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

A/N: THANKS TO ALL OF THOSE ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS!


Drop the bombs

"I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly
I'll do what it takes 'til I touch the sky
And I'll make a wish
Take a chance
Make a change
And breakaway
Out of the darkness and into the sun
But I won't forget all the ones that I love
I'll take a risk
Take a chance
Make a change
And breakaway."
-Breakaway, Kelly Clarkson


"Lieutenant Flack," Sinclair greeted as he stood up from his chair and walked around his large mahogany desk. A hand outstretched in welcoming.

"Chief," Flack said in return, shaking the older man's hand as Sinclair's secretary began to close the office door behind him.

"Hold all my calls, would you Nadine?" the Chief of Detectives asked. "Unless there's a life or death emergency, this is a closed meeting."

"Yes, sir," she said with a graceful nod and shut the door.

"Welcome back after your holidays," Sinclair said to the younger man in front of him. "I know three days off hardly seems like a vacation."

"Better then nothing, sir," Flack told him. "Any chance I get to spend with my girls and my wife is welcome."

Sinclair gave an uncharacteristically warm smile. "I imagine Christmas went well. That Santa Claus made his scheduled delivery to your house."

"He spoiled them rotten," Flack chuckled. "Same thing every year. We all had a great time. Spent it with family and friends. I certainly can't complain. How were your holidays, sir?"

"Nice and quiet. No little ones around my house to wake me up at a Godforsaken hour. All my kids are long grown out of that stage. Or out of the house completely," he responded, motioning for Flack to take a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk.

"Always nice when they just come to visit and leave at the end of things," Flack commented as he took a seat.

"Exactly. You know, I was somewhat surprised when I received the message that you wanted to meet with me," Sinclair said, as he went behind his desk once again and slipped into his chair. "It's unlike you to be spending time in the proverbial principal's office."

"There's some things I wanted to talk to you about, sir. About my future. My family's futures, actually."

Sinclair nodded. "There are some promotions coming up within the next couple of months," he said. "And while I could put your name on the grid for a Captain's position, I doubt the Commissioner will okay it. You simply haven't been Lieutenant long enough. You're still at least a couple of dozen solved cases away from making your quota for the year as it is."

"This goes a little deeper then promotions," Flack told him.

Sinclair stared long and hard at the younger man. "Then how about you tell me what this IS about, Lieutenant."

"My wife was let go from the crime lab."

"I know. I also know it was an extremely hard decision for Deputy Inspector Whitmore to have to make. It certainly wasn't made lightly, or out of spite."

"I understand that. But my wife found herself a new job. She's starting in the New Year. As a lead hand at the New Jersey Crime Lab."

"Under Stella Bonsera's watch?" Sinclair asked.

Flack nodded.

"Well I wish your wife all the luck in the world. I'm sure she'll have a great career within their department. But what does that have to do with you being here today?"

"I'm moving my family to New Jersey," Flack responded. "I've already made plans with a realtor to put our house on the market and my wife and I are taking next weekend to go down and look at houses in Hackensack."

"So you're here to ask for some time off," Sinclair concluded. "So you can get your family's affairs in order. Last time I took a peek at your jacket, you had at least three weeks of vacation time stored up. There shouldn't be an issue if you submit a time off request form to your duty captain. Why did you come to me?"

"I came to you because this isn't about vacation time. I came to you to tell you that I'm leaving the department. I'm here to give you my two weeks notice verbally and in writing."

Sinclair blinked as the force of the announcement hit him head on. It was something that he had never imagined he'd hear coming from Don Flack Jr. The NYPD's golden boy. That he was leaving the department and the city, that had made him a star. The Wilder bust, and his handling of the hostage situation at the warehouse and then the apprehension of the suspects that overtook the lab, had made him not just a state wide name, but a national one. It certainly had erased the past fuck ups that Flack had had under his belt. Most notably the Truby fiasco. Sure, he'd somewhat tarnished his image when he'd engaged in a high speed pursuit in a commandeered yellow taxi, but Flack was the one cop that you could always rely on to bring the goods. To get his man at all costs. He'd given blood, sweat and tears to the NYPD and to his city. And someone that dedicated was damn hard to find.

"I have this," Flack said, as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a business size white envelope. "It's my letter of resignation," he told his superior officer as he held the item out.

Sinclair sighed and reached across the desk to take the letter. "You're serious about this, Lieutenant?" he asked, tapping the corner of the envelope on his desk.

"This is something I need to do," Flack replied. "For my family. My wife was more then willing to commute back and forth every day, but with the unpredictability of her illness, I don't really like the thought of her being in New Jersey, away from me and the kids if something happens to her. And if she has a flare up and can't drive home…"

"Certainly understandable. Commuting is always a hassle. Especially when the weather doesn't want to cooperate. But the thought of you giving up your career with the NYPD, when you've come so far in so little of time…I have to admit that this news doesn't sit well with me. It leaves a very foul taste in my mouth in fact."

"I know it's pretty surprising," Flack said. "And I want you to know that I appreciate everything that this department and you yourself and Inspector Whitmore and Inspector Gerrard before her, has done for not just me, but my family. When I needed the time off to take care of my girls when my wife was sick, you were all willing to accommodate us and you've been good to all of us."

"If I talk to the budget committee and get your wife's job back at the crime lab, would that make a difference? Or is it far past that?" Sinclair asked, desperate to keep the department's shining light exactly where he was.

"Honestly, sir, I think that this has happened for a reason. I think that my wife losing her job, being forced to find something else and finding that something else in New Jersey? I think that it was supposed to happen. Because I haven't been happy here, in this city, for a long time. And I'm just fooling myself, and doing this department and the people of New York City, a great injustice by pretending I'm happy when in reality, I'm barely keeping my head above water."

Sinclair nodded slowly as he considered the words coming from the younger man. "I'm sorry to hear that you've been feeling that way. Has there been problems with subordinates or…"

"It's nothing like that," Flack assured his boss. "It has nothing to do with the people I work with or the people I work for. It has everything to do with things that have gone done, personal things, that have made me unhappy here. And me being unhappy? That's not doing the department any good if I'm not on my A game."

"We certainly want you to be productive," Sinclair said. "And quite obviously, by your less then impressive number of solved cases and arrests, your being productive goes hand in hand with you being dissatisfied with where you are."

"It's time for me to go, sir," Flack told him. "It's just time."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the Chief of Detectives said with a heavy sigh. "Very sad. And there's nothing that we can do to make this all go away? To make you reconsider?"

Flack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry," he said. "But there isn't."

"This is a done deal?"

Flack nodded.

"Well I honestly thought I'd never see the day when something like this would be happening," Sinclair admitted.

"Neither did I," Flack said. "If someone had have told me ten years ago, hell, even five years ago, that I'd be doing this? I'd have told them they were insane. But in my heart, I know that this is the right thing to do. For my sanity and for my family. I wouldn't be willing to uproot them and move to an entirely different state and toss away my career if I wasn't a hundred percent sure that this was what needed to be done."


Sinclair nodded slowly and bit his lip pensively as he tapped the corner of the envelope in his hand against his desk over and over again. Several minutes passed before he spoke again. Given both men a lot of time to sit and think. Flack about all the great years he had in the NYPD, and how, despite being a major thorn in his side, for the most part Sinclair had been nothing but fair and respectful of him. All Sinclair had ever expected from him was the best. To live up to, and surpass, the old man's name. And Flack had busted his ass to try and give his boss that. There'd been times he'd succeeded and times he'd failed miserably. But the memories and experiences he had behind him would always be a treasured part of his past.

Sinclair thought about all those times that maybe he was just too hard on a young Don Flack Jr. That maybe he shouldn't have been so hell bent on seeing the kid surpass his old man. It should have been enough when Flack broke the record of the youngest officer to become detective and he slaughtered his father's arrest records. When he handled himself so professionally and admirably on the stand during countless trials and the IAB investigation into Mac Taylor. Flack had been nothing but loyal and respectful to everyone around him. Yet still Sinclair had pushed. He'd expected the kid to turn water into wine and part the Red Sea nearly. He hadn't learned when to lay off of Flack. To just let the kid succeed in in own way and his own time.

And maybe all of that was coming into play now. All these years later. Sinclair didn't know if his past behaviour had anything to do with Flack Jr jumping ship. But what he did know, was that the department, and the city, was suffering a very significant loss if he accepted that letter in his hand.

But the man had a family. A wife and two beautiful kids that relied on him to come home every night. And a less then focused Flack was a dangerous Flack. Sinclair knew, that if that young man wasn't on his A game as he'd said, then Flack was in serious danger. And there was no way that the Chief of Detectives could live with himself if something happened to Flack and he had to deliver the bad news or stand at his grave site and hand a folded American flag to his grieving young widow. Or to look into the eyes of those little girls and have to explain to them why their daddy wasn't coming home.

And it was for Samantha Flack and those beautiful twins that Sinclair did what he had to do. He sat the envelope on his desk and stood up and walked around his desk yet again.

"It was a pleasure being your commanding officer for these many years," Sinclair said.

Flack stood and shook the hand that was offered to him.

"You could have been something great within the NYPD," the Chief of Detectives told him. "I know for a fact that you would have been sitting behind that very desk one day. Nothing would have stood in your way of climbing the ladder all the way to the top. You had many great, great years here. You've done nothing but consistently give your all to this department and this city."

"It was a pleasure serving this city, sir," Flack said, touched by the older man's words. "I wish that things could have turned out differently."

"You were the one great thing that this department had going for it," Sinclair told him. "And I know that whatever city you choose to go to now, you will prosper and grow and achieve amazing things with them."

"Thank you, Chief."

"You've made me proud, Don. So proud. As if you were my own son. And I'm not just talking about the kind of cop you are. I'm talking about what you've achieved in your life outside of the badge. You've become a husband and a father. You've got a beautiful family. And in the end of it all, when your time is up, you won't be judge by your arrest records or the high profile cases you solved. You'll be judged by the kind of man you are and the people that you touched and the people that you loved and loved you in return."

Flack swallowed back the lump of emotion that sat in his throat that Sinclair's words brought on.

"I'm sad to see you go," the older man said sincerely. "And while I wish things could have been different, I know that your family means the world to you. And they deserve to have you around more then this department does. And I hope they realize the sacrifice you're making for them."

"They do," Flack assured him. "They do."

"I tell you what. I know the Chief of Police in Hackensack. He's an old college buddy of mine. I can call him, put in a good word, send down your employee file and have him call you."

"Sir, you don't have to…"

"I want to," Sinclair told him. "Let me help you get your foot in the door."

Flack nodded, accepting the offer. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."

"You'll do great things, Don," Sinclair told him. "Never doubt yourself."

Flack opened his mouth to respond, but all words were halted as a knock came to the office door and Sinclair called out to whoever it was to enter.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, Chief Sinclair," a visibly flustered Nadine said. "But there's a call waiting for Lieutenant Flack out front."

"What kind of call?" Sinclair asked.

"From his daughter. Kellan, I believe she said her name was? It turns out that before she was put through to us by central, she called nine one one looking to speak to her daddy."

Flack's eyes widened.

Sinclair smirked.

"Everything is fine," Nadine said quickly. "There's no emergency. But she told the nine one one operator that she was told, by her parents, that if she wanted to get a hold of the police, that she was to call nine one one. And well, she took that literally I guess and seeing as her father is a police man, she called them hoping to talk to him."

Flack sighed heavily and closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger.

"Once they managed to get her name, the operator put the last name through the system and then they found out the Lieutenant was stationed at the twelfth precinct and the duty captain there told them Lieutenant Flack was here. And well…now there's a very distraught and persistent five year old that is demanding to speak to her father."

"But there's no emergency?" Sinclair asked.

"Well not that I can gather. All I can understand is that something happened with a can of Coke to someone named Holly."

Flack couldn't help but let out a laugh.

Sinclair looked at him.

"Holly is her doll," Flack told his superior officer. "She carries it everywhere. Sleeps with it, chews on it. You name it."

"Well whatever happened to Holly, your daughter is very upset," Nadine said.

"Do you need a few minutes, Lieutenant?" Sinclair asked. "You can see what happened to your daughter's playmate and that will give me some time to make a call and get your file ready to be sent down to Hackensack."

Flack nodded and mumbled his thanks and followed the secretary out of the office and down the short expanse of hallway that led to her desk. He wasn't so much embarrassed that his daughter had called nine one one without there being an emergency. Kids did things like that and it was easy to se how she became confused and assumed, from what her parents had told her, that it was the number to call if she wanted to speak to her daddy. What was embarrassing was what had been going down at the time of the call. A meeting with the Chief of Detectives. And the fact that Kellan's 'emergency' revolved around a stuffed toy.

Nadine picked up the receiver of the phone that sat on her desk and pressed a flashing red button as she held the receiver out to the detective standing before her.

Flack smiled his appreciation and put the phone to his ear. And was greeted by the sound of his daughter sniffling noisily. "Kellan," he said simply.

"Daddy…" she sobbed. "There's been an accident! With Holly!"

"What kind of accident?" he asked, attempting to keep calm.

"It's Jasmine's fault!" Kellan cried. "Holly was on the couch and she fell on the floor and Jasmine spilled pop all over her! Now she's all sticky and ugly!"

"How did Jas spill pop on Holly?" he asked. "Why weren't you with Holly?"

"Jasmine made us go upstairs to play! I forgot Holly!"

"Why did she make you go upstairs?"

"'Cause her and Michael wanted to play kissey face on the couch!"

Flack sighed heavily and shook his head. It wasn't the first time that Kellan or Kallison had let it slip to their parents that when Jasmine was supposed to be babysitting them, she sent them to her room so she could 'entertain' her boyfriend. Or play kissey face, as the girls called it. Michael was Mac and Kelli's son. They'd adopted him eight years ago as a then nine year old, along with his six year old brother Jeremy. Both seized by CPS from a crack head mother. Jeremy was a nice kid. Respectful, polite, good in school. Michael on the other hand was a shit head. A wannabe gangster is his jeans with the crotch hanging to his knees and his backwards ball caps and 'ghetto' speak. The kid was a royal pain in the ass with a massive chip on his shoulder. How in the hell he ended up that way with Mac as his father. Flack would never know. But Jasmine had been told, by both him and Sam, that Michael was not allowed in their home when she babysitting. And Jas had agreed to abide by their rules.

Apparently, she was full of shit.

"Where's your sister and Elijah?" he asked his daughter.

"They're here. In my room with me."

"Well I want you to go downstairs and tells Jasmine that you called your daddy and he's on his way home and when he gets there, both her and Michael are in for a world of hurt. Can you tell her that?"

"Yeah," Kellan sniffled. "Are you going to send her to jail daddy? For hurting Holly?"

"Holly is going to be fine," he assured his daughter. "Mommy will put her in the wash later tonight and Holly will be as good as new again. Okay?"

"Okay," Kellan agreed reluctantly.

"Now I need to tell you something and I want you to listen to me very carefully, okay?"

"Okay, daddy."

"I don't want you to call nine one one ever again, Kellan. Do you understand me?"

"But I needed to talk to you!" she argued.

"I realize that baby sweets, but you don't call nine one one to get a hold of me. You go into mommy and daddy's room and you pick up the phone in there and you press the number one. That will call daddy's cell phone. You know this Kellan."

"I forgot," she admitted.

"Well the next time you need to call me, you don't forget. You only call nine one one if it's an emergency."

"But it was an emergency!" she cried. "Jas hurt Holly!"

"I mean if there's something wrong with your mommy. If mommy can't get to the phone and you need to get help for her. Not for your doll. Understand me, Kellan?"

"Yeah…are you mad at me, daddy?"

"A little," he admitted.

"I'm sorry," she wailed. "I'm sorry, daddy! Don't be mad!"

"I'm only a little mad," Flack told her. "Not a whole lot. Now I need to let you go and I'll be home as soon as I can, okay?"

"And you'll fix Holly?" she asked.

"I will try to fix her," he promised. "But mommy is a lot better at fixing dollies then I am. I'll call mommy on her phone and tell her to come home too and fix Holly for you. Alright?"

"Alright, daddy," she sniffled.

"I'll see you in a little bit," he told her. "I love you."

"I love you, too, daddy," she said, and disconnected the call.

Flack sighed and turned and held the phone out to Nadine.

"Never a dull moment with kids around," she commented, as she took the object from him and placed it in its cradle.

"Not with those two kids at least," he said.

"My son called nine one one once too," the secretary told him. "When he was six. Because he'd flushed GI Joe down the toilet and the damn thing was drowning."

Flack laughed at that.

"Try not to get too upset," Nadine said, as Flack headed back towards Sinclair's office. "She's going to do a lot of silly things in her life. But she'll do a lot of amazing things too."

He smiled. "She's already done some amazing things," he told the secretary. "Starting with the day she was born."

And with that, he disappeared into Chief of Detectives Brigham Sinclair's office for what would be the very last time.


After two hours spent in The Pottery Barn and two buggies a piece full of purchases -and way too much money spent over the budget they'd walked in the store with - the three friends loaded their numerous bags into their respective vehicles and then walked three blocks to the widely acclaimed Cabana Restaurant. A little slice of heaven in the way of Latin, Cuban and Caribbean food that Mari had long ago introduced her two friends too. She often joked -or was it serious?- as they sat in the quaint and tastefully decorated restaurant that the only good thing that came out of her marriage to Miquel, was him introducing her to Cuban food. She was an accomplished cook and often prepared fabulous Cuban and Puerto Rican dishes for her husband and children. And was known to whip up enough to feed an army and show up on her friends door steps with various dishes packed with loving care for them.

The three women shed their coats and tossed them onto the cream and rust coloured striped cushions before pouring themselves into the booth. They each ordered a Mojito and appetizers of empanadas and plantain chips to share while they chatted and browsed the menu. The menus, as always, turned out to be completely useless to them. They always ordered the same thing each time they stopped in for lunch together. Lindsay went with the Coco Cabana Vegetables -caribbean root veggies simmered in coconut milk, haberno pepers and curry- while Sam stuck with the tilapia and black beans and rice and Mari picked the chicken paella.

"So Sheldon was telling me about all the cut backs going on within the department," Mari commented, after their entrees arrived and they were going back and forth between them and what was left of the appetizers.

"Same thing happens every couple of years," Lindsay said, biting into an empanada. "Eight years ago, Adam was on the top of their shit list. That was one disaster that was averted thank God. I don't think that place could possibly function properly without him."

"Hard to believe he went from being Adam the lab tech to Adam the CSI," Mari declared, sipping her drink. "He's definitely come a long way from when I first met him. And from what Sheldon says, he's doing a hell of a job."

"He's making his mark," Sam said. "Everyone loves him. Especially witnesses and victims families. He's just got that huge heart and all that empathy."

"That must be a Ross trait," Mari smiled. "You're both like that."

"I think Adam's a little gentler then I am," Sam commented. "I lost a little bit of that after eight years working in this city. He's only been doing it for a few. I hope that this place doesn't mess him up like it did me."

"Please," Lindsay laughed. "You're the most sensitive and empathetic person I know. You've toughened up a bit emotionally, but not to the point I'd call you cold or anything."

"Exactly," Mari said. "No one is going to call you the female version of Mac Taylor."

The three laughed at that.

"Is there any news of how the cuts are going to affect you guys?" Mari asked.

"We probably won't even get hit," replied Lindsay. "They threaten the lab every time this budget crap goes down and nothing ever comes of it. I think they're just trying to scare Mac into spending less money. Less money but more results. Go figure."

Sam cleared her throat noisily and took a sip of her Mojito.

"You don't think that we're all safe?" Lindsay asked her best friend. "Have you heard something I haven't?"

Samantha sighed. She had wanted to wait until the last possible moment to break the news to her friends. Especially to Lindsay. They'd worked together and solved many a case side by side for almost nine years. They had shared the lowest of the lows and the highest of the highs. Both personally and professionally, and she knew that her departure would hit Lindsay hard. First Stella and now her best friend. And Sam was having a hard enough time herself accepting the fact that that part of her life, as Lindsay's colleague, was coming to an end. The only saving grace was the fact that they were so close outside of the job.

"You do know something," Lindsay said. "What have you heard? Is someone on the chopping block? More than one person? What's going on?"

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she laid her fork and knife on her plate, pushing the half eaten dish away from her. "I was fired," she said simply.

Lindsay's cutlery fell to her plate with a clutter. "Excuse me?" she asked in a weak voice.

"You're joking," Mari said, a forkful of rise poised near her lips. "Tell me you're joking."

"No joke," Sam told them both. "The thirty-first is my last day."

"The thirty-first of December?" Lindsay exclaimed.

Her best friend nodded.

"What the hell…" Mari dropped her fork onto her plate. "When the hell did this happen?"

"About a month ago now," Sam said, twirling her engagement ring around her finger absentmindedly. "Mac called me into the office and told me that the department was cutting back and my name was first on the list."

"But that makes no sense!" Lindsay cried. "There's a lot of people with less seniority! We're unionized! Have you gone to the union and filed a grievance? Because there is no way in hell the department can let you go when there's shit loads of people below you!"

"I talked to a union steward," Sam said. "And he told me it was a fair decision based on my history."

"History?" Mari arched an eyebrow. "What history?"

"The department considers me a liability because of my illness. The union finds it a legit reason that they'd rather be paying another detective to be there doing work, then having to pay me while I'm off sick. And in all fairness, I can see the point."

"That's fucking bullshit!" Lindsay snapped. "Are they going to give you come kind of severance package?"

"I'll be getting a pay out on my pension. It's not much mind you, but it will come in handy. And I get all my vacation pay and what not."

"There's got to be something that we can do!" Lindsay said. "There's got to be someone we can talk to about this! There is no way we can just sit back and let you loose your job because Mac's a…a…a fucking cold hearted asshole!"

"It wasn't Mac's fault," Sam told her. "He was just acting under direct orders from the brass. They just made him do the dirty work. And there's nothing you can do. I appreciate you wanting too, but this is it. It's final. I've accepted it. Don's accepted it. And I actually have another job lined up."

"You do?" Mari asked.

Sam nodded. "Stella's hired me as her lead hand in New Jersey."

Her friends' eyes widened.

"I start on January third," she told them. "I'm going to commute for the time being."

"For the time being?" asked Lindsay. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"We're putting the house on the market," her best friend replied. "We're hoping that it sells quickly. Don's parents are going to take out a second mortgage on their house and help us out with a down payment on something in Hackensack. And once our house here sells, we can pay them back and concentrate on our bills."

"You're moving?" Lindsay looked, and sounded, horrified at the suggestion.

"Don doesn't want me commuting. I told him it wasn't a problem, but you know how protective he gets. So we sat down and talked long and hard about it and we decided it was for the best. For us and for the girls. They'll be going into grade one in September and by then they'll be situated in whatever school is in our new area."

"You're moving?" her best friend asked again, unable to comprehend the news, tears welling in her eyes.

"It's less then fifteen miles each way from midtown to Hackensack," Sam told her. "It's not that far. An easy drive. Just don't do it in rush hour."

"Then if it's so easy why don't you just do the commute?" Lindsay asked.

"Because Don doesn't want me to. I just told you that. And besides, he's leaving the department too."

"He's what?!!" Lindsay shrieked, causing diners at other tables and booths to turn and stare at the three women.

"He's talking to Sinclair today," Sam told her. "Handing in his resignation. He's going to get a job somewhere in New Jersey. Apparently Sinclair has connections so he's hoping the Chief will call in some favours, help him get his foot in the door."

Lindsay set her elbows on the table and put her face in her hands. "No…no…no…this isn't happening…none of this is happening…"

Sam sighed heavily and exchanged a sad smile with Mari.

"Real life sucks," Mari declared.

The petite brunette nodded in agreement.

Mari reached across the table and laid her hand over Sam's, squeezing it lightly. "We're part of each other's lives no matter what," she said. "And you know that whatever happens and wherever you go, you and Don and those girls are my family. You know that, right?"

Sam smiled and nodded and fought back tears.

"It's been an amazing eight years," Mari said. "The things that happened to all of us? Those are things we'll always take with us. No one can take those memories away. And you'll go to New Jersey and make memories there, too."

"It's the best thing for my family," Sam said in a small voice. "Things haven't been the same here for a long time. And Don…he's changed. A lot. As far as the job goes. And I'm afraid if he doesn't get out, something will happen to him. And I couldn't bear that. I just couldn't."

"We do what we have to do for our families," Mari told her. "We do what we have to do for love. Because when everything else falls apart, the two of you will always have that. Love. That and those two amazingly beautiful little girls."

Sam smiled.

"And those girls need both their parents. So you do what you have to do, Sammie. I'm behind you all the way."

"Thank you," Sam said and sniffled noisily. "It's just…it's hard…saying goodbye is so hard…"

"Then don't say it," Mari told her. "Say goodnight but not goodbye. Okay?"

The brunette nodded.

"You know what this calls for?" Mari asked, trying to brighten the mood. "Another drink."

Lindsay sniffled and removed her face from her hands and wiped tears off of her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. "I'm all for that," she said.

Sam wrapped her arm around her best friend's shoulder and kissed Lindsay's cheek. "I can't drink anymore. But I do feel like doing something wild and crazy."

"Like what?" Mari asked. "Massive shopping spree at Bloomingdales or Macy's? Hit up Fifth Avenue? Go to the strippers or AC?"

"They all sound good," Sam replied. "But I was thinking something different. Something that signifies a change in my life. Like alter my look some way."

"Shave your head," Lindsay told her. "Get a ring from one nostril to the other."

"Well not that extreme," Sam laughed. "But…I don't know…does your stylist take walk ins Mari?"

"She will for me," the other woman declared.

"Time for a change," Sam announced. "A big one."


It was shortly before six thirty when Flack found himself trudging up the snow covered front steps of his home. Mentally making plans to shovel them, and the front walk and his portion of the sidewalk, before heading to bed.

He had left the precinct at a quarter to five, but nasty traffic on the Queensboro bridge -thanks to the heavy snow and blustery winds that had descended on the city in the late afternoon - had turned his normally forty five minute drive into a unbelievably long trip. He had called his wife while stuck in what was honestly the worst traffic jam on the bridge he'd ever experienced in his life, and had told her to go ahead without him for supper. That he'd grab something when, and if, he ever managed to get home. She sounded cheerful as she told him about her afternoon out with her friends and about the thing she'd purchased during her shopping excursion. In the background he'd been able to hear the radio in the kitchen playing and the girls laughing and chatting. It brought a smile to his face to hear his family. To know that everyone was at home, safe and sound, enjoying each other's company. The disasters with Holly Hobby -who, Sam said, was slightly discoloured from the pop even after two cycles in the wash- and Kellan calling nine one one -Sinclair had said not to worry about the fine that was usually levied for public mischief. He'd take care of it- were put behind them and life returned to somewhat normal.

He hadn't gone home to put the fear of God into Jasmine and Michael. Instead, he'd called his father and asked him to head over and check on things. The threat Kellan had repeated had obviously worked. According to grandpa Flack, Michael had long hit the road and Jasmine was kissing Kellan's ass big time trying to make things up to her.

Something was going to have to be done about Michael Taylor. What Flack didn't exactly know. The kid had a massive attitude problem and thought he was big and bad. What Flack really wanted to do was beat the shit out of the little prick. He'd had more then one run in with the shit and knew there'd be more.

But he was too damn tired and too damn sore to worry about it that evening. And as he stomped the snow off of his shoes and put his key in the door, all he really wanted to do was get inside. Into the warmth and love of his family.

He let himself into the house and locked the door behind him. Toeing off his shoes and setting them on the rubber mat next to the door, he hung his winter coat up in the hall closet and slipped out of his suit jacket, tossing it over the arm of the sofa as he headed through the empty living room. He could hear the radio in the kitchen and his wife singing along to the song that was playing. Along with the television in the family room and his daughters chatting as they watched their favourite shows and played with their Christmas toys.

Loosening his tie, he undid the top two buttons on his shirt before un-tucking it from his pants and undoing the sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows. The smell of frying onions permeated his senses as he stepped into the kitchen, and was just about to ask what was for dinner when all words escaped him at the sight that greeted him. His wife at the stove, her back towards him, in a pair of jeans that hugged her ass and showed off the womanly curve of her hips and a simple white t-shirt and her bare feet.

And all of her hair gone. Right up to the base of her skull. It was extremely short and choppy at the back, and from what he could see, gradually became longer as it neared the front. The final pieces of the bob just grazing her chin. And mixed in with her usual dark brown, was chunks of blond highlights.

What in the hell…he thought.

"It's awful nice of you to make me dinner lady," he said. "But you're in the wrong house. Can I have my wife back?"

She smirked at him over her shoulder. "Very funny," she said in response. "I stopped by that awesome Polish deli and bakery on Broadway on the way home," she told him, turning back to her cooking. "Picked up a whole bunch of the homemade potato and onion perogies you love so much."

"Was that to make up for your new hairdo or all the money you spent while you were out today?" Flack asked, heading over the fridge. Opening it, he snagged a bottle of Bud and twisted off the cap.

"Don't be so nasty," she replied.

"Nothing nasty about it," he said, taking a swig of the beer and tossing the cap in the garbage under the sink. "Just asking a simple question. Did the girls eat already?"

She nodded. "I made them mac and cheese with chopped up wieners in it. You know how that's one of their favourites. They're just downstairs playing. Dressing the dog up in doll clothes."

"Poor thing is going to be so traumatized," Flack declared, as he pressed a kiss to his wife's cheek before leaning against the counter alongside of the stove. "We're going to have to take him to a doggie shrink."

"I don't know. He doesn't seem to be complaining too much. Maybe he likes wearing girls clothes."

"Reminds me of this case I had once. Did I ever tell you the one about the drag queen that made a move on some guy and he found out she was a he and snapped and drowned her in a public toilet?" he asked.

"About fifteen times," Sam replied with a smile.

"I'm getting as bad as my old man. Telling the same damn stories over and over again."

"Don't worry, honey. When you're old and grey and completely senile, I'll still love you."

"And still be spending my money," he teased and sipped his beer. "You didn't go too overboard did you?"

She shook her head. "We won't be living on the street any time soon if that's what you're asking. How did it go? With Sinclair?"

"A lot better then what I had imagined it would. He took it good. Wish me well. All of that stuff. Thought he was going to kill me when his secretary came in and announced my daughter called nine one one looking for me."

Sam sighed and shook her head. "I don't know why she did that. Both girls know better then that."

"She panicked when something happened to Holly. She told me she forgot about just having to go into our room and press one on the phone to get a hold of me. It happens. Disaster averted. Now we just have to figure out what to do with that little shit Michael. But how about we figure it out tomorrow? My brain just can't take any more crap tonight. Did Lindsay recuperate from you telling her about moving to Jersey?"

"She called about an hour ago. She doesn't sound too happy, but she's dealing with it. She wanted us to know that she called her OB and her OB is going to give her some names and numbers of some fertility specialists that will be able to help us get the ball rolling."

"Sounds good," he said, and took a large swig of beer. "We can back out you know. If you're not sure about it."

"I'm sure about it," she told him. "I'm just…" she sighed. "You know the things I'm worried about."

"Never going to happen, babe. I'm not just going to stop loving you and fall head over heels with Lindsay 'cause she's having my baby. Our baby. I told you. This is a business deal as far as I'm concerned. I don't have any kinds of feelings for her and I'm never going to have them."

"It's just a little…weird," she said, and turned the heat down on the burner under the frying pan.

"It is," he agreed. "But just think about. Sooner it's done, sooner we're going to have another baby. And you got to admit, it's amazing to think about having another baby."

"It's going to be weird going back to middle of the night feedings and changing diapers and all of that. We haven't had to deal with that in five years."

"It's like riding a bike. And think about how excited the girls will be to find out their getting a baby brother or sister. They're going to freak out over that. And you're going to be a mommy again. And you're a great mommy."

She smiled.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Everything's going to work out, Sammie. I promise."

"I know. I'm just a little nervous. I'll be okay once we start moving ahead with things. Now that we've started telling people were leaving, things should start falling into place right? The Realtor left a message and said she could come tomorrow afternoon and look at the house and see what she can list it for and there was a message for you from the Chief of Police in Hackensack."

"Already? What did he say?"

"His name's Robert Milligan. He sounds very nice. He wants you to call him some time tomorrow and make an appointment to come and see him. He was very personable, Donnie. He was asking me about our family and our jobs and all of that."

"Sinclair works quick," Flack said.

"Well maybe he feels he owes you a little something after dumping on you for so many years," his wife reasoned. "I mean you've spent how long at the top of his shit list?"

"Too long," he sighed.

"And you won't believe who else called today."

"I'm almost scared to ask."

"Natalie."

"Gerrard?"

Sam nodded. "It's Natalie Garrett now, remember? It has been for four years.

"I still can't believe she met Reid and married him and they live in San Fran now. What did she say? She and the star reporter are getting along okay?"

Sam nodded. "She called to say that they're coming to town to visit Mac and Kelli and Natalie's mom. Bringing the kids with them."

"It would be nice to see them. They're doing alright?"

"She sounds unbelievably happy. And madly in love."

"Well she deserves a happy ever after. Especially after what she went through. Raped by those two pieces of shit. Her father kills the guy and ends up in prison for the rest of his life? And then she finds out she's pregnant by one of them assholes? I tell you, after I saw her that day with that baby in the lab? If Gerrard hadn't have killed that sonofabitch, I would have went to Sing Sing and sprung him loose just to shoot him between the eyes."

"You've always been sensitive when it comes to women and children. And you've gotten worse since Kellan and Kallison were born."

"I am telling you right now, Sammie. If anyone ever did anything to them. Hurt them in any way?" he shook his head. "So help me God, they'd never know what hit them."

"You're very protective of your girls," she said with a smile and reached out to rub his stomach softly. "You're a great father, Donnie. And they love their daddy. They've been coming up here non stop asking me when you're going to get home. And if you were bringing them anything for a treat."

He closed his eyes. "Shit…I knew I forgot something."

"Lucky for you, I stopped at the store and bought them some popsicles and ice cream. They didn't see them, so you can take them out and tell them they're from you."

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "You're a life saver, babe."

"I just merely keep you in line," she said.

He finished off his beer. "I should go down there and make my presence known," he told her. "But, first thing's first…"

"What's that?"

He reached out and pulled her into his arms.

"I'm cooking here…" she protested.

"Just give me some time here, baby," he said, tightening his hold on her. "Just a little bit of time. Just put your arms around me and give me five minutes. Can you do that?"

She nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest. For several minutes they stood there. Just holding each other. No words exchanged as she listened to his heart beat steadily in his chest.

At last he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and ran his hand over her hair. "You look cute," he told her as he broke away from their embrace.

"You hate it," she said, and moved back to the stove.

"It's not that I hate it," he chose his words carefully. "It's just…different. For eight years you had hair down to your ass nearly. You had beautiful hair. This is a pretty big change is all. But you do look cute, babe."

"I was hoping for something more along the lines of sexy," she sighed.

"You're always sexy," he assured her, running his hand over her hair once more. "I'll get used to it. Just a shock seeing you like that is all. You know how I feel about long hair. What did the girls think?"

"They loved it. Kellan wants her hair cut just like that."

"Never gonna happen. Her hair is staying exactly the way it is. Those girls got amazing hair."

"Unlike mine that now looks like shit," his wife grumbled.

"I never said that. I just said it looks different. You're beautiful no matter what, babe."

She smiled.

Laying a hand on her cheek, Flack turned her face towards him and covered her lips in a long, languid kiss.

"You should go and see your children," she said, after the kiss had ended, her golden eyes sparkling up at him. "They've been dying to see you."

"Everything is going to work out, Sammie," he promised, combing his fingers through her hair. "The move, the new jobs, the new baby. It's all going to work out. You trust me, don't you?"

"When have I haven't trusted you?"

"I can think of a couple times," he said with a heavy sigh.

"That's months ago, Donnie. Let' not talk about that, okay? We got past that and dealt with it. Let's not…"

He silenced her with a kiss. "I fucked up, Sammie. Huge."

"We've both made mistakes," she told him.

"You've never made mistakes that nearly cost you your family."

"Everything worked out," she said. "You're still here and I'm still here and the girls are still here. And things are better then ever now. So please, baby. Let's not talk about this stuff."

He nodded in agreement and pecked her forehead. "Sooner we're out of this city, the sooner all of that can be put behind us for good," he said, as he headed for the basement door.

"It's a new start," she reasoned. "It will be good for all of us."

"Still doesn't permanently erase things," he reminded her, pausing at the top of the steps.

"It will make getting over them a whole lot easier though," she said.

"You know I love you, right? That there was never a time I didn't?"

"Don, why….?"

"Tell me you know that, Sammie."

She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. "I know that," she said.

He gave a small smile and nodded and disappeared down the stairs.

Sam sighed and went back to her cooking. Grinning at the sound of the girls greeting their father in their usual exuberance. Their shrieks of happiness and their incessant giggling and talking filling the entire house. Her husband's deep voice barely audible over the twins' noise.

Sam blinked back tears. It hurt to think about leaving the city that had brought them together. That had given them so many great memories and a few not so great ones. But it had played such a huge part in their lives. They had met there. Two lost souls, not knowing exactly who or what they were looking for, but both knowing that there was something, or someone, out there somewhere for them.

And it may have taken a year to get feelings out and admit what they'd both known all along. That what they had went far beyond friendship. That there was something amazing just dying to get out. And once they had allowed it to, it had been passionate and overwhelming and damn scary at times.

But neither would have changed it for the world.


Thanks to all of those who are reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you!! Even the lurkers. But please R and R folks. I love hearing from you guys!

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