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

THE LAST SECTION OF THIS CHAP GOES OUT TO ALL MY DL GALZ

AND PLEASE READ THE LYRICS. IF THAT ISN'T SAM AND FLACK AND DL, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS


Not so new faces in the same old places

"You touch these tired eyes of mine
And map my face out line by line
And somehow growing old feels fine
I listen close for I'm not smart
You wrap you thoughts in works of art
And they're hanging on the walls of my heart
I may not have the softest touch
I may not say the words as such
And though I may not look like much
I'm yours
And though my edges may be rough
And never feel I'm quite enough
It may not seem like very much
But I'm yours."
-I'm Yours, The Script


"Might as well be working by torch light," Danny complained, as he slowly and methodically scoured every possible inch of gravel surrounding the body, and within two hundred yards either direction. A field tech following his every move, evidence markers in one hand and a lantern style flashlight in the other.

Despite the transportation authority turning on all emergency lighting within the subway tunnel, it had done little more then illuminate the cavern in a dull, eerie glow.

"Hopefully the ME's office will get here soon," Sam said, from her position crouched by the body as she snapped photographs. "I'm freezing."

Danny chuckled.

"What, Messer?" she asked with an exasperated sigh. "What now?"

"You talking about being cold and shivering and quivering there. Made me think back to this case I had winter before you arrived. Dead guy in his undies in the middle of Central Park with a shopping cart next to him. Your brother, I think it was one of his first times out in the cold, he was shaking like a leaf and had this huge grimace on his face and his shoulders all hunched up like he was trying to keep warm. Told him to stop shivering like a girl. Then I called him a cupcake. Not out loud of course."

"Adam was twelve when we moved to Arizona, I was sixteen," Sam reminded her friend. "Trust me, it didn't take long for us to warm up to the winters there. No pun intended."

"Ever wish you were back there?" Danny asked, kicking at gravel and dirt with the toe of his boot. "When you're freezing that little ass off in situations like this? Does that every make you wish you were back there, kicking back in a bikini and drinking some concoction with an umbrella in it?"

"First, it was Phoenix. Not a beach in Tahiti. And it's hard liquor. How many times do I have to say this? Second, you're nuts if you think I'd walk around in a bikini. And third, little ass? Apparently you haven't looked at my rear view in the past year."

"Oh I've looked," Danny commented. "More than once."

"That's sexual harassment," Sam said.

"Okay, Aiden…" Danny snickered.

"Please tell me you just didn't call me by your dead friend's name," Sam sighed. "That's either a massive insult to her or a ….I don't know what it is."

"You just made me think of her just then. She said those exact same words to me once when we had all these sex toys in the lab and I wanted her to give the Robo-spanker a try."

Sam arched her eyebrows. "The what?"

"Long story," Danny said. "What's the news on our friend there?"

"The news is that he has no I.D on him. At all. The only things I've found in his pockets are a Metro Card, five bucks in change, and someone else's wallet."

"So we've got a girl's Ipod and a stranger's wallet," Danny recapped. "Lifted both things off of people waiting on the platform, maybe?"

"Maybe," Sam shrugged. "And without actually laying a finger on the body, I can tell you that there doesn't look to be any other injuries. Just the bullet hole in his head and half of his brains and shards of skull all over the place."

"So why would his partner turn on him in the tunnel?" Danny asked. "Your boy there shoots someone on the platform, they jump on to the tracks and take off down here and his buddy turns the tables on him. Why?"

Sam shrugged once more and snagged three plastic evidence bags from her kit, depositing the wallet, the change and the Metro Card into their own pouches before sealing them tightly. Taking a black Sharpie marker from the kit open next to her, she placed it between her teeth and yanked off the cap before scrawling her initials. Consulting her watch, she added the time on the labels on the bags as well.

"What I don't get is how they didn't get hit by a train," Danny said. "I mean, it would take a few minutes to get the operators to shut everything down. Trains are going in and out of here like crazy. How in the hell did they not get creamed?"

"Blind, dumb luck is my guess," Flack commented, as he caught the end of Danny's observation as he journeyed back down the tunnel towards the others with a uniform next to him.

"Where the hell have you been?" Danny asked. "When you said you were going down yonder to follow the yellow brick road, I didn't think you were going on a lunch break. You at least bring back coffee for the rest of us?"

"You're a comedian," the detective snorted. "Okay, so here's the good news and the not so good news. Which do you two want first?"

"The not so good news," responded Danny. "That way there's something following that will cheer me up."

"The bad news is that those boot tracks you spotted earlier? They go down about four hundred yards and then take a sharp left and disappear."

"Fantastic," Danny sighed. "What's the good news?"

"The good news is that the only place he could have possibly gone was either through an emergency escape door that's used by the subway maintenance guys, or up onto the 88th street platform."

"Two separate directions," Danny concluded.

"I've currently got a K9 unit going through that escape route and seeing if the dog can pick up a scent. If our guy went that way," Flack said.

"And what about the platform?" Sam asked.

"I've sent some of my guys over there now to check for witnesses and confiscate the surveillance tapes. Unfortunately…"

"There just had to be an unfortunately…" Danny grumbled.

"Unfortunately surveillance is limited at that station because it's under renovation," Flack continued. "It hasn't been closed to the public, but it's seeing only a quarter of it's regular business. And surveillance there is minimal at best. So even if he did go that way…"

"We might not see it," Danny finished.

"What's going on with him?" Flack asked, nodding down at the body.

"Uh…he's dead?" Sam replied, stating the obvious.

"What is it? Mac likes hiring smart ass Brooklyn girls or something?" the detective asked. "Seriously though. Give me something. Anything."

"He was shot in the head and that's all I know for sure," his girlfriend responded. "The size of the entrance wound and the damage down suggests it's a medium calibre weapon. There's a slight muzzle stamp around the entrance wound, along with these indents in the gravel…" she touched a spot on either side of the victim's torso where the gravel and dirt had been disturbed. "…show that the shooter kneeled over him and put the gun to his forehead and pulled the trigger."

"What about the bullet?" Flack asked. "Can you look at it and tell what calibre it is?"

"Come on, Brooklyn," Danny cajoled. "You're the ballistics bitch."

"Sorry gentleman, even I can't make out what this…" she plucked a small evidence bag from her kit and held it up. "…is. Now get me back to the lab under proper lighting and with the proper equipment and hopefully I'll be able to do something with it. I'm not making any promises. It's pretty damaged. Almost completely mushroomed."

"You just know how to ruin my mood," Flack teased, using the beam from the flashlight from the young uniform beside him to see as he jotted everything down in his log book. "So I've got surveillance tapes from both the eighty-eighth station and the eighty-seventh in the works and I'll have them sent to Adam as soon as possible. And you've got that Ipod so you'll probably be able to get the owner's name off of it."

"If it's registered," Danny said. "If. I've never registered mine and I've had it for over a year. Brooklyn also found a man's wallet and a Metro Card."

Sam scooped both items from her kit and held them out to Flack. "The wallet is not his," she said. "I went through it and all the ID and credit cards and what not belong to a Frank James. A graphic designer over on East 118th."

"And the Metro Card?" Flack asked, turning the items over in his hands.

"No signature on the back," she replied. "But I never sign my from month to month either so that's no huge surprise."

"I'll get in touch with this Frank James," Flack said. "See if he can tell me anything about the guy who stole his wallet. If he even knows it's missing. It could have just happened while he was waiting for the train. I'll go and see if anyone that is still lingering around matches this James' guy's ID."

"Yeah, go and make yourself useful for once," Danny said. "About damn time."

"You two find anything else out, give me a shout," Flack told them, bending down and dropping the wallet and the Metro Card back in Sam's kit before laying his hand on her back and letting it linger there for several seconds before he stood back up. "I'll keep you guys posted about K9 and all that."

"You do that," Danny called to his best friend as he watched the detective head down the tracks to their original place of origin. He looked down at Sam, a smirk on his face as he caught her intently watching her boyfriend as he departed.

"What?" Sam asked, as Flack finally disappeared from view and she felt Danny's eyes on her.

"You two make me sick," he declared.

"Like you don't bat your pretty blue eyes at Lindsay all the time," Sam commented. Then grinned and added. "Daddy."

"Shut up about that already, would ya?" Danny huffed. "You know nothing."

"I know enough. I know that unless Lindsay has a really bizarre case of stomach flu that makes you gain weight and your boobs to swell and hurt, you're going to be changing shitty diapers before you know it."

"Quiet," Danny ordered.

"Guess that condom spray didn't work, huh?" Sam teased.

"How do you know about that?" her friend asked, as he crouched down to exam a series of gravitational blood drops along the track. "You weren't even around then."

"Word travels," Sam replied as she stood up. She yawned loudly and stretched. "I know as soon as I heard about it you were heading for certain doom. I mean think about it. How could that possibly work? You must have sat back at least once and thought about where the stuff was going when you…"

"We never used the stuff," Danny informed her. "It was just too weird. I wasn't spraying anything on my Johnson. What if it turned it orange or something?"

"Well look at it this way," Sam said. "You could have went out naked on Halloween and claimed it was your costume. You know those guys that stand on the aircraft carriers? Waving the planes in and out? You could have been one of those light up things they're waving around. A walking, talking one."

"You're disturbed. You know that? Seriously disturbed."

"Or you could have claimed someone stuck an orange popsicle to your…"

"We've got some gravitation blood drops here," Danny informed Sam as he reached into her kit and snagged a DNA swab. "Not consistent with high velocity blood splatter. More like someone was standing over the tracks with a bloody nose or something of the sort. I can guarantee it that it does not belong to our friend here."

"Could belong to a rat or something," Sam commented, watching as Danny swiped the tip of the swab through one of the small drops of blood. "I bet there's a lot of them getting hit down here."

"Well set out some cheese and some traps and you can take a couple home as pets," he teased, reaching for a plastic test kit that resembled a home pregnancy test and dabbing the bloody end of the swab in the middle of it. "It's human," he announced after several seconds. "Maybe they got into a tousle and he punched the shooter out before he got iced. You notice anything on the body? Injuries from a fight? Anything like that?"

"I'd have to actually touch the body to find that out. And the last time we touched a body before Sid, Mac had both of our asses for supper."

"You touched his head to look for a bullet."

"The bullet was necessary evidence," she argued.

"Don't be such a damn baby," Danny complained and picked up the victim's left hand. Examining by the beam cast from the flashlight, he frowned and set the dead man's arm back down before moving to the right hand. "Guy's a rightie," he announced. "He's been in a dust up with someone. He's got fight bite and everything."

"Well I guess we'll have to tell Sid or whoever does the autopsy to swab that," Sam said. "In the meantime, let's…"


"Can anyone join this party?" a voice called out from down the tracks.

Danny glanced up, a smile spreading from ear to ear at the sound of the familiar voice. And the long missed face. Followed by two ME's assistants, one carrying a body bag, the examiner in question had seemingly dropped off of the face of the earth more than three years ago. He was close to six feet and athletically built. His thick, wavy dark hair was cropped close to his head and he wore a Giants winter jacket over his over medical examiner's garb.

"What's going on here?" Danny asked as he stood up. "Am I being visited by the ghost of ME's past?"

"This is no This Is Your Life Danny Messer," the young man joked. "It's me. In the flesh. Alive and kicking."

"How the hell have you been, Pino?" Danny asked, as the two men exchanged friendly embraces.

"I've been pretty damn good. Just got back from San Francisco about a month ago. Dabbled for a few years in cosmetic surgery. And let me tell you, in San Fran, there's always an abundance of rich and lonely house wives looking to spruce up their girls, or wannabe starlets going all Jenna Jameson on their twins."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Using terms like their girls and the twins shows you that some doctors really are just perverts with medical licenses."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Marty Pino's mouth. "Whose your friend Messer?"

"This is Brooklyn," Danny introduced. "She started here in the early summer of '07. Brooklyn, this is Marty Pino. Used to be an ME here. Apparently, he's come back to grace us with his presence."

"Well isn't that just so kind and thoughtful of you," Sam said, giving a sugary sweet smile.

"Brooklyn, huh?" Pino asked, as he eyed her from head to toe. "Unusual. Or is it that you were born there and your parents couldn't be more creative?"

She smirked. "Harsh words coming from a guy using frat boy terms for breasts and walking around in a Giants jersey when they didn't even make the playoffs this season. Didn't they lose to the underdogs or something? Went from Super Bowl Champs to super chumps in the blink of the eye."

"Let me guess, you're a baseball fan," Pino commented. "Something more gentle for little folk like you."

"Brooklyn can actually break you in half, Pino," Danny snickered. "So don't tempt her, a'right? So when did you come back?"

"This is my first shift back with the dark side," the ME said, as he pulled a pair of latex gloves from the pockets of his jeans and snapping them on his hands. Pulling a pen light from his jacket pocket, he switched it on as he crouched down next to the body. "So I went up to the lab to see who was hanging around," he commented, as he began his examination of the deceased. "Guess you were all out in the field already. Only person I saw was that massively geeky lab tech who started there just before I left."

Danny's eyes widened.

"Oh do tell who that is," Sam pleaded excitedly. "I love good gossip!"

"Just this lab tech," Pino told her. "Works a lot in AV. Guess he's some kind of computer junkie or something. Nice enough guy and all that. Just a little too nerdy for my liking, you know?"

Sam nodded. "Oh I know the type you like. Trust me. Let me take a wild guess. The hard drinking, man's man type who can burp the National Anthem and scratch their crotch in twelve different positions without taking their other hand off the remote. That type right?"

"What's the word on our vic there?" Danny asked Pino, anxious to change the subject.

"I happen to be a little more selective then that," the ME told Sam. "And this Adam Ross guy, he just…"

"Adam Ross?" Sam cocked her head to the side. "Oh yeah…Adam Ross. Wavy, almost out of control hair, beard, aquamarine eyes? Smarter than your average bear. I know him. Very well. I don't find him that bad. He's actually pretty cool to be around."

"So you're a sci-fi and Second Life geek too?" Pino chuckled. "Wouldn't know looking at ya, that's for sure."

"I'm not into that kind of thing," she said. "And silly Danny Messer," she slapped Danny's arm. "You really should have introduced us better. Brooklyn is just some nickname Danny's invented for me. I quite like it. But my real name is Samantha. Samantha Ross."

Pino looked up at her. Unblinking and unmoving.

"As in Adam Ross' older sister," Danny informed him. "Moron."

"Are you sure?" Pino asked.

"Am I sure I'm Adam's older sister?" Sam asked. "Yeah…I am pretty damn sure. Considering I remember my mother both being pregnant and then bringing him home one day as a newborn. And before you ask, I am aware we look nothing alike. We're as different as night and day. Appearance wise."

"They're definitely both Ross' once you get to know her better," Danny commented. "Now can you stow the art of putting your foot in your mouth and tell us what the deal is with our vic?"

Pino nodded and flicked off his pen light and stood up. "He's dead," he said simply.

Sam gave a shocked gasp. "You're shitting me!"

Danny coughed noisily and attempted to hide his amused smirk. "Come on, Pino. Give us a little more than that. It's quite obvious he's dead. There's only brain matter all over the place here and seeing as he's without a pulse…"

"You know the rules, Messer," Pino said as he stood up and motioned for one of his assistants to hand him the clipboard and pen in their hands. "ME has to rule the victim deceased. Neither of you are qualified to call it."

"Well couldn't you have at least hauled ass over here a little quicker?" Danny asked. "Can't remember your way around the city, buy a GPS system."

"Christopher Columbus didn't need directions and neither do I," Pino told the CSI, as he signed off on the victim and instructed his workers to bag the vic up. "And under these conditions, I can't do a proper examination of the body to give you anymore information. You'll both just have to wait until we're back at the ME's office."

"No offense," Sam said, tearing off her latex gloves. Balling them up tightly, she tossed them into her kit before bending down to snap if closed. "But having an ME come all this way to state the obvious is plain ridiculous."

"Well take that up with the NYPD," Pino told her. "Either that or get an MD and then you can go around calling deaths all to your little heart's content."

"You're so charming," Sam said sarcastically. "I'm going to head back to the Avalanche, Danny."

"I'll catch up," her friend told her. "Watch out for the rats. No capturing one and taking it back with you, a'right?"

"I'm not making any promises," she said, and headed off down the track. "It was nice to meet you Marty."

"It's Pino," he called to her.

"Not to me it isn't," she responded.

"She doesn't do the whole last name thing," Danny explained. "Says it too impersonal."

Pino nodded as he intently watched her go. "Wouldn't mind getting personal with the likes of her. She's nice."

"I know the meaning in way you say the word nice," Danny said. "And if you know what's good for you, that's one girl you'd keep your distance from. You hear me? She's like a little sister to me and I won't tolerate you pulling any of your womanizer shit with her. Kapish?"

"You sleeping with her?" Pino asked curiously. "Is that why you're so defensive?"

"She happens to be my fiancee's best friend."

"I heard that you're getting hitched to Lindsay. Good for you. She's cute. Doesn't mean you can't be banging the best friend though."

"You know what?" Danny snorted and began packing his kit up. "I am not even going to dignify that with a response."

"So does the new girl have a boyfriend?" Pino asked. "Girlfriend, even?"

"Boyfriend," Danny replied. "A big and mean one at that. So if you like your arms and your legs attached to your body…"

"Come on? Everyone likes a little competition. It will make him feel like more of a man to know he has to fight for his girl's affections."

Danny smirked and snapped his kit closed and stood up. "He'll tear you a new asshole twice over, Pino. Trust me. And besides, you'll tap anything once and she's not into that kind of thing. So go and find someone that is."

"Think Lindsay would be up to a cup of coffee or some dinner?" Pino asked.

Danny grinned and shook his head. "You're lucky I know you're joking. At least you better hope you're joking."

"Hey, even I practice the art of never poaching from a friend. I'll get the DB back to the office and page you guys when I have something more definite."

"Try and make that some time today, alright? I know your propensity for having a thumb stuck up your ass. Permanently."

"Did I tell you how much I missed the clever Messer wit and your boyish charm?" Pino asked.

"I'm not available either," Danny said, and gave a playful wink before heading down the subway track.

Marty Pino smirked and turned back to the paper work in hand.

It was damn good to be back.


"Don't shoot!| Flack called out, as he yanked the door open to the ballistics lab, where his girlfriend was currently hunkered over a high powered microscope, protective goggles pushed up onto the top of her head and a wide arrangement of handguns laid out on the table. A corresponding test fired bullet sitting next to each one. Everything carefully and expertly marked and catalogued.

"Is there a reason you might be scared that I may shoot you?" she asked with a smile, her golden brown eyes sparkling playfully. "Did you forget an important event? Like an anniversary or something like that?"

"I was smart. I circled Valentines Day on every possible calendar and put it in my planner in my cell phone. Nothing is going to get passed me. How goes it with the bullets?"

"Well," she sighed. "It goes."

"That does not sound at all promising."

"Actually, the bullet that I recovered at the scene? The one responsible for obliterating our vic's brains? I was actually able to get a fairly decent look at it. It's a nine millimetre. The only problem is, that's the most widely used and popular bullet out there, so it's been somewhat slow going identifying the possible weapon it could have come from. So far I've tested a .38 Special, a .357 Magnum and a .35 Remington. But none of those striations match the one I found."

"I am so glad that it's your job to figure this stuff out and not mine. A gun's a gun as far as I'm concerned. They all kill people."

"Guns technically do not kill people," Sam said. "It's the people with the guns that kill other people. And if you think about it, a knife is a far superior weapon. It never jams, never misfires and you never run out of ammo."

"I am not getting into a debate on gun control with a girl that gets her kicks out of reading Soldier of Fortune magazine," he teased, reaching out to rub her back lightly. It was the farthest either of them would go, public display of affection wise at work. "So what's this bullet you're looking at now."

"Well this one here," she pointed to the nearly decimated projectile to the left. "Is the one from the scene. And this one here," she gestured to the bullet on the right. "Is the one I just test fired from a a .380 ACP."

"An automatic Colt pistol," Flack said with a nod. "Also known as a the nine millimetre short, nine millimetre Browning, nine millimetre Corto…"

"Or the less known, nine by seventeen millimetre," she finished, and giving a grin, elbowed him in the stomach playfully. "You've been hanging around me way too much."

"I figure it's a damn decent way to spend my free time," he said, grinning as well and fighting off the urge to kiss her right there and then. "So did the bullet come from that type of gun or what?"

"Patience, my dear. Patience," she sighed, and hit a button on the computer hooked up to the microscopes. "This will take a few minutes."

"Any news from autopsy?"

Sam shook her head. "Things are a bit backed up down there. But I do have some information of what did and did not kill both victims."

Flack arched an eyebrow.

"The bullet that killed our victim? Did not come from the same gun that fired the bullet that killed Aaron Clarke. This…" she moved along the table and scooped up a small evidence bag holding the bullet and a glossy coloured picture of a close up of the projectile. "…is a ten millimetre. A hallow point. From a .45 Automatic Colt Pistol."

"Those are pretty rare, aren't they?"

"The bullets, no. But the actual handgun that the striations matched? It's an antique. Browning first designed them and introduced them circa 1909. The US Army brought them in as their official side arm in 1911. It was retired from service in the thirties when the more popular nine millimetre handguns came out. So the only people who would own something like that would be an avid collector. I looked it up on the 'net? One of these in perfect condition? Worth over ten grand."

Flack gave a low whistle. "You know…you know way too much about guns and ammo for a girl."

"Really?" she asked, pulling off her latex gloves and discarding them before helping herself to a handful of sour candy from an open tub on the work station behind her. "I thought it did something for you when I went all Rambo chick."

"It does," he responded. "You have no idea what it actually does do to me. But seeing as we're finally getting the ball rolling on this case, now is not the best time to suggest meeting in the nearest supply closet."

"Too bad," she sighed and popped a cherry flavoured candy into her mouth. She held out her hand in offering.

Flack shook his head and instead helped himself to a sip from the hot beverage sitting next to the tub of candy. "How in the hell do you drink this crap?" he asked with a grimace.

"It's Earl Grey tea," she said.

"I know what it is. How you stomach it remains a mystery to me. So if this gun is rare…"

"It may be easy to track," she concluded. "I've got Adam checking all gun licenses in the five boroughs, cross referenced with the type of gun to see if an owner pops up. Chances are, not too many people own that exact weapon."

"That's if they bothered to get a license," Flack said.

"Most collectors get licensed. So they don't have the ATF come down on their asses and seize their entire collection. We're talking hundreds of thousands of dollars tied up in weapons. People who have spent that kind of cash, don't want to lose it."

"I am so buying you a year subscription to Guns and Ammo for your birthday," he teased.

She smiled and bumped his hip playfully with hers before popping another candy into her mouth. Wincing as the tartness caught her off guard. "How about the surveillance tapes?" she asked.

"The footage was grainy at best at the original station. We weren't able to make out their faces, but we were able to verify the witnesses' accounts that our dead guy in the tunnel killed Aaron Clark, and that he and the other perp did jump off the platform and take off down the tracks and the unknown girl did take off up the stairs. So technically, Aaron Clark's murder was open and shut."

"And what about the emergency exit stairwell or the other platform?"

"K9 picked up no scent in the stairwell and the cameras on the platform down yonder weren't operational at the time."

"Go figure," Sam snorted.

"So you still going to that party tonight or what?" Flack asked, pulling up a stool and taking a seat.

"Are you just paying me a social visit?" she inquired.

"I figure I can do case work and socialize with you. Kill two birds with one stone. Get the best of both worlds. Have my cake and eat it too. So are you…"

"Why?" she asked. "Are you anxious to get rid of me for the night?"

"No," Flack replied, reaching onto her work station and helping himself to a case file. He held it up.

"That is yours," she confirmed. The computer behind her beeped noisily and she wheeled around to read the results. "Fucking A!" she cried when the words Positive Match appeared on the screen. Boom!"

"Boom?" Flack smirked. "Is that the female Danny Messer in you dying to come out?"

"He's rubbing off on me. I could so kiss you right now out of sheer happiness."

He grinned. And blushed slightly. "So this party thing, I was just thinking that if you were still going and I managed to actually get my work done sometime tonight, I'd head out to Sullivan's with Scagnetti and Danny and some of my guys."

"You know, Don, I am capable of spending some nights by myself," she said. "You are allowed to have friends."

"I know. I was just checking to see if you were still going. 'Cause I really like spending my nights with you. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Of course not. But if you want to go out with the guys, feel free. I'm not the clingy, possessive type that says you can't have buddies."

"So then are you going or not?"

"Actually, it was cancelled. Well, postponed. Until a later date because of the weather."

Flack nodded slowly. "So in that case I was thinking maybe get some Chinese or Thai take out? Rent a movie. Light some candles, have some wine. Sound like an idea?"

"Did you not just hear the part where I said it's okay to go out with the guys?" she asked, stepping up to the work station alongside of his stool. Standing close enough to him that their arms touched and he could breathe in the scent of her J. Lo perfume.

"I did. And did you not hear the part where I said I liked spending my nights with you?"

She smiled.

"So that sounds okay? Sounds like a good plan?"

"How come you're being Mr Romance tonight? Valentine's Day is tomorrow."

"I know. Maybe I just feel like being a nice guy for once. Are you going to take me up on it or not? Some take out, some alcohol, some candles. What more could you want?"

"I just may be tempted to take you up on it and if there's one more thing in store for me."

"Yeah? And what would that be?" he asked, leaning back against the table behind him, placing his elbows on the surface.

"Oh I don't know," she said, then lowered her voice as she leaned in close. "Does hot sex come with all that other stuff?" she asked.

He grinned broadly, the dimples in cheeks standing out. "It can," he replied. "Will you wear that slutty Tinkerbell get up again?"

"Just for you," she whispered.

"I so want to kiss you right now," Flack declared.

"I dare you," Sam challenged. "People would shit themselves."

"No one is even around at the moment," he said.

"Well why the hesitation then?" she asked.

He bit his lip as he considered his options, then laid a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her down gently towards him. Their warmth breath caressing each other's faces, their eyes locked on each other, the tips of their noses touching and their lips faintly touching.

A loud knock came to the door of the ballistics lab. Sam jumped back, startled, while Flack casually glanced over his shoulder to find Kendall Novak -or Lab Tech Barbie as he fondly referred to her as- standing in the doorway, a massive smirk on her face.

"Seeing as I just interrupted something," the young woman said. "Would the two of you like a few minutes alone to continue with what you were doing?"

"What do you want, Kendall?" Sam asked irritably, reaching around to the back of her neck to remove Flack's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go.

She couldn't stand Kendall. When Adam had finally admitted to Sam that he'd been seeing Kendall for some time, she'd initially been stunned, and then had asked him what in the hell he was thinking getting himself mixed up with someone so shallow and superficial. Thankfully, their relationship hadn't lasted long. But Kendall's incessant put downs of Adam and her immature bullshit continued.

"Oh don't let me intrude," she replied. "Go on with what you were doing. I'm all for voyeurism."

"What do you want Kendall?" Flack asked with an aggravated sigh.

"Danny asked me to bring you this," the lab tech replied, holding a loft a sheet of computer paper as she entered the room. "Results from the Ipod you found earlier today."

"Thank you," Sam said and snatched the paper from the other woman's hands. "Two sets of prints," she read. "One belonging to our second and as of yet unknown vic, and the other also an unknown. But he's tracked down the original owner. A Melissa Markus. She didn't record a phone number when she signed up her Ipod, but she did give a place of employment. And you would not believe where it is."

"Nothing could possibly surprise me anymore," Flack said.

"Remember that high end doll shop we visited during the Ann Steele case?"

"The life like rubber ones?" Flack asked, a slow grin spreading across his face.

"You've already corrected Danny on that. They're latex, Donnie. Latex."

Kendall arched her eyebrows at the the sound of Samantha Ross calling Detective Flack anything else other then the usual Flack that everyone around there called him. She had had no idea that they'd been involved in anything other than a professional relationship. So the near kiss she'd walked in on and now the use of a term of affection were real eye openers.

"Now that you're done here you feel like going for a ride?" he asked, as he slid off the stool.

"Give me a few to lock away my evidence and update Mac on what I found?" Sam inquired in response.

He nodded. "I'll wait down in the employee lounge," he told her. "Kendall," he said, giving the lab tech a polite smile as he headed for the door.

"Detective Flack," she said in response, eyeing his rear view as he walked towards the door and then disappeared into the hallway. Sighing, she turned back to the tiny brunette in front of her. Whose eyes were narrowed and locked on her. "What?" Kendall asked innocently.

"Try sticking to men that are available," Samantha told her. "You've got this uncanny ability of poaching other peoples' guys."

"Well if the guys are happy where they are, they wouldn't be so willing to be poached, would they?"

Sam rolled her eyes and set the paper from Danny down on the work station before attending to her evidence.

"So you and Detective Flack, huh?" Kendall asked, as she took a seat on the stool Flack had vacated and helped herself to a handful of sour candy.

"It appears that way," Sam replied, as she slipped into a fresh pair of latex gloves and finished cataloguing her work before returning the various hand guns to the weapons and ammunition locker and securing it tightly.

She re-bagged her evidence and placed it inside of an evidence storage safe that could only be accessed through a five digit security code and a finger print of an employee given privileges to work inside of the ballistics lab. In the past there'd been too many cases of disgruntled and jealous workers going into the old lockers and messing around with someone else's evidence. Mac had done the right thing by spending the money to have security improved in the lab. Even if the brass didn't agree with it.

"So how long has that been going on for?" the lab tech asked curiously.

"Long enough," Sam replied.

"Why are you so invasive? You act like it's something to be ashamed about. If I was hooked up with someone like him…"

"Well you're not," Sam told her with a heavy sigh. "And you never will be."

"No reason to get so nasty. I'm no threat, I assure you. And even if I was…"

"Look, Kendall!" Sam snapped, yanking off her gloves and tossing them into the trash. "We're not friends, okay? We never will be friends. So I'm not discussing my personal life with you. All you need to know is that yes, Don…Detective Flack and I are together. Very together. And I'd appreciate it if you'd lay off of him."

"I'm not going to steal your boyfriend," Kendall promised. "And even if I did, what would you do? Beat me up?"

"Oh grow up," Sam grumbled as she snapped the lid onto the container of candy and gathered up both it and her cup of tea. "Just do me a favour and stay away from him and out of my life. Okay?"

"Why are you so nasty with me all the time?" Kendall asked. "Since the day you started here you've been this rude little bitch to me."

"Oh I don't know, Kendall. Maybe it's because I don't like you."

"There must be some reason why."

"Got a pen? It's a long list. And maybe writing shit down will help you improve your personality," Sam snarled. "We can't all be universally loved. As nice as that would be. I just don't like you. I don't like the way you walk around here like you're shit doesn't stink. Like we're all specks on the bottom of your shoe even though you're the lowly lab tech. And I'm tired of you talking about my brother behind his back. Adam's a decent, wonderful guy. Probably the best you've ever had."

Kendall snorted. "I beg to differ with that."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "You don't even deserve my brother. He's got too big of heart. Too much compassion and integrity to be stuck with the likes of you."

"Funny," Kendall said. "I was going to say the same about Detective Flack. Someone should warn him about you. About the Ross' in general. All the massive baggage that you two carry around with you. Someone really needs to ask him if he really knows what he's gotten into it. And if he really feels like dealing with your crap."

Sam smirked and shook her head. "You're pathetic, you know that?" she asked, as she headed for the door. "A real pathetic bitch."

"Well you know what they say," Kendall sighed. "It takes one to know one."

Sam glared at the tall blond over her shoulder before storming out of the ballistics lab.

Kendall gave a satisfied smirk.

Novak 2, Ross' 0.


Lindsay paused in the doorway of the trace lab. One hand resting lightly on her stomach while the other clutched a scarlet red envelope as she watched Danny working intently on the subway track victim's clothes laid out in front of him. His brow furrowed in concentration as he plucked samples off of fabric with plastic tweezers and prepared them for GC/MS testing.

The suspense was killing her. She'd been dying to spring her early Valentine's Day surprise on him since she'd arrived at work from the doctor's shortly before ten. She had been already to exceute her well thought out plan when he was called away for the shooting at the subway station. And since he'd returned, he'd been running around the lab like a chicken with its head cut off, attempting to make a dent in the work.

And now that he seemed to be somewhat in a groove, she had decided now was never.

"Take a picture, Montana," Danny drawled, not looking up from his work. "It lasts longer."

"Sorry," she said as she slowly entered the lab. "I was a bit lost in thought for a second. I was just on my way down to check on some results for mine and Mac's Central Park stabbing. But I wanted to stop by and say hi first."

Danny looked up from his evidence gathering and smiled brightly at her. "Hi," he said simply.

She returned the smile and slid in behind the table beside him. "Your vic's clothes?"

Danny nodded. "Looking for anything and everything that may tell me who he was with when he was shot."

"Find anything?"

"So far, nada. And the hair I did find didn't match his and it didn't have any skin tags for me to run for DNA. Save for pulling that name and location off of that Ipod, we haven't gotten very far on this case."

"I just ran into Sammie going into see Mac," Lindsay told him. "She said that she was able to confirm that two separate guns killed each victim. And that she was able to correctly match the bullets to the corresponding weapons. She was on her way to brief him before heading to that doll shop with Flack. I really hope he keeps those hideous pick up lines to himself this time."

"Guy has absolutely no game," Danny declared. "How he managed to score someone like Brooklyn I will never know."

"I am pretty sure his pretty blue eyes had something to do with it," Lindsay laughed. "I won't tell you the other more personal stuff she told me."

"Yeah…keep that stuff to yourself."

"Anyway, I have to hurry along before Mac wonders if I dropped off the face of the earth. I just wanted to drop something off with you first."

"Some kind of surprise?" he asked, his eyes sparkling as he teased her. "A love note?"

"Just a little something," Lindsay replied and sat the card down on his work station. "I'll see you in a little while," she said and kissed his cheek.

"Valentine's Day isn't until tomorrow!" Danny called after her.

Lindsay didn't respond as she stepped out into the hall and disappeared from sight.

"Let's see what this is all about," Danny said quietly, as he set down his tweezers and picked up the card stepped away from his work.

Tearing into the enveloped, he pulled out a card that boasted a cartoon panda bear -obviously a guy with his Fedora hat and his tie- holding a much smaller Panda bear in his arms. The two of them smiling as they embraced tightly. It wasn't the picture that caught his attention, it was the words above it written in red sparkles.

Happy Valentine's Day to my Daddy

What in the hell, Montana, Danny thought, as he opened the card. What are you…

All rational thought ceased to exist as a small photograph tumbled face down on the ground. Danny bent down to retrieve it, his heart hammering in his chest and tears threatening in his eyes at what now lay face up in his trembling hand.

An ultrasound picture. With that day's date and the time at the moment it was taken 9:13 am on the top right corner. On the bottom left, the words that almost caused him to break down there and then.

BABY MESSER.


Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreicate each and every one of you! Even all of you lurkers. But please, please, please R and R folks. Makes my day!

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