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

A/N: Just a reminder about the poll! A couple more days and I will close it! Get your vote in folks!


You can't always get what you want

"As I sit in this coffee shop
Halfway through your note, I had to stop
Right near the end, the letter read
Maybe when I leave I'll lead a life less empty
Maybe we were waiting way too long to end this soap opera story
You'll accept just half of all these consequences
Maybe then that's when I'll finally say I'm sorry."
-Say I'm Sorry, Theory of a Deadman


Danny Messer couldn't take his eyes off of her. The shimmering dark hair that tumbled clear to the small of her back and fell along the sides of her smooth, porcelain face as she bent over the lay out table across the room from him, quietly and intently examining evidence. The tiny, soft hands that worked so diligently on the task in front of her. The way the lab coat she wore swayed about her willowy body with each movement she made. How she sang along quietly to the music playing on the Ipod tucked into her pocket and one ear phone blasting tunes into her cranium.

He would have had to have been blind to not notice her. He'd noticed her the second she walked into the crime lab on her first day. The same way men noticed all attractive women that crossed their paths on a daily basis. It wasn't a personal thing. He'd had no desire to date her. His heart had always belonged to another despite the shit he'd been and the mistakes he'd made.

A beautiful woman was a beautiful woman. Didn't matter if she was your fiancee's best friend, or your best friend's girl. But what Danny noticed the most, what he couldn't tear his eyes away from was her mouth. Those soft, peach coloured full lips. And most specifically, the way, while she focused on her job, she had the tip of her tongue sticking out and the top of her piercing clamped between her teeth. She did it every time she was lost in thought or completely zoned in on something. And each time he felt himself shiver.

Sighing heavily, he finished processing the arrangement of clothing in front of him and double checked that everything was photographed and catalogued properly and that his name was on every single evidence tag. The lab, and the employees themselves, were going to be going through their yearly evaluation in just a matter of a couple weeks, and no one could afford any screw ups. Sinclair had his panties in a bunch over budget issues and cut backs, and everyone in that lab considered themselves a sitting duck.

Danny secured his evidence and pushed his glasses up onto his forehead. Sighing heavily, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Got anything interesting there, Brooklyn?" he asked, glancing over at his friend.

It was safe to say she was, outside of Flack, his best friend. With no romantic feelings existing between them from the get go, they had segued smoothly and easily into a brother and sister type relationship. And a hell of a team work wise. The often smart mouthed Staten Island kid and the feisty little Brooklyn girl.

Samantha didn't respond. She continued to work on the bloody t-shirt in her hands. Peering at it intently through the large, illuminated magnifying glass mounted on the side of the table.

"Brooklyn?!" Danny called.

Again, no answer. Slipping his glasses back onto his face, he journeyed over and yanked one of the ear phones out.

Sam jumped, startled by the unexpected interruption.

"You're going to go deaf with these damn things in your ears all the time," Danny informed him. "Not to mention how damn loud it is."

"No sense listening to it if you can't hear it," Sam reasoned, and taking the second ear bud out, removed the Ipod from her pocket and turned it off before wrapping the ear phones around it.

"I was just asking if you found anything interesting," Danny told her.

"Not really," she sighed. "High velocity blood spatter across the board. A couple of hairs that I pulled from the inside of the shirt," she picked up a small, clear plastic evidence baggy and held it up. "It's human and I'm pretty sure, based on colour, length and texture, that it came from our victim. Other than that, I've got nothing. You?"

"Squat," Danny declared. "Fuck all. Hairs that are similar to the ones you collected. That's it. No foreign hairs or biological DNA."

"Maybe homicide is right," Sam said. "Maybe this is a straight up suicide. There's nothing putting any one else at the scene and there was that beginning of a suicide note that Scagnetti found when he first got there."

"But it was just the start of a note," Danny pointed out. "Most people actually finish the thing a couple of hours and even days before actually going through with the deed. And even you agreed, that judging by how shaky the writing was, it looked as if the vic was writing it under some kind of duress or threat."

"That's a long shot," Sam said. "Handwriting analysis couldn't even determine that. And if this was a suicide, where'd the gun go? He couldn't have just shot himself and the weapon walk off on it's own. We found no shell casings, no nothing. And it was a through and through. So where's the bullet itself? We scoured every inch of that place."

"So the guy killed himself and than someone came upon him and cleaned it up," Danny reasoned.

"Or someone killed him and cleaned it up," she said.

"Either way, Brooklyn, we got nothing to suggest it was anything other than suicide. We even have GSR on the vic's right hand. Supporting the evidence that he fired a gun recently and proving that he shot himself in the right temple."

"It only proves he fired a gun," Sam corrected. "The GSR proves nothing more than that."

Danny grinned. "I love how we go back and forth like this. How a tiny thing like you can hold her own. What about the vic's pants? Anything on those?"

Sam shook her head and sidestepped along the table to the neatly folded, blood soaked jeans encased in a plastic bag. "Blood spatter dictates that the vic was in the position we found him in when the fatal shot occurred. Nothing below the knee, showing he was sitting down and that from here…" she gestured to her knee and moved up to her neck. "…to here was above the table. I did however, find this…"

She scooped up a smaller evidence bag with a small, wrinkled and bloody piece of paper inside of it. "It says TD 212-555-6578."

"Obviously a phone number," Danny concluded.

Sam smirked. "Obviously," she said sarcastically. "Boy, you are quick on the ball. It took me forever to figure that out."

"Smart ass," he grinned. "We should run this number down to Adam. See if he can get us a name, and an address for this TD character."

"We?" she asked. "Or you?"

"Well I was planning on making a DNA run in the small chance that in the mix of all that blood there's another donor," Danny told her.

"Tell Adam to put a rush on that number," Sam said and smiled sweetly.

"You just have a way of turning me into your personal errand boy," Danny sighed. "You wanna grab some lunch after this? I'm starving."

"As much as I'd love to be treated…"

"Don't push your luck, Brooklyn…"

"I have to meet Angell for lunch," she sighed, snapping off her latex gloves. Rolling them into a ball, she tossed them into the trash can resting at the end of the table. "I called her yesterday and asked her to meet me."

"You're going to drop the bomb?" Danny asked. "About you and Flack?"

Sam nodded and began gathering up her evidence.

"Good luck with that. Think she's going to have a conniption?"

"Probably," Sam said. "She was crazy about him. She was pretty sure Don was the one. She was all but planning out their wedding and how many kids they'd have and what their names would be."

"Well she was seriously delusional than," Danny declared. "Because Flack wasn't feeling all of that. Why do you think he insisted they keep living apart? All those times she was pressuring him to shack up with her and he refused? He did it because she drove him nuts after too long and he needed to get away from her every so often. He had no intention on ever marrying her or having kids with her."

"He was with her for eight months, Danny," Sam pointed out.

"And your point? He may have been with her but he wanted you. He just needed to get some balls and go after you like I kept telling him to do. I was on his ass nearly every day since he met you to just suck it up and ask you out. But no. He had to be a stubborn bastard because he said he didn't know how you felt about him. And he was too scared to screw up that older brother, little sister thing you two had going on. Worried that if that fucked up, working together would be impossible. It was all a load of shit if you ask me."

"Sometimes starting out as friends first makes people better lovers," Sam said. "Maybe that's the case for me and Don."

"Lovers? Don't you actually have to sleep with the guy in order for you to call yourselves that?"

Sam smirked and carried the bagged clothes over to the evidence locker across the room. "I am not discussing my sex life with you, Danny Messer," she said, punching in the security code into the keypad mounted on the locker door. There was a dull click and the heavy metal door swung open. So if you and my boyfriend are going to delve into some locker room talk, I would prefer to not hear about it."

"No locker room talk," Danny assured her, as she placed her evidence inside and he hurried off to grab his. "It was completely respectful towards you. Flack wouldn't talk shit about you, or about what goes on between you guys. He was just bitching and moaning about not sealing the deal."

"Sealing the deal?" Sam snorted and waiting for him to set his evidence bags inside, closed the locker. "Is that what they call it these days? Before it was hitting it out of the park and tapping that ass and a wide variety of other tame and vulgar ways of saying it. It is what it is, Danny. Sex. Making love. Whatever. Don't use some sophomoric term because you're scared of offending me or hurting my feelings."

"You kidding me?" he laughed, snapping off of his own gloves and hurling them into the trash before peeling off his lab coat. "You've got a worse mouth and mind than I do. You should be worried about offending me and hurting my feelings."

"I'm the girl that your mother always worried you'd bring home someday," Sam teased him, shedding her own lab coat and hanging it beside Danny's on a coat rack mounted near the door.

"You're the girl that I was always making out with in the back seat of my old man's car or in my bedroom and than hiding you in the closet from my mother," he chided, slinging his arm about her slender shoulders and pulling her into him as they headed out the door.

"Sorry, Messer. Even as a teenager, I was way out your league," Sam said, golden eyes sparkling playfully.

"You wound me, Brooklyn," Danny told her and pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of her head.

"Hey it's the gruesome twosome," Adam called out as he stepped out of the adjacent AV lab. "You guys better watch. I hear that new Inspector is lingering in the shadows somewhere. Wouldn't want her to write you guys up for being unprofessional."

"Your sister and I are only unprofessional when it comes to the locker room or the closest available janitor's closet," Danny assured the lab tech.

"You are so lucky I know you're joking," Adam said, his voice, and face dead serious. "Or else I'd have to kick your ass for talking like that about my sister."

"Scary thing is that I know you'd do it," Danny told him. Holding the evidence bag containing the phone number in between his middle and forefinger, he held it out to the younger man. "Please and thank you," he said. "We need you to find out who that number belongs to ASAP."

"I've got about fifteen million other things to do," Adam complained. "Surveillance tapes to go through for Stella and a couple of lap tops I need to search, not to mention that Blackberry that belonged to your vic needs a good look through and…"

"Well I suggest you get to work than," Danny clapped the lab tech on the shoulder. "I'm heading to DNA. Sure you'd rather torture yourself with Angell, Sam instead of having me buy lunch?"

"Unfortunately, it's something that needs to be done," Sam told him. "I'll take a rain check though."

"A'right," Danny said and headed off down the hall. "Maybe I'll call my boyfriend and see if he's out of court yet and wants to hook up somewhere."

"He left a message on my cell," Sam called to her friend. "He got out quarter to eleven. He's probably back at the precinct already."

Danny offered up a wave to show that he had heard her before disappearing into the DNA lab to hand in the hair and blood samples.

"Have you eaten, Adam?" Sam asked her younger brother. "I can bring you something back if you want me to."

"I'm okay," he replied. "It's just…I really, really need to talk to you about something."

Sam frowned. "What kind of something? A bad something or a…"

"A not so pleasant something," Adam admitted reluctantly. "Or should I say a not so pleasant somebody."

His older sister sighed and reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "This not so pleasant somebody wouldn't happen to have a first name that starts with a Z would it?"

Adam bit his lip and nodded.

Sam put her hands on her slender hips and shook her head.

"He's been calling me non stop for nearly two weeks now, Sammie. I started screening all his calls about five days ago and he suddenly switched numbers so I didn't know who it was phoning. It's a constant thing. All hours of the day, too."

"Is he drunk?" Sam asked.

"Some of the times," Adam replied.

"And what are these calls like? Sober or intoxicated."

"Everything starts off nice and pleasant. Asking me how you are and if things are going okay with you. And than as the day drags on he gets nastier and nastier and when I refuse to give him your address or your personal cell number now that you've changed it or your extension here, that's when he goes off the deep end. About how he's going to come down here and find you and teach you a lesson. Or how he's going to come here and find you because he loves you and he screwed up and he can't stand the thought of living without you any longer."

"And what have you said to him?"

"I told him that if he loved you that much he never would have treated you the way he did. And if never would have treated you the way he did, that you'd still be in Arizona, as his wife, instead of all the way in New York City moving on with your life."

"And?" Sam pressed for more information.

"And he told me I needed to mind my own business before he came down here and taught us all a lesson."

"He's an asshole," Sam declared. "Has he said anything to you about Don?"

"He just wanted to know who this guy was that you were seeing. I guess Flack didn't tell him much about himself."

"Don's always too busy telling Zack to fuck off to engage in small talk with him. Zack knows his name and that he's a cop. A detective. That's it. Did you tell him anything more about Don? Or about me and Don?"

Adam shook his head. "All I told him was that you were extremely happy for the first time in a long time and that you deserved to stay that way and that it was in his best interest to just leave you alone and get on with his life."

Sam smiled and stood on her tip toes to peck her brother's cheek. "You're a Godsend, Peanut."

Adam blushed slightly at the use of his childhood nickname. One his sister had never been able to fully abandon. She was the only one that called him that and he didn't mind one bit.

"Thanks for giving me a heads up," Sam said, and started in the direction of the locker room. "If he calls anymore, just keep telling him off."

"Will do," Adam assured her. "Hey…you don't think he'd actually come here and cause trouble, do you?"

Sam paused with a hand on the door to the locker room. "He couldn't be bothered to fight for me when we were in the same city," she said. "Why in the hell would he take up some of his valuable time coming here? He's all talk, Peanut. He's pissed off with the way his life is going and all the regrets he has are biting him in the ass. He's not going to come anywhere near New York City. Trust me."

Adam sighed heavily as his sister disappeared into the locker room.

Why does something tell me this is going to be one of those times I shouldn't have trusted you, he thought, and turned and headed down the hall.


"So how'd it go?" Danny asked, as he slid into a booth at Ray's across from his best friend. The simple phone call had proved fruitful.

Flack had been on his way back to the precinct and had agreed to meet up for a quick lunch. Danny had found his friend at a window seat, checking messages on his Iphone and looking agitated and pissed off. Two moods that were a common occurrence with the homicide detective.

"It came, it went," Flack replied grumpily, pressing end on his cell and tucking it into the pocket of his suit jacket. "I waited until ten thirty to get on the stand, and once I do, I'm not on there for a half an hour and one of the members of the jury starts complaining that they don't feel well. So we take a short recess. Or at least what was suppose to be a short recess. Judge comes out and informs us we're excused for the day because said juror is too ill to continue."

"That's always a pain in the ass," Danny declared, holding up a hand to signal for the waitress. "You know when you got to go back?"

"The DA will be in touch," Flack said. "So who the hell knows? How goes things with that shooting in the Bronx you and Sammie caught this morning?"

"It goes," Danny sighed. "Lots of questions with this one. Thought it was a homicide and now we're leaning towards suicide. All the signs are there that this guy offed himself. Bullet wound to the right temple, partial suicide note, GSR on his hand, blood spatter that determines he died where he sat."

"But," Flack said, sipping a cup of black coffee. "There's a but."

"Wound was a through and through but we found no bullet in the path of trajectory. Just an empty damn hole in the wall. And no weapon."

"Someone could have found your boy dead and cleaned up a bit," Flack reasoned. "Or they found him and found it a necessity to hide what he'd done."

"My thoughts exactly. But why clean up the scene and call the cops? It was a neighbour that heard the gun shot and called."

The waitress stopped by the table long enough to fill Danny's cup and drop off two menus.

"They hear anything else?" Flack asked. "Any fighting or raised voices before hand? How about afterwards? They hear anything after the gunshot? Doors slamming? Someone running down the hall?"

"I know what questions to ask, Flack," Danny reminded him.

His best friend held up his hands in self defence. "Force of habit, Dan-o. I can't turn that part of me off. It's one of my faults."

"Sam bitching about that again?" Danny asked, snagging two packages of sugar from a small metal basket on the table.

"She says I don't know how to separate my cop side from my boyfriend side. That I go all detective on her when she needs me to be the patient and understanding and caring boyfriend."

"Let me guess," Danny said, smacking the packages against the palm of his hand before tearing them open and dumping them into his coffee. "You guys were talking about Zack?"

"Lucky guess," Flack snorted and flipped open his menu.

"Still say we should go to Arizona and hand that guy his ass," Danny said. "She hear from him all weekend?"

"He's left her some messages," Flack responded. "She had her cell off since Saturday morning and he doesn't have my home or my cell number."

"Lucky for him," the CSI said. "Think she should get a restraining order against him?"

"Honestly? I don't know, Mess. Because what good is a restraining order going to do when the guy isn't even in the city. A judge would laugh in my face. But than on the other hand, knowing what Zack is capable of and because I wouldn't put it past him to come to New York City, I think having an order of protection against him would be a smart move."

"And than there's the third part of you that doesn't want to go all paranoid, over protective boyfriend."

Flack nodded. "Exactly. I want to trust her enough to handle things on her own and to come to me if she feels things are out of control. But she's never had a guy in her life, other than maybe Adam and her step dad, that she's been able to rely on. It's hard for her to let that part of herself go."

"If you want my opinion, if I may be so bold to give it…."

"By all means."

"I'd be keeping a damn close eye on this Zack guy. 'Cause from what we know, he's unpredictable and vicious. He's not letting go of her without a hell of a fight. And it's better to keep an eye on that end of things without Sam knowing, than it is going all cop on Sam and having her pissed off on you."

"You're thinking he's going to show up here?"

Danny shrugged. "I don't know what to think. I just know that if it was Linds, I'd be doing whatever it takes to protect her."

"I'll kill him, Danny," Flack said, his voice cold. "If he even comes near her, I'll kill him. I waited too long to have her to just let him walk in and fuck that all up."

"Well let's just hope he keeps his ass in Arizona where he belongs."

Flack just nodded.

The two men lapsed into a comfortable silence. Their eyes on the menus in front of them, but their minds a thousand miles away.

"So I got a question to ask you," Danny said, after they'd received their meals.

"Work related or personal?" Flack inquired, grabbing the ketchup bottle resting on the window ledge and drowning his fries with the red, gooey condiment.

"Personal," Danny responded. "About Brooklyn."

"We haven't had sex yet so spare your breath."

"Wasn't what I was going to ask. What I want to know is if what they say about girls with tongue rings is true."

"What do they say?" Flack asked, popping a fry into his mouth. "And whose they?"

"They. Guys who have girls with tongue rings. And seeing as you're the only guy I know with a girl with a tongue piercing I figured you were perfect to ask. And you know what they say. About how these girls give better…you know…"

"No," Flack said. "I don't know."

"Come on," Danny argued. "Don't play stupid. You know what I'm talking about. I've heard that girls with tongue rings give really good…do I really need to spell this out for you?"

"Apparently," Flack said. "'Cause I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mama fungole," Danny huffed. "You're just loving seeing me squirm."

Flack grinned and nodded. "Don't be shy, Mess. Spit it out."

"Head, you moron. Head. I heard that girls with tongue rings give amazing head. You got a girl with a piercing. So is it true? Is it as mind blowing as I've heard it is."

Flack smirked, chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of cheeseburger. He swallowed and took a sip of coffee before answering. "Let's put it this way, Dan-o," he said. "The first time she ever did it? I totally forgot the names and faces of any other woman I've had do it to me before her."

Danny stared at him. "You serious?"

"It's not just mind blowing. It's out of this fucking world. Plain and simple."

Danny snorted and shook his head. "You lucky bastard."

"Bet you're just wishing you'd hooked up little Brooklyn when you had a chance," Flack laughed.

"There was a time I'd considered it," Danny agreed. "When it seemed as if Linds and I were a complete lost cause. But I wouldn't give up my Montana for anything in the world."

"Good," Flack said. "'Cause I've loved Brooklyn and survived so she's not going anywhere."

"You're a goddamn sap," Danny complained, biting into his grilled cheese.

"I got a question of my own," Flack said.

"What's that?" Danny asked.

"Those bruises on your wrists are something else. What happened? Monroe get a little carried away playing cops and robbers this weekend?"

Danny blushed furiously.

"It's all good, Mess," Flack laughed. "Your secret is safe with me. Little Brooklyn's a perverted little thing too. She's already told me about her cop fetish. Her and Monroe are one in the same."

"Damn women," Danny grumbled. "So you seen that new Inspector lately?"

"Gillian Whitmore?" Flack asked and shook her head. "Gerrard's replacement? I think I've seen her twice since she's been here."

"What do you think of her?"

The detective shrugged. "She seems alright. I think she's said all of three words to me. Gerrard was a prick, but he got to know his people. Called you by your name. She calls out Hey you! And twenty-five guys all turn around. Locks herself up in her office. At least the old man was out and about. Showing up at your desk to make sure you weren't picking your ass or slacking off. He showed an interest in your cases. I'd take him on his worst day over someone completely non-existent like her."

"I think she's gunning for the lab," Danny admitted. "I think she's out to get some of us. I think she's got a big old shit list and she's getting ready to start checking off names."

"What makes you think that?"

The CSI shrugged. "Just a gut feeling."

"Doubt Mac is on that list. I heard he took her out for coffee."

Danny frowned. "When the hell did that happen?"

"I don't know when. I only know it did."

"So her and Mac are knocking boots or what?"

Flack shrugged. "Who knows. Good for him if he is. Guy deserves some action if you ask me. I just never thought he'd be the type to dip his pen in the company ink."

"Well he was with Peyton," Danny reminded his best friend.

"Banging the deputy inspector and banging the ME are two totally opposite ends of the scale, Mess."

Danny laughed. "True…I always thought he had more morals and good judgement than us little people."

Flack chuckled. "Exactly. Thought he was above the rest of us. Didn't think he'd be like us, getting lucky in the CSI garage at three in the morning and scoping out the supply closets."

"I gotta say though, Flack," Danny said, sipping his coffee. "The company ink pool has been mighty generous to me and you. Guess the good ones rose to the top of it and we scooped 'em just in time."

"Could you imagine if Sam had have hooked up with Mac?" Flack asked, and shuddered at the thought.

"Can't picture Brooklyn nailing the boss," Danny said.

"You kidding me? She's got a massive crush on him. Says it makes her all hot and bothered when he goes, and I quote, Marine Mac on people."

Danny nearly choked on his lunch. "You serious?"

Flack nodded. "Disturbing, huh?"

"No more disturbing than Montana crushing on Adam."

Flack grimaced. "Adam? Adam Ross? Lab tech Adam? As in my girlfriend's kid brother?"

"The one and only," Danny confirmed. "She says that he's adorkable. And that, and this is a quote from my soon to be wife, I could teach him everything he needs to know."

Flack shook his head. "There's something wrong with her and Sam, Dan-o. There's something seriously wrong with our woman."

"Tell me about it," he snorted. "But you know what? We wouldn't give them up for anything in this world."

Flack found no cause to deny that.


Sam found her friend at a quaint table at the back of their favourite Italian bistro a block from the crime lab. When their schedules permitted a sit down lunch filled with laughs and chit-chat that didn't involve work, it was the place they sought shelter at. They'd sit back and relax and dine on fettucini alfredo or homemade lasagna and tiramisu and sip lattes and cappuccinos. Angell would listen quietly and intently to Sam complain about her personal life. Or lack there of. Sam would tearfully talk about horrible times with Zack and the really, really good ones. Because despite it all, he hadn't always been a monster and there had been moments with him that had meant a lot to her.

Angell would beam and talk about how great things were in her life. About how amazing Flack was. A loving, attentive and caring boyfriend. Three aspects no one ever knew he possessed based on his personality on the job. And while she'd wax poetic about being madly and passionately in love, and how she'd give anything to spend forever with him and have a family with him, Sam would keep a brave smile on her face when in reality her heart was breaking inside. Because she had desperately wanted to be in Angell's shoes.

And now she was. And now her friend looked miserable and crestfallen as she sat at the table, her dark hair falling around her face. A hand to her forehead as she studied the menu in front of her.

"Sorry I'm late," Sam said, as she unbuttoned her soft pink wool pea cut and undid her black chenille scarf. Draping both over the back of her chair before slipping into it. "I got held up at the lab."

"It's okay," Angell gave a small smile. "I'm just glad you made it. I was really started to get paranoid about the way you've been avoiding me."

"It's not that I've been avoiding you, Jess," Sam told her, smiling her thanks at the young waitress who hurried over to fill her glass with ice water. "We've been working opposite shifts and there hasn't been a good time for us to get together. I haven't had a lot of free time on my hands. And I've got a lot going on that I'm trying to balance at the moment."

"Relationships are like that," Angell said with a sigh. "How goes things with the mystery boyfriend?"

"Things are going really good," Sam told her. "We're having a good time together. He's a really nice guy. Boyishly charming and very tender and sweet."

"And still a mystery," Angell added. "How come none of us have met him yet?"

"He works a lot of hours," Sam reasoned. "And he's a little on the shy side and hasn't been ready to meet all of my friends. He's wanted us to just have a lot of time together. That's all. I guess he's a little selfish that way."

"And does he have a name? A profession?"

"He's a cop. I told you that."

"And no one has ever seen him?"

"New York City is a huge place," Sam said.

"And he has a name?" Angell pressed.

"Of course he has a name," Sam laughed.

Angell arched her eyebrows and waited.

"Look, I'm just…" Sam fought to find the words. Nervously pushing a piece of hair behind her left ear.

"Whoa…" Angell reached across the table to grab her friend's left hand. "Not only does he have a name, he obviously has some serious intentions when it comes to you to give you something like that. When did you get that?"

"I've had it for a while now," Sam admitted. "Since Christmas. I've just kept it at home because I was afraid of losing it and never had time to get it sized."

I am going to hell, Sam thought miserably. One person can not lie this much and not avoid a life of eternal damnation.

"It's beautiful," Angell said with an appreciative nod.

"Thanks. He calls it a commitment ring."

"Boy is serious about you. Now what is this boy's name?"

Sam sighed and sipped her water. "His name's Don," she said.

"Don what?" Angell asked.

"Don Flack," Sam replied.

The other woman blinked. "Excuse me?" she asked, her eyes slowly narrowing.

"I'm sorry, Jess," Sam said sincerely. "I am so sorry. It's why I came here today. To tell you about this. About Don and I. And it's why I've been finding it so hard to hang out with you and talk to you and all of that. Trying to keep this inside and…"

"Trying to lie, you mean," Angell snorted.

"We never intended to lie. We were just protecting ourselves. We wanted to get to know each other outside of work before things got around the lab and the precinct. And we wanted to protect you."

"Bullshit," Angell snapped.

"We didn't want to hurt you," Sam insisted. "Because I knew how much you loved Don. And he knew how much you loved him and he felt bad that he couldn't give you that back. But we didn't want to hurt you."

"And this isn't hurting me?" Angell fought to keep her voice down. "This isn't hurting? To find out that my friend is dating my ex-boyfriend? And that she was probably fucking him while I was with him?"

Sam shook her head. "Nothing ever happened between Don and I when you were with him. Ever. We waited until after the two of you broke up and…."

"It was you!" Angell hissed. "That night that he dumped me because he said he had these feelings for someone else and needed to take a chance on her. That was you!"

Sam sighed and nodded slowly.

"How could you do that to me, Samantha? How could you just fall into bed with him knowing how much I loved him?!"

"That's not what happened, Jess. We didn't just fall into bed with each other. We started a relationship. It wasn't a sex thing. It still isn't. We love each other and…."

"You love each other?" Angell gave a laugh. "Just like that? You two fell in love that quickly?"

"Not exactly," Sam admitted.

"What does that mean? Not exactly?"

"Don and I…" Sam sighed. "Don and I have had these feelings for a long time. Since I came to New York. Only we decided the best thing for us was to be friends. Like this big brother, little sister thing. And it just got too much to bear. We had to do something about it."

"You've always had a thing for him?"

Sam nodded. "I just never acted on it. Especially after the two of you got together."

"So all those times I was going on and on about Don and I, you were just sitting there with all these feelings for him?"

"I never said anything because I knew how you felt about him. And you guys seemed so happy. I didn't want to screw that up, Jess. But it killed me inside. To hear you go on and on about how amazing he was and how great things were."

"Don't you fucking turn this into a woe is me, let's pity poor Sam party," Angell snapped. "Don't you fucking do that to me. You don't have the right to sit there and act like you're the one that was wronged when you were the one wanting to screw my boyfriend behind my back."

Sam shook her head. "That's not the way it was."

"You know, I should have known something like this was bound to happen. I always had this gut feeling that he had a thing for you. I'd notice these ways that he acted around you. The way he watched you. The way he smiled at you. The way his entire face seemed to light up when you walked into a room. How he always managed to find some way of being close to you while making it discreet enough that no one suspected anything."

"He wasn't like that, Jess," Sam argued.

"He was. And everyone noticed it except for you."

The petite brunette sighed.

"I mean what did I really expect? You're a beautiful, intelligent girl."

"And so are you!" Sam cried. "Look at you! You're stunning and you're smart and…"

"But not stunning and smart enough for Don Flack," Angell concluded.

"What do you want me to say?" Sam asked. "I've already said that I was sorry!"

"You're sorry!" Angell snapped, pushing her chair away from the table noisily and standing up. "What are you sorry for? For being a liar? For being a shitty friend? For being a home wrecking slut?"

Sam shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry that Don and I kept things from you."

"But you're not sorry that you hooked up with him, are you! You're not sorry you screwed around with him behind my back?"

"I never screwed around with him!" Sam jumped to her feet. "Nothing happened between Don and I until after he broke up with you! I'm not the other woman, Jess!"

"Maybe not physically. But emotionally. Emotionally he was with you the entire time he was with me."

"Things happen!" Sam cried. "I never expected him to come after me like he did! I never, ever expected him to ever feel the same way about me that I feel about him! It just happened and I don't regret making the decision to get involved with him! I love him and he loves me and…"

"You love him and he loves you," Angell chided, yanking her coat on. "Isn't that just the perfect little existence for the two of you."

"It wasn't my fault that he dumped you, Jess!" Sam said, not bothering with her coat as she chased her friend down as Angell headed for the exit.

"He broke up with me to be with you and you have the nerve to tell me it wasn't your fault!"

"I never asked him to come to me!"

"But you wanted him to," Angell snorted, pushing her way out into the bitter cold. "You just admitted you've had feelings for him for a long time."

"I never meant for things to happen the way they did," Sam said, stepping outside as well. "But they did happen and Don and I do love each other. And he deserves that and I deserve that. After Zack, I…"

"Spare me your fucking victim bullshit, Samantha! If you lied this much to him as you did to me, than I can see why the hell he treated you like he did!"

Sam shook her head and held up her hands in surrender. "You know what? I am not even going to dignify that with a response. You don't know what went down between Zack and I. What he was really like."

"I know enough. I was the one that listened to you talk about how he beat you and talked to you like a piece of shit! How he cheated on you with anything that crossed his path! But after this? After this I know enough about you to know that if you were like this with him, it's no wonder he felt he needed to keep you in your place."

"I never deserved what Zack did to me," Sam said, her voice quiet.

"And I never deserved what you and Flack did to me," Angell countered.

Sam's cell phone, encased in a leather pouch clipped to the pocket of her black dress pants, rang noisily. She sighed and pulled the Iphone out and checked the caller ID. "Don," she said with a heavy sigh. Talk about extremely bad timing, she thought. "Jess, I really need too…"

"Take it," she challenged. "Let's see how you and lover boy interact with each other. See what I'm missing out on."

Sam glared at her and pressed the talk button. "Detective Ross," she said in way of greeting. In case it wasn't a personal call.

"Sammie…it's me," Flack said. "I've got Lindsay with me. Where are you?"

"I'm at Lucerno's Bistro by the lab," she responded. "Why's Lindsay with you? What's going on?"

"Mac needed Danny to do some work for him on his case. But Adam got a name. For that phone number you found in your vic's pants."

"What are you doing on this case?" Sam asked. "Scagnetti caught it."

"Let's just say I have a personal interest in it now and Mac asked me to run with it."

"Donnie, what's going on?"

"That number you found? With the initials TD?"

"Okay…."

"That number belongs to Terrence Davis. My CI."

"And we're on our way to talk to him," Sam concluded.

"Linds and I will be there to pick you up in ten minutes," Flack told her and hung up.

Sam pressed end on the phone and slipped it back into its holder. "I'm sorry, Jess," she said to her teary eyed friend. "There's a break in the case and…"

Angell held up a hand to silence her. "We're done here anyway, Samantha," she said, and with her head held high, turned on her heel and headed off down the snowy sidewalk.

Sam sighed heavily and shook her head sadly and turned back towards the restaurant.

"And for the record!" Angell called to her, facing her friend once more, walking backwards. "I'm really sorry too. That you ever came to New York City!"

Sam didn't respond. She simply pulled open the door to the restaurant and slipped inside.

As much as it hurt to lose a friend, life had to go on.

And so did love.


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