DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND KIERAN FLACK.
A/N: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, FOLKS! THE MUSE TOOK A HOLIDAY IT SEEMS! BUT SHE'S BACK!
Simple explanations
"We're standing on a tiny ledge
Before this goes over the edge
Gonna use my heart and not my head
And try to open up your eyes
This is relationship suicide
Cos if you go, I go...
Taking shortcuts through the alleys
While your racing through my mind
Cops can chase but they wont catch me
Not before I get to speak my mind
If there's still time."
-Talk You Down, The Script
"Kieran!" Lindsay bellowed, her voice filling the entire thirty-fifth floor.
Despite the hectic and noisy pace of life that personified the New York City Crime Lab, she could clearly be heard over the din. Conversations between employees and visitors halted and all eyes turned towards the petite woman from Montana and the nearly sixteen month old bundle of energy that tore off the elevator the second the doors opened. He barrelled through the crowd like a mini linebacker for the Giants. Sending people scrambling and swerving to get out of his way. Some grumbling and going as far as offering up comments on how that kid was nothing but a holy terror and a brat who needed a firmer hand. And how it was obvious that Detective Flack -everyone knew Kieran, especially after the Dean Lessing incident- despite his intimidating personality and appearance, couldn't control his own child.
Lindsay bit back the urge to tell them all to take a hike -in more colourful language obviously- as she hurried after the toddler. Pushing his stroller that was loaded down with his knapsack and sweater and jacket and the various bags of purchases they had made during their early afternoon romp through midtown Manhattan. It was all Lindsay's fault that he had managed to escape. She should have known better then to trust the nod Kieran had given her when she'd asked him, if she let him out of his buggy, if he'd hold onto it and not let go. There could have been no possibly way he actually understood what she was saying. But he'd looked so damn cute and innocent looking up at her with those huge blue eyes and that Mets cap turned backwards on his hand, that she'd been unable to accept her was anything other then a perfect angel.
Angel in looks. Devil child in personality. She'd come to quickly learn that as cute and cherubic as Kieran Flack was, he was more then capable of causing sheer and utter hell.
It wasn't the sheer embarrassment of having to chase a sixteen month old tyrant down that bothered Lindsay the most. Nor was it the whispers and the stares and the 'helpful' comments on how to keep a better eye on the kid. It was the deep rooted fear she had of something happening to him. Panic was quickly setting in because she couldn't see that tiny body in the crowds of people that took up the halls. She could hear his musical laugh and his calls of mommy and daddy. He recognized where he was and knew his parents had to be there somewhere. And as long as she could hear him, Lindsay knew that Kieran was okay. Because the thought of anything happening to him, of someone snatching him up and never seeing him again…well that thought nearly paralyzed her with fear.
She had just caught side of him, of that little body clad in denim overalls and a yellow and blue striped polo shirt and those flashing Diego shoes swerving through the crowds, his Caillou stuffed doll tucked under his arm, when the inevitable happened. He didn't fall and crack his head or his face open. Someone didn't scoop him up and attempt to take off on him. Kieran had decided, unknowingly of course, to collide with the legs of the one person that struck fear in Lindsay Monroe.
Chief of Detectives Brigham Sinclair.
Jesus Christ, Lindsay thought, sheer horror spreading through her body as she rushed towards her tiny charge staring up at the man towering above him. Sinclair looking down sternly at the child at his feet.
And then those cold, unfeeling dark brown eyes softened ever so slightly as the little boy lifted his free arm.
"UP!" Kieran demanded.
A smile spread across Sinclair's face. And he paused briefly, considering his options, before bending down and scooping the toddler up into his arms.
"Now where do you think you're going little man?" Sinclair asked, in a deep and gentle voice as he settled Kieran on his hip. "You're going to get hurt running around like that. We certainly wouldn't want that to happen, would we?"
The toddler shook his head.
"And I'm sure your mommy and your daddy wouldn't want anything happening to you," Sinclair told him. "It's not good to run off like that. We wouldn't want a bad person getting a hold of you again."
Lindsay gave a polite, almost nervous smile as she finally caught up. "Chief Sinclair," she greeted.
"Miss Monroe from Montana," he said with a nod. "Long time no see. I was surprised to find you back here in New York City. I hope life is treating you well."
"Very well," she told him. "Danny Messer and I are getting married."
"So I've heard. Congratulations are in order. I hope all goes well for the two of you."
"Thank you, sir," she said. "So I take it you already have met this monster."
"A few times," Sinclair told her. "But it's been a while since I've seen him last. In person that is. He was just a tiny thing the last time I laid eyes on him. The famous Kieran Flack."
"I'm sorry about him running around like that. He gets away from you and it's hard to keep up."
"The important thing is that he didn't get hurt," Sinclair said.
"What dat?" Kieran asked curiously, poking at the platinum, oval shaped pin gracing the middle of Sinclair's silk tie.
"That, little man, is a tie pin," Sinclair told him.
"Mine?" the toddler asked hopefully.
Sinclair chuckled. "Unfortunately, I can't give you that. My wife would not be happy at all if I handed that over. But I do think I have a little something for you."
Passing Kieran over to Lindsay, Sinclair proceeded to unclasp the small American Flag pin that boasted the numbers 9-11 in the middle of it in gold lettering, that he always attached to the label of every suit jacket he put on.
"Here we go," Sinclair said, his big hands reaching out and surprisingly gracefully, attaching the pin to one of the straps of Kieran's overalls. "That was given to me by a man named Rudy Guiliani," he told the little boy. "He was the mayor of our fine city when nine eleven happened. Which, by the grace of God, you're too young to know, or ask questions about. But he gave this to me, once he was out of office, on the first anniversary of the attacks. And now, I am giving it to you."
"Mine?" Kieran asked, fingering the pin, a bright smile on his face.
"All yours," Sinclair replied. "Now, when you're say, nineteen, twenty and graduating from the academy, I want you to come and find me and show me that pin, okay? So it's up to you, little man, to keep it nice and safe. Maybe when you get home tonight, your mommy or your daddy can put it away for you."
"What do you say, Kieran?" Lindsay asked. "Say thank you…."
"Tank you," the little boy said, and brought his right hand up to his mouth, then brought it down in front of him.
Sinclair arched an eyebrow.
"It's sign language," Lindsay explained. "We're using that to help him communicate better."
"Detective Flack was telling me the last time we spoke that his son was having some issues," Sinclair said with an understanding nod. "Will the hearing be a permanent thing? Or is it something that will improve with age?"
"No one is quite sure yet," Lindsay told him. "It's just something that the audiologist and his pediatrician and his ENT are keeping an eye on. Only time will tell, I guess."
"I hope for our sake that it's temporary," Sinclair said. "I'd hate to see anything stand in the way of the next Flack to make his mark within our department. The NYPD is in his future. I wouldn't want to see something prevent him from carrying on the family name."
Lindsay gave a polite smile. "Well, sir, with all due respect, he's a Ross too. And his mother, and his uncle, are both Ivy league educated and valuable members of the department as well. Just in a different respect."
"This boy bleeds blue," Sinclair informed her. "He's his father's son. Through and through. It would be both a shock, and shame, if he didn't become an officer of the same calibre as his father."
"I guess that's just a decision Kieran will have to make when he's older," she said. "Like in twenty years. His parents are still working on potty training and self feeding. I don't think they've even started concerning themselves with what he'll do when he's out of high school."
"If they were smart, they'd be thinking about it. Grooming him as soon as possible. Another Flack in the department? There's a great light of expectation shining on him."
"Well he's sixteen months old," Lindsay reminded him. "Let's give it some time before we're charting out his course."
"Put a bug in in their ear," Sinclair told her. "It would be a great moment for the department years from now. It was nice to see you again, Miss Monroe. I have to get back to my office. Attend to some important matters."
"Of course," she said. "Take care."
He smiled, then laid a gentle hand on the top of Kieran's head. "I will hopefully see you soon, little man," he addressed the toddler. "You keep your mommy and daddy in line."
"Mommy?" Kieran's entire face lit up as he glanced around. "Daddy?"
Sinclair chuckled and pinched the little boy's cheek gently. "You've got the face of an angel," he told Kieran. "Great things await you, little man. You be a good boy."
"Bye-bye!" Kieran called, waving farewell to his new friend as Sinclair headed down the hall. "Bye-bye!"
Sinclair cast a glance and a bright smile over his shoulder. "Word of advice, Miss Monroe?" he called. "The Crime Lab is not the Romper Room."
"Yes, sir," she said in response and looked at Kieran. "You are a little bugger," she declared.
He gave a dramatic pout and lowered his chin to his chest and fluttered his long eyelashes. "Bad boy?" he asked.
"Just a bit," Lindsay told him. Unable to stay mad for more then ten seconds.
"Wuv you!" Kieran declared, planting a noisy kiss on her cheek.
She laughed. "I love you, too," she told him, stepping behind the buggy to push it with one hand as she carried him down the hall. "You ready to go see mommy?"
He nodded excitedly. "Wuv mommy," he said.
"What about daddy?" Lindsay asked.
"Wuv daddy!" he exclaimed. "Wots!"
"You love daddy lots?"
Kieran nodded.
"Well lucky for you, kid, your mommy and daddy love you to the moon and back," she told him, pecking one of his chubby cheeks. "We all do. We wouldn't give you up for anything in the world, you know that?"
He nodded again.
Lindsay laughed. It was an amazing feeling to be part of her 'nephew's' life. To teach him new things, to see him develop and achieve milestones. To see him grow and watch how happy and innocent and carefree he was. Relatively emotionally unscathed by the trauma he'd gone through. And oblivious to the pain and suffering of his parents and their inability to fully accept what happened.
Time healed all wounds.
It was just the waiting that made things more painful.
Flack waited for an answer. His lips pursed, hands trembling from anger, the sound of blood rushing through his brain nearly deafening. How long he actually stood there was a mystery to him. It seemed like a lifetime that he clutched that photograph shoved in his best friend's face. Disbelief and fury and the most unbearable heartache threatening to consume him. That Danny would betray him like that. That his wife would destroy him. Toss everything they had achieved out the window. All but laugh at him and mock him as they hit their sick secret from him.
"Look, Flack…" Danny began, sitting the take out tray of coffees down on the hood of the SUV. Choosing his words carefully as he backed away from his best friend, hands raised in surrender. "That…that is not what it looks like, buddy."
"Famous last words from cheaters," the detective spat. "Isn't that what they all say when they get caught? It's not what it looks like? You know what I think, Messer? I think you're full of shit and that this!" he slammed the photo down on the hood and forced another picture into Danny's face. "And this! Are exactly what it looks like! And it looks like you're fucking my wife!"
"No…" Danny shook his head. "That's not what it looks like. What it looks like is one friend comforting another."
"Look at this!" Flack picked up the first photo once again. "Look at the way you're looking at her! The way she's looking at you! How you're holding her face in your hands! Does that look like you're just comforting someone!"
"Yes, it does," Danny remained calm. "It's looks like your wife is upset and I'm talking to her and trying to calm her down."
"It looks like you're going to fucking kiss her you asshole!" Flack raged.
"You are blowing this way out of proportion," the CSI told him. "It looks nothing like that. Sam and I aren't looking at each other in anyway. She was upset and I was trying to get her to talk to me. She was crying and all I did was hold her face in my hands and brush her tears away. That's it. There was never going to be a kiss. Don't read into that."
"Don't read into it! How the hell would you see it if those were pictures of me and Monroe? If I was touching her face like that? If I was hugging her like that? Tell me how the hell you'd feel, Danny! Would that not piss you off? Would you not see red?"
"Of course I would. But…"
"But?! How the hell can there be a but?!"
"Don…listen to me. There is nothing going on between me and your wife. I don't know where you got those pictures from but…"
"Some fucking kid just walked up to the car and knocked on the window. Knew my name and everything! Handed me these pictures and said they were from a concerned friend!"
"Well whoever this concerned friend is, they've got shit all wrong. They just saw what they wanted to see and took the pictures. There is nothing going on between me and Brooklyn. I swear to you. And what kind of friend would fucking spy on your wife?"
"What kind of best friend would be in this kind of situation with his best friend's wife?" Flack challenged.
"Don…honestly…I know this looks bad, buddy. I understand how you could think, looking at those pictures, that there's something funny going on with me and Sam. But there's not. You are my best friend. She is your wife. And I love you like a brother and respect you, and your wife and your children, more then I could ever tell you! And I would never, ever fuck your life up by taking away your wife and taking Kieran's mother away from him!"
"You know how much I love her, Danny!" Flack was near tears as he paced in front of the department issued Avalanche. Tears of rage and insurmountable anguish. "You know that she's my everything! She's my entire world! I have been through hell and back with her and for her! There's nothing I wouldn't do for her! I'd fucking die for her and this is what you and her do to me?"
"We're not doing anything to you!" Danny exclaimed. "Samantha would never hurt you like that! She loves you! Worships the goddamn ground you walk on! Same way you do with her! And you are my best friend! You've always been there whenever I needed you! Always had my back no matter what. And I would never, ever fuck you over like that, Don! And you know what? It hurts to think that you don't trust me enough to let me take care of your wife when she needs someone!"
"Yeah? Well that someone should be me. Not you."
"And I get that! But you were in another state all together. Working. Making money to support your family. And when Montana called me and told me about that guy's name and address and what not, I did what I know you'd do and I went there to get her! To make sure she was safe!"
"And I appreciate that, Danny! I do! But these!" Flack nodded down at the pictures. "Explain these!"
"Samantha was upset! She came out of Lincoln Scott's building and found me waiting for her. I jumped to conclusions. Got all defensive and protective of you! I accused her of having an affair. Said some pretty mean shit to her. And you know what she did?"
Flack shook his head.
"She slapped me across the face. Told me to take a hike. And trust me, she was not that polite about it. And then she was going to take off for the subway and I knew I had to go after her. Make amends. Keep her and those babies safe!"
"The pictures, Danny. Explain to me how you and my wife got into situations like that."
"They aren't situations! They're moments between friends, Don! She was upset and started to cry and I pressed her to tell me what was going on and that's when she told me about that guy being her father. I was comforting her. That's it. I took her face in my hands and I wiped her tears away and I hugged her. That's all there was to it. I'd never fool around with your wife. You're my boy, Flack. You know that."
"I was your boy when me and Sammie were just starting out but it didn't stop you from fucking her then," Flack said.
"The two of you were seeing each other!" Danny argued. "There was nothing serious going on between you! You even told her you wanted to see other people. You were still doing whatever it is you were doing with Devon. Sam and I went out on a date. Had a little too much to drink and ended up back at my place and we had sex. It was just sex. That's it."
"Just sex, huh? You have this 'just sex' on the same pool table you had 'just sex' with Monroe on?"
"What went on between me and Lindsay that night and what went on between me and Brooklyn were two entirely different things. I was in love with Montana and…"
"And what? You were just looking for someone to fuck and went after my girlfriend?"
"She wasn't your girlfriend, Flack! You were still banging Devon so who the hell are you to talk? You weren't exactly Mister Monogamous! You were fucking Devon and Sam and I had sex! So what? It only happened one goddamn time!"
"One time or just one night?" Flack asked.
"What the hell does that matter?"
"You can have sex a lot in one night. Was it just once that night or…"
"It happened a few times, a'right?! What difference does that make? Sam and I went back to my place knowing we were going to have sex. We weren't expecting candles and flowers and romance. We were looking for a wild and crazy night of no strings attached sex. And that's all it was! We weren't hoping to wake up the next morning madly in love with each other! We woke up, did our thing again, we each took a shower and that's it. She left and we acted like nothing ever happened between us. Went back to being Danny Messer and Samantha Ross. Friends and co-workers. That's it!"
"You ever want it to happen again?" asked Flack.
"After that, you and her got your heads out of your asses and got serious," Danny replied.
"But did you ever want it to happen again?" his best friend pressed.
"I'd be a complete moron to not want that again," Danny admitted. "I'm a guy and Samantha is a beautiful, alluring and sexy woman. But she was in love with you! She told me that she was falling in love with you!"
"Before or after you fucked her?"
"Jesus Christ, Flack! Listen to me! She was in love with you! Not me! She married you! She had your son! And she's having your babies! It is all you!"
Flack sighed heavily and looked down at the photos sitting on the hood of the SUV.
"Samantha is your wife," Danny said. "And you should have more respect for her and trust her more. Because if you did, you'd know she'd never, ever hurt you like that."
Flack shook his head slowly. "You been hurt once by someone you love, you can't help but think everyone else you love is going to do the same thing."
"Look, I know you've been fucked over by women. Hell, we all have. But this just isn't some woman. This is your wife and the mother of your children. And she loves you more then words, Flack."
The detective nodded.
"Don, I'd never do something like that to you, okay? Ever. I love you like a brother. And think about it. I just got Montana back. She's the love of my life, my everything. Sam is her best friend. Why in the hell would I destroy Lindsay by doing something like that? I fucked things up once. By doing something selfish and stupid with Rikki. I learned my lesson. And I love Lindsay too much to loose her again. I'd die without her. Simple as that."
Flack took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Danny laid a hand on the other man's shoulder. "You and me are boys, Flack. I'd never hurt my boy like that. And if you don't believe me that nothing happened, then you can just go and ask Mac and…"
"What does Mac have to do with this?"
"Mac was in the area. Saw me and Brooklyn and jumped to the same conclusions. He knows for a fact nothing happened. And he can tell you that himself if you want."
Flack shook his head. "I believe you, Danny."
"Good," the CSI said and began gathering the pictures up. "Now what do we do with these? Toss 'em?"
Flack grabbed the envelope and handed it to his best friend. "Put them in there," he said. "I'm going to try and see if I can find out who the hell is trying to fuck up my life."
"I can run some tests on them and the envelope," Danny told him, slipping the photos back into their original holder. "Look for prints and what not. A'right?"
Flack nodded and laid his hands, palms down, on the hood and hung his head, his eyes closed.
"You're alright," Danny said, reaching out to rub his best friend's back softly. "Just take it easy."
"I just…I can't loose my wife, Danny."
"You're not going to, okay? This was just a misunderstand. Simple misunderstanding."
"Just the thought of her with someone else…it makes me sick. Physically sick."
"I know. I don't blame you. I'd feel the same way."
"I'm sorry I reacted the way I did," Flack said, opening his eyes and raising his head. "Just when it comes to my wife…"
"You don't need to explain, buddy. I get it. Trust me. Here…" Danny snagged one of the coffees out of the carry tray and held it out. "Little caffeine. Although maybe the way you're feeling I should have got you decaf. Don't need you anymore wired and jittery."
"Funny," Flack said, and accepted the coffee with a grateful nod. "Any Baileys in here?"
"Sorry," Danny laughed. "I left my booze in my other pants. You're okay now?"
The detective nodded as he sipped the coffee.
"Let's get these back to the lab," Danny said, holding aloft the envelope. "See if we can't find the sonofabitch fucking with you. At least we know who it isn't."
"Who?" Flack asked, as he went around to the passenger side door and opened it.
"Well Lessing's lying six feet under with a bullet wound in between his eyes," Danny replied, as he went around to the driver's side of the vehicle. "So it rules him out. How many people could you have possibly pissed off during your career?"
Flack arched an eyebrow.
"Bad question. Maybe we should be asking who you didn't piss off. Might narrow down the list."
"You're a goddamn smart ass," Flack declared and climbed into the vehicle.
"I aim to please," Danny said and slid in behind the wheel. "I got your back, Don. I'll find out who sent these things. And then you know what we're going to do?"
"What?" the detective asked.
"We're going nail 'em to the fucking wall," Danny replied confidently.
Samantha sighed heavily and hung up the telephone and stared down at Mac's day planner open in front of her. After a lot of wrangling and schedule adjusting, she had finally managed, after two hours with her ass parked behind her desk and the phone pressed to her ear, organize her boss' schedule. With the political game stepped up within the NYPD since Mac's successful defeat of Gerrard and Sinclair over the Clay Dobson mess -Sam wasn't entirely sure what went down, she just knew Mac was being railroaded and he'd come up with a smoking gun to save his ass- Mac Taylor was in hot demand. Everyone seemed to want a slice of the Crime Lab boss' time.
And Mac hated politics. But what he hated more was having to sit through meeting after meeting with the NYPD brass. Especially if it had to do with budget cuts. It was that time of the year and Mac had zero tolerance for being told what to do and how to run the show. He despised Sinclair for expecting better and faster results with a short staff and less then top of the line technology. And if there was a more reliable system to be had, Mac said to hell with the brass and ordered it anyway. Fuck them, he had said to Sam once, when she'd complained about the financial officer calling her and complaining her boss had spent way over the allotted money he'd been given for the year. Just fuck him.
Sam remembered how she'd blinked at the language coming out of Mac's mouth. Surprised he'd had somewhat of a meltdown in front of her. And then she'd gone back to her office was a huge grin on her face. Because that meltdown had proved to her that Mac Taylor was a human being. Capable of emotion.
And goddamnit if that didn't make him even sexier in her eyes.
That thought made her giggle aloud as she jotted important dates and times in the leather bound book in front of her.
Nothing like having daydreams about your boss when you're married and massively pregnant, she thought, a grin on her face as she reached for the bottle of water sitting on her desk. Uncapping it, she took a large swig and contemplated waddling down to the lunch room for a snack.
But all thoughts of food were slightly derailed when a knock came to the open office door. And before she could look over, a tiny body launched itself across the room with an ecstatic shriek.
"MOMMEEEE!"
She turned her chair around to face the door and smiled brightly, her arms outstretched. "Hi, baby boy!" she greeted cheerfully, unable to do little more then wrap her son in what seemed like the lamest hug she'd ever given. "How are you today?" she asked, pressing kisses all over his chubby cheeks. "Have you been a good boy for Auntie Linds?"
Kieran nodded. "Mommy up?" he asked hopefully.
"Mommy can't lift you up, sweetie cheeks," she said apologetically. "Remember? She can't pick you up because of the babies in her tummy. Do you remember daddy telling you that?"
"Baby?" he inquired, poking her stomach with his index finger.
"Babies," she told him. "In mommy's tummy. Are you going to be a big brother?"
"Brudda," he said proudly.
"That's right. Kieran is going to be a big brother. Have you been having a good day with Auntie Linds?" she asked. "What have you been doing today?"
"A little bit of this, a little bit of that," Lindsay said, as she parked the stroller by the window, pulling one of the shopping bags out of it before heading over to the desk. "How are you feeling, mommy?" she asked, pecking Sam's cheek and giving her a one armed hugged.
"Okay," Sam replied. "I haven't moved too far. Doctor says leaving the house is even a bad idea."
"Well she's right," Lindsay told her. "You should be on bed rest."
Sam waved it off. "So what have you guys been doing?" she asked.
"Shopping," Lindsay replied. "Kieran bought something for the babies."
"You did?" Sam asked her son. "What did you buy?"
"Give this to mommy, K," Lindsay said, passing the small bag to the toddler. "Show mommy what you bought the babies."
He took the bag, peered inside of it and gave a huge grin as he held it out to his mother. "Dis mommy!" he chirped.
"Thank you, sweet cheeks," Sam said, pressing a kiss to his lips and accepting the bag. "That was very sweet of you to buy something for your brother and sisters."
"Or sister and brothers, or brothers, or sisters," Lindsay teased, rubbing her friend's shoulders.
"Let's see what Kieran bought!" Sam exclaimed and reached into the bag. Smiling as she pulled out three Beanie Babies. A skunk, a monkey, and a hippopotamus. "Hey look!" she held up the last animal. "It's me! A hippo!"
"Give me a break," Lindsay snorted.
"I'm a whale, Monroe," Sam sighed. "Face it."
"Well let's blame Flack for that," Lindsay said and kissed her best friend's cheek.
"Thank you so much, Kieran," Sam pecked his cheeks. "It was very sweet of you to buy the babies something. Can you give the babies a kiss?"
He smiled brightly and kissed his mother's stomach.
"Good boy," Sam praised. "You're such an amazing big brother!"
"Me!" he chirped, pointing to himself. "Me brudda!"
"Tell mommy what your name is," Lindsay said. "What did Auntie teach you? What's your name?"
"Me?" he asked.
"Yeah…you. What's your name?"
"Me K!" he announced proudly.
"That's amazing, baby boy!" his mother enthused. "You'll have to tell daddy when you see him. Daddy will be so proud of you!"
"Daddy?" Kieran asked, looking around the room.
"Daddy's out working," Sam told him. "He might be back soon. He's been gone for a while with Uncle Danny."
"Unc 'anny?"
Sam nodded.
"Unc 'anny up?"
"I am sure Uncle Danny will pick you up when he sees you," Sam laughed. "Did you eat lunch yet?"
Kieran shook his head.
Lindsay giggled. "Yes you did! You had a bagel and cream cheese!"
"Ungy," the toddler exclaimed, rubbing his tummy.
"You are always hungry," Sam declared, slowly standing up.
"That's the ultimate proof that he is Flack's son," Lindsay said, holding the chair with one hand to steady it, while taking her friend by the elbow with her other hand, helping Sam to her feet.
"Like you can't tell by looking at him?" Sam asked. "He is Don. Just a mini version. You want to go and have a snack, baby boy?"
"Ungy," he told her, licking his lips and rubbing his stomach once more. "Ungy."
"Let's go and get a snack," his mother said, taking one of his tiny hands and leading him from the room. "But let's walk slowly, okay?"
"O'tay," he agreed, as Lindsay followed behind with the stroller.
"Just so you know, if word gets back, K had a run in with Sinclair," Lindsay told her best friend, as the three stepped out into the hall and Sam closed the office foor. "Like a literal run in. Right into Sinclair's legs. He sort of got away from me and well…BOOM."
"'OOM," Kieran said, and giggled.
"You hang around your Uncle Danny way too much," Sam informed her son. "And what did the Chief say?" she asked Lindsay. "Did he freak out?"
"He was actually quite good about it. And he was amazing with Kieran. Picked him up, had a conversation with him. The whole nine. I was quite shocked. I never realized Sinclair had a soft spot for kids."
"He is definitely a study in contradiction," Sam said.
"He gave Kieran a pin of his. That he always wears on his lapel."
Sam arched an eyebrow and halted. "What did you get from the nice man, K?" she asked curiously, carefully bending over. "Can you show mommy?"
"Dis?" he asked, pointing the pin on his overalls.
"Did a nice man give that to you?" Sam asked, studying the item.
Her son nodded.
"You're a very lucky little boy," his mother said. "That nice man just doesn't give things away to just anyone. He must really like you. That's a special pin."
"Mine," Kieran informed her.
"That's a nine eleven memorial pin," Sam told Lindsay as she straightened up. "Donnie has one, too. He wears it on his dress uniform. Guiliani gave it to him for working search and recovery at Ground Zero."
"That must have been horrible," Lindsay said with a shudder.
Sam nodded. "He still has nightmares about it," she told her best friend. "I think it's a bit of PTSD. But you didn't hear that from me. He'd kill me if I told you that."
"Your secret is safe with me," Lindsay assured her. "Do you guys ever talk about it?" she asked curiously.
"Nine eleven?"
Lindsay nodded.
"We haven't talked about it more than twice since we've met," Sam told her. "The first time was our first nine eleven anniversary together. He went to the ceremony and read a couple of names of friends he lost. That night he talked about it a bit. Asked me what I was doing when it all went down. That type of thing. Second time, was when I saw the pin on his dress blues and asked him what it was. That's when he told me about going to Ground Zero. About digging through rubble and finding nothing but parts of people."
"That's hard," Lindsay said, her voice a mere whisper.
Sam nodded. "Donnie's a strong person," she said. "He gets through things on his own. He's not one to talk about it and get someone else involved."
"Even you?"
"Even me," Sam sighed. "It upset me at first. That he didn't want to talk about things. But I just realized it's him. It's not personal. That's just the way he is. Besides, I talk enough for both of us."
Lindsay laughed at that.
Sam paused at the water fountain in the hall to take a drink.
"Daddy!" Kieran cried.
"Daddy isn't here," Sam told him. "He's working. Maybe we can call him and see where he is and he can get here in time to see you before you go home."
"Daddy!" the toddler repeated, tugging on his mom's hand.
"We will call him," she said. "We'll have something to eat and then we'll call him. Okay!"
Kieran struggled to get out of her grasp. "DADDEEE!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs.
Sam nearly jumped when someone pinched her sides from behind. She jerked her head to the side to see who it was, and got a spray of water in the face.
"Jesus, you drink much?" Flack asked with a chuckle.
"You scared me!" she scolded, wiping her face with the back of her hand and turning to face him.
"Sorry, babe," he said and kissed her softly. "How's things going?" he asked, rubbing her sides.
"Slowly but surely," she replied. "Everything go okay with your witness?"
Flack nodded. "Better then expected," he said. "How's the babies?" he asked, laying a hand on her stomach.
"They're having a good day," she smiled. "Where's Danny?"
"He's just dropping some stuff off we need to get tested. He's down in DNA with Mac."
"And that's where I'm heading," Lindsay announced. "Give you guys some family time."
"Thanks, Monroe," Flack said.
She gave a smile and headed off down the hallway.
"Daddy!" Kieran cried, tugging frantically at his father's jacket. "Up! Daddy up!"
"He's dying for someone to pick him up," Sam said.
"Come here, big guy," Flack scooped his son up into his arms. "You having a good day?" he asked, kissing Kieran's cheek. "You been a good boy?"
The toddler nodded and curled one arm around his father's neck, while the other still firmly grasped his Caillou doll.
"Tell daddy what you learned today," Sam said, as her husband took her hand in his free one and they headed down the hall. "Tell daddy what your name is."
"K!" the little boy cried happily. "Me K!"
"Who taught you that?" Flack asked. "That's amazing. Did Auntie Linds teach you that?"
Kieran nodded.
"That's awesome, K. You're really smart, you know that? Just like your mommy. Cute like daddy and smart like mommy."
"Oh that's it," Sam laughed. "Teach him that I'm the ugly one."
"Actually, what it's teaching him is that I'm the stupid one if you want to look at it that way."
"How can you be stupid, Donnie?" his wife asked. "I mean, seriously? How can you stupid if you had the brains to hook up with me?"
"And you call me the egotistical one?" he teased.
"I've learned from the best," she said, winking at him. "You rub off on me."
"I'm a damn good influence," he declared. "So your day's been okay, babe? Nothing too exciting? You've been taking it easy?"
"My fat ass has been parked in a chair all day," she assured him. "But the babies are hungry. I crave sustenance."
"You want me to run across the street and grab you something?"
"I brought some lasagna from home," she said."But thank you. You can be quite sweet when you want to be."
He smirked and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
"Me!" Kieran demanded. "Me!"
Flack gave his son a kiss on the cheek. And was rewarded with a sloppy, wet one to the lips.
"Wuv daddy," Kieran said, laying his head on his father's shoulder.
"How much?" Flack asked.
"Wots," his son replied.
"How much is wots?" his father inquired.
"Wots!" Kieran giggled.
"You know how much daddy loves you?"
The toddler shook his head.
"Wots and wots and wots and wots," Flack said and chuckled heartily.
Sam smiled at the exchange between father and son. Thinking, and not for the first time, how damn lucky she was to have found the perfect man to share her life with. To have children with. He was blessed with a huge heart and infinite patience.
"You know how much I love you?" Flack asked his wife, squeezing her hand.
"How much?" she asked.
"More today than yesterday but less than tomorrow," he replied.
She beamed.
He leaned down and kissed her long and soft. "Always baby," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. "You know that."
"How long is always?" she asked.
Flack gave a dimpled grinned. "A wot," he answered.
Sam laughed and laid her hand on the side of his face and kissed him.
"A wot is perfect," she said.
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