DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND THE FLACK TWINS.
I ALSO DO NOT OWN MARI. SHE IS A BRILLIANT CREATION OF MY VERY DEAR FRIEND, HOPE4SALL. WHO IS A FANTASTIC WRITER! PLEASE CHECK OUT HER STUFF! YOU WON'T REGRET IT.
FOR ALL OF THOSE WHO WERE HOPING TO GET SOME KIND OF INTRO INTO HAWKES' LIFE, THE WAIT IS OVER!
AND I WILL EVENTUALLY GO BACK TO PRESENT CHAPTERS. WHEN THE MUSE LETS ME!
Life changes
"This time, I wonder what it feels like
To find the one in this life, the one we all dream of
But dreams just aren't enough
So I'll be waiting for the real thing, I'll know it by the feeling
The moment when we're meeting, will play out like a scene
Straight off the silver screen
So I'll be holding my own breath, right up 'til the end
Until that moment when, I find the one that I'll spend forever with
'Cause nobody wants to be the last one there
'Cause everyone wants to feel like someone cares
Someone to love with my life in their hands
There's gotta be somebody for me like that
'Cause nobody wants to do it on their own
And everyone wants to know they're not alone
There's somebody else that feels the same somewhere
There's gotta be somebody for me out there."
-Gotta be Somebody, Nickelback
"But I don't want oatmeal!" Kallison argued as her mother attempted to place a bowl of the apple and cinnamon flavoured concoction in front of her. "I want Pop Tarts!"
"And I told you that we don't have any left," Sam reminded her, fighting to keep her patience and temper in check.
It was the same battle most mornings. Both twins would request two entirely different things for breakfast, and then five minutes later, when the food was nearly ready to be served to them, change their minds and ask for something else. And if she dared to argue or insist that they ate what they were given, all hell would break loose. Screaming and crying and ferocious temper tantrums in the middle of the kitchen floor. They tossed things around the kitchen and stomped away and slammed the doors if they were banished to their rooms. As adorable and sweet and well behaved as the twins usually were, they certainly had their days when they were simply the spawns of Satan.
And at quarter after eight that morning, it was already shaping up to be one of those days. Both girls had done nothing but complain and cause problems from the time they'd pulled themselves out of bed at seven thirty. It had been Flack, heading downstairs shortly after his alarm sounded, still blurry eyed and fuzzy headed and desperate for a strong coffee, who'd found his daughters, cross legged in front of the television, watching Sponge Bob Square Pants in their pyjamas, an opened box of Honey Nut Cheerios between them and a massive amount of the tiny circles of oats scattered everywhere. Along with two glasses of orange juice filled dangerously close to the brim, some of the beverage trickling down the sides of the cups and onto the hardwood floor.
Still exhausted and somewhat achy from the busy day before -the arthritis in his knees, a by product of years of playing hockey and chasing perps, was always a bitch first thing in the morning, especially in the cold weather - he had stood there for several minutes as his brain processed the sight in front of them. Ever since they were old enough to get out of their beds, the girls had always made it a habit to go straight into mommy and daddy's room the moment they woke up. Where they'd cuddle in the bed with one or both parents and watch some cartoons and sometimes, by sheer chance, fall back asleep for half an hour to forty five minutes. But that morning, Kellan and Kallison had decided to shake up the routine. Exercise a little independence.
"Hi, daddy!" Kellan had chirped, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary going on it that house.
"Who poured the juice?" he'd asked. It was the only words his tired brain could conjure up. And he'd been deathly afraid of the answer.
"I did," Kallison had proudly replied.
He knew full well that while it was easy for the girls to get the fridge open, the orange juice container had been full because he'd seen his wife bring it up from the freezer in the basement, open it and leave it on the top shelf of the fridge to thaw out. And he also knew that neither of his girls were capable of pouring said juice without making a hideous mess. That lesson had been learned when they'd asked ione morning if they could fix up their own breakfast and he'd been dumb enough to say yes and then had been a witness to what a mess a litre of milk could make on the kitchen floor.
Flack had gone into the kitchen expecting the worst and hadn't been disappointed. He had been a little surprised that the girls had obviously taken the initiative to hide their crime, even if they'd left the evidence right out in the open. A chair had been pushed over to the sink and hadn't been returned to its normal spot. A clear sign that one of them had climbed up onto it and then the counter, to snag the roll of paper towels on the holder above the sink. A holder that was now perfectly empty. And while they'd 'cleaned' the floor, it was sticky as hell and some juice still dotted the bottom of the stainless steel fridge.
To make matters worse, not only was Wiener walking across the tacky linoleum, he was licking the damn floor as well.
It had taken all the will power Flack had had not to lose it on his daughters. Instead he'd grumbled and muttered a litany of profanities as he grabbed a hold of the dog and locked him in the small bathroom and then arranged the chairs across the doorway of the kitchen to let the kids know that the room was off limits. Then he'd gotten the Swiffer Wet Jet that his wife coveted from the broom closet near the sliding door and set to work cleaning up the mess his kids had made.
All that and the clock hadn't even hit eight. But at least the kitchen was sparkling clean by the time his wife made her way down to make breakfast for the family. Although he hadn't been swift enough, or smart enough, to order the girls to clean their mess in the living room up and haul ass into the kitchen so they were spared a freak out from their mother.
And now the breakfast battle was heating up. Nothing Sam offered to make was good enough and naturally, the only thing the girls did want was the one thing they'd run out of and no one had remembered to pick up.
Such was life, unfortunately.
"Well can you go to the store and get some?" Kellan asked, clutching Holly Hobby to her chest as she sat across from her sister at the Dora the Explorer table. Holly had been successfully 'bathed' and returned under Kellan's arm during the night.
"No," Sam replied. "I can't. I offered to make scrambled eggs and you both said yes to that. Then you both changed your mind and said you wanted oatmeal and banana. And that's what I made."
"But we don't want that," Kallison retorted.
"And what you want we don't have," her mother fought back. "So it's either banana and oatmeal or it's toast and jam and cereal. Take your pick."
"Peanut butter and 'nana," Kellan requested. The fever had dissipated, but her throat sounded raw and scratchy.
"Is that what you want too?" Sam asked her other daughter.
Kallison nodded enthusiastically.
"This is it you two," their mother warned, as she went to the sink and used a spoon to scrap the oatmeal out of the bowls and into the garbage. "I make them and you don't eat them, you eat nothing. Plain and simple. Got it?"
"Daddy will make us something if we don't like the peanut butter and 'nana," Kellan told her.
"Your daddy knows better then that," Sam said, shutting the cupboard under the sink and going to the island and snagging two bananas from the white serving dish the bunch of fruit sat in. "I am telling you both right now," she said to her daughters as she gathered up the bread and peanut butter, two plastic Dora plates and a butter knife. "You eat this or you get nothing."
"But we're hungry," Kallison said.
"Starving," her sister chimed in. "Is daddy going to work today?" she asked as an after thought. "To catch the bad guys?"
"He is," Sam confirmed and set to making the sandwiches.
"Why can't daddy stay home?" Kellan asked, sipping a plastic cup of apple juice. "It's fun when daddy stays home from catching the bad guys."
"Because daddy needs to go to work to make money," Sam replied. "So you guys have food to eat and toys to play with and a nice house to live in. And he makes more money then mommy so that's why I get to stay home at Christmas with you guys."
"But why can't you both stay home?" Kallison inquired. "It's fun with both of you are home. Daddy does fun stuff with us and takes us places."
"And I don't?" Sam asked, feeling slightly hurt by the insinuation that her daughters preferred their father over her.
"Of course you do, mommy," Kellan said. "Just daddy isn't home that much and we miss him."
"Daddy works a lot," her sister commented. "Catching the bad guys. He's a good policeman, right mommy?"
"One of the best," Sam said with a smile. "Do you two remember what kind of policeman daddy is?"
"A defective," Kallison answered.
"Detective," her mother corrected with a laugh. "A detective helps solve things. They help a group of people put the pieces of a puzzle together in order to catch the bad guys."
"To help the good people?" Kellan asked.
Sam nodded.
"Is daddy an angel?" Kallison inquired. "Angels help the good people, too."
"I guess he is," Sam told her. "Because he helps catch the bad people that hurt the good people. And he puts the bad people away for a long time so they don't hurt any more good people."
"Where does he put them?" Kellan asked, immensely intrigued by the conversation.
"Does he send them away?" inquired Kallison. "To a dessert island with all the rest of the bad people?"
"It's a deserted island," Sam told her. "And no. He sends them to jail with the rest of the bad people."
"What's jail?" Kellan asked.
"It's where I'm going to send the two of you if you don't start behaving," Flack answered for his wife, as he wandered into the kitchen, in the dress pants and shirt he'd been ready to wear to work the day before, suit jacket in his hands and tie hanging loose around his neck.
"You wouldn't send us away, daddy," Kallison laughed. "You'd miss us."
"I might send you both to boarding school until you're eighteen," he said, laying his jacket over one of the kitchen chairs.
"What's jail, daddy?" Kellan asked.
"Jail is where I take the bad guys when I catch them," he answered, pausing at the island to press a kiss to the back of his wife's head as she prepared the girls' breakfast. "When I catch them for hurting the good people, I put my handcuffs on them and I take them to jail and they stay there for a really, really long time."
"Do they die there?" inquired Kallison.
"Some of them," he replied.
"What do they die from?" Kellan asked. "From being bad?"
"They get sick and old and that's that," her father told her.
"Will we get sent to jail for not cleaning our messes and not eating our peas?" Kallison wondered.
"You might get sent to your rooms, but not to jail," he assured her, grabbing a mug from the drain board and pouring himself some of the fresh coffee from the pot his wife had made while he was in the shower.
"How come you get to have a gun, daddy?" Kellan asked. "Guns are bad."
"Because I'm a policeman and policemen are allowed to have guns," he replied, leaning against the counter and sipping his coffee.
"Do you get to shoot people?" inquired Kallison.
"Is it fun?" her sister tossed out. "Is it fun to shoot bad guys?"
"You two ask a lot of questions," Flack said.
"Is it?" Kellan pressed.
"I've only had to shoot bad guys a few times," he told his daughters. "And it's not fun to have to do it."
"But they deserve it, right?" Kallison sipped her juice. "If they're bad they deserve it."
"They might deserve it but it's not fun," her father said.
"Does it make you sad?" asked Kellan. "When you shoot bad guys?"
"A little," he admitted.
"Don't be sad, daddy," Kallison said. "If it makes you sad to be a policeman you could always get a different job."
"Yeah…" her sister enthused. "You could work at McDonalds and we could eat hamburger Happy Meals every day!"
"Or at Baskin Robbins," Kallison said excitedly. "And we can have all the ice cream we want!"
"Daddy likes being a policeman," Sam told her daughters, as she carried the sandwiches to the table. Made exactly the way the girls liked them to be made. Cut diagonally. No crust. "And you two need to eat your breakfast."
"Thank you, mommy!" Kellan chirped and picked up her sandwich and bit into it. "It's just what I wanted!"
"You know," Flack said, as his wife joined him where he stood, leaning back against the counter beside him. "I have been in thousands upon thousands of interrogations. I have sat across the table from mass murderers, child molesters, gang bangers. You name it. But I have never, ever, ever come across an interrogation as tough as what these two rug rats can dish out."
Sam grinned. "They're curious about everything and anything when it comes to you, you know that. Soon they're going to ask you to lock them up with your cuffs just for fun. So they can see what it feels like."
"Think so?"
His wife nodded.
"I'll just tell them that the cuffs are off limits. Only one allowed to have fun with those is their mommy."
Sam rolled her eyes and giggled and elbowed him in the side playfully. "Perv," she mumbled.
He grinned and wrapped his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple. "So?" he asked, rubbing her shoulder softly. "What's on the schedule for today?"
"Jasmine is bring Elijah over and watching the girls while I go shopping with Mari and Lindsay."
"Whose watching the Messer monsters?"
"Danny's mom, apparently."
"All of them? At the same time?" Flack asked.
Sam nodded.
He laughed. "Good luck with that. They're going to drive that poor old woman insane within an hour. Guaranteed. Where are you going shopping?"
"Upper East Side."
He arched an eyebrow. "Why? What's in the Upper East Side we could possibly afford?"
"The Pottery Barn is having a massive sale. And both Danny and Lindsay and Mari and Sheldon gave me gift certificates there."
"That place is expensive, babe," he complained. "Even with their massive sale, you take a hundred dollar gift certificate but have to spend five hundred to get what you want. And what could we possibly need there anyway?"
"I was thinking I could pick us up some new pillows. A couple of sheet sets. Maybe a new duvet cover, a quilt for the nicer weather."
"You can't get all that stuff at Target?" he asked.
She stared at him, eyebrows arched.
"I'm just saying," Flack defended himself. "I'm sure Target or Walmart has perfectly good pillows and sheets and what not."
"This is the Pottery Barn," she said. "Nothing compares to that."
"I know. But we're Target and Walmart people walking into a store on the Upper East Side. Without Upper East Side money to spend."
"I promise you I will use the gift certificates and charge very little to the credit cards," she said.
Somehow he slightly doubted that would happen, but instead of criticizing or even suggesting for her not to go, Flack simply bit his tongue and gave her the benefit of the doubt.
"Just nothing pink," he requested. "I can't sleep in a bedroom with anything pink in it."
"No pink," she promised.
"Or anything with flowers or polka dots," he added. "I can't take anything flowery or with polka dots."
"What about that fugly tie you wore that one day during the whole Suspect X thing?" she asked.
"What fugly tie? You'll have to narrow it down, babe."
"The one you wore when Stella and Danny had Johnny O'Dell in the box. When Mac told you about Peyton staying in New York. I can't recall the actual colour. I think it was either light blue or light green. But it had polka dots on it."
Flack smirked. "How in the hell do you remember stuff like that all these years later?" he asked.
"Because I always would look at you and think here's this totally hot guy whose so yummy in his suits and smells so good," she replied. "And then I'd think, how does a guy like that possibly pick such ugly friggin' ties?"
He chuckled. "You're such a witch to me," he teased. "You know why I wore such ugly ties back then?"
She shook her head.
"I didn't have you dressing me yet."
"Hey, at least you've matched for eight years now," she said. "And speaking of suits and ties," she stepped in front of him, and standing on her tip toes, proceeded to do up the top two buttons on his shirt and attend to his tie. "You look very, very handsome today."
"I have to look good for my throngs of female admirers," he teased.
She smirked.
He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and watched as her tiny hands quickly and effortlessly did up with his tie. It had been a near daily occurrence for the past eight years now, and even though all that time had passed and their relationship had matured and gone far beyond those days of dating and living together, Flack was struck by how the simple acts of her doing up his tie for him, or buttoning or tucking in his shirt, still seemed so affectionate and loving. It made him feel warm inside. Cared for and cherished. Until Sam, he had never had a woman do anything like that before. And it had shocked him that morning eight years ago, after their first night sleeping in the same bed together, she'd gotten up well before she had to for work, joined him at the side of the bed where he stood getting dressed, and laid her hands over his. And then without a word, buttoned his shirt and tucked it in and did up his belt. And then his tie. It had touched something deep inside of him. The gentleness of her hands, the softness in her eyes.
It was something he had never forgotten, and even now, those brief moments where she did something so simple for him, he treasured more then he could ever tell her.
"There," she said, tightening his tie and straightening it to perfecting before turning the collar of his shirt down. "Now my incredibly sexy man is ready to start his day."
He smiled and took her petite face in his hands and kissed her softly. Much to the delight of their daughters.
"Mommy and daddy are kissing," Kellan giggled.
"That's where babies come from," her sister informed her. "Now we might get a baby brother or sister after all."
Sam laughed at that. "I hate to break it to you, girls," she said, as she stepped to her husband's side. "It takes a little more then that to get a baby brother or sister."
"Like what?" Kallison asked.
"Lots of luck," her father told her. "And we're out of that so the two of you are stuck being the only kids in this house."
They weren't about to tell their daughters that hopes were high that their surrogacy plans with Lindsay and Danny would all fall into place. That the artificial insemination, once it was planned, would be successful and the pregnancy would go smoothly. And that in less then a year, if God was on their side, Kellan and Kallison would be big sisters. There was no sense getting their little hopes up if things didn't pan out.
"Daddy?" Kallison asked. "Do you like seafood?"
"I'm not falling for that trick," he told her. "And don't even think about…"
"I like seafood!" Kellan chirped.
"Look Kellan!" her sister cried excitedly. "See-food!" And with that she opened her mouth wide to show the chewed up bite of peanut butter and banana sandwich inside.
"That's gross!" Kellan shrieked, but laughed hysterically. Until she was hiccuping and whining about her juice going up her nose and burning.
"That's not nice, Kallison," Sam scolded her daughter, as she snagged a Kleenex from the box on the top of the fridge and went to the table. "Don't be doing stuff like that," she said and wiped Kellan's nose for her. "Where did you learn that?"
"I heard it somewhere," Kallison said.
Sam looked at her husband.
Flack held his hands up in self defence. "That is one thing she did not get from me. That's an old joke, babe. I knew she was going to do it ahead of time. That's why I warned her not to."
"You're a bad influence," Sam informed him.
"Why do I always get blamed for the bad stuff?" he asked. "All the bad stuff that goes on is not always my fault, you know."
"Daddy's the funny one," Kellan said. "Mommy's more serious."
"Excuse me?" Sam asked.
"That's what daddy always says," her daughter told her.
"And what else does your daddy say?" Sam inquired.
"Tell mommy what I told you guys," Flack encouraged. "What does daddy do for a living?"
"A police man!" Kallison cried.
"And what does mommy do?" he asked.
"Lab geek!' Kellan replied.
"You're mean teaching them stuff like that," Sam scolded her husband, pouting dramatically as she slapped his stomach lightly.
"All in good fun, babe," he said with a chuckle, grabbing her by the belt on her bathrobe and pulling her into him. "You may be a lab geek, but you're my lab geek."
"You're a sappy SOB," she declared.
"Sometimes," he agreed and kissed her softly.
"Daddy? Kellan asked.
"What baby sweets?" he inquired, turning Sam around and circling her waist with his arms and holding her tightly to him.
"Is it true that you and mommy are going to hell?" his daughter asked.
"Where'd you hear that?"
"Mrs Johnson said that because you and mommy lived together before you got married that God was really, really, really mad at you guys and that he was going to send you to hell."
Mrs Johnson. The dreaded Sunday school teacher at St. Patrick's, their parish.
"Who told Mrs Johnson that your mommy and I lived together before we got married?" he asked.
"Grandma," Kallison squealed easily on her grandmother.
"Well I'll tell you two things I am sure of," Flack said. "One, you're mommy and I are not going to hell. And two, your grandmother is a crazy old bat."
"Don," Sam directed an elbow at his stomach. "Don't say things like that. They repeat everything you say. Like the time you called Mrs Johnson a lazy, fat cow and they went back and said it to her? And then you wouldn't tell them to say sorry?"
"Why say sorry? What are they going to say? I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're a lazy, fat cow?"
His wife snorted and shook her head and attempted to wriggle out of his embrace.
"Where you think you're going, huh?" he asked, tightening his grip on her and nuzzling her ear and neck until she was giggling. "You can't leave. Not when we're having our cuddle time. I tell you when you can get out of cuddle time."
"I gotta go pee!" she cried, laughing. "Don't be such an a-s-s."
"I guess that's a good enough reason," he said and kissed her cheek noisily.
"Unless you plan on cleaning my mess up off the kitchen floor," she told him, escaping from his grasp once he loosened his arms.
"That reminds me," he called to her as she left the kitchen. "Wiener peed on our bed. I didn't let him out in time and well…let's just say it's a good thing you're going to get a comforter today."
"And the mattress?" she asked, pausing in the doorway.
"Didn't get through."
"Damn mutt," she grumbled and headed for the washroom. "Please let the dog out in time next time, Donald."
"Yes, dear," he said, and snapped of a sharp salute. Causing both of his daughters to laugh hysterically. "You two didn't see that," he told them, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.
"See what, daddy?" Kallison asked innocently.
He grinned. "That's my girl," he praised. "You two done?"
They both nodded.
He grabbed a face cloth that Sam always kept hanging off the handle of the stove for cleaning the girls faces and wet it with warm water and wrung it out. Snagging a clean tea towel off the counter, he walked over to the Dora table and crouched down alongside of Kellan first. Holding her firmly with a hand on the top of her head as he thoroughly washed and dried her face and then her hands, before moving on and repeating the actions with her sister.
"Put your plates and your cups on the counter by the sink," he instructed as he stood up, his knees screaming in protest. "Then I want you both to go upstairs and clean up your rooms and bring down some clothes."
"Then can we play with our Christmas toys?" Kellan asked, as she and Kallison slid off their chairs and carried their dirty dishes to the sink.
"After you get your mommy to watch you guys brush your teeth you can do whatever you want. Just no chocolate from your stockings? Understand me?"
"We're good to go!" Kallison responded, giving a huge thumbs up before she scurried from the kitchen, her sister following close behind.
Flack grinned and shook his head and set to rinsing off their plates and cups and setting them in the empty dishwasher.
"Are you going all domestic diva on me again?" Sam asked, as she wandered back into the kitchen, rubbing her stomach and grimacing slightly.
"What's wrong?" he inquired.
"Just those stupid phantom period cramps I get," she complained. "Sometimes they're worse then the real thing. Where's the girls?"
"Upstairs cleaning their rooms and bringing some clothes down to get dressed."
"God I love it when you're home," she sighed happily. "Things run so smoothly when the law and the order is in the house."
"Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Flack said as he closed the dishwasher. "But I gotta get going. I've got that anti-terrorism meeting in an hour and I have to actually show up and look like I care."
"You know," she stood in front of him and rubbed his sides softly. "Maybe you should talk to Doctor Ryerson and see if you can get something for these moods you've been in lately."
He smirked. "What? You think I'm crazy or something?"
"No. I think you've just been really done about some things and maybe you need a little picker upper."
"What I need is to get out of the city," he told her and kissed her long and soft. "Once we're out of here, I'll be fine."
"I'm just worried about you," Sam said.
"I know," he pecked her forehead. "But I'm fine. Okay?"
She nodded.
"I'll call you if I'm going to be really late," he told her, kissing her a final time before stepping away from her and heading to the table. "I don't think I will be. But you never know."
"I shouldn't be out to long," she said, watching as he pulled on his suit jacket. "Maybe I'll stop by and we can have a coffee together?"
He smiled. "Sounds good."
Sam followed him to the front door. Waiting for him to slip into his shoes and his winter jacket before calling the girls downstairs to say goodbye.
"You two be good," Flack said, giving both his daughters hugs and kisses. "I don't want any phonecalls about fighting. Okay? You listen to your mommy and to Jasmine when she's babysitting you."
"Will you bring us a treat home, daddy?" Kellan asked. "Some ice cream? It would make my scratchy throat all better."
"Tell you what. If your mom tells me you guys were good all day when I call later, I will definitely bring something special home. Okay?"
His daughters nodded excitedly.
"I'll see you two later," he said, kissing both on the top of their heads.
"You'll be home to tuck us in and read us stories?" Kallison asked.
"I'll try my best," he promised. "I love you, guys."
"We love you, too, daddy," Kellan told him, as her sister nodded in agreement.
"I'll call you later, babe," Flack said to his wife, embracing her tightly and kissing her. "Have fun with the doctor's wife on the upper east side."
"Be safe, okay?" she patted his cheek softly before opening the door for him.
"Always," he said with a wink before stepping out of the house.
"Catch lots of bad guys, daddy!" Kellan called to him, as she and her mother and sister stood at the screen door watching him head down the steps.
"And put them in jail!" Kallison added.
He turned and gave them a smile and a wave before heading across the snow covered front lawn and sidewalk before heading across the street towards his SUV.
Sam sighed heavily and ushered her girls away from the door before closing it up tightly.
She paused in the foyer as the twins rushed into the living room to finish getting dressed, talking excitedly about all the toys they were going to play with that day.
Please God, just keep him safe, she prayed silently, before heading into the next room to start her day.
Mari Hawkes, stylishly dressed in a pair of skinny jeans tucked into knee high brown leather boots and a brown suede jacket with lambskin trim on the hood and cuffs, waited outside of The Pottery Barn on East 59th street. Sipping a grande café mocha with the works. Three shots of espresso, whipped cream topping, a sprinkle of cinnamon and a drizzle of chocolate sauce.
A light snow was falling, but the sun was high and bright in the vibrant blue sky and the temperatures were unseasonably mild. She was filled with a sense of calm and relief now that the initial craziness of the Christmas holidays were over. No more family members flooding the house, no more long hours of preparing endless buffets of food, no more buying and wrapping and unwrapping present after present. And never mind the massive cleanup afterwards. Mari, who loved the holidays and everything that came with it - the family times, the good food and the decorating - was insanely happy that the insanity was over and done with. For another year at least.
The madness of Christmas aside, Mari loved her life.
She had met, and married, the man of her dreams seven years ago. Something that had she had long before convinced herself just wasn't in her cards. After a disastrous ending to a brief marriage to her high school sweetheart, Miquel, the then twenty-one year old Mari had been left with not only a broken heart and a beautiful two year old daughter, Jasmine, but what she thought was a permanent sour taste for men in her mouth. Instead of diving back into the dating pool, she'd concentrated on raising her little girl -with the help of her mother- and continuing her education. She had completed two years of college before leaving to play housewife and mother, but with Miquel out of the picture, she'd been able to final get her nursing degree. And secure herself a steady and good paying job in the pediatrics department of Angel of Mercy.
It was there that she had met Samantha Ross and Doctor Sheldon Hawkes. Two people that would transform her life beyond measure. They had been at the hospital that fateful late February day, to question the surviving sibling of a child that had been mauled to death by the family dog. The older brother had attempted to pull the dog off of his sibling and had been attacked as well.
Dog attacks weren't usually matters the crime lab dealt with, but inconsistent findings on the autopsy had shown that the child had been dead before the mauling had taken place. It had been a dark and disturbing case with an even worse ending, and everyone that had been involved had been scarred emotionally in some way.
Mari had contacted Samantha Ross, days after the case had been solved, and asked the pretty, tiny detective if she'd like to have a drink sometime. Mari didn't have a lot of friends. She had lost most when she got married and had a child so young, and then had no time for a social life once she went back to school. But she'd liked Samantha. The Brooklyn born girl was smart and witty and no doubt a hell of a lot of fun once that badge and gun had come off.
A friendship had been born over Mexican food and beer. Through Sam, Mari had become friends with the other members of the tightly knit team. Including Sam's then boyfriend, Detective Don Flack. Someone Mari had known, and crushed over, many years ago in high school. And it had been Samantha and Don, that had pressed Sheldon Hawkes into asking Mari out on a date. Both knew the ME turned CSI was interested in the pretty nurse. And who wouldn't be? She was five foot six with a willowy body and a beautiful complexion. Her mother of Puerto Rican decent, and her father African American. Her hair was full and textured and she reminded everyone around her of Halle Berry. It was no wonder Hawkes was enamoured.
When things finally got under way, it hadn't taken long for both Mari, and Hawkes, to realize what they had found together was something special. They were engaged three months later, and married two months after that. Hawkes accepted and loved Jasmine as her own -and she adored him to pieces- and only a year into marriage they were blessed with their own child, a son they named Elijah.
Life and love couldn't get any better as far as Mari was concerned.
It was amazing, she thought, as she stood waiting for her friends and contemplating how far they'd all come over the years, that something so horrific as a senseless, violent crime could be the beginning of so many wonderful things.
She spotted the familiar gun metal grey Mercury Milan pulling into the public parking lot across the street, easily recognizing the two faces inside. Within a couple of minutes, she was smiling and waving to her friends as they crossed the street, talking and giggling excitedly.
"I'm glad both of you could come," Mari said, as she greeted each woman with a hug and a peck on the cheek. "Not often we get girls days out anymore. I was at Mac and Kelli's yesterday but she wasn't able to make it for our shopping excursion. I guess she's got a full line up of people she's teaching sign language too."
"About four families a day," Lindsay told the other women as the three of them headed into the busy store. "She's got Amanda and DJ going tomorrow."
"And she comes to our place to teach Kellan and Kallison. Just object based stuff at the moment. Neither of them can sit still long enough to learn anything more then that."
"That's because they're like their father," Mari laughed. "Always on the go. Did he actually manage to keep himself in the house over the holidays?"
"Are you kidding?" Sam asked. "We didn't stay home one day. Don is incapable of being inside. You know that. He has to be doing something. Preferably, I wish he was doing that something inside and finishing up the massive list of manly things that need to be done, but beggars can't be choosers. We had an amazing Christmas and I got to spend a lot of time with him. And that doesn't happen often."
"Take it where you can get it," Lindsay said with an understanding nod.
"These are for you," Sam held a Christmas gift bag out to Mari.
The other woman accepted the brightly coloured bag and peered inside. "What's in the Tupperware container?" she asked.
"Cupcakes," Sam replied. "Chocolate ones with vanilla icing and candy sprinkles."
"They're amazing," Linday declared.
"Don made them," Sam added quickly.
Mari grinned "Is that a warning?" she inquired.
Sam laughed. "No. Not all all. They're awesome cupcakes. I just didn't want to be taking credit for the fruits of his labour. He made them last night. With the girls."
Mari stared at her friend. "You're not kidding," she stated.
The petite brunette shook her head. "Don's actually a really, really, really good baker. He just never knew how good until he got married and had kids and they opened his mind to all of the stuff they liked to do with him. Kellan and Kallison love nothing more then baking something with him. Mostly cupcakes and chocolate chip peanut butter cookies."
"And trust me," Lindsay said. "Those cookies are heaven. Flack made some for the kids' little bake sale at Valentines Day last year and the things sold out in like five minutes. They're awesome. Better then sex."
"Well I wouldn't go that far," Sam laughed. "Nothing is better then sex. Well, at least not the sex I've been getting for eight years."
"Does he cook too?" Mari asked.
"Occasionally. When he's home early enough to do it," her friend replied. "He's a great cook."
Mari shook her head. "I am having such a hard time grasping the concept of big, bad Don Flack Jr being a secret chef and baker."
"Believe it," Sam said, and reaching into her purse, pulled out her cell phone. Flicking through the various pictures she had stored on it, she held the pink flip phone out to her friend. "Check this pic out. This is three days before Christmas. Donnie and the girls launching Operation Gingerbread House."
Mari took the cell phone and looked down at the photo. Smiling at the image of Flack, in an impossibly small Hello Kitty apron and his two pretty little girls , both wearing kids size chef hats, at the kitchen table. Kellan and Kallison were kneeling on chairs, beaming for the camera, the beginnings of a gingerbread house scattered in front of them, pink icing on theirs, and their father's, cheeks.
"All these years and I never knew that side of him," Mari said, handing the phone back. "Adorable. Does he know you took that?"
"He does. And he has begged me to never show anyone. And well…let's keep this between us, girls."
Lindsay laughed. "You've got yourself a good one, Samantha Flack."
"He's something," Sam chirped, smiling at the picture before tucking her phone into her purse. "I think I'll keep him."
"Even if you didn't want to, you'd never be able to get rid of him," Mari told her. "He's permanently cemented in your life, girl."
"I'm not complaining," Sam said, as she grabbed a shopping cart and sat her purse in the seat before unzipping and shrugging out of her coat, laying it over her purse. "He's a pretty damn good husband. And an amazing father. I've made it my New Years resolution to appreciate him more. Not take his presence for granted. Tell him and show him I love him more than I do."
"I think we're all guilty of treating the men in our lives that way sometimes," Lindsay sighed as she grabbed her own cart. "I think it's just a human thing to do. We don't mean it. We just do it."
"It goes both ways though," Mari said. "I mean, I'm sure we all feel unappreciated and taken for granted sometimes. Especially with the crazy hours our men work. I think we'd all love for them to say I love you and shower us with affection more. Well, maybe not Sam. Whose husband is always all over her like a horny high schooler."
"I think we all could make some resolutions," Sam agreed. "Even the guys. Donnie's saying he's going to quit smoking. Right. I will believe it when I see it."
Mari frowned. "I thought he quit."
"He's quit six times since I met him," her friend said. "And he's gone back each time. Longest he ever quit for was when I found out I was pregnant until the girls were born. Then the stress of them being preemies and my hysterectomy just knocked him for six and he took up the habit again. He's good about it. He goes outside even in the winter and he doesn't smoke when he's out with the twins. Mostly he does it at work."
"Danny says he's quitting too," Lindsay told her friends. "As if. It's been his New Years resolution since the first holiday we spent together."
"What's Sheldon going to give up?" Sam asked Mari, as her friend picked her own shopping cart.
"As if he has any faults," Lindsay laughed. "We all know Doctor Sheldon Hawkes is perfect."
"Well he's pretty damn close," Mari said. "But he's got a couple things he needs to work on. Mostly his insane jealousy over my Flack crush."
"I think your husbands are more alike then they realize," Lindsay commented. "Flack's the same way over Sam's Hawkes crush."
"Never let my husband hear you say that he and Sheldon Hawkes are alike," Sam warned. "And don't ever let Hawkes hear it for that matter. They're just so…I don't know…what's the best way to put it?"
"Polar extremes?" Mari offered. "I don't see the huge deal. Can't they just put an effort into being friends?"
Sam shrugged. "It's just hard for Don and Sheldon to find common ground," she reasoned. "I mean, work wise, they have each others backs no matter what. But friendship wise? I don't ever see them being buddies. Don't feel too bad about it. A lot of people have a hard time taking to Don. It's just his personality scares people off. Adam was terrified of him for the longest time. Still is, actually."
"I just wish they'd both suck it up and give it a shot," Mari told her. "Be as close as we are."
"Well miracles do happen once in a while." Sam said. "So you never know."
"Is everything still on for New Years? It's okay that Jas and Elijah are spending the night at your place and watching the girls?" Mari asked.
"Well it's okay with me," her friend replied. "I just haven't told my husband yet. I'll tell him an hour before we're suppose to be at your house."
Lindsay laughed. "You're an evil woman, Disney on Ice and a New Years party all in one day?"
"He'll live," Sam said. "He'll be pissed for a bit, but he'll live. As long as the place is stocked with Guiness, he'll be fine."
"I'll stock up just for him," Mari promised. "So? Are you girls ready?"
"To spend my husband's money?" Lindsay asked. "When am I not ready for that."
All three women laughed.
"You know," Mari said, almost sadly as they journeyed into the main body of the store. "Until you guys, I never had people to do this kind of stuff with."
Lindsay smiled. "And now you can't get rid of us."
Mari smiled and watched as her two best friends walked ahead of her. Pointing things out, giggling and teasing each other good-naturedly. And she realized Lindsay Messer was right. She couldn't get rid of them.
And she didn't want to.
Flack arrived at One Police Plaza at quarter to one. The anti-terrorism meeting had been long winded and for the most part, completely useless and utter bullshit. All the training in the world couldn't stop a bunch pf psychos from flying planes into skyscrapers again or dropping dirty bombs on the city. DHS, as usual it seemed, had their heads up their respective asses and were once again looking to deflect work and responsibility onto the NYPD. And in typical Fed fashion, they'd dump all their work on the department, but then stake claim over a crime scene or assign blame to the NYPD if there was any type of screw up.
Call wise, the shift was going relatively slow and extremely smooth. Only one crime scene. A straight up robbery gone bad at a gas station in Long Island. The perp had panicked when the clerk hit the alarm under the counter and had shot the elderly attendant and took off. The offender was caught on surveillance tape and once his photo was put through the computers at the crime lab, Danny had gotten them an ID and a legit address. Guy turned out to be on parole for armed robbery and assault. They'd picked him up, without incident at his apartment, and now he was going away for life.
Flack was slightly nervous as he took the elevator to the twentieth floor. Through his entire career, he'd only had one 'visit' with the Chief of Detectives. Although there had been several dressing downs in the precinct in front of his colleagues over the years. Not to mention the incident in the courthouse when Sinclair and Gerrard had wanted him to flip on Mac was no way Flack was going to screw Mac over. Log book or no log book bullshit. And then the time Sinclair had all but ordered him to Chicago to track Mac down and bring him back to New York City during the whole 333 stalker craziness.
But this was a rare moment in Flack's years within the department. An actual sit down meeting with the Chief. The first had come more then a decade ago. When Sinclair had felt compelled to have a chat with the young detective over his handling of the Truby incident. Flack had been able to tell right off the hop as he sat in that office, that Sinclair was less then impressed with him. The disappointment was evident in the older man's eyes and practically written all over his face. It was quite clear, without it actually being said, that Sinclair thought he was a rat.
So be it. A lot of the guys at the station had had the same opinion after that incident. And all were pretty vocal about it. It had been tough dealing with it, but it Flack had learned right quick just who his friends were. Scagnetti, Angell and the members of the lab. Including Mac. None of them said a bad word about him and all expressed their support for him on more then one occasion.
And now this. A meeting requested by Flack himself. He was both anxious and interested in seeing and hearing Sinclair's reaction to the news that the NYPD's golden boy wanted out. He imagined Sinclair would be shocked. Probably offer him incentives to stay. A promotion even.
But, as he announced his presence to Sinclair's secretary before shedding his winter coat and taking a seat in the small waiting area, Flack knew there was nothing the other man could say to change his mind. He was doing what he had to do.
It was a done deal.
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