DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF IT'S CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN SAMANTHA FLACK (YES, THAT'S HER NAME THIS CHAPTER) AND THE SOON TO BE INTRODUCED TWINS.

A/N: AS MOST OF YOU KNOW FROM MY PREVIOUS WORKS, THE MUSE IS A SLAVE TO THE FUTURE CHAPTERS. AND WHAT THE MUSE WANTS, THE MUSE GETS. SO THIS IS A FUTURE CHAPTER AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!

THANKS TO ALL OF YOU ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS!

THIS GOES OUT TO TWINKEYROCKS AND ILUVPETERPETRELLI. THEY KNOW WHY…..


Flack's Girls

"And I don't guess we've been anywhere
She hasn't made us late I swear
Sometimes she does it just 'cause she can do it
Boy it's just a fact of life
It'll be the same with your young wife
Might as well go on and get used to it
She'll take her time 'cause you don't mind
Waitin' on a woman.
I've read somewhere statistics show
The man's always the first to go
And that makes sense 'cause I know she won't be ready
So when it finally comes my time
And I get to the other side
I'll find myself a bench, if they've got any
I hope she takes her time, 'cause I don't mind
Waitin' on a woman."
-Waiting on a Woman, Brad Paisley


"Mom-meeeee!" Five year old Kallison Flack bellowed from the living room of her family's modest, three bedroom, two storey home in Ridgewood, Queens.

Less than forty-five minutes, by subway, to mid-town Manhattan, Ridgewood was an urban, high density neighbourhood, but relatively quiet and homey. A strictly working class area, it was awash in, and known for, it's brick and stone homes. Such as the row house the Flacks had purchased and moved into just two years before.

Twinkling multi-coloured lights lined the three individual panes of the living room bay window. Removable stickers of Santa Claus and reindeer and elves had been plastered to the glass. More lights sparkled in the small bushes that lined the front walk. A Christmas wreath, made from various shades of blue and silver balls, hung from the front door.

"MOMMY!" Kallison screamed once more.

Screaming to be heard over Dora the Explorer blasting on the television and the insistent barking of the family dog. An eight month old tan and black mini Daschund named Wiener. That yapped at anything that moved. From the leaves and snow blowing across the front yard or the small back deck, or the flapping of the love birds Gracie and George, in their cage suspended from a chain anchored to the kitchen ceiling. A complete hideous name, Don Flack Jr had made the mistake of telling his daughters that their new pet, offered to him by a colleague after all the puppies in the litter had been sold but one, was a Wiener dog.

The name had stuck.

"You're going to have to come in here if you need me," Sam called back from the kitchen, where she stood at the table, placing handmade candy cane reindeer - complete with red pipe cleaner antlers and glued on googly eyes and a small back pompom noses - and a handful of Christmas cards inside a plastic shopping bag.

Beside her, kneeling on one of the kitchen chairs, Kellan, the oldest of the identical twins, finished the remaining touches on a picture of Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus she was painstakingly creating for Papa Mac.

Identical twin daughters. Born exactly three minutes apart. Thursday, September 11, 2011. They had each weighed just over five pounds and had been an impossible small fifteen and fourteen inches. Brought into the world via an emergency c-section after their mother, at barely thirty-four weeks gestation, began complaining of a horrific headache and lower back pain and nausea while at work. She had passed out in the main hallway of the crime lab and had begun hemorrhaging almost immediately.

The babies had been saved thanks to the doctors at St Vincent's Medical Centre, closet to the lab. Their mother however, still unconscious and unable to see or hold her babies, had almost not been as lucky. A radical and complete hysterectomy had been ordered by the attending obstetrician and consent forms had been shoved into the face of a distraught husband who should have been basking in the safe births of his children.

That was five years ago now. Kallison and Kellan were their miracle babies. And while the pain and sorrow of never being able to have other children remained, Samantha and Flack had accepted the cards they had been dealt and focused on their daughters. His girls were Don Flack Jr's entire existence. The wife that he loved more and more every day and thanked God for bringing into his life, and the two angels that had him wrapped around their baby fingers. Tiny, wee things like their mother. With rod straight, waist length nearly coal black hair and big blue eyes framed by long, thick, dark lashes. They were his babies. And they always would be. Those two girls and their mother his entire reason for living.

Tiny feet pounded on the hardwood floors as Kallison rushed from the living room and down the hallway and into the spacious, country style kitchen. Wiener scampering along behind her, his beloved chew toy - an old stuffed animal in the likeness of a seal that one of the girls had passed down- firmly in his mouth.

"We're going to be late!" Kallison cried.

"Daddy doesn't get off work for another hour," Sam gently reminded her. "And it takes less than that to take the subway there."

"But what if he gets off early?" she practically wailed. "Than he'll leave without us and we have to take the subway all the way back!"

"Daddy knows we're coming," her mother told her. "He's not going to leave without us."

"Yes he will!" Kallison insisted with an exasperated sigh.

"I'm almost done here," Sam said. "Your sister is just finishing a picture for Papa Mac. Did you make him one?"

Kallison slapped a palm to her forehead. "It's in my room!"

"Well you better go get it than," Sam told her. "You don't want to forget it."

The five year old sighed dramatically and hurried off.

"Mommy?" Kellan asked, colouring in the halo above Baby Jesus' head with a gold crayon that sparkled in the light.

"Hmmm?" Sam replied, packing the last of the candy canes and cards into the bag.

"If Mary and Joseph had Baby Jesus 'cause God gave him to them, does that mean God can give me baby too?"

"It doesn't work that way, sweetie," Sam told her daughter. "Baby Jesus was special. He was the son of God."

"I know dat. But I'm special too and I'm the son of daddy."

"You're the daughter of daddy," Sam corrected her with a grin. "And you and your sister are very, very, very special."

"So than how come God can't give me a baby brother or sister?" Kellan asked curiously.

"Daddy's already explained this to you," her mother replied. "That God felt that mommy and daddy just need two angels in our lives."

"Can Santa bring me a baby brother or sister?"

"Kellan, we've been through this. Mommy and daddy were only allowed to have two babies so God gave us you and Kallison. Santa doesn't bring brothers and sisters. He only brings toys and goodies for your stocking."

"And gramma and grampa buy us socks and clothes," the little girl said with a grimace.

"Very nice clothes," Sam reminded her. "And if they didn't buy them, you'd be wandering around naked. And you wouldn't want that would you?"

"No," she giggled. Her mother's giggle. Musical and heart warming. "Daddy said that all he's getting for Christmas is socks and underwear and ugly ties."

"All your daddy is getting is coal in his stocking for being on Santa's naughty list the entire year," Sam informed her daughter.

"Daddy's always bad," Kellan said with a heavy sigh. "He said that he was going to eat all the milk and cookies before Santa comes and that Santa would be mad and not leave us anything. Is that true, mommy?"

"There's enough milk and cookies for both daddy and Santa," Sam assured her. "Are you almost done there? We need to get going soon."

"How come we have to take the subway?" Kellan asked, handing her mother the finished picture. "Why can't we take the car?"

"Because we're meeting daddy at work so we can go out to dinner and go ice skating at Rockefeller Centre. And daddy has his car and it doesn't make sense for there to be two cars, does it?"

"I guess not. But it's awful cold out, mommy." She shivered dramatically to emphasize the point.

"That's why you and Kallison both have long johns on under your jeans and sweaters. And you'll have your winter jackets on and your mitts and your hats and scarves. You'll both be nice and warm. And there's always hot chocolate to keep you extra warm."

"With marsh mellows?" the little girl asked hopefully.

"Mini coloured marsh mellows," Sam assured her.

"Mmmm…" Kellan rubbed her stomach. "They're my favourite."

"Mine too," Sam said, and carefully folded the picture in two and slipped it into the bag just as Kallison came rushing back into the room, her own masterpiece fluttering in her hand.

"Can we go now?" Kallison inquired impatiently, watching as her mother neatly packed away her picture.

"You've both went pee?" Sam asked, glancing back and forth between her daughters.

Their heads bobbed up and down in response.

"Go and get your boots and your coats and wait by the door," Sam told them. "I'll be right there."

Kellan jumped down off of her chair and she and her minutes younger sister bounded out of the kitchen. Their giggles and high pitched, melodic voices drifting through the house as they raced through the living room and to the closet in the front hallway. Chaos ensuing as they rummaged for boots and hats and tore their winter coats off of the hooks that daddy had installed on the side wall of closet, low enough that his girls could take down their own jackets.

Sam made sure the sliding door that lead out onto the snow covered deck was locked up tight before snatching her keys from on top of the microwave. Before reaching for the plastic bag and the knapsack full of extra clothes and socks and mittens and hats for the girls, she paused at the sink and opened the cupboard over head. Where an alarming mixture of various prescription bottles and over the counter drugs that greeted her. Muscle relaxants for before bedtime, sleeping pills to ensure her at least eight hours when it was possible with two rambunctious five year olds in the house. Tylenol and motrin for pain and stiffness. The list went on and on.

Fibromyalgia. A chronic condition characterized by widespread pain in the muscle, ligaments and tendons. As well as fatigue and multiple tender points. For the past year and a half she had been dealing with it on a daily basis. The never ending aches and pains. The mornings when she was so badly crippled up she needed help getting out of bed and taking care of herself. When she had first started feeling ill, she had chalked it up to too many long hours at work and trying to balance children and a marriage. When the symptoms grew progressively worse, she had went to Sheldon Hawkes for an honest opinion. She was showing no sign of having any kind of illness or virus, and cutting back on her hours in favour of more family time and more rest had done nothing to make her feel better. He'd made a call to a med school buddy practicing neurology. After an MRI had showed nothing terminal, and blood work x-rays had ruled out rheumatoid arthritis and multiple sclerosis and lupus, he'd been the one to suggest fibromyalgia. There was no test to prove the diagnosis, but the symptoms and criteria for the diagnosis all matched up.

She was off work more than she was bringing in a steady paycheque. Even with pain killers and relaxants, there were days the suffering was almost too much to bear. And if she didn't have her girls and a husband that loved her and supported her -and took time off to care for her or brought someone in to do it- there was many a time she would have just thrown her hands in the air and given up completely.

She took down the Tylenol Three with Codeine and the Motrin and uncapped the bottles and shook two pills of each into her hands before putting the containers back and shutting the cupboard. She moved to the sink and snagged a glass from the drain board and turned on the cold water. Swallowing the medication with half a glass of water.

"MOMMY!" Kallison yelled from the front door. "WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

"I'm coming!" Sam called back, and scooping up the plastic bag and knapsack, ignored the pain that shot down the right side of her body. Flicking out the main kitchen light in favour of the florescent one glowing over the sink, she headed through her dimly lit home and to the two little girls waiting impatiently for her.

Those girls, and their father were her entire life. And they always would be.


By the grace of God, the latter half of Don Flack's day had gone relatively smooth. With a full contingent of detectives on shift and no one bailing early or calling in sick with a mysterious ailment they hadn't had until Christmas Eve hit, cases were spread out evenly. No one had to pull any more weight than what was absolutely necessary and shifts were sticking close to their scheduled finished times. Having wrapped up an open and shut robbery gone bad in Chinatown by the early afternoon and receiving no new calls after that, Flack had done little more than sit at his desk attempting to get work done on the mound of previous cases that awaited his undivided attention, and sitting back and talking nonsense shit with his co-workers and making his daily jaunts upstairs to the crime lab to simply hang out.

The bullpen was quiet. Unusual for an early Friday evening. The holding cells were empty and phones were silent. The only noises were the chatter of detectives, Christmas Carols playing on a portable stereo one of the younger guys had set up on his desk across the room, and the clicking of computer keys as people worked diligently to finish up last minute tasks before the next shift took over and their Christmas Eve could begin.

Flack was looking forward to having the next three days off. He had to work every second Christmas Day and Boxing day, and this year was his turn to be home with his family. Sam always took a week off at Christmas ever since the girls had arrived. She loved being home with them as much as possible. Both she and Flack would have preferred that she was home full time with Kellan and Kallison, but the state of the economy and their salaries didn't permit it. Even with the extra cash he'd been hauling in for the past year since he'd been bumped up to Lieutenant. For now, until he climbed the NYPD ladder even farther and he was raking in the big bucks, circumstances were pretty much stuck where they were.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," Scagnetti sang from the desk facing Flack's. The older man hurriedly finishing up a DD-5 report.

"Do you not know any other words?" Flack asked, not looking away from his computer screen as he typed up what would be his last report for three days. "You've been singing the same damn words on and off for the last half an hour."

"Well excuse me for living Irving Berlin," Scagnetti teased. "If you're so good why don't you entertain the lot of us with a rousing rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas."

Flack grinned. "It's the Twelve Redneck Days of Christmas at my place," he said.

"I'll be sure to tell your wife that you feel your house is akin to a trailer park."

"She'd kick my ass," Flack declared.

"And so she should," Scagnetti told him. "If you're not happy with your living arrangements, I will gladly trade places with you. You can take my crappy one bedroom apartment in lower Manhattan and I'll move myself into your house with your astoundingly beautiful wife and your adorable daughters."

"You can have my house," Flack said. "But my girls are off limits. All three of them. Sorry, but they're mine."

"Didn't your momma teach you to share, Junior?" the older man teased.

"Those are my girls," Flack repeated. "No one comes between me and my girls."

"You're a sap, Donald Flack Jr," Scagnetti declared. "A hundred percent proud and true family man. God love ya. Never thought I'd see the day you'd settle down."

"You've been saying that every day for seven years," Flack told his friend and colleague.

"Maybe because it still shocks me that someone would be willing to put up with your sorry ass for richer or for poorer and in sickness and in health."

"I keep her drugged up," Flack joked. "Heavily drugged at that."

"Definitely explains a lot," Scagnetti said and sighed heavily. "Santa's going to come and my fat ass is still going to be parked in this chair filling this goddamn thing out."

"A hooker knocking on your door, dressed as a slutty Mrs Claus does not count as Old Saint Nick," Flack chided.

Scagnetti frowned at the younger man. "That's harsh, Flack," he griped. "She's not a hooker. She's an escort."

"My mistake," Flack chuckled. "You know what I should have bought you for Christmas, Tony? Gift certificates for that rub and tug around the corner."

"You're an asshole," the other man complained. "That place is a dive. I prefer the more upscale Asian joint over on Lex. You know, for an extra twenty you can get…."

"Daddy!" two tiny voices rang out in unison through the bullpen.

Detective and visitors alike looked up and smiled as two tiny, rambunctious little girls -one in a puffy pink snow suit with white faux fur trim around the hood and pink boots that sparkled in the light and the other in the same snow suit, only purple in colour and glistening purple boots - raced from the door leading from reception and into the central work area of the twelfth precinct.

Scagnetti noticed the way Flack's whole face and his eyes lit up at the sound of his 'name' being bellowed and the sight of his daughters scrambling towards him. His kids and his wife were everything to Flack. His reasons for doing a hard, thankless job or less than stellar money and for simply getting out of bed each and every morning. Flack was a damn good father that tried hard to balance his career with his family. At times it seemed a never ending struggle, but a simple kiss from his wife and hugs from his two angels made the battle seem worthwhile.

"Daddy!" the twins cried once more, as their dad crouched down and scooped them up effortlessly, one on each arm.

"Hey, girls," he greeted, squeezing them tightly and showering them with kisses. Kellan in the purple and Kallison in the pink, their black hair tumbling from underneath their matching white hats and down their backs.

"Did you miss us, daddy?" Kallison asked, curling an arm around his neck.

"Of course I missed you two," he replied. "Don't I always?"

"Yep," Kellan nodded energetically. "I missed you, daddy."

"So did I!" her sister cried. "I missed you, too, daddy!"

"But I missed you more!" Kellan told him.

"No! I did!" Kallison argued. "I missed daddy more 'cause I love him bestest."

"Uh-uh," her twin shook her head, hair swaying across her back. "I do!"

"No you don't!"

"Yes I do!"

"Girls…girls…" Flack spoke calmly and patiently. "I'm sure you both missed me. But you don't need to fight about it, okay? And I missed you guys but you both know that there's no running and yelling in here. Right?"

They both nodded.

"So I want you two to sit here…" bending down, Flack placed them both in his empty chair and pulled off their hats and mitts and tossed them on his desk. He helped them out of their coats, placing them over the back of the chair. "…and I don't want either of you to move into those wild banshees inside of you go for a nap. Alright?"

"But we need to hand out our candy canes!" Kallison argued.

"And our cards!" Kellan added.

"And you can when you're both more calm and quiet. For now, sit there and…"

He opened the middle drawer of his desk and took out two well loved Disney Princess colouring books and two packages of Crayola Scent-sations markers that the girls had asked him long ago to keep on hand for their visits. Sure, he got a lot of grief from the guys for having colouring books in his desk, but those were his baby girls and whatever made them happy, made him happy.

"…take these and colour some pictures to go with your candy canes," he said, arranging the books and the markers neatly on his desk before turning the chair around so the girls were facing the proper way. "I'm sure Uncle Tony would love a couple pictures of Belle to have at his desk."

"Whose Belle?" Scagnetti asked. "Is she hot?"

Flack glared at him.

"Belle is the princess in Beauty and the Beast," Kellan informed her 'uncle'. In a tone that clearly meant she thought he was complete and utter moron. "She fell in love with the Beast."

"Like your mom and your dad, than," Scagnetti quipped.

"No!" Kallison snapped. "Not like mommy and daddy! Mommy is prettier than Belle and daddy isn't as cute as the prince."

Scagnetti roared with laughter. "She speaks the truth! Shoots from the hip like her mother!"

"Too much like her mother," Flack grumbled. "And I'll have you know, Kallison, that you and your sister look just like me."

Kellan looked up at her father and pouted. "That's mean, daddy!" she cried. "I don't want to look like a boy!"

"No one says you look like a boy," Sam informed her, finally catching up, heavy back pack slung over her shoulder, plastic bag in hand. Out of breath from chasing the twins, and from the physical strain of carrying even the simplest of items. "Daddy means you got your hair and your eyes from him. And his ears and his chin."

"Thankfully they got their mother's nose," Scagnetti said. "Can you imagine tiny things like them having his nose? That would be damn tragic."

"What is this? Pick on Flack night?" Flack asked, giving his wife a small kiss in greeting before frowning at the sight of her flushed face. And the items she was hauling. "You shouldn't be carrying things, baby," he said, gently scolding her as he relieved her of the shopping bag and backpack.

"They weren't heavy at first," she panted, laying a hand over her heart. "It was carrying those and chasing them…"

"You should have called me when you got closer," her husband told her, clearing files off of the chair at the side of his desk and motioning for her to sit down. "Or I could have just come home and we could have headed back into town."

"Waste of trip," Sam said, accepting his hand as he helped her into the chair. "I'll be okay. I just got worked up chasing after the girls. Are you almost done?"

"There's nothing I can't take home and finish before I come back," Flack assured her, and stepping behind his daughters, leaned over them to close the case folders in front of them.

He gathered the files up to prevent his kids from getting too curious and opening them and getting an eyeful of gruesome autopsy photos. The folders he placed in a small black plastic box, no bigger than a milk crate, under his desk. He saved his work on the computer and powered it down.

"So how goes things?" Scagnetti asked the petite brunette. "Keeping yourself out of trouble or what?"

"Or what," Flack answered. "She's been racking up all the credit cards."

"'Tis the season," Scagnetti quipped.

"Things are okay," Sam told the older man. "Just really busy with work and things with the girls. Did Donnie tell you they're going into gymnastics?"

"Daddy says that we can go into the 'lympics one day," Kellan told her uncle as he nodded in response to her mother's question.

"I don't wanna go gymnastics," Kallison declared. "I want to play hockey."

"And mommy and I said next winter when you're six you can play hockey," Flack told her, from where he was crouched down by the chair, a yellow marker in hand, helping Kellan colour in Belle's dress.

"I want to play hockey, too," Kellan informed her father, a tiny hand on his back as she peered over his shoulder to check the progress of her picture.

"Last week you said hockey was stupid and it was for boys," Flack reminded her.

"I know…but I changed my mind, daddy."

"You said you wanted to do gymnastics or figure skating," he told her.

"I don't want to now. That was last week. I want to play hockey."

Flack sighed and feigned banging his forehead repeatedly off edge of his desk.

"Got your work cut out for with those two, Flack," Scagnetti chuckled.

"Dat's not his name," Kallison scolded her uncle. "I told you dis tons of times Uncle Tony."

"His name is daddy," Kellan piped up. "But mommy calls him Don or Donnie."

"And sometimes Donald when he's in trouble," Kallison added. "Like Donald Duck, right daddy?"

Both girls dissolved into giggles.

Flack just gave another heavy sigh and shook his head.

"You know who they remind me off, giggling like that?" Scagnetti asked Sam.

"Their mother?" Flack replied.

"Mind your own business and keep on colouring me my picture of that hottie Belle," Scagnetti told him and turned back to Sam. "There was this kids show when my nephew was their age back in '08. Called My Friend Rabbit. And there was these little ducks on them…."

"The Giggle Goose Girls," Sam said with a laugh. "I remember that show. Jade, Coral, Amber and Pearl."

"That's who they remind me of," Scagnetti told her. "So how you been feeling lately, Sammie?"

She gave a shrug. "There's good days and really, really bad days. This is a good day. I missed a lot of work last month. A lot. Too much. It's no wonder Mac keeps me around."

"Can't fire you for having an illness," Scagnetti told her. "Besides, everyone knows that you're Marine Mac's favourite and have been since the day you started. Not much has changed up there though. Still all the familiar faces. Well except for Stella."

"Stella's happy in New Jersey," Sam told him. "I talked to her yesterday. She's running the show and loving every minute of it. And she's got that new boyfriend of hers to keep her busy when she has time for a social life."

"What's he like?" Scagnetti asked.

"Donnie and I have never met him but he sounds nice. He's a DEA agent. And apparently he's almost sixteen years younger than her."

Scagnetti gave a low whistle and waggled his eyebrows. "The lady's a cougar, huh?"

"What does dat mean?" Kallison asked. "What does dat mean, daddy?"

"It means that uncle Tony has a big mouth and needs to watch what he says around you two," Flack replied, shooting a glare over at his partner.

Scagnetti chuckled and held his hands up in self defence. "You and them damn colouring books," he said, shaking his head. "You know I catch him scribbling away on his lunch break?" he asked Sam.

"You're so full of shit," Flack said, spelling the profanity.

"Daddy dat's a bad word," Kellan told him. "Mommy's going to wash your mouth out with soap. You said shit."

"I didn't say it," Flack corrected her. "I spelled it."

"It's the same thing," Kallison said with an exasperated sigh.

"Both of you are just too smart for your own good," Flack declared, putting the cap back on the magic marker and slipping it back into the package.

"Smart like mommy, cute like daddy," Kellan sing-songed, printing her name at the bottom of the picture in large, shaky letters. "Two l's right, daddy?" she asked. "Two l's in Kellan? Sometimes I forget."

"There's two l's," he confirmed, knees cracking as he stood up, waiting for his daughter to finish before holding the chair still while she slipped out of it.

"I need to get Uncle Tony's candy cane and his card, mommy," Kellan told Sam.

"I want to give it to him!" Kallison protested, jumping out of the chair.

Sam grabbed the plastic bag and rummaged through it before pulling out a Reindeer and a card. "You give him the candy cane and Kallison will give him the card."

"But I want to give him the candy cane," Kallison argued.

"Fine," Sam passed the card to Kellan and the Reindeer to her sister.

"Here, Uncle Tony!" Kellan cried, stepping alongside his desk, card in one hand, picture in the other.

"And dis!" Kallison chirped, holding out her own colouring the reindeer. "I made dis," she announced, nodding at the candy cane.

"No you didn't," her sister informed her. "I made dat one."

"Uh-uh," Kallison shook her head. "I made it."

"Did not!" her sister argued.

"Did too!!" Kallison fought back.

Flack sighed heavily. "Girls, come on. Do you two really need to fight about everything? Just give Uncle Tony what you need to give him so you can hand out the rest and than we can go and get something to eat and go skating. Alright?"

Scagnetti easily scooped the two girls up with his big, strong arms and settled them on his lap while they presented him with the pictures they had coloured and his candy cane and Christmas card. Although he had three ex-wives, Scangetti had no children of his own and no desire to ever, as he put it, fertilize a damn thing. But when anyone saw the transformation that came over him when he was in the presence of his two darlings, as he called the twins, it left them to wonder how a man with that much power and strength, could suddenly become so gentle and attentive and sweet.

And the girls adored him. Their little faces lighten up and their eyes dancing whenever they saw him at daddy's work or he paid an surprise visit to the house.

"This one's for you, daddy," Kellan said, candy cane in hand after she and her sister had finished with their 'uncle' and slid down off of his lap.

"How come I get one?" Flack asked. "I live with you guys."

"'Cause we love you, daddy," she replied.

"I love you, too," he said, taking the 'gift' from her and dropping a kiss onto her head. "You and Kallison made these all on your own?"

"Mommy helped a bit," she told him. "Do you like it? Do you think it's cute? Do you like it, daddy?"

"I love it, thank you," he said, tearing open the bottom of the wrapped and peeling it back and sticking the candy cane in his mouth.

His daughters looked up at him wide horrified eyes, their mouths agape.

"You're not 'spose to eat it, daddy!" Kallison cried. "It's just to look at!"

"Well I'm starving," he told her. "If you guys hadn't taken so long to get here I wouldn't be so hungry and I wouldn't have had to start eating the Reindeer."

"It's Rudolph," Kallison informed him, exasperation in her voice. "And you're always hungry, daddy!"

"These kids know you so well," Scagnetti chuckled.

"Of course we do!" Kellan cried. "We live with him! He's daddy!"

"Go and give these to Auntie Kaile," Sam handed a candy cane to Kellan and a card to Kallison. "And no running and no screaming. Got it? Or you'll get daddy in trouble."

"With the mean old dragon lady," Kallison said. "Right daddy, that's her name?"

"Shhh," Flack placed a finger over his lips. "Our little secret. Hurry up so we can get out of here."

The three adults watched as the two girls scurried across the bullpen to where Kaile Maka worked diligently at her desk, dark hair tumbling in front of her face as she finished up last minute paper work. Maka had come back from a long sabbatical spent taking care of a gravely ill family member in Philadelphia who had unfortunately passed away, shortly after Angell had asked for, and received, a transfer to another precinct. Angell had been unable to work with either Flack or Samantha following the disintegration of their friendships and work relationships and Maka, anxious to get back in the saddle, had effortlessly and seamlessly slipped back into the fold. And made tight, amazing friendships with those she'd never worked with before. She and Sam and Lindsay were practically inseparable. Although nothing, or no one, could ever come between S and M, as they were affectionately called, as best friends.

Maka's face lit up and she showered the girls with kisses and enveloped them in hugs and chatted animatedly with them, before pushing her chair away from her desk and allowing the twins to take her by the hands and 'pull' her over to where their parents were.

"Merry Christmas," Maka greeted Sam, as the petite brunette stood up slowly and carefully, obviously hurting, and Maka enveloped her in a warm, yet loose huge. Mindful of her condition and how even the lightest of embraces could cause considerable discomfort.

"Merry Christmas," Sam said, kissing her friend's cheek. "How goes the good fight?"

"It goes," Maka sighed and let go of the smaller woman. "You?" she asked, obvious concern in her eyes.

"I'm okay. I was doing a lot better before I went out in the cold though. I took some medicine. I'll be fine."

"Mommy's ouchies are bothering her again, daddy," Kellan whispered to her father, as he gathered up the twins' jackets and scarves and mitts and hats.

"Well we're going to make sure that she's comfortable and okay, aren't we," he said, running a hand over his daughter's silky hair.

Kellan smiled brightly and nodded.

It was a struggle. Living with someone with a chronic condition that had while somewhat manageable, still caused a considerable amount of pain and caused friction within the family. Because when she was suffering, badly suffering, to the point where she could barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom or take care of herself or the girls, the pain caused Sam to be extremely argumentative and emotional. And understandably so. Nothing made her happy and everything bothered her and she blamed people, mostly her husband, for everything that went wrong. Big or small.

But he loved her and vowed to take care of her to the best of his ability. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. From taking time off of work or hiring help when things got really, really bad, to picking up prescriptions and making sure she took her meds faithfully. He did research on the net and was always looking for something, medically or homoeopathically, that could make her condition more tolerable. He spent hours in the aisles of health food stores, some even in other boroughs and in New Jersey, spending outrageous amounts of money on supplements and foods that in the end did little more than put a dent in the problem.

She was his life. His forever. And as he stood there, tending to the angels that were the greatest two gifts his wife could have ever have given him, he thought, for seemed like the millionth time since they'd first met, that forever wasn't long enough.


It was shortly before midnight. The lights in the family room were turned out, leaving the room illuminated only by the hundreds upon hundreds of multicoloured lights that took up residence in the seven foot, Blue spruce Christmas tree erected in the far corner. Living in a house had given them the opportunity to have a real tree as opposed to the fake ones they'd been saddled with while living in an apartment. Real trees were considered fire hazards and therefore too dangerous to have in an apartment building. The girls had been ecstatic -as ecstatic as three years old could be- when they'd moved into their new house and got their first real Christmas tree. But had been absolutely overjoyed at the existence of a fireplace in the basement. It was gas, but they didn't know any better and insisted it was better for when Santa came to visit. Because everyone knew that Santa preferred to slide down the chimney as opposed to scaling apartment balconies.

That had been Flack's reasoning anyway.

Carefully and lovingly wrapped presents were laid out under the tree. So many gifts that they spread clear to the middle of the room and in some areas, were piled two or three items high. An outrageous amount of presents for one family. Especially considering most were for the girls. But along with the ones that Santa had delivered, came gifts marked from mommy and daddy and their various aunts and uncles and ones sent from Arizona from their grandparents and great grandparents. Five stockings hung on holders sitting on top of the fireplace mantle. A basic red and white stocking for daddy, a more elaborate pink and white embroidered one for mommy, and two Dora the Explorer ones with the girls' names written across the tops in silver glitter. All four were packed solid with goodies and small gifts. The fifth stocking, half the size of the others and filled with treats, was for Wiener the wiener dog. The girls had insisted Wiener get a stocking. He was after all, part of the family.

A small part of the family who was currently, clad in a white and red knit sweater (another idea of the girls. Buying him his own wardrobe), curled up tight in a pet bed in front of the fire place. Fast asleep and snoring louder than most humans.

An Il Divo Christmas CD played on the stereo across the room. The girls had fallen asleep after nearly three hours of constantly asking for drinks and if Santa had been yet. Their parents had thought that dinner out and an hour of fresh air and skating at Rockefeller Centre would have worn the two right out. In the end, mommy and daddy were more exhausted than the twins were and the girls were still raring to go. Too wound up from the excitement of Christmas Eve to fall asleep.

Four stories and umpteen glasses of water and threats from daddy that Santa wasn't going to come if they didn't go to sleep, Kallison and Kellan had finally succumb to sleep. Sharing Kellan's bed. The girls, although insistent on wearing the exact same clothes (Sam had long ago began putting different earrings on them and different coloured elastics or barrettes in their hair for people to tell them apart), had wanted their own rooms the moment they turned five. So Kallison was shipped down what had been a computer/storage room. Both had wanted Disney Princess themed bedrooms. Pink walls, white canopy beds with frilly pink and white bedding, and figurines and posters of the various characters everywhere.

Flack yawned noisily as he and his wife relaxed on the sectional couch in their family room. His legs stretched out, back against the arm of the couch, as Sam lied between his legs with her back against his chest. Both sipping red wine. Although only have a glass for Sam considering all the meds she was on.

"If I never put together another Barbie dollhouse for as long as I live, it will be too soon," Flack declared, his arm wrapped loosely around his wife's torso, thumb gently rubbing against the bare skin of her neck and her collarbone.

Sam laughed and cast a glance at the tree. Where two dollhouses, completely in tact and furnished and decorated, sat with big red bows gracing the tops of them. "Well you did an amazing job," she praised. "I can't believe you even set up the different rooms and put all of those little stickers where they were suppose to go."

"Wanted them to be perfect," he said. "Didn't want the girls to be disappointed."

"You have the patience of a saint," Sam declared. "And nothing you do could ever disappoint them. They adore their daddy. You know that. Their whole world revolves around you."

"Yeah? Well that goes both ways," he said. "Mind you, you're in there somewhere too."

"Gee, thanks," she laughed. "Nice to know I'm on the list of your favourite things."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You're on the top of the list and you know it. You always have been and you always will be."

She smiled. "You're pretty decent husband. I think I'll keep you."

"You think?"

She nodded. "I think I'll keep you forever and ever and ever."

"That's 'cause you know I'm the only one dumb enough to tolerate you," Flack teased.

"No," she giggled as the feel of his nose and lips grazing the side of her neck. "It's because I love you and couldn't live without you."

"Yes, you could," he told her. "You're an amazingly strong woman that's more than capable of taking care of herself and our kids."

"I was trying to be all sweet and romantic and you go all morbid on me," Sam complained.

"I'm just saying…"

"Maybe I just don't want to live without you," she said. "Maybe I know I can take care of myself and our children but I just don't ever want to. We're a team, you know. Me and you. And I don't want to ever think about what my life would be like without you."

"Than don't think about it," he told her. "Think about how I'm going to be around to drive you nuts for like, say, the next fifty years."

"There's no way in hell I want to live until I'm ninety one. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I want to live to at least a hundred," Flack declared. "At least."

"You're mental," Sam laughed. "I'll be long gone before you are."

"I hope not," he sighed. "Because honestly, I don't think I'd be able to deal if that happened. It's best if I go before you. Trust me. And you know I'll be waiting for you, right? Up there by the pearly gates? I'm going to park my ass down and wait for you. No matter how long that takes."

She smiled. "You're such a sap, Donnie."

"I'm not a sap," he said. "I'm just madly in love with my wife."

She tipped her head back and grinned at him. "Remember a long time ago when we were in the bathroom of your apartment and I teased you about being one in a million?"

"Barely," he admitted.

"Well it's true," she said. "You are one in a million."

He smiled and kissed her softly, his fingers trailing along her collarbone and up her slender neck, holding her chin in his hand.

"Can you honestly believe we've been together almost six years?" Sam asked, settling back against him once more.

"What are you talking about? We've been together eight years and counting. It was November 2008 when I showed up at your apartment."

"Let me rephrase it. Can you believe we've been married six years?"

"Almost seven," he corrected her. "Seven on February third."

She sighed dramatically. "Do you have to be so damn difficult, Donnie?"

"It's in my nature," he said with a grin, and hugging her to him tightly, kissed her cheek. "And no. I can't believe we've been married that long. Or together for that long. Seems like just yesterday most days."

"And other days?" she asked.

"Other days, when you're really getting on my nerves, seems like a goddamn eternity."

"You're so mean," she said with a giggle. "Despite everything. The issues we've had and the fights and the mean words and the times we broke up almost more than we were actually together, there's not much I would change."

"We always came back to each other, Sammie. No matter what, we always managed to love each other and find our ways back to one another."

"Would you do it all over again? The good and the bad?"

"Absolutely. Would you?"

She nodded. "Without a doubt. Even the girls?"

"They're my babies, Sammie. My heart. I wouldn't give them up for anything in this world and you know that. Things didn't go exactly as we planned and our lives took a major detour when what happened happened, but you know what? This is our life. Our girls are everything to me. You're everything to me."

"I just wish things could have turned out differently," she sighed. "Children wise."

"Wasn't meant to be," he said with a shrug. "We were just meant to have the girls. No big deal."

"You know that if you ever wanted more children I'm not stopping you from…"

"Don't even finish that sentence, babe," Flack told her, kissing her neck. "Don't even think about what I know you're thinking about. You're my wife. There's only you and there's only going to be you. Plain and simple."

She sighed happily. "You're a good man, Donald Flack Jr."

"I try my best," he said, and pushing her hair away from the side of her face, kissed and nibbled his way from her ear, down her neck to her shoulder. Feeling her shiver underneath his lips, and underneath the fingers that were drifting along the neckline of her simple t-shirt.

"Maybe we should go upstairs," she said, shuddering from the sensations he was stirring inside of her. That he was still able to stir inside of her after eight years. His kisses and his touches never got boring. They still excited her and turned her own and made her want him more than she thought it was ever possible to want and love another human being.

"I think that's a good idea," he agreed, sucking lightly on the side of her neck, his hand sliding down the front of her to lightly cup her breast, his thumb drifting across her hardening nipple. "You can give me an early Christmas present."

"I have one for you actually," she told him.

"You do?"

She nodded. "A little something I bought for myself at Victoria Secret. Red velvet and black lace. Dangerously low cut front and back."

"Underwear? Thong of bikinis?"

"None, actually."

He grinned broadly. "That's my kind of early Christmas present," he declared.

"But first…what time is it?"

He consulted his watch. "Two minutes after twelve. Merry Christmas, baby," he kissed the corner of her lips softly.

She turned and kissed him. Long and deep. "Merry Christmas."

"You were saying…but first?"

"I'm going to call Lindsay and wish her a Merry Christmas," she said and slipped from his embrace.

"At midnight? What is wrong with you? Why do you two always do that? Call each other at exactly midnight when it hit's the twenty fifth?"

"Because it's Christmas and it's something we do," Sam reasoned and finished his wine.

"There's something wrong with you two," Flack declared, swallowing the remains of his glass. "I think that…"

The cordless, resting beside him on the couch rang noisily. All the ringers upstairs were turned off so the girls wouldn't be disturbed. He snatched up the phone and checked the call display.

"She beat you to it this year," Flack said, standing up and holding the phone out to his wife.

Sam took the phone and pressed talk. "Merry Christmas!" she greeted cheerily.

"Merry Christmas!" Lindsay exclaimed in return. "You called first last year so I figured I'd take the liberty this time. I'm up with the baby anyway. Danny's already out like a light snoring like a damn freight train."

The baby was now five months old. Makenna. A gorgeous little girl with her mother's curls and smile and her daddy's eyes. The last of the Messer children, she joined her five year old brother Daniel Jr and seven year old sister Amanda as the apples of her daddy's eyes. Amanda was petite like her mother and had the same head full of curls as her baby sister and her father's eyes and his charming, lazy smile. And his wry sense of humour. Daniel Jr was his father from head to toe. The glasses, the spiky blond hair. But inside he was quiet and sensitive. And extremely intelligent.

"So what are you two up to?" Lindsay asked with a small yawn.

"Actually," Sam said, smiling as her husband curled his arm around her frm being and kissed the side of her neck. "We we were heading upstairs and I was going to give Donnie a Christmas present."

"Lukcy guy," Lindsay said. "When's the last time you two actually had s-e-x? I'd speak up but DJ won't go to sleep and he's eavesdropping."

"Hmmm," Sam thought about it. "Last time we had s-e-x? I don't r-e-m-e-m-b-e-r."

"Nine days, thirteen hours and about seventeen minutes," Flack said loud enough for Lindsay to hear. "But whose counting?"

Lindsay laughed. "I better let you guys get to it. You've been making that man suffer way too long, Sammie."

"He enjoys the torture," Sam declared. "Wish everyone a Merry Christmas from all of us and we'll see you guys on Boxing Day."

"I will. And Merry Christmas from all of us here at the Messer house to all of you at the Flack house. Talk soon."

"Bye," Sam said and hung up and tossed the phone on the couch. Sighing and moaning lightly as her husband's warm lips and moist tongue teased her ears and the back of her neck. "Donnie?" her voice was barely a whisper.

"What, baby?"

"Let's say to hell with upstairs and just wish each other a Merry Christmas right here, right now."

She felt him grin against the back of her neck.

"You're just all into the spirit of giving at the moment, aren't you," he teased, and turning her around, seized her lips with his in a passionate, intense kiss that left them breathless.

She grinned up at him, her hands reaching for his belt. "'Tis the season," she said.


Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate all of the support! And thanks to the lurkers for just reading it! But please R and R folks. It makes my day!

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