

"Oh he's not deaf," Sam laughed. "He's just his father's son. They both have selective hearing."

"I heard that Sammie," Flack said as he and Mac journeyed into the living room.

"See what I mean?" Sam asked the younger woman. "He only hears certain things."

Karly got to her feet and offered a hand to the tall, strong looking young man before her. "You must be Don," she said.

"We just call him Flack," Mac told her, as he leaned over the couch in order to embrace Sam and kiss her cheek in greeting.

Karly arched an eyebrow. "You go by your last name?"

"Just something that started a long time ago and stuck," Flack told her shaking her hand.

"You're little boy is adorable. Just precious."

"He's a handful," Flack said. "But thanks. He's cute like daddy and smart like mommy."

Sam snorted. "You wish."

"Come on, we all know you're the brains of this operation," Flack told his wife as he sat down beside her and draped his arm across her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "And that I'm the one with the stunning good looks."

Mac pecked Karly on the top of the head as he joined her on the love seat. "I hate to break this to you, Flack…"

"What is this?" the detective asked. "Pick on Flack day? I nearly had my hand severed earlier when my son decided to flush the john on me."

"You were never in any danger," Sam informed him. "Kieran flushed my watch and Donnie attempted to save it until…"

"Until he nearly flushed me along with it," Flack finished.

"I doubt you would have gone very far," Sam said.

"What's that suppose to mean?" her husband asked. "Are you calling me fat?"

"You're not exactly the smallest guy, Donnie," she replied.

"So you are calling me fat."

"If the shoe fits," she teased and rubbed his stomach.

"It's called sympathy weight, babe."

"No," she giggled. "They're called love handles."

Mac and Karly both laughed at the playful, good natured teasing taking place in front of them. Noticing that even without words, the other couples emotions and feelings were laid bare in their eyes and the way they smiled at one another.

It was there and than, that Karly Shedd came to a decision.

She wanted a love like that.

And she wanted it with Mac Taylor.

Mac and Karly had stayed longer than what was originally planned, or expected. The two couples had spent the afternoon and into the evening laughing and talking. They ordered in Thai food and relaxed and enjoyed each other's company. Both Sam and Flack noticed how at ease Mac now seemed. Flack found it hard to fully accept Karly as part of Mac's life. It was a difficult pill to swallow knowing that he'd cheated on his pregnant wife and had been for a couple of months. Stella and him may have had their disagreements and fights, but Flack still considered her one of his closest friends. And she deserved so much better than being treated like that. His main bone of contention was the fact that this Karly was younger than Flack's own wife. He just couldn't seem to get over that little issue.

But he had his own issues to deal with and refused to get too caught up in Mac's personal life. What Mac did was his business. Plain and simple.

It was shortly before midnight when Flack wandered into the master bedroom, yawning noisily and rubbing at the back of his neck. He'd spent the last forty five minutes calming and comforting Kieran after the toddler had woke up from yet another night terror. Screaming so bad that he had hyperventilated and needed to be given two doses of an inhaler his pedeatrician had prescribed.

Sam was already in bed, sitting up with a pair of old fashioned ear phones placed on her stomach and a Discman resting on the bed beside her. The lamp on the nightstand on. In her hand, was the black velvet box that contained the new watch Flack had purchased earlier that day at Sack's Fifth Avenue. Another Esquire. This time with a white and yellow gold band and mother of pearl face.

"Is he finally asleep?" she asked, snapping the box shut and setting it on the nightstand.

Flack nodded and closed their bedroom door. "Finally," he said with a sigh. "I really hope these things end soon, Sammie. Because seeing him like that…"

"It's hard," she said sadly. "I just wish we could just turn back time. Change everything. Do things differently. So that it never happened."

"That sounds a lot like blame, babe," Flack commented.

She sighed and shrugged.

"Personally," he said, as he peeled off his Henley shirt and tossed it into the basket of dirty laundry in the corner and than unbuckled his belt. "I'd like to find a way to kill that sonofabitch Doyle. Getting rid of him permanently would make feel a hell of a better."

"You in jail wouldn't do me or your children any good," she said. "Even if I do wish you would slaughter the guy.

Flack undid the button and the zipper of his jeans before pulling them and his boxers off and tossing them into the laundry as well. He took a pair of pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt from the bottom drawer of his dresser and slipped into them before heading over to the bed. Peeling the sheets back, he climbed in beside her and lay on his side, propped on his elbow as he placed his free hand on her stomach and rubbed it softly.

"What are you guys listening to?" he asked.

"A CD your mom gave me. Songs of Old Ireland. It's more lullabies than anything. I am hoping to lull the babies off to sleep."

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her tummy. "So you know, I told Mac. About what happened yesterday at the ultrasound. And about what the doctors said."

"And what did he say?"

"He just wanted us both to know that he's thinking about all of us and that no matter what happens, he'll always support us and love all of our kids no matter what."

Sam smiled. Tears sparkled in her eyes.

Flack reached out and stroked her face softly. "You want to talk about it, Sammie?" he asked gently.

She shook her head.

"What if I said I wanted to talk about it?"

She looked over at him.

"I'm scared, Samantha," his voice was a near whisper. "I'm really, really scared, baby."

"So am I," she admitted, and dissolved into tears.

Flack rolled over onto his back and gathered his wife into his arms, pulling her down almost fully on top of him as he stroked her back softly and buried his face in her hair.

"I don't want there to be anything wrong with the baby, Donnie," she cried. "And I can't help but think that the doctors are wrong. And I'm worried that you'll hate me because of it and take off and…"

"Why in the hell would I do that?" he asked. "You're my wife and I love you. And if there is something wrong with the one baby, especially what he originally suspected, we both know that that's something that just happens right at conception. It was no ones fault. Neither of us did anything wrong. Neither of us causes something like that."

"I don't think I can do it," she sobbed. "If there's something wrong I don't think I could take that, Donnie."

"So what do you want to do, babe? Keep just the two and put the third one up for adoption? That's our child, Sammie. Regardless. It's our baby."

She sniffled. "It's a boy," she said.

"How do you know that?"

"I just feel it. Like I did when I was pregnant with K before we found out he was a boy. Mother's intuition, I guess."

"And the other two?"

"Girls. I just know it. We already know they're identical. Two girls and one boy."

He smiled at the thought of having not one, but two baby girls. "We're going to have to break out that Irish baby names book soon and write down lots of ideas for both boys and girls," he told her.

She nodded and sat up. "I keep praying to God to make everything okay," she whispered.

He reached up to brush her tears away with gentle fingertips. "And if it's not, Sammie?"

"Than I keep praying that you'll love all of us no matter what."

He sat up and took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. "There's nothing in this world that could ever make me stop loving you."

She smiled and rested her forehead against his nose.

He closed his eyes and dropped a hand to her stomach. "We're going to be okay. All of us."

"Just promise me you'll take care of us," she pleaded.

"I promise. I'll always be here to take care of my family."

And he vowed that in this life and the next that he would stay true to his word.

Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! And those that are just reading yet adding me to alerts and favourites. Hell, thanks to anyone that is showing even the smallest flicker of interest in this or my other work! I appreciate each and every one of you! Please review! Much love, BEG75

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