DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

A/N: DURING THE LAST YEAR, I HAVE MET SOME AMAZING FRIENDS. BOTH NON DL FANS AND DL SHIPPERS ALIKE. FANTASTIC SHIPPERS LIKE (AND NOT LIMITED TO) LAURZZ, MUCHMADNESS, IMASUPERNATURALCSI, A FROZENHEART412. WHO HAVE SUPPORTED ME AND MY STORIES EVEN THOUGH WE HAVEN'T ALWAYS HAD THE SAME VIEWS ON THINGS, SUCH AS DL. NOT ONCE HAVE THEY SLAMMED ME OR HATED ME. AND I THANK THEM FOR THAT. IN FACT, THEY WERE THE ONES THAT PULLED ME BACK ONTO THE GOOD SHIP DL! AND I AM REALLY LOVING IT AGAIN!

THERE'S JUST NO NEED FOR HATE. WE DON'T ALL HAVE TO LIKE THE SAME THINGS. I MEAN, HOW BORING WOULD LIFE BE IF WE DID?! THAT'S THE GREAT THING ABOUT FAN FICTION, WE CAN CREATE A NEW WORLD WHERE THINGS HAPPEN THAT WE WANT TO HAPPEN! AND IT'S EVEN BETTER BECAUSE IT'S ALL FOR FUN! AND IF WE DON'T LIKE SOMETHING, THAT'S WHAT THE CLOSE BUTTON IS FOR AT THE TOP OF THE SCREEN! WHEN PEOPLE GET HATED ON BECAUSE THEY DON'T LIKE DL…WELL THAT IS DOING DL A MAJOR DISSERVICE. BECAUSE THE HATE JUST TURNS PEOPLE OFF THE PAIRING EVEN MORE. AND THAT ISN'T WHAT WE WANT, IS IT?

MUCH LOVE TO ALL OF YOU,

BEG 75

AND CONGRATS TO MUCHMADNESS! ONCE AGAIN SHE'S THE WINNER OF AN IMAGINARY TRIP FOR BEING MY 900TH REVIEW FOR THIS STORY! 900 ALREADY, WOW. THANKS TO ALL OF YOU FOR HELPING ME GET THERE!

Big K, Little L

"I go to school, I write exams,
If I pass, if I fail, if I drop out,
Does anyone give a damn?
And if they do, they'll soon forget cause it wont take much for me
To show my life ain't over yet.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange.
I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever going to change.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange
And everything around me stays the same."
-What a Good Boy, Barenaked Ladies

"K!" Liam's shriek of frustration and anger reverberated throughout the entire house. Reaching his oldest brother's ears as Kieran, convinced his siblings were contained and under control in the house, lounged outside on the deck in one of the lawn chairs. Clad in a pair of olive green cargo style shorts and a tattered white t-shirt and a backwards NYPD ball cap on his heat, his bare feet propped on the glass table top in front of him and a cell phone pressed to his ear as he swigged a can of Coke.

A cell phone he'd had to snatch when Joseph had laid it down on the kitchen table on his arrival at the house. Once his buddy and Alannah had retreated to the basement to watch television and hang out with Reghan, Declan and Mikayla, Kieran had helped himself to the guy's phone and retreated outside. His parents had been successful in not only taking his cell phone away, but hiding it. In two separate place. His father had, right in front of Kieran's very eyes, taken the battery pack out of the back of the phone and then artfully stashed the two items in different locations somewhere in the house. Dad was sneaky. And far more intelligent than anyone ever gave him credit for. There had never been a successful moment that any of his children had successfully snuck anything past him. And none of the Flack kids suspected that moment to occur anytime soon. He tolerated no bullshit and they pitied whoever attempted to pull any. Dad was no nonsense. He didn't break. Tears and pleading and tantrums didn't work with him. They only served to get you into even more trouble.

Mom was the weak link. From an early age, Kieran had quickly learned that she was the pushover. He was three when he realized that all it took to get her to crack was a massive pout, a well rehearsed, "But please, mommy?" and a flutter of his dark eyelashes and a flash of his tear filled blue eyes. He had learned, and wasn't ashamed to admit it, how to manipulate her before he even started school. Mom couldn't say no. It just wasn't in her vocabulary. Trips to the grocery store or the mall had been a favourite outing of his because he had known that the louder he screamed, the more he whined, and the worse of a tantrum he threw, she was snapping under the curious, condescending stares and whispers of strangers and giving him exactly what he wanted.

He had had more toys then his parents had known what to do with. And each time they came home from getting groceries or from a simple walk down to the bodega at the end of their street when they still lived in the city, his dad would take one look at the brand new toy truck or car in Kieran's hands, or an action figure or Silly Putty he'd just had to have, and shake his head and accuse his wife of being too damn soft.

Kieran had successfully, on many occasions as a little boy, managed to turn his parents against each other and cause hell within the home. Of course, he hadn't realized what he was doing at the time. As a child, he hadn't known how badly it pissed his dad off that his mom was such a pushover. To Kieran, it had been nothing more than pure, childish selfishness. He knew mom wouldn't say no and that she was the one to go to when you wanted something. He knew what buttons to push to get her to break. He had learned how to avoid asking his father for anything, and to not pull the same kind of shit with his dad that he did with his mom. But he'd never done it to cause martial discord with his folks. And it hurt, even now, to think of himself as a seven year old boy cowering in his closet as he listened to his mother and father immersed in nasty shouting match in the living room.

He'd been on the cusp ten when he'd realized that he'd actually been using his mother. His grandpa Flack had called him on it on the eve of his tenth birthday. He could still remember his grandfather sitting in the basement, sipping a beer and watching a hockey game when Kieran -told by his father just moments earlier that grandpa wanted to talk to him- journeyed down into the basement of their own house.

"Come here for a second," his grandfather waved him over. "I want to have a little chat with you, Sport."

Sport. That had been his grandpa's pet name for him. Kieran was four when that started. The year that his parents had put him into organized hockey. He'd been on skates since before he could even walk. He'd seen pictures of himself taken during his first winter on earth. All bundled up in a red and blue snowsuit and a navy wool cap with NYPD printed across it in big white letters and navy mitts and scarf. A pair of bob-skates on his feet as he clung to a special metal frame that the on ice instructors at Rockefeller Center used to help out the little kids. Of course, the thing was still too big and K had had to hold onto one side of it while his dad, an amused and proud smile on his face, crouched down behind him and held the trainer steadily. Dad had kept that picture on his desk -first in a simple wooden frame and then in a frame that Kieran himself had made in kindergarten with popsicle sticks he'd covered in glue and then sprinkled silver and blue sparkles on- for the longest time. The frame had eventually just disintegrated and the picture had gone in one of mom's many photo albums.

Grandpa had shown up, unexpectedly, at Kieran's first ever hockey practice. It was an NYPD team. Consisting of both boys and girls. All between the ages of four and seven. Sons and daughters and grandkids of active, sworn officers within the department. Kieran had been prouder than a big in shit because his dad was one of the coaches. Because to K, his dad was the best dad in the entire world and there was no one that was a better skater or a better hockey player than his old man. He had idolized his father from the time he was old enough to remember. The sun and the moon had set on his dad. There was nothing he couldn't do.

The only person who'd come close to measuring up was Grandpa. And Kieran could remember, while in the middle of basic puck handling exercises -basic being the opportune word, considering most of the kids couldn't stay on their feet or hold a hockey stick properly- a shrill whistle sounding throughout the arena and then seeing his grandfather, a take out tray of hot beverages in one hand, a paper bag of goodies in the tucked under his arm at the boards at the far end of the ice, waving his dad over. He'd watched as his dad skated over and then stood, leaning on his own stick as he talked to his old man. Kieran could even remember to that day what his father had been wearing. Black tear away pants with white strips down the sides of the legs. Adidas. A black, long sleeved thermal shirt with a puffy black vest over top and an NYPD ball cap. His face had been scruffy and unshaven. Mom had complained about it when dad had went to kiss her goodbye. He'd laughed and teased her about how he thought she liked the bad boy look.

But it was after practice that had meant the most to Kieran. While all the other kids were in the dressing room getting changed, he'd gone, still in all his equipment, into the stands with his dad- both of them wearing running shoes in place of their skates- to where his grandfather was waiting for them. Grandpa had brought along two cups of coffee. One for himself and his son. And the largest hot chocolate, cooled down with milk, for his grandson. Along with donuts for all. The ones with the pink icing and sprinkles had been K's favourite as a kid. Something his dad had said he'd gotten from his mother. And he remembered how his eyes had widened when his grandfather presented him with the donut and hot chocolate.

"For my Sport," he'd declared, and affectionately tousled Kieran's sweaty hair. "You're going to be the next great one. Grandpa's Gretzky."

Kieran would never forget that moment as long as he lived.

Nor would he forget feeling slightly terrified of that moment in his basement on the eve of his tenth birthday, as he noticed the stern look on his grandpa's face. Or how he'd cautiously approached and stood in front of the Senior Flack with his chin tucked to his chest and his hands clasped behind his back as he shuffled his feet nervously.

"You've got to listen to me Kieran Shaun Donald…" his grandfather began.

The only time anyone used all three names was in dire situations. So he'd known right there and then that he was in serious shit.

"You're going to be ten years old tomorrow, young man. And becoming a ten year old comes with a lot of responsibility. You're not just a single digit anymore. Understand what I'm saying?"

Kieran nodded.

"I want you to stop what you're doing to your mother. Don't think I don't see right through the little games that you play. Don't think that your dad doesn't realize what you're up to. What you've been up to for a long time now. I know that your mom's a softie. She has a hard time saying no to you. That she'll give you whatever your little heart desires. And I also know that your dad…" he sighed. "I know that your dad can be a real hard ass. He's strict and he has a lot of rules he wants you to abide by. And sometimes you probably think that he's being mean. That he's doing it to piss you off. Right?"

Kieran nodded once again.

"Your dad only wants what is best for you. He's only trying to raise you and your brother and sisters right. And sometimes his vision of right…well it can be a little fuzzy. And that's no fault of his own. It's a fault of mine. 'Cause I was hard on him from the time he was old enough to walk. I pushed him from the time he was just a wee little guy. And there were times that I could be mean to him. That I was mean to him. Because I thought that that was what he needed to be able to do great things when he was older. And you know what that did? That destroyed things between me and your dad. Almost permanently. And your dad…he's doing a hell of job with you. And you need to respect him more. Understand me? 'Cause he loves you and would do anything for you. And it's killing him to see what you're doing to your mom. Your mom is his wife and he'll do anything for her. So you need to stop your nonsense. Your causing them some issues, you know that right?"

"I know," Kieran reluctantly admitted.

"Now your mom and dad, they love each other. They need each other. So you need to stop playing them off of one another. You need to stop using your mom against your dad. Am I making sense?"

"Yes, grandpa," he whispered.

"Your mom and dad love you. I love you. And I just…I want to be able to come and see you and not hear bad things from your dad about you. That makes me heartsick. And I don't want to feel that way, okay?"

"Okay…" Kieran struggled to hold back a flood tears. "I'm sorry, grandpa."

"Come here…" Flack Senior wrapped an arm around the emotional ten year old and scooped him up effortlessly into his lap. "It's really tough growing up, isn't it. It's tough not being a little kid anymore."

Kieran sniffled and nodded and nestled his face into his grandfather's neck. Comforted by the soft fabric of grandpa's red and black plaid shirt and the familiar scent of Old Spice.

"We can't stay kids forever," his grandpa said with a sigh. "It would be nice, but that isn't the way things work. Now you promise me that you're going to smarten up. That you're not going to do things like that to your mom anymore. That you're going to do your chores and clean your room and finish your homework when you're told to. Promise me?"

"I promise," Kieran answered and wiped his eyes on his grandpa's shirt.

"You're so unbelievably precious to your mom and dad. And to me and your grandmother. You'll never understand just how much your folks and your grandma and I love you and treasure you. And you'll always, always be my sport. Always."

Now, as he recalled that moment years before, Kieran Flack felt embarrassed as a fifteen year old as he felt tears burning his eyes and a massive lump of emotion forming in his throat. He missed his grandfather. Terribly. He missed that constant face in the crowd at each and every sporting event of his young life. That firm yet guiding hand and calm demeanour that had helped him through many an emotional, tough pubescent time when his own parents just seemed to either not care, or were just too caught up with his brothers and sisters to listen to him. That one person he could turn to when his father was just too impossible to deal with.

Kieran took a swig of Coke to rinse away the lump in his throat, and was snapped out of his reverie by not only Liam's bellowing from the kitchen, but Alessa asking him over and over again on the under end of the phone if he was around or not. He'd snagged the cell phone and headed outside because he'd known using the home line while his siblings were around were too big of a risk. He'd left Liam, working on a school project in the middle of the kitchen floor and the others downstairs, and had sought solitude in the backyard.

"I'll call you back," he'd said into the phone, then hung up and tossed the cell onto the table top as the screen door was tossed open wildly and his baby brother stomped out, a furious expression on his face and his hands planted firmly on his hips. "What's up, squirt?"

"Daddy said there was lots of pictures of me to use!" Liam cried. "He said that there was lots in mommy's boxes! And I can't find any!"

Kieran fought back his amusement. His one main joy in life was causing his littlest brother unbelievable emotional torment. Liam was an easy target. He was overly sensitive and unfortunately, not the sharpest tool in the shed. He fell for practical jokes easily and had been the brunt of teasing and beatings from all of his siblings from the time he was old enough to somewhat fight back. He was small and for the most part, weak and defenceless. He over reacted to even the smallest situations, which always provided Kieran and the other kids with the biggest laughs of all. And the on going joke -it had been in existence for a couple of years now- was that Liam was adopted. It had all started because of Liam continuously questioning their father on the fact that he looked so different then the other kids. Why was he the tiny one? Why did he have golden brown eyes and fine brown hair with red highlights in it? Why was he so different when all the others had black hair and blue eyes and were tall and skinny?

So the 'rumour' began that Liam was adopted. It had actually been Alannah that had started it. But it was Kieran that went to great lengths to keep it alive and flourishing. It drove Liam absolutely wild each and every time someone so as much uttered the word. And Kieran had thought, the moment Liam had told their dad just before he was on his way out the door, that he wanted to start on his school project, that it was the perfect opportunity to pick on the youngest member of the Flack troupe. Liam, along with his classmates, had been given a large piece of Bristol board and told to cover it with pictures of themselves from the time they were babies until now. And to included photos of their siblings and parents. Dad had brought down the nearly dozen shoe boxes of pictures mom kept in the back of their closet, along with a baby book, and told Liam to go to town.

Only Kieran had gotten to the items first. And while Reghan and Alannah distracted Liam, Kieran had quickly and efficiently hidden the baby book in his own room along with all but two of the shoe boxes, and then had taken every picture of Liam as a baby and toddler out of the remaining containers. Then he'd gone out onto the deck and sat down and waited for the shit storm to hit.

"I already told you this a million times," Kieran said calmly. "There are no baby pictures of you. Mom and dad don't have any. They only have pictures of you when you came to live with us. When you were two."

"That's not true!" Liam huffed. "I lived here when I was a baby too!"

Kieran shook his head. "How many times do we have to go through this? You were never a baby. At least not with us. You were a baby with your real family. And when they didn't want you anymore they dropped you off at the unwanted, abandoned baby shelter and that's where mom and dad found you when they wanted one last kid."

"No they didn't!" Liam argued, valiantly holding back tears of hurt and rage. "Mommy and daddy did not find me at a shelter! They had me! I was in mommy's tummy just like the rest of you guys!"

Kieran shook his head and calmly sipped his pop. "Liam, I think I'd remember if you were ever in mom's tummy. And you weren't. I even went with them to the abandoned baby place. It was like those ASPCA commercials on t.v. You know the ones where people who want a pet go around looking at all those animals in their cages or the ones behind the glass? The baby place was just like that."

"You're just making that up!" Liam hollered. "You're just being mean, K!"

"I wanted mom and dad to pick this really cute red headed kid but they took one look at you and for some reason just had to have you. That's how you ended up coming to live with us."

"That's not true!" the little boy cried. "Mommy and daddy had me! They didn't pick me at the unwanted baby place! They had me! Daddy always says I wasn't adopted!"

"Think about it, Liam…" Kieran leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "You look nothing like the rest of us. We all have black hair and blue eyes. We're all really tall. And you're…well you're this puny thing with brown hair and brown eyes."

"That's 'cause I look like mommy!" Liam informed him. "Daddy always says so!"

"Let me fill you in on a little secret," Kieran said. "Dad's lying. He's just doesn't want to hurt your feelings!"

"Daddy's not lying!" Liam screamed. "Daddy doesn't lie! You lie Kieran!"

"Fine…suit yourself…but it's about time you face the facts kid. You're not a real Flack."

"Yes…yes I am…" Liam's lower lip wobbled and the tears threatened. "My last name's Flack too…"

"Yeah…but you're not a real Flack. 'Cause dad didn't make you. He picked you at the unwanted baby shelter and him and mom adopted you. That's the only reason you have the last name Flack."

"NO IT'S NOT!" Liam screeched, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "I AM NOT ADOPTED! DADDY AND MOMMY HAD ME!"

Kieran shook his head.

"Yes they did," Liam sobbed. "They had me…I'm not adopted…mommy and daddy made me…that's why my last name is Flack too."

"Okay…believe what you want, squirt. But I wouldn't lie about something like that."

"I don't want to be adopted!" the soon to be seven year old wailed. "I want to be a real Flack!"

"Sorry…that's just the breaks kid."

"You're just being mean, K! You're just mean and ugly and I hate you!"

"Hey, I'm just ugly 'cause I got beat up. You're ugly all the time. What's your excuse?"

Liam stomped his feet furiously. "I'm going to call daddy and tell him you're on the phone! And then he's going to come home and kick your ass!"

"Yeah?!" Kieran removed his hands from behind his head, and leaning forward, snatched Liam by the front of his shirt and yanked him towards him. "You do that and I'm gonna kick your ass so hard mom and dad won't even recognize you when they get home. Or I'll bury you in that hole you were digging to China."

"I hate you!" Liam screamed, then nearly stumbled backwards when Kieran suddenly released his shirt. " I hate you and I'm going to ask uncle Danny! I'm going to ask Uncle Danny when he takes me to Blessing of the Bikes tomorrow. I'm going to ask him if I'm adopted. "

"Fine…ask him," Kieran shrugged. "But good luck at Blessing of the Bikes. Last kid Uncle Danny took ended up getting killed."

Liam's eyed widened in sheer terror.

"If I was you I'd say goodbye to all your toys and mommy tonight," Kieran continued. "Because you'll probably end up like that other kid."

"I HATE YOU!" Liam shrieked, and summoning up courage, raced towards his brother and landed a punch square in the fifteen year old's mouth. Hard enough to split open Kieran's lip and bring tears to his eyes.

"You little shit!" Kieran yelled, the chair flying up from underneath him as he bolted after his baby brother.

Liam shrieked in terror and raced for the sliding door, managing to slam the screen and the glass shut and lock it before his big brother could get a hold of him.

"Let me in Liam!" the teenager bellowed. "Let me in right now!"

He shook his head and stuck his tongue out. Then grabbed one of the kitchen chairs, pushed it across the kitchen floor to the fridge and climbed up on top of it. Snagging the cordless phone, he jumped down and rushed back to where his older brother was furiously pounding on the sliding door.

"Don't do it Liam!" Kieran yelled, as his baby brother held up the cordless phone with a proud smile on his face. "Don't you dare call dad! You call dad and I'll beat your ass!"

Liam ignored him, turned the phone on and hit the appropriate number on the speed dial. Then, a pleased, calm expression on his face, sat down facing the backyard and his furious brother, and patiently waited for someone to answer his call.

Twelve years had been way too long, Flack concluded, as he and his wife were shown to a quaint table for two near the back of Tavern on the Green's outdoor patio. It was a beautiful evening for sitting outside. The temperatures had been in the low eighties during the day throughout the entire week, and as dusk arrived, a slight breeze tousled the tree tops and soft, chamber music drifted through the open French doors of the restaurant and mingled with quiet conversations taking place around them.

It was hard to believe, as they sat there, Flack sipping a glass of white wine and Sam content with sparkling cider, how far they had come in the past sixteen years of their lives. How they had evolved from two perfect strangers meeting that day outside of the crime lab, to married for fifteen years with six kids. And another one on the way. How they'd battled through all the hard times. On his part it had been his anger management issues, a near dependency to alcohol and his possessive, controlling and bordering on emotionally abusive ways. For her, it had been a frightening mood disorder and her inability to 'let him in'. She had had a horrible tendency to close herself off. To hold back all over her secrets in fear that he'd hold them against her and leave. Counselling, both individual and together, had helped them deal with their issues. And had effectively made them stronger and happier.

Stable.

As they browsed their menus, each with an arm resting on the table top and their fingers lightly touching, he easily remember an evening fifteen and a half years ago where they had dined at that same restaurant. They hadn't been engaged long and she'd been almost six months pregnant with Kieran and much to her dismay, had looked much more. To Flack, she'd been absolutely breathtaking in a red satin Empire waist dress that he could still see, and feel under his fingertips all those years later. A dress that still sat, securely and lovingly put away in a zippered garment bag, in the back of their closet. He could still remember their flirtatious banter -something they'd perfected and still practiced to that day- and the way her eyes had sparkled in the flickering candlelight. He could still feel the weight of that Tiffany's box in his suit jacket pocket and the nervousness that tugged at him. It was his second chance at the whole proposal thing. The first time, in that cramped bathroom of his old apartment in lower Manhattan, had been spur of the moment. While he'd had the engagement ring and had ever intention of asking her to marry him, the reality that they were expecting a baby together had spurred him into action in the most unlikely, unromantic of places. And although she'd said yes without hesitation, he'd still wanted that perfect moment for her.

The carriage ride through the park, although definitely not his thing, had been perfect. Even if they had lucked out and snagged JJ Huntsville as their driver. New York City was a big place, and running into JJ, who Flack had questioned nearly two years before after the dead knight in Central Park -part of an elaborate suicide pact made by terminally ill young people who'd met through therapy- had offered JJ a wad of cash and his wallet for collateral, and then taken off with the carriage, hadn't been something Flack would have expected in a million years.

But it had been an amazing night. He had gotten his second chance at popping the question and three months later, he'd become a husband.

Sixteen years ago, Flack thought as he sipped his wine. Sixteen years in December. Where has the time gone?

Not that it really mattered to him. Those sixteen years, despite tremendous ups and downs, had been the greatest years of his life. And he was definitely looking forward to the next sixteen.

"You're thinking about the night you brought me here while I was pregnant with Kieran," Sam commented, her soft voice breaking into his reverie.

He smiled at her from across the table. "How'd you know that?"

"I didn't really," she said, and softly brushed her pinkie finger across the top of his hand. "But I know you. And I know that you would only bring me here if you were in a nostalgic mood. I've been with you for sixteen years, Donnie. Remember, I'm the only one who knows about that gentle, romantic side."

"You're the only one who knows about a lot of things," he mused, and curled his baby finger around hers. "And you're right. I was thinking about that night. About how amazing it was. How beautiful you looked in that red dress. Pregnant with my baby."

She smiled tenderly at him.

"And now here we are, all these years later and you're still as beautiful and pregnant with my baby all over again. And I just…I don't know. Sitting here like this with you, alone, it's just making me realize how happy I actually am. With my life. Despite everything we've been through, all the really bad times and all the really great times, we made it Sammie. We've come a long, long way together."

"We have," she said with a nod. "And there were times I never thought we'd make it that far. After what happened to Kieran when he was a baby and then your shooting and us separating and…"

"But we did make it this far, baby. And we're going to make it even farther. When I said forever all those years ago, I meant it. So face it, there's no getting rid of me now. You're stuck with me."

"Such a horrible lot in life," she said and gave a dramatic sigh. "I don't know how on earth I'll ever survive another sixteen years with you."

"Just sixteen? I was thinking about forty, fifty."

"Fifty? That's just pushing it," she laughed. "I doubt I'll be around when I'm ninety-seven."

"Well I hope you are. 'Cause I plan on living until I'm a hundred and there's no way in hell I can let you go before me. We made a pact, babe. Remember? We either go together or I go first. That way I don't have to stay behind, miserable and lonely without you. You're stronger than I am. You'd be able to cope better. And me…well remember that Brad Paisley song years back? Andy Griffith was in the video. About how his whole life, from day one, he always had to wait around for his woman to get ready for something. And how if he went first, he was going to park his ass on a bench up there in heaven and wait for her."

"Waiting on a Woman," she said with a smile.

"Well that's me in that song," he told her. "If I go first, trust me, I'll be waiting for you."

"Jesus, you can't let me alone even in the afterlife?" she teased and sipped her cider.

"Sorry, Sammie," he said with a grin. "You landed me sixteen years ago. Nothing's getting me away from you now."

She smiled softly at him and he leaned across the table to press a delicate kiss to her lips.

Only to be interrupted by the buzzing of his cell phone as it vibrated as it sat clipped to the waist band of his khakis.

Sam couldn't help but laugh at the intrusion. "Nothing but work can get you away from me you mean," she said. "And don't you even dare try and tell me that that isn't whose calling you."

"It's probably just Scagnetti needing to go over a few things," Flack told her, and slipped his phone out of its carrying case. Checking the call display, he groaned inwardly at the sight of their home number. He tried to keep the annoyance, and the slight concern, off of his face as he slowly pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. He wasn't going to ruin her night by telling her that it was one of the kids. Not unless the little brats had either burned the house down, or they'd managed to slaughter each other.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, looking up at him worriedly.

"Yeah…just work stuff like you said. And I don't want to bore you with it. So I'm just going to take it somewhere else, okay?"

She nodded as he walked around the table and stood at the back of her chair.

"I'll be back in a few," he assured her and kissed her cheek softly. "Order something. Feed my kid, would ya?"

"Yes, daddy," she said, tilting her head backwards and smiling up at him.

Grinning, he pressed his lips to her forehead and ran his hand along her face before turning on his heel and heading for the exit of the patio.

Still smiling, Sam turned back to her menu. Her gaze captured by the sparkling of the diamonds in her engagement ring and eternity band.

I love my life,she thought.

Just as long as my life is with him.

"Who is this?" Flack, his cell phone pressed to his ear, asked in greeting as he stepped through the wrought iron gate that led from Tavern on the Green's patio and directly into Central Park. "And what do you want?"

"Daddy?!" Liam shouted into the phone. "Daddy you have to come home!"

"Buddy…" Flack attempted to remain as calm and patient as possible. Not wanting to upset his already obviously emotionally fragile son. "…what did I tell you before I left the house? I told you that mommy and I are on a date. And it's been twelve years since we've been out of the house without kids tagging along. So whatever you're calling me about, better be good."

"I want to be a real Flack, daddy!" he cried. "I want to come from you and mommy too! I don't want to come from the unwanted baby place!"

"Liam, what…"

"I don't want to be adopted!" he wailed. "I want to come from you and mommy!"

"Okay…listen to me. Calm down and listen to me…"

"There's no baby pictures of me!" he continued. "I looked and looked and looked and didn't find any! Everyone else has pictures and baby books and I don't!"

"Liam, there's tons of pictures of you and you have a scrapbook. Just…"

"There's nothing daddy!" he sobbed. "Nothing! 'Cause I was never a baby! I came from a shelter!"

"Liam!" Flack snapped. "Be quiet and listen to me! Calm down and listen to me right now!"

The little boy sniffled.

"Are you calming down?" his dad asked. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah…"

"I have told you a million times not to listen to Kieran and Alannah when they start yapping about you being picked out at some abandoned kids place. You were not adopted. You came from mommy and I just like all of your brothers and sisters did."

"Uh-uh, daddy," Liam argued. "I didn't. It's why I look so different!"

"Liam…for the last time, you look like your mommy. Everyone else looks like me. But trust me, you were not adopted. You were once a baby in mommy's tummy too. I think I would remember stuff like that. And I remember when your mom told me she was having you. I also remember going to all of her appointments and seeing you inside of her. And I definitely remember, in great detail, the moment you were born. Are you listening to me?"

Liam hiccuped noisily. "Yeah…"

"You were not adopted. And I don't want to be having this conversation with you ever again. This is the last time I want to talk about this. You need to stop listening to K and start listening to me. Okay?"

"Okay…"

"Now I think Kieran's played a mean joke on you, so I want you to tell him to knock it off and give you your baby pictures back. Now I'm hanging up and…"

"I don't want to get killed daddy!" Liam blurted out. Then dissolved into tears.

Flack sighed heavily. Briefly closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "What are you talking about?" he asked calmly.

"Blessing of the Bikes!" Liam sobbed, managing words in between gulps of air and the hiccups that assaulted his tiny body. "Tomorrow…Uncle Danny…K said…he said…last kid…got killed! I don't…want…to get…killed!"

Flack sighed heavily and raked his hand through his hair. "No one is going to get killed," he promised his youngest. "Except for maybe Kieran. Put him on the phone."

"I punched him in the face and locked him outside," Liam sheepishly admitted.

"Well then open the door and give him the phone. Now."

There was a slight rustling noise as Liam got to his feet, shortly followed by the dull click of the sliding door being unlocked and the scraping of the screen as it was opened.

And then, Liam, announcing in a proud, sing-song voice: "Daddy wants to talk to you, K."

Flack heard the fifteen year old mumble something under his breath. Followed by Liam calling out, as he ran from the room, "I'm going to tell Daddy you were talking on the phone to Alessa!"

"Look, dad…" Kieran said quickly. "I don't know what…"

"No, you look," Flack angrily cut him off. "I am on a date with your mother. Do you understand the concept of a date? Me and your mom. Alone. No kids. No interruptions. I put you in charge because I'm attempting to rebuild my trust in you. You told me you could handle looking after your brothers and sisters for a few hours."

"I can dad! It's just Liam…he's…"

"Now I don't know what you did with his baby book and all of his pictures, and don't try and lie to me and say you didn't do anything to them. I know it was you. But I suggest you give him his scrapbook and the photos back. All of them. He's not even seven and he's going to end up with an ulcer or a breakdown. And seriously, Kieran. Grow up. You're fifteen and you're getting your kicks out of tormenting a little kid."

"Dad, he's just…"

"And what went on before you even existed between Uncle Danny and Ruben Sandoval is none of your goddamn business! You don't know the whole story. So do yourself a favour and shut your mouth. Am I making myself clear?"

Kieran swallowed noisily. "Yes, sir."

"And if I find out when I get home that you put the beats on Liam after we had our little talk, or if I find out you've gone against your mom or I and done anything you shouldn't be doing while you're grounded, you'll be in for a world of hurt, kid."

"I was just…"

"Do not call me back. And make sure none of your brothers and sisters call me either. Do not phone me unless the house is burning down. And even then, think twice."

"Fine…" Kieran huffed. "I didn't think us kids were such a burden to you. That we put such a damper on your sex life."

You little shit, Flack thought. If I could reach through this phone and strangle you with my bare hands, I would.

Patience, Flack. Patience. He's fifteen. He's fifteen and he's got some major issues. The more patient and understanding and tolerant you are, the farther you'll get with him. Threats and yelling are not going to work with him. It's what he wants. He wants the huge confrontation. The massive blowout. He's actually expecting it. So the calmer you are, the more effective as a father you're going to be.

"Look Kieran," his voice was quiet, yet firm. "I know you're going through some teenager crap, okay? I know that you've got these issues and we're going to get to the bottom of them. We're going to work through them. Together. And I know that it seems like your life sucks right now, but taking whatever shit your dealing with out on me and your brothers and sisters? I won't tolerate that. And if you even think about talking like that or acting like this with your mother, you and I are going to have serious problems, kid. Your mom? She's my wife. And no one, and I mean no one, treats my wife like that. I want us to fix things. But it's a two way street. I can't do it all. So cut me some slack here. Show me that you deserve respect and respect me and things will go a lot smoother between us. Okay?"

Silence eminated from the other end of the phone.

"Kieran?" Flack asked. "Did you just hear what I said?"

"Yeah…I heard you…"

"I know life sucks right now, buddy. And I know I haven't been the best dad with you. But I'm trying to make amends here. There's a lot I need to make up for. And not just with you but with your mom too. So do you think you could just back off the hostility a bit? Give your mom and I some time together? Show me that you're capable of being the man of the house?"

"I can do that," Kieran said quietly. Clearly humbled by his dad's words.

"Good. Now if you run into any trouble or you need anything, you call Uncle Danny or Papa Mac. They'll come over and help out if you need them too. Do you think I could get back to your mom now? Are we finished here?"

"We're finished," his son said.

"Alright. Now just lay off Liam. You know how sensitive he is. Just leave him alone. You'll get more out of him if you back off. Your mom and I shouldn't be too late. But I'm sure you can handle getting Liam and Mikayla off to bed at a decent time. The rest of you…just as long as you throw no wild parties, you can pretty much do what you want. Alright?"

"Alright, dad. I hope you and mommy have a nice time."

"I hope so too. No more calls, okay? Just give us this time. We deserve it, don't you think?"

"You do," Kieran agreed.

"We'll talk when I get home. I promise."

"Okay, dad. I'd like that. To talk. Just me and you."

Flack smiled. "So would I. Tell your brothers and sisters they better be good. I don't want to hear any more horror stories when I get home."

"I can't promise you anything," Kieran laughed, then disconnected the call.

Smirking, Flack pressed end on his cell and snapped it closed.

Finally getting somewhere, he thought, relief surging through his body at the idea of both getting his kid the help he needed, but getting his own issues back on track as well.

And with a renewed sense of empowerment and control, he turned on his heel and headed back onto the restaurant patio. To not only continue his date with who he still found the most beautiful, incredible, sexy woman he'd ever met, but to get on with the rest of their lives as well.

As a united front.

Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all the lurkers! Please R and R! And positivity, folks! The hate really needs to stop. This is just for fun. Isn't it?

Special thanks to:

Hope4sall

muchmadness

HighQueenReicheru

wolfeylady

GregRox

Forest Angel

ImaSupernaturalCSI

SpankyMcDoogleFace

Soccer-bitch