DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND ALL THE FLACK KIDS.

A/N: THANKS TO EVERYONE ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS.

It's just who we are

Tell me one more time again just like I didn't hear you
Like I don't know what's going through your mind, I do
I play the same game too
I know it's hard to stop
Even when you want to
Now the moon lights up your face and I can see you're crying
You never liked me to see you cry, it's true
I've done some crying too
You know, the hardest part about it
Is trying to hide it from you
It would be great to be so strong
I never needed anybody's help to get along
But we're so scared of the silence and the tricks that we use
O, we're careful and we're cunning, but we're easily bruised
I don't want to lie about it, I'm not bulletproof."
-Bulletproof, Blue Rodeo

Silence descended on the kitchen. The simple yet powerful words hanging heavily in the air as husband and wife stood on opposite sides of the room, their eyes transfixed on each other. Tears filling, and threatening to burst from her golden brown ones, and complete shock and disbelief in his baby blues. Flack wasn't sure how long either of them had stood there, staring at each other, his brain trying to comprehend the news she had just dropped on him like a ten ton weight. But as the minutes ticked by, he became aware of life going on around them. Music playing over head in one of the bedrooms, laughing and talking and the television on in the basement. The dripping of the tap behind him.

And the pounding of his own heart.

"You're what now?" Flack asked, his startled brain unable to come up with anything worthwhile to say.

"Doctor Sanjay called me earlier today," Sam replied. "He said that my blood work and my urinalysis both say that I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant? As in having a baby?"

"And that giving two weeks here or there for conception and when my last real menstrual cycle happened, that I'm probably about three and a half months. Maybe even closer to four."

"Wait…just wait…" he held up a hand and shook his head in hopes of unscrambling the thoughts running rampant in his mind. "How in the hell is that even possible? You had your tubes tied."

"Well the surgeon who preformed the ligation told us that ten in one hundred women still conceived afterwards," Sam pointed out.

"It was seven years ago!" he argued. "For seven years we've been having completely unprotected sex and nothing. We never got pregnant before so why now?"

"Doctor Sanjay says that sometimes the scar tissue can actually build up to the point of loosening the tie in one or both tubes, or can form a tube of it's own."

"Seven years, Samantha! Nothing's happened in seven years!"

"Well maybe it takes that long for the scar tissue to build up. I don't know. All I know is that he called me and told me that I was pregnant. That I'm having a baby. That we're having a baby."

"I can't believe that…" Flack closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest and drew in deep breaths in an effort to compose himself. He wasn't entirely sure what he felt. Disappointment? Elation? An hour ago he was all set to convince his wife that they were insane for wanting another baby. He was going to tell her that it wasn't a good idea and he wasn't going to go through with the reversal on her surgery. He was going to talk her out of wanting a seventh kid. And now here she was, standing across their kitchen, completely blowing those plans out of the water.

"Say something," Sam implored. "Please say something, Donnie."

He gave a dry laugh and shook his head and opened his eyes. "What do you want me to say?" he asked. "Seriously, Samantha. What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say that you're not pissed off. That this happening is nothing short of a miracle and that it's amazing news."

"We were going to that doctor for help. You had had your tubes tied and you were starting menopause and then by some freak of nature you come and tell me you're pregnant? That there was no reason for us to be even going to that doctor? That we managed the near impossible all on our own?"

"It's not that it was nearly impossible, it was just that…"

"You know what I mean!" he barked at her. Then sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to freak out on you. It's just…this is a little goddamn freaky, don't you think?"

She nodded. "But aren't you happy?" she asked. "It's what we wanted. We'd wanted another baby and for some reason, we were given the chance to have one without having to go through a whole bunch of tests and operations and what not. This happened for a reason, Donnie. Aren't you happy about that?"

"Honestly? I don't know how to feel about it, Samantha. Because right before you walked through that door, I was thinking about how insane we were for wanting to have another baby. That with all of Kieran's problems and Declan's issues, we were mental for wanting to have another kid when we already had our hands full with the ones we have. I was going to tell you that I didn't think it was a good idea and that I changed my mind."

She blinked at his harsh, unexpected words. "You don't want it?" she asked, completely crestfallen as one hand dropped protectively to her stomach.

"I didn't say that I didn't want it. I just said that…" he paused, choosing his words carefully. "I just said that I'd changed my mind and I was going to tell you that…"

"That you didn't want another baby," she finished, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Which means you don't want it knowing that there is another baby on the way."

Flack shook his had. "That is not what I mean," he told her. "Of course I want it. Why wouldn't I want it?"

"Because you just said…"

"I just said that I had changed my mind about wanting another baby! But that was before you told me that the baby was already on the way. What? Do you think I'd actually tell you to get rid of it? That you'd have to have an abortion or have it and give it up for adoption? You don't think that do you?"

"I want you to want this baby as much as I do," she said, her voice a near whisper.

"And I do want it. Why wouldn't I want it? It's our baby. Something we made together. It's just that…you can't drop something like this on someone and not expect them to be shocked, babe."

"I know it's surprising," she said, brushing her tears away with her hand. "It's surprising and completely unexpected considering our circumstances and that it's a hard pill to swallow when things seem to be going so bad at the moment."

"I mean, I can't wrap my head around this," Flack said. "Seven years ago when Liam was born, we both signed those papers to have your tubes tied. For seven years, we've never used birth control of any kind. And then all of a sudden it's, 'Guess what, honey? My body decides to go nuts on me and untie its own tubes.' Don't you find that a little messed up? You can't tell me you weren't shocked when the doctor told you."

"Of course I was shocked," she sniffled. "Like you said, it's been seven years and nothing. But it's not the end of the world either."

"I never said it was the end of the world. I'm just saying that that this all a little surreal for me. Can't a guy be a little floored by news like this? We should sue that goddamn hospital."

"For what? It's just something that can happen," Sam told him. "It was no one's fault. It just happened. It was meant to be this way, I guess."

"I guess," he said, and sighing heavily, leaned back against the counter and raked a hand through his hair.

Silence fell over them once more. Each trying to come to terms with the news and contemplating how drastically their lives were about to change with a new addition to their family. A baby was always a wonderful, welcome thing. But at their ages and with their history, a whole new set of worries and complications came along with creating a life. There'd be test after test that Sam would not only have to put herself through, but their unborn child as well. And there were worries with how their other children would deal with the news, especially Kieran and all the head aches surrounding him at the moment.

But the fact of the matter was, despite the stresses of every day life, there was an innocent baby in the mix now. A baby both of them wanted more then anything in the world.

Sam sniffled noisily and fidgeted with the sleeve of her burgundy silk blouse, unable to look at her husband for fear that she'd disappointment and anger in his eyes.

"Why are you crying?" Flack asked, his voice soft and soothing.

"I don't know…" she replied, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "It's just so much all at once, I guess. Kieran's problems and having to worry about hiring someone to be Declan's special needs worker and having to move the kids into a different school and stress with work and…" she sighed heavily. "It's just a lot going on all at the same time."

"I asked you, when you first brought it up that you wanted another baby, if you were capable of handling another kid on top of all of the other kids we have and your job," he reminded her. "And you told me that you'd be fine."

"And I will be," Sam said. "It's just…it's been a hell of a day, you know? Getting that phone call from the doctor and then getting called by Kieran's school and then the interrogation I went through. It's just all a little too much."

"I want you to be completely honest with me," Flack said, as he turned his back on her and reached for a plastic cup sitting on the counter and turned the cold water on. Filling the cup, he turned off the water and carried the drink to his wife. "Are you absolutely sure that you want this baby?" he asked, holding the water out to her.

"I'm absolutely sure," she replied, holding his gaze, her hand resting on his as she accepted the cup from him.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You know that this pregnancy will be high risk, right? More so then the other ones 'cause of your age and medical history and all that."

She nodded and took a sip of the water. "I think I'm ready to stay home now," she admitted. "With the kids. I think I've been ready for a long time and just never wanted to let go of that last part of independence that having a career gave me. I know that makes you happy, Donnie. That after fifteen years you're finally getting what you've always wanted the most from me."

"I want you to want it too, Sammie. I don't want you doing it if it's going to make you unhappy. I just think that having you at home might fix a lot of things. Mostly whatever the hell is going on with Kieran lately. And I make twice as much money as you do, so me being home wouldn't be the most logical thing."

"I do want to stay home," she said. "I do…it's just that…I've always had a job and I've always contributed to the house and if I'm not working then…"

"You are working. You're taking care of the kids and everything around here. Being a stay at home mom and housewife or whatever you want to call if, that's a full time job in itself babe."

"I prefer domestic goddess," she said with a small laugh. "It's just so much to do and if I'm as far along as the doctor thinks, very little time to do it all. We'll have to go for an ultrasound to date it properly and go for an amnio and make appointments with my OB. And we'll have to buy baby things. We got rid of everything after Liam. And we'll have to figure out exactly where this baby is going to sleep. Then there's work and telling them I'm leaving and then telling the kids and all our family and friends that we're having a baby and…"

"Whoa…" he said, and silenced her with a small, tender kiss. "We can take all that stuff day by day, okay? Tomorrow you can call your OB and do what you got to do with her and you can hand in your notice and…"

She frowned. "I never said that I was leaving right away," she informed him.

"You just said that you were going to quit your job."

"I meant that when I go on maternity leave that will be that. I won't be going back. There's a lot going on at work right now and I can't just up and leave. There's employee evaluations that need to be done and I've got a million and one immigration papers to file and some deportation cases I have to testify in. Not to mention there's that big raid coming up and I need to…"

"You need to what?" he asked, backing away from her. "Don't tell me you're actually still going to go on a raid."

"We've been planning this raid for months," she told him. "It's been daily briefings and planning and strategic sessions and training. I've seen the team through every step of the way. Some of them are just kids that have never done anything like that before. They need me there. I owe it to them to be there."

"You owe it to them? Flack fumed. "A group of fucking strangers? You feel you owe them something?"

"They're not strangers. They're my team and I…"

"You're right, Sam. They're your team. But you know what? That's all they are. I'm your husband and that is my baby in there and I honestly can't fucking believe you'd put yourself and my baby at risk by going on fucking raid!"

"It's my baby, too," she reminded him. "Our baby."

"And you value your team more then our baby? You don't think you owe it to me and your kids and our unborn baby to stay safe and come home at the end of the day?"

"Of course I do," Sam said, her voice calm and composed despite the anger and vehemence in his husband's voice and eyes.

Someone needed to have self control in a situation like that. And she'd learned after sixteen years, that playing peacemaker instead of attacking back, was her safest bet. If she wanted to survive an argument mentally and emotionally unscathed, it was best to just keep quiet. Her husband's coping skill, to avoid being hurt, was to lash out and say mean things to hurt her before she got the chance to do the same to him. It was something she'd grown accustomed to, learned to shrug off, and to put her foot down about if she had to.

"Then you're going to go into work tomorrow and tell them you're leaving in two weeks," Flack told her.

Sam shook her head.

"How can you even argue about this?!" he snapped. "How can this be even open to discussion! You're pregnant and you want to go on a goddamn raid!"

"I can't let my team down, Donnie."

"No. But you can let me and your kids down, is that it?"

She shook her head.

"You know," he snorted and shook his head. "One thing that's never changed about you, Samantha? You've always been a selfish bitch."

"I'm selfish!" she fought back. "You have the nerve to call me selfish, Don! For the fifteen years that we've been married, it's always been about you! Your career and your climb up the NYPD ladder! Your big busts and your public image and you struggling to come out from underneath your father's shadow and you making a name for yourself as the department golden boy. It's been all about you! And you know what? That was fine with me! I didn't care! Because I was proud of you and I stood behind you a hundred percent no matter what you did or what decisions you made! Even when I stopped being me and started being known as nothing more then your wife!"

"That's the biggest bunch of bullshit I've ever heard," he scoffed.

"It's the truth"! she argued. "Who was the one on the back burner for fifteen years, Donnie? Who was the one that was there for the kids the most? Who was the one stuck here picking up the pieces when you left?!"

"Don't hold that over my head, Samantha! I didn't leave willingly and you goddamn well know it! I didn't even want to separate! It was you! You called the fucking shots in that! Because you felt like the maid and sometimes sex partner or some crazy ass crap like that! Because you said it was best for both of us to find out who we were as individuals and that being apart would hopefully help us realize that what we had was worth fighting for. Do you remember saying all of that? Or did you conveniently forget so you could turn it around and make me out to be the bad guy?"

"Of course not, Donnie. I…"

"You asked me to leave. Actually, scratch that. You told me to leave. And I left because it was what you wanted! I went to counselling because it was what you wanted! I stayed away from you because it was what you wanted! So don't play this bullshit with me!"

"I'm not trying to play anything with you! I am trying to get you to see my side of things for a change! I just want you to listen to me for once!"

"I am listening to you! I'm listening to you tell me you're going to put my baby at risk because you feel the need to play super cop one last time!"

Sam threw her hands up in surrender. "You know what, Donald? You're impossible. I love you but you're fucking impossible!"

"I am asking you to think about someone other then yourself, Samantha! If not me, then our baby! Why is it so hard to get that through your head? Why do you have to be so f…"

The sound of feet racing up the basement stairs halted Flack before the profanity, or the rest of his sentence, could escape from his lips.

"Hi mommy!" Liam cried happily, as he nearly tripped over the top step before bounding into the kitchen. Slipping and sliding as his socked feet hit linoleum floor. Dangerously close to colliding with cupboards or the stove until his father caught him by the back of his Rangers sweatshirt. The kid was a walking, talking disaster waiting to happen. Out of all of the Flack children, Liam was definitely the one with the most Ross in him.

"Hey, sweet pea," she greeted, as Flack released their son. Bending down to place a kiss to the top of his head as Liam wrapped his arms around her thighs.

"You're really late," Liam commented.

"I had a lot of work to do," Sam told him, running a hand over his dark hair. "How come you're still up?"

"Daddy said I could stay up until you got home," Liam said. "That I didn't have to put pyjamas on and stuff until you got home from work."

"So he wouldn't have to give you a bath and get you dressed himself?" she asked, shooting her husband a foul look.

"Oh I'm sorry," Flack snorted. "I guess I got caught up cooking dinner, cleaning up, helping five other kids with homework and listening to Kieran's crap."

"Are you crying mommy?" Liam asked, looking up at her, his head cocked to the side, eyes filled with curiosity and concern. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "How was your day? Did you have fun at school?"

Liam nodded. "Uncle Danny picked me up. He's going to take me to the Blessing of the Bikes on Saturday. And he said that after we can go to McDonald's and have lunch and then I can ride my bike in Central Park. And maybe go to the zoo. But only if you and daddy said it was okay."

"That sounds fine," Sam told him. "If it's okay with your dad though."

"Can I daddy?" Liam asked hopefully, turning around and leaning back against his mother's legs and looking up at his father with his huge golden brown eyes.

"You gonna be good for your Uncle Danny?" Flack asked. "No taking off on him? You gonna listen to everything he says and not give him a hard time?"

"I promise I'll be good," Liam vowed. "Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

"Then you can go out with Uncle Danny on Saturday. But I'm telling you kid, he comes back and tells me anything bad…"

"Boom to the moon!" Liam finished, giggling as he held up a fist. "Can I have a snack? I'm hungry. Can I have a snack and something to drink?"

"Go upstairs and put your pyjamas on first," his father said.

"Why can't I have a snack first?" Liam asked.

"Because I said to go and put your pyjamas on first," Flack replied.

"But I'm hungry now," his son argued.

"And you'll still be hungry in ten minutes. So go upstairs and put some pyjamas on."

"Will you help me daddy?"

"You know how to put your own jammies on," Flack reminded his son.

"I forgot how to do it," Liam told him.

His father arched both eyebrows and stared down at him.

"I did!" Liam insisted. "I forget things sometimes, daddy!"

"Liam, go upstairs and put your pyjamas on. Okay?"

"Can't you come and help me pick some out daddy?"

Flack sighed heavily and shook his head. "Upstairs. Now."

Liam pouted dramatically and crossed his arms over his chest and stomped out of the kitchen.

"Something is seriously wrong with that kid," Flack said to his wife, as she turned her back on him and opened the fridge. "Before supper he wanted me to come and wipe his ass for him after he took a crap. How come he can do it fine at school but he gets home and it's a huge issue?"

"Because he's a kid and kids are weird," Sam reasoned, taking out the container of milk and pouring some into her now empty water cup. "Well, our kids are weird at least."

"It's gotta be the Ross in them that make them like that," Flack joked.

"Yeah…blame me for all the problems in this house," she said. "That's typical for you."

"Sam, I meant it as a joke. Just 'cause you're all hormonal already, don't jump down my throat, okay? And I'm sorry that we were arguing. Last thing I wanted to do with you tonight is argue after the day we had. Just you coming home and telling me this after the day we've had with Kieran…"

"You can say what it is, Don," she said, sipping her milk as she closed the fridge door and turned to face him. "You can say it. I'm pregnant. We're having a baby. It's not a hideous, horrible thing, you know. And I'm sorry if you thought I was personally attacking you. It's just you start being mean and then I can't control what I say."

"I guess that's something we never could stop doing after sixteen years," he said. "Hurting each other."

"It's just the way we are. The way we cope with things. We do it to protect ourselves. It's just part of us. It doesn't mean we hate each other or we don't love each other. And if you want me to quit right away, then that's fine. I'll do it."

"Why? So five years down the road you can hold it over my head?"

"No. Because I love you and respect you and I don't want anything happening to this baby. Is that good enough of an answer?"

He gave a small smile. "I know it's hard for you. Making a decision like that."

"I want you to know that I'm doing it for you and for our kids. Because you're right. I think it would be better for them if they had one of us at home. Maybe it will straighten Kieran out a bit."

"Maybe," Flack sighed. "But Mac's coming over tomorrow to spend the day with K. Maybe he can knock some sense into the kid. Kieran respects him and idolizes him. So maybe Mac's the one person that can get through to him."

"He loves and respects you," Sam told her husband. "You're his father. And the two of you need to find some common ground. Spend some time together or something."

Flack shook his head. "He wants nothing to do with me. He says I don't understand how he feels or what he's going through. That I think everything he says or does is stupid. That I'm way too strict. You think I'm like that?"

"I think you have a tendency to be a little too iron-fisted," Sam admitted. "Especially when it comes to him."

"I just want him to have more options with his life then I had. And if he keeps doing shit like fighting and drinking underage and worrying about girls, he's going to end up not achieving anything. And I want more for him, Samantha."

"And I think he wants more for himself," she said. "But you need to let him make his own decisions and then support him a little more if things blow up in his face. Instead of putting him down and telling him I told you so. I know you try hard, Donnie. I know you just want what's best for him. But how is he ever going to learn anything if he doesn't fuck up every once in a while. I mean, you were fifteen once. You made mistakes."

He nodded. "And my father made me pay for them. Which do you think is worse? The way my father was with me? Solving everything with his fists? Or the way I am with Kieran? I know I'm not the greatest father in the world, but I'm a hell of a lot better then my old man."

"Your dad can't exactly defend himself either," Sam pointed out. "And maybe if you got a grip on all these regrets you have in regards to him…"

"Don't go psycho-analysing me," Flack snarled. "Why do you do that? Try and be a therapist or a shrink when I need you to be my wife? That's fucking annoying."

"So is leaving the toilet seat up after sixteen years of nagging you about it," Sam told him, grinning behind the rim of her cup.

He smirked. "You're a damn smart ass, you know that? And thank you. For agreeing to stay home. It means a lot to me, Sammie."

"I know. And hopefully, it will solve a lot of the issues around here. To be honest, I'm actually tired of getting up and going to work every day. I think it's time to go."

"That shitty of a day?" he asked.

"Just a lot of crap to deal with," she said, finishing her milk and carrying the empty cup to the sink to rinse it out, "I can't stand some of the people. They're driving me crazy."

"I told you working for the Feds would drive you insane," he teased, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"As much as I hate to admit you're right…"

"Doctor say anything else?" he asked, placing a hand on her hip and pulling her in front of him.

She shook her head and laid her hands on his sides and her head on his chest. "We'll find out more once I get in to see my OB," she responded.

"I can't believe you can be that far along but not suspect anything," Flack said, wrapping his arms around her.

"Why would I? I had my tubes tied. I just thought no period meant that menopause was catching up. Same with the little bit of nausea and the dizziness I've had for the last couple of weeks. And I just figured I was putting on weight because I'm getting old and things aren't exactly where they used to be on my body."

"Do you feel anything? I mean like movement or anything?"

"Nothing that made me think I was pregnant," she said. "When you're not looking for it, you don't notice it, I guess. Surreal, huh?"

He nodded. "You can say that again."

"Surreal, huh?"

Flack frowned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Stop being such a Ross," he said. "And you wonder why Liam is the way he is."

"One of them had to be like me," she reasoned.

"All done daddy!" their son announced as he came bouncing into the kitchen.

"So what do you want for a snack?" Sam asked, breaking away from her husband to address her son. Her eyes widening at the sight before her. Liam, with the top to his Cars pyjamas on backwards, and his dark hair greasy and sticking straight up. Pink cream smeared across his forehead and on his ears and the back of his neck. The overwhelming scent of roses filling the kitchen.

"What the hell is in your hair?" Flack inquired. "And what's that smell?"

"It's that stuff that mommy's uses," Liam answered. "I put it in my hair."

"Why?" his father asked. "That's moisturizing cream. Not hair gel. And what were you doing in our room? You know not to go in there."

"I want to smell like mommy," the little boy said.

"You and me," Flack ordered. "Upstairs. Now. You're getting a bath."

"Why?" Liam wailed. "I like it!"

"Well I don't. You can't go to bed with that in your hair. You're getting in that tub. Let's go."

"But don't I smell pretty daddy? I wanted to smell pretty."

"Boys don't smell pretty," his father informed him, grabbing a hold of the back of Liam's pyjama top. "Not in this house anyway. Let's go."

"I just wanted to smell like mommy!" Liam argued, digging his heels unsuccessfully into the kitchen floor to prevent his father from dragging him out of the room.

"Mommy's a girl!" his father informed him, scooping his son up into his arms. "You don't smell like a girl, you hear me? What is wrong with you?"

Sam laughed and shook her head as she watched them disappear from the kitchen. Grinning at the sound of Liam's insistence's and his father's arguments echoing through the house.

What a family, she thought with a sigh, and moved to the plate of food on top of the island. Lovingly prepared and wrapped up, waiting for her to come home. She peeled back the edge of the Saran and carried it to the microwave, setting the timer for three minutes.

"Where's dad?" Kieran asked from behind her, causing her to jump.

"Don't sneak up on people like that," Sam scolded him. "You get that from your father. And he's upstairs giving Liam a bath. Your brother decided tonight was a good night for using rose scented moisturizing cream as hair gel."

"Kid's a moron," Kieran declared. "But not like that should be surprising around here."

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked.

The fifteen year old shrugged. "Why are you so late?" he inquired.

"I had an interrogation I needed to do and I had to get the paper work done before I could leave. Why? Are you my keeper?"

"I just thought maybe you went out or something," her son said. "You know, with some guy."

Sam frowned. "What's that suppose to mean?"

Kieran held up the cordless phone in his hand. "Some guy keeps phoning here to talk to dad. About you."

Her eyes widened. "Did your dad talk to him?"

Kieran shook his head. "I answer it and I tell him that dad isn't around. He's called five times now."

"He's just some jack ass that can't take no for an answer," Sam told him. "He's just calling your dad to cause problems."

"Yeah?" Kieran asked, as he placed the phone on top of the fridge and kissed his mother's cheek softly. "Well I had a little talk with him."

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Told him to piss off. And that if he ever called here again trying to screw up my parents, I was going to kill him."

Sam stared after her son as he calmly walked out of the kitchen.

Wondering how a simple kiss could transform itself into something so much more.

And completely unwanted.

"We have to figure out when we're going to tell the kids," Flack commented, as he and Sam sat in bed. It was after midnight and the house was in darkness and silence. The kids had long retired for the night and the dogs had been let out for their last business of the evening and now lay curled up together at the foot of the bed.

"We probably should wait a bit," Sam said, as she flipped the page on the reports she was anxious to complete before the morning. "Until we find out exactly how far along I am."

"How far along to you think you are?" he asked, flicking off the television. Tossing the remote onto the nightstand, he rolled over onto his side and laid a gentle hand on her stomach.

"Probably three and a half months," she replied. "If not a bit more."

"Only leaves us five and a bit months to get things done around here," he concluded. "I figure that the baby can just sleep in here with us and when he's older we can move him in with one of the other kids."

"I don't think any of our kids will be up to that idea," she said, dropping one hand from her report in order to comb her fingers through her husband's hair. "And why are you saying he?"

"Wishful thinking, maybe?" he grinned. "I mean, one more boy and it breaks the tie and swings things onto the male side of things."

Sam rolled her eyes.

"Another girl in the house? Way too much estrogen floating around if you ask me. You have any idea how tough it is living with so many women?"

"And do you have any idea how hard it is living with so many men? All the testosterone in this place?"

"Another little boy would be nice," Flack said, rubbing her stomach in slow, soft circles. "A Donnie Jr."

She arched an eyebrow. "You argued every boy we had not to give him that name. And the Jr is usually the first born boy."

"So what? We can name our kids in whatever order we want. I just think it would be kind of cool to have a son named after me. A Donald Flack the third. What do you think?"

"That you're completely mental," she said, and pushing his hair off of his forehead, pressed a kiss between his eyes.

"I just figured, with my dad gone now, it would be nice to name the baby after him. That's all."

Sam smiled. "We'll think about that, okay? Once we have the amnio and find out for sure if it's a girl or a boy, then we can pick names."

"I've got a girl name picked out," Flack told her.

She looked down at him. "You do?"

He nodded. "Wanna hear it?"

"It's not something really old school and boring is it?"

Flack shook his head. "I was thinking about it earlier. About what I'd like my daughter to be named if we had another girl. And the names just popped into my head. Zoe Sabrina Laura."

"Zoe?" she asked. "Where did you come up with that?"

"It was one of the names I thought was cool when we were picking out names when you were pregnant with Mikayla. I just never mentioned it to you 'cause I thought for sure you'd hate it. I think it sounds pretty neat with our last name. And let's face it, it's hard to come up with names that sound okay with Flack."

"Told you that you should have changed your last name to Ross," Sam commented.

"You wish," he snorted. "But don't you think it sounds nice, babe? Zoe Sabrina Laura Flack. Sounds nice. Do you like it?"

She smiled and nodded and kissed him softly. "I think it sounds beautiful," she said. "And if it's a boy?"

"Donald Joseph Flack the third."

She sighed.

"I also like the name Gavin," he told her. "After Moran."

"Andrea would be touched," Sam said. "Sometimes it's really hard to believe he's been dead as long as he has."

"Ten years," Flack sighed and rolled over onto his back. "Sometimes it feels like ten days ago."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"Is it wrong that I felt worse about him dying then I did about my own father?" Flack asked, his voice quiet and troubled.

"You were closer to Gavin then you were your father," Sam reasoned. "When you're dad was shitting all over you after you joined the department, Gavin was the one who took you under his wing. He was more then just a training officer."

"He was like a dad to me. When I was having problems, whether it was with the job or with some girlfriend, he was always there for me. No matter what. He never looked down on me or laughed at me. Always gave me advice. Whether I wanted to hear it or not. And never let me get too full of myself. Always shot me down if I needed it."

"He was an amazing friend to you," Sam said, reaching out and picking up her husband's hand, entwining her fingers with his. "And I know you took it really bad when he died. That it still bothers you."

Flack nodded. "Bothers me the most when I think about how quick everything happened. Seems like Andrea and him were just telling us about the cancer and then BOOM. He was dead."

"Six months is pretty quick," she sighed. "But it was pancreatic and he didn't want, or have, any chemo or radiation."

"I don't blame him. I'd be the same way. I wouldn't want any either. That shit just makes you feel worse. I figure if God gives me the big C, it's for a reason. That obviously it's my time to go. Why the hell should I prolong it if I'm just going to feel like shit?"

"Because it gives you a chance of survival. And if not that, then more time with your family."

"I wouldn't want you and the kids seeing me like that. I swear Sammie, I ever get sick like that? Promise me that you won't keep me at home. That you put me in a hospital and let the professionals take care of me. 'Cause I wouldn't want you or the kids to be saddled with that kind of burden."

"What burden?" she asked. "You're my husband, Don. You'll never be a burden."

"I don't want you going through that," he told her. "Just promise me, Samantha. That you won't do that to yourself."

"I think you're being slightly morbid talking about this," she scolded him.

"Promise me," he insisted.

Sighing, she closed up her reports and tossed them onto the nightstand. "I promise you," she said, and kissed his hand. "But something like that goes both ways, you know. So you have to promise me something, too."

"Anything," Flack vowed.

"You have to promise me that if anything ever happened to me. Like an accident. And it leaves me a complete vegetable and the only thing that's keeping me alive is machines, you have to promise me that you won't do that to me. That you won't prolong the inevitable. That you'll just let me go. Because I don't want to live like that."

"I wouldn't want you to live like that either," he told her. "But I wouldn't be able to let you go that easy, babe."

"Even if I wasn't me, anymore, Donnie? If there was no possible way I was ever going to breathe on my own again? If I had no quality of life left? You'd let me live like that just because it would be too hard for you to let me go?"

"I just…" he sighed heavily. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Don't you think we need to…"

"Write it down," he said. "Write it down with your living will that you have. Write it in a journal. I don't care. I just don't want to talk about it, okay? 'Cause we talk about stuff like that and it gets me all emotional. And the only thing I want to be emotional about right now is our baby. Okay?"

She smiled and nodded. "Okay," she said, and laid their joined hands on her stomach. "It's hard to believe, isn't it." It was more a statement then a question.

"A little," Flack admitted. "Now that I've come to grips with the whole getting knocked up when your tubes are tied thing, I think I'll be alright with it."

"You think?" she asked with a frown.

"I know I will be," he corrected himself. "It's amazing Sam. That it happened the way it did. It's obviously meant to be if it happened just like that. This baby was meant to be here. We were meant to have him."

She cleared her throat and stared at him.

"Or her," Flack said with a grin. "Him or her. Doesn't matter to me. As long as the baby is healthy and has everything where it should be and isn't like…" he caught himself before the words slipped out.

"You can say it," she said softly. "It's not a horrible thing to say bad. As long as this baby isn't like Declan."

Flack sighed heavily. "He's my son, Sammie. He's my son and I love him no matter what."

"I know," she said, trailing her fingernails of her free hand down the inside of his forearm. "And I also know how you're feeling and what you're thinking. Because I'm thinking and feeling the same things."

"I just couldn't go through all of that again," Flack admitted. "It nearly broke me at first and it took me so long to come to grips with it and even now there's times I don't completely accept the disability. My son, yes. The disability, no."

"What do you we Donnie?" she asked, tears sparkling in her eyes. "If the tests show that this baby has it too. What do we do?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I honestly don't know. You're too far along to do anything about it and even if you weren't, I'd never want you to do something to a life we created together. And neither of us could live with ourselves giving our baby up."

"I just want everything to be okay," she whispered.

Flack looked up at his wife. "Don't cry baby," he said, and reaching up with his free hand, brushed tears off of her cheeks. "Everything is going to be okay. We have each other. And together, we can deal with anything. We've proved that tons of times. Right?"

She nodded.

"Come here," he said. "Lie down and let me hold you, okay?"

"Okay," she sniffled, and letting go of his hand, slid herself down onto her back before rolling onto her side facing him.

"Me and you, babe," he said, kissing her temple and gathering her into his arms. Holding her as tightly as he could. "It's always been me and you and it always will be."

She smiled as she tucked her head underneath his chin and held onto him with all of the strength in her body.

"I told you a long time ago that no matter what problems you had, what baggage you were carrying, that I was a big strong guy and I could help you carry it all," Flack said. "Do you remember that?"

"I remember," she said.

"I meant it babe, every word. All you got to do is fall into me and trust me and everything will be okay. No matter how big or how small. Just trust in me and in us, and it's all good."

"You promise?" she asked in a meek, frightened voice.

"Have I ever let you fall before?"

Sam shook her head.

"I'm not going to let you fall, Sammie. As long as I live, I promise you that."

She smiled against him and relaxed in the warmth and security his strong arms and his familiar scent provided her with.

Me and you, she thought. Forever.

Regardless of what anyone says, or thinks.

Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! So please R and R folks! Makes my day!

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