DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA ROSS
A/N: THANKS FOR ALL OF THE WELL WISHES FOR MY SON! HE'S STILL STRUGGLING TO GET BETTER, BUT HE'S GETTING THERE!
One on one
"There's some things we don't talk about
Rather do without
And just hold the smile
Falling in and out of love
Ashamed and proud of
Together all the while
You can never say never
Why we don't know when
Time and time again
Younger now than we were before
Picture you're the queen of everything
As far as the eye can see
Under your command
I will be your guardian
When all is crumbling
Steady your hand."
-Never Say Never, The Fray
"Danny!" Lindsay called out to her boyfriend, as she spotted him rushing out of the trace lab, a determination and annoyance written all over his face, tests results clutched in one hand, a file folder in the other.
He stopped in his tracks and offered a tense smile as she hurried to catch up to him. "What's up, Montana?" he asked.
"What's up?" she responded, a perplexed look on her face. "What do you mean what's up? You must have opened the card I gave you by now. And all you can say the first time you see me after dropping a bomb like that is, What's up, Montana? I thought you'd react a little differently to finding out we're having a baby."
"Oh that," Danny said with a heavy sigh and turned abruptly on his heel and walked away swiftly.
"Oh that?" Lindsay fumed, her heart nearly shattering at his blatant indifference to what should have been the most amazing news he'd ever received. His disregard for her and their unborn child was shocking to say the least. She hadn't expected him to jump for joy and shower her with kisses and affection in the middle of the lab, but she had expected something different then what he was offering up. A 'this is awesome news' or even a 'can we talk about this later?' would have been more welcome then the cold shoulder she was receiving.
"I don't have time for this right now, Lindsay," he said. "I've got work coming out of my ass. Mac's got me running around like a chicken with its head cut off."
"And that's stopping you from saying something pleasant about our news? For acting like it's the most horrific thing you've ever heard in your life?"
"I've got other things on my mind right now," he told her, sounding more abrupt then he'd intended to.
"Work can't wait for five seconds?" she asked, near tears as she hurried along side of him. "I mean, this is life altering, Danny. This is our future. Our baby's future. Are you even listening to me?" she grabbed him by the sleeve of his lab coat, halting him in his tracks. "We're having a baby, Danny. A child. And this is how you're acting?"
"I'm not acting like anything," he replied. "You have no idea what's gone down around here in the past couple of hours that you've been off working on your case. No idea at all. I'm in the middle of running some major damage control here."
"Five minutes, Danny. All I'm asking for is five minutes to talk about us and our baby."
"I don't have five minutes, Montana! I'm lucky I even have five seconds! I have to re-run every test that Samantha did on our case before the IAB decides that none of her processed evidence is admissible in court. I've got to go to ballistics and do everything all over again. And I've got about an hour to do it before the brass lowers the boom on all of us."
"Ballistics?" Lindsay frowned as she released her boyfriend's arm and he began walking briskly down the hall once again. "IAB? What the hell is going on around here? Where's Sam? And why would her work be ruled inadmissible?"
"There's a conflict of interest issue," Danny told her. "I can't get into it right now. We'll be here forever if we get into it. Sam's been pulled off of our case and she's on her way down to talk to IAB. As far as I know, Flack's already talked to them."
"What is going on?" Lindsay pressed. "Why do they have to talk to IAB?"
"The ballistics evidence that Sam collected, was tied to Flack's father," Danny explained, as he used his hip to push his way into the empty ballistics lab. "She was able to identify one of the weapons used as a rare collector's item. Which just so happens, Flack's dad owns but had stolen out of his home two months ago."
"And why would they be in shit with IAB for that?"
"Because Flack was in the ballistics lab while Sam was processing everything. She showed him the gun. So IAB thinks that either Flack never told her about his dad owning the same kind of weapon to way lay the case, or that he told Sam and together they came up with an elaborate way to keep that news back."
"Sam and Flack would never do that," Lindsay argued, waiting outside of the weapons and ammunition locker while Danny stepped inside to collect the proper bullets and handguns. "Neither of them would lie to screw up in an investigation."
"We all know that," Danny said, as he stepped out of the locker with a basket of goods in his hands. "But IAB has been out to nail Flack since that Todd Flemming bullshit. They've given me one hour to re-run every test that Sam completed while she was in here. Sixty minutes or this case goes down the toilet. And if that isn't enough, we were also able to tie Flack's sister into the whole mess."
"Melanie?" Lindsay frowned. "How?"
"Her DNA was found on our dead guy," Danny said, as he set his things down on a work station. "She also perfectly matches the descriptions the witnesses gave of the girl that ran up the subway stairs earlier today after the first shooting. Flack and Sam, before either of them knew Mel was involved, were able to loosely place her with these guys and know she's involved in some kind of theft ring with them. Wallets, Ipods, shit like that."
"And Sam and Flack are in trouble with IAB over this because…."
"Because IAB thinks they're covering things up together. To protect each other," Danny concluded. "It's a huge fucking mess, Montana. Everyone around here knows that neither of them would impede a case like that. That they wouldn't lie to protect each other to the point it could cost both of them their badges. That's just not Sam and Flack."
"Where are they now? Have you talked to them?"
"As far as I know, Flack's already talked to IAB. I haven't heard from him, but I can imagine he's been taken off the case and has been told not to talk to anyone about it. Sam was called downstairs to talk to IAB about ten minutes ago. And now they're looking at Adam being involved too."
"Adam? What does Adam have to do with anything?"
"Adam was the one that found all this out about Flack Sr and Melanie," Danny explained. "It's a mess, okay? A fucking mess. So pardon me for not being able to take five minuets to worry about you and your problems."
"There's no reason to get nasty," Lindsay told him angrily. "I had no idea what was going on."
"No. And you didn't think of asking either. You just jumped right into your own problems. You always do that. Expect the whole world to come to a stand still just 'cause you've got some shit going on. Well for once, I have to put other people first for a change. A'right?"
"No, Danny. That's not alright!" Lindsay snapped. "I get that this is a huge deal! I get that you need to concentrate on work while you're at work. We've always tried to be as professional as possible while we're on the clock. But asking you to take five minutes out of work to discuss your baby isn't that much to ask."
"I don't want to talk about this right now!' Danny shot back. "I do not have the time to stand here and talk about nonsense crap with you!"
"Nonsense crap!" she fumed. "I'm nonsense crap! Our baby is nonsense crap! A life that we created together is nonsense crap!"
"I never said that," Danny sighed, stepping in front of her to lay the guns and ammunition on the table, and ultimately, turning his back completely on her. "I'm saying that there's a time and place for everything, and this is not the time, or the place, to talk about this. I've got more important things on my plate at the moment. And I'm not in the mood to discuss why having a baby right now is a huge mistake."
"A huge mistake!" tears threatened to burst from her eyes as Lindsay grabbed him by the lab coat and yanked him around to face her. "Our baby is a huge mistake?"
"I don't have time for this, Montana," he said. "So just chill a bit, go and do your own work and leave me to this, okay?"
"Go and chill out!" Lindsay laid her hands on his chest and shoved him backwards angrily. "Go and chill out! I'm your fiancee and the mother of your unborn child and you think you can talk to me like that? Just dismiss me like I'm not important to you?"
"I am not dismissing you! I am asking you to think about someone else for a change! To let me concentrate on my work! Mac needs me to do this! You're crossing that line, Linds. That one he warned us about. Personal on one side, professional on the other, remember? So let this go for now and go and do your thing will I do mine."
"All I wanted was for you to acknowledge the news, Danny!" Lindsay cried. "To say something about the fact that we're going to be parents! That we managed to create the miracle of life together. And what do I get from you? I get a 'having a baby is a huge mistake'.!"
Danny threw up his hands in surrender and turned his back on her once again. "I can't talk about this right now. We'll talk about this when I get home later. When you're more rational."
"When I'm more rational," Lindsay snorted. "Well guess what, Danny? The way you're acting about this? Treating news about our child as mistake? I'm never going to be rational over you feeling that way. So do me a favour. After you're finished your work? Don't bother coming home and expecting to talk about anything."
"Lindsay…" Danny briefly closed his eyes, listening to the click of her boot hells on the tiles behind him as she hurried for the door. "Don't be like that. You're blowing this way out of proportion."
"All I wanted from you was to share the news," she said from the doorway. "We're having a baby, Danny. I'm going to be a mommy and you're going to be a daddy and you're just acting like…I don't know….like it doesn't matter to you. Like you don' even want the baby."
He didn't respond.
"Well I guess that says it all," Lindsay said with a slight sniffle, and disappeared from the doorway.
Danny sighed heavily, his hands forming tight fists as he fought to compose himself. Telling himself that while he should be going after her, his priorities and loyalties lay within the confines of the ballistic lab. An entire case was hanging in the balance. People were relying on him to make things right again.
And yet, so was Lindsay and the baby. Relying him to take care of them and to love them. To provide for them. And the thought of letting them down nearly broke his heart.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before delving into the work in front of him.
Knowing that once he was finished, once the nightmare of the day was over, he had a mountain of apologizes to offer up, and a lifetime of sucking up to do.
No rest for the weary, he thought, and prepared for the long haul.
Both professionally, and personally.
Samantha calmly and casually leaned back in her chair in interrogation. Her right leg draped over her left knee as she slowly sipped a take out cup of extremely weak and foul tasting tea. It was her first time in a meeting with IAB. Either in New York City or back in Phoenix. She had always managed to keep her nose clean, despite the occasional verbal disagreement with perps or co-workers. The closest she'd ever come to being in trouble with the department watch dogs was when she'd been on the receiving end of a suggestive and off colour email that Chief of Detectives Brigham Sinclair had sent her way. She hadn't been the only one. There'd been several other women. She had erased the message soon after she received it and brushed it off. It was of no great important and she hadn't seen the need to discuss it with anyone.
That decision had blown up in her face during the whole James Bond fiasco, as it was now known around the lab as. When Mac had called her into his office with a copy of that email in his hand, she'd nearly shit herself. The perps, aided by their hotwired tuxes, had unknowingly downloaded the email when they'd robbed Sinclair's apartment. Mac thankfully, had kept it hush-hush. But news of other incidences of sexual harassment on the Chief's behalf had managed to make it to the press. Sinclair had nearly hit the roof. Accusing her and Mac of leaking the incident to reporters.
It was still unclear how the information had gotten out. Just as it was unclear who was behind the mysterious disappearance of the Ann Steele flash drive. Something Sam could thankfully say she knew nothing about, and had never come in remote contact with.
Danny had told her -after they'd snuck into the same stall in the employee washroom together to avoid being seen by prying eyes - to stay calm and composed when facing the big, bad wolf, as he called IAB. To never let the investigator see you sweat. They smelled fear. And once they picked up on it, you were toast.
Surely and truly fucked.
She had been seen to the room by a uniform officer, given a tea on her request, and told that IAB would be a few minutes.
That had been a half an hour ago. She tapped the toe of her Doc Martin boot on the leg of the metal table and glanced down at her watch before issuing a heavy sigh. She was pissed that she'd not only been yanked off the case, but had found out from a third party not even relative to the lab instead of her own boss. Not only was that entirely unprofessional for someone like Mac Taylor who drilled professionalism and respect and integrity into his employees on a near hourly basis. She was pissed that she'd been yanked off an active investigation for what she felt were ridiculous, childish reasons. And that she had to bow to IAB on matters that were both out of her control, and none of her business.
She took a swig of her tea and glanced over as the door clicked open and Lieutenant John Malley slipped into the room, his eyes riveted on the case folder in his hands.
"Detective Samantha Ross," he said in way of greeting as he closed the door behind him.
"That would be me," she confirmed.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. I was just freshening up on your employee file sent down by your boss, Detective Mac Taylor. Very impressive. Your just going into your second year here and you're already third on the list of solved cases. Quit the departure from the nightmare that was the Phoenix Crime Lab."
"The Phoenix Crime Lab is hell on earth for employee morale," she said with a shrug of indifference. "I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I needed more of a challenge. It's why I wanted to come to the second best lab in the country."
"And I'm sure that well recorded issues with anger management and insubordination helped speed up your departure as well," Malley commented as he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. "And I guess an abusive fiance doesn't help matters either."
"My past in Arizona is just that," she said calmly. "The past. It has no bearing on my life, professional or otherwise, in New York City."
"Well let me be the judge of that," Malley gave a polite smile. He sat a yellow legal pad on top of the folder and pulled a pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "You understand why you're here?" he asked.
"I understand that I was pulled off an investigation because of my closeness to a colleague whose family members may be involved with the crime in question," she replied.
Malley smirked. "Closeness. Now that's one way of putting it."
Sam shrugged. "Potato, potatoe," she said.
The investigator smirked. "Let's start at the very top. Tell me about the phone call you received this afternoon from a Detective Danny Messer."
"Detective Messer had called me to deliver some news about our case. And to tell me that as a result of the findings, our boss, Detective Taylor, wanted me to return to the crime lab as soon as possible."
"And what news was it that Detective Messer gave you?"
"He told me that a colleague of ours had a personal connection to the case. Two personal connections. That a as of yet missing murder weapon had been tied to our colleague's father, and that DNA found on our John Doe, belonged to the same colleague's sister."
"And this colleague would be…"
"Detective Don Flack."
"And you were with Detective Flack at the time you received this phone call?" Malley asked.
"We were returning from questioning a person of interest," Sam confirmed, sipping her tea.
"And did you happen to tell Detective Flack about the nature of Detective Messer's phone call?"
"I told him that I'd been given some pertinent information regarding the case and that Mac wanted me back at the lab ASAP."
"And did Detective Flack ask you to elaborate?"
"Yes."
"And did you?"
"I told him that Mac wanted to talk to me. That's all I said."
"Let's go backwards in the day a little," Malley suggested. "To when you were processing evidence in the ballistics lab. At any time did Detective Flack enter the ballistics lab while you were working?"
"He came to find out the progression of our case," Sam confirmed.
"And at any time did you discuss with him your findings or show him what you were working on?"
"I told him that I had managed to successfully identify both bullets pulled from our separate victims," Sam said. "I was, at the time he first arrived, waiting for results on a bullet I had test fired in hopes of matching it to a weapon. I had also previously identified a separate weapon used."
"As a…" Malley flipped through the pages of his legal pad before finding the information he wanted. ".45 Automatic Colt Pistol?"
"Yes."
"Did you at any time show Detective Flack the weapon?"
"I don't remember," she admitted.
Malley frowned and looked up from his notes and across the table at her. "You don't remember?"
"I don't remember if I actually physically showed it to him or if he saw it sitting on the work station," she explained.
"But you verbally told him what kind of gun it was?"
"Yes."
"And what was Detective Flack's reaction to that?"
"His reaction?" she asked, perplexed.
"Yes, Detective," Malley gave an irritated sigh. "His reaction. Did he seem surprised? Concerned? Did he say anything? Do anything?"
"I don't know. He seemed…normal. He seemed like Don. He didn't really say anything or do anything. He asked me a couple of questions. Like how rare the gun was, what bullets were used in it. Stuff like that."
"And did he seem nervous or agitated? Did he seem as if he was hiding something? Keeping information back from you?" Malley asked,
"No. He seemed genuinely interested in every aspect of our case," Sam replied. "I didn't find anything unusual about his reaction or his behaviour."
"And did he happen to mention to you that the same kind of weapon in question was stolen from his father's home two months ago?"
"No. He never mentioned it. Maybe he didn't even realize his father owned a gun like that. And if he did, maybe he didn't see why that was important to our investigation. I didn't find out about it until Danny called me."
"Let's fast forward to that phone call from Detective Messer," Malley suggested. "After you hung up, did Detective Flack ask you about the call?"
"He was curious about it. I told him that Danny had called with some results and that Mac wanted me back at the lab ASAP."
"And you never once told Detective Flack anything about his father or his sister being persons of interest in the case?" Malley sounded, and looked sceptical.
"Didn't I already answer that same question? How many times do you have to ask me that?" Sam asked irritably.
"Yes or no, Detective Ross?"
"No," she answered. "I didn't feel it was my place to tell him."
"I see…" Malley said with a slow nod as he wrote everything down. "Now tell me this…do you and Detective Flack make it a habit of keeping things from each other? Or from other people?"
Sam frowned. "I'm not sure I understand what it is you're trying to get at with this."
"Detective Flack didn't tell you pertinent information regarding a case. You didn't tell him about his family members being involved. Do the two of you make it common practice hiding things from each other and the people around you?"
"I just told you that I didn't think it was my place to tell him!" Sam argued. "And like I've already said, maybe he didn't know about what kind of guns his father owns. Or which ones had been stolen."
"Answer my question," Malley demanded. "Do the two of you hide things from each other or other people? Yes or no?!"
Sam sighed heavily. "No," she responded.
"Interesting. Because I found out something completely opposite. It seems as if you and Detective Flack are very, very good at keeping things secret. Even from those that are closest and dearest to you. So tell me, how long have you and Detective Flack been close?" He made air quotes at the word close.
She stared long and hard at the man across from her before answering. "Detective Flack and I have been friends since I started here in the spring of 2007."
"Let me rephrase my question," Malley said. "How long have the two of you been romantically involved?"
"I don't see what my personal life has to do with anything," Sam remained defiant. "What does who I date have to do with what is going on with this case?"
"Answer the question, Detective Ross. How long?"
She picked up the cup of tea and took a long, slow sip. "Since the middle of November," she admitted.
"And I understand that you and Detective Flack agreed to keep that information back from people at work. Including your own brother."
"We agreed that it was best we kept our relationship to ourselves for the time being. He had just gotten out of another relationship, and he didn't want anyone gossiping about us or making things up about me. He was protecting me."
"And this prior relationship was with Detective Jessica Angell? Am I right?"
Sam nodded.
"Who just so happened to write a very interesting letter to Deputy Inspector Whitmore," Malley said and flipped open his folder. "This was sent, along with a request for a transfer, on Detective Angell's behalf. In it, she clearly states that Detective Flack and yourself were involved long before what you just told me."
"Well that's wrong," Sam told him. "We never…"
Malley slid the paper across the table. "Have a look for yourself," he encouraged. "I think you'll find that very interesting."
Sam sighed and picked the letter up and read it quietly. "This is a bunch of bullshit," she declared and tossed the paper down on the table. "Everything she wrote in that letter is crap. Detective Flack and I never had a relationship, of any kind, until the middle of November. Of 2008."
"Are you sure about that?" Malley asked.
"I know what year it was," Sam replied.
"Well, excuse me if I beg to differ," Malley said and reached into the folder once again. "Have a look at this picture, Detective Ross. And tell me the date at the bottom right corner."
Samantha accepted the photograph from the investigator, her eyes widening in surprise and horror. The black and white photograph had been taken long before November 2008. In the late evening, hours after Chrissy Watson and Louise Perry had washed up on the beach in Far Rockaway and the team had discovered that they, along with Ben Melvoy, a victim from months before, had been the prey of who would become known as the Cabbie Killer. The same evening when Flack had given her the Damiana laced chocolate as a joke. And things had gotten a little out of control when he drove her home.
The picture had been taken, at a moment of complete indiscretion, outside of her apartment. Her stomach churned at the sight before her and she swallowed noisily as she laid the photo face down on the table and pushed it towards Malley.
"That was one moment," she said, attempting to hide the unsteadiness in her voice. "It was the first time, and the last time anything ever happened between us until November 2008."
"There's other pictures if you'd like to see them," Malley offered. "Some tame, some more graphic. Taken by a private investigator named Anthony Martino. Who I believe you came in contact with many months ago during the Ann Steele case."
Sam nodded and took a sip of tea in order to rid herself of the bile that burned her throat.
"Did you not know about this pictures before hand?" Malley asked.
"Would I be this shocked if I did?" Sam countered.
"Hmmm…I would have thought your boyfriend would have told you about them. Considering he knew about them and even went as far as threatening Martino over them."
Sam blinked in surprise.
"So it seems as if you and Detective Flack keep more back from each other then you even realize. So it is quite possible that he kept the information about his father back from you in order to protect his family."
She shook her head. "Don wouldn't do that. He isn't that type of person."
"Do you really know what kind of person he is?" Malley asked. "He didn't bother telling you about the existence of very intimate photographs involving the two of you. He didn't even tell you there was a PI watching your every move. Now why would he keep that from you?"
"I don't know," Sam admitted. "I honestly don't know."
"Let's give him the benefit of the doubt and say he did it to protect you. That he felt he could handle the situation on his own. And maybe that protection goes both ways. Maybe he did tell you about his father's stolen gun and his sister's involvement and you decided to keep all of that to yourself to protect him. Admirable. Extremely foolish, but admirable."
"He never told me anything," Sam remained adamant. "And I believe, in my heart of hearts, that he wasn't hiding anything from me. That he honestly didn't know."
Malley gave a small smile. "You're very loyal to him, aren't you, Detective Ross." It was a statement. Not a question.
Sam didn't respond. Instead she cleared her throat noisily and looked away. Uncomfortable and flustered under the man's heavy gaze.
"You are aware that dating a co-worker is against NYPD protocol are you not, Detective Ross?" Malley asked.
"Actually," she said and looked him dead in the eye. "It's against protocol if we work in the same squad room. So maybe that's a question Detective Angell should have been asked during her relationship with Detective Flack. This is how I look at office relationships. You don't want to be water cooler gossip? Don't get involved with someone you work with. You don't want to be known as the squad room skank? Don't date someone you share the squad room with."
"The protocol states…"
"No relationship with someone in your department or squad room," Sam finished. "I know. But guess what? That doesn't apply here. I'm Crime Lab, he's homicide. Plain and simple," she pushed the chair away from the table and stood up. "And we're done here," she announced and headed for the door.
"Do yourself a favour, Detective Ross," Malley called to her. "You value your job? Stay away from Detective Flack until this all blows over."
"You value your job? Come back and apologize to me when you realize what a pompous, judgemental prick you've been," she shot back. "In fact, come up to the lab, get on your knees and kiss my ass."
With that she tossed open the door and slammed it closed behind her.
Tears of fury pooled in her eyes as Sam stormed down the hallway from interrogation. Ignoring the curious, and for the most part concerned, glances that were cast her way from detectives and uniforms alike. Malley had shred every last nerve she had vowed to kept intact. The photos and the news that a PI had been hired to spy on her, made her feel sick to her stomach. But no more so then the realization that the one person she loved and trusted more then anything or anyone else in the world, had kept something like that back from her. That he'd known and not said a damn word about it. That he'd known about the pictures and hadn't felt it important enough to tell her about them.
It was inexcusable to keep information like that from someone. Someone that you declared to love more then life itself. A relationship was a two way street. They were both active participants in it. And there was no reason, or excuse, for why he kept the existence of photos of that nature from her. Hurt was not an accurate way to describe how she felt. It went far beyond disappointment even. She had been devastated when Malley had shoved the evidence in her face. And disgusted at the man's blatant disregard for her feelings.
Flack was at his desk, banished there by IAB and Inspector Whitmore, and caught sight of his girlfriend as she hurried through the busy squad room. Alarmed at the distraught look on her face and the tears that threatened to escape at any moment. He reached out to grab her by the wrist in an attempt to get her to stop and talk to him, but she yanked her hand away from him and kept on walking.
"Don't go it, Flack," Scagnetti warned from behind his own desk. "They're watching every move you make. Don't go after her. Don't do it."
The younger man ignored him. He pushed his chair away from his desk and hurried after his girlfriend.
"He did it," Scagnetti sighed and leaned back in his chair and tossed his pen angrily onto his desk.
"Sam!" Flack called after her, chasing her down to the elevator. "Sammie!…Samantha! Hold up!"
"What do you want, Don?" she asked, laying her finger on the up button.
"What the hell happened in there with IAB? Are you okay?"
"Just go back to work okay?" she refused to look at him. "Just do yourself, and me, a huge favour and go back to work."
"No. I'm not going to go back to work when you're this upset. What went on in there? What did that fucker Malley say to you?"
"I am not getting into this with you right now," she told him. "Please. Just leave me alone."
"I'm not going to leave you alone until you tell me what the hell is going on. What did he say to you that's got you so upset?"
Sam shook her head. "You're a real fucking bastard, you know that?"
He frowned. "What? What did I do? I never said a goddamn word about you. Why are you…?"
"Why didn't you tell me about Anthony Martino?" she asked, turning her teary eyes up at him. "Why didn't you tell me about the pictures?"
Flack bit his bottom lip, pausing before answering. "He told you about that?"
"He didn't tell me! He showed me! Did you see them? Did you see the pictures?"
Flack nodded.
"And you think that's okay?" she asked in disbelief. "You think that it's okay that someone took pictures like that of us?"
"Of course not. But when I dragged Martino in here and confronted him about it, he told me that he'd destroy all of them."
"Well obviously he didn't," Sam huffed. "Because IAB managed to get a hold of them."
"Martino sent them to Whitmore after I threatened to break his arms and legs if he didn't leave you alone."
Sam gave a dry laugh. "As much as I appreciate you defending my honour…"
"What did you want me to do? Just let him get away with it? Let him pass those pictures around to whoever he wanted? Let them end up on some website or scattered around the department? Would you have rather I just sat back and let that happen?"
"I would have rather you told me!" she cried. "I would have rather you…"
She paused as two uniforms jumped them at the elevators. The young men smiling politely at both of them. She gave a small smile of her own and hung her head, hiding her tears from them as they waited for the elevator.
"She'll get the next one," Flack told the young officers when the elevator arrived, holding Sam back by the wrist before she could step inside.
"Don't you do this right now!" she hissed at him. "This is not…"
"Go ahead, guys," Flack encouraged the uniforms. "She'll get the next one."
One of the officers gave a smile and nod and allowed the elevator door to close.
"What the hell is your problem?" Sam fumed. "Do you not get it that we shouldn't be doing this right now? That IAB is watching our every move?"
"Fuck IAB!" he snapped. "This isn't about work. This about me and you some personal shit."
"Personal shit that effects both of us but you neglected to tell me about!" she shot back. "Why didn't you tell me about Anthony Martino?"
"We're not talking about this right here where everyone can hear us," Flack said.
"You're right. We aren't…we're going to…"
She didn't get the chance to finish. Instead she found herself being pulled down the hallway. Towards the employee locker room and down a narrow, out of the way corridor that lead to a janitor's closet and a photocopy room.
"Why didn't you tell me about the pictures?" she asked, as they stood in the small corridor. Speaking in hushed voices. "Why didn't you tell me that there was a PI following me?"
"I thought I could handle it myself," Flack reasoned. "I thought I could leave you out of it. I wanted to protect you. I thought that the less you knew, the better. And that if I could get Martino in here and threaten him a bit, I could keep those photos under wraps."
"And instead threatening him had the exact opposite effect," she huffed.
"He told me that those pictures would never, ever get out in public."
"And you just believed him?"
Flack sighed. "Obviously not the smartest decision I ever made."
"Obviously," she snorted. "You should have told me, Don! There's two of us in this relationship. It's both of us in those photos! Not just you!"
"I know. But like I said I…"
"You wanted to protect me," she said. "I get that. And I admire that quality about you. The way you always want to come to my aide and take care of me. Be my knight in shining armour. Trust me, Donnie, I appreciate that. I love that you want to keep me safe. But I'm a big girl who needs to make big girl mistakes and big girl decisions."
"I knew those pictures would upset you and I…"
"Upset me? I am far beyond being upset! I feel sick. When I saw that picture, of me and you outside of my apartment that night of that whole chocolate thing, I seriously wanted to throw up. Someone invaded my privacy! Our privacy! And you think that's okay?"
"Of course I don't think that's okay," he defended himself. "I feel sick about it too. I wanted to kill the guy when I found about it. But I thought I handled it."
"How long have you known about this? That there was a PI following me?" she asked.
"I've known since we went to see Terrence Davis."
Her eyes widened. "And you thought it was a good idea to not tell me?"
"I wanted to handle it on my own," he told her. "I already explained this to you."
"How did Terrence know about it?"
"He's my CI, Sammie. He hears things. And when he heard about Martino and the pictures, he told me."
"It was Zack. He hired a PI to keep tabs on me."
Flack nodded.
"And this is exactly why I told you to not get involved with me!" she cried. "Do you see now? Do you see the torment and the agony I'm causing you? Do you not see that me and you are just disastrous. We're just all wrong, Don! You must see that!"
"You're not causing me torment and agony. I found out about Martino and I went and took care of it. No big deal."
"No big deal? You think those pictures are no big deal? Did you see them?"
"I already said that I saw them."
"Then how can you stand here and tell me that sexually explicit photos of us aren't a big deal?" she asked. "You can't honestly think that someone doing this to us is okay."
"It's not okay. It fucking makes me sick. But Martino did it and he passed those photos along. I can't help that. I thought that I could trust him when he told me he'd get rid of them. After he left here that day, the situation was out of my hands, Sammie."
"You should have told me!" she spat.
"I realize that! And you keep telling me over and over again! I can't change it now, can I? If I could, I would. We're going around in circles here, Sammie. I'm an asshole for not telling you. I'm a prick for thinking that I was in the right for wanting to protect you."
She frowned. "I never said that."
"It's what you're trying to say."
"No it's not! What I'm trying to say is that I warned you about getting involved with me! That being with me would cause you problems! Don't you see that for yourself now?"
"Being with you isn't causing me problems. Your crazy ex is causing me problems. Actually, he's causing us problems. Because there's no me and you in this. It's us. He's fucking with both of us and it's not your fault, Sam."
She shook her head. "You should have walked away that night," she said. "Outside of my apartment. You should have just done what was best for you and walked away."
"What's best for me is being with you," he argued.
"Why are you being so goddamn stubborn?!"
"Why are you trying to push me away?" he countered. "I love you, Samantha. And if you think that walking away is so goddamn easy, then walk away right now. Turn around and walk away from me. If that's what you want and you think it's an easy thing to do, here's your opportunity. Just turn around and leave."
She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks as she looked up at him.
"It's not that easy is it?" Flack asked. "To just turn your back on someone."
"Sometimes it's for the best," she told him. "Maybe not for yourself, but for the other person."
"Not in this case it isn't," he said.
She gave a sad smile. Her heart breaking. "I'm sorry, Don," she whispered, and turned on her heel and walked away.
He was stunned. Completely and utterly shocked as he watched her walk away and out of his life. Just like that. As if the last three months were nothing. That the time they'd spent together could easily be discarded and forgotten about. As if they'd meant absolutely nothing to her. And he realized, as she disappeard around the corner, leaving his shattered heart behind in the process, that there was no way in hell he was going to give up that easily. He wasn't going to let her walk away when there was still so much to say to her. So much they still needed to experience together. An entire lifetime ahead of them. Together.
He went after her, hurrying down the corrider and around to elevators where she waited, brushing frantically at her tears and tapping her foot impatiently on the tiles. And without a word and without reseveration, he grabbed a hold of her arm and yanked her towards him and into a long and intense kiss. One she resisted at first, attempting to push him away from her, her hands on his chest. Until she realized it was futile. That one, he was way to strong and powerful for her, and two, she was exactly where she was meant to be. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt desperately as she returned the kiss with fervor, both of them obvious to the stares and chagrin of everyone around them.
They broke apart when air became a necessity. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and wrapped both arms around her slender body, holding her tight to his chest.
"Me and you, Sammie," he whispered, stroking her hair, feeling her tears soak the front of his shirt. "It's always going to be me and you."
"You should have told me," she sniffled into his chest.
"I know. And I'm sorry. I wish I could take that back. But I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it was the best thing for us. I didn't do it to hurt you."
"Just promise me you won't keep stuff back from me again," she pleaded, lifting her head to look up at him. "That you won't keep things like that away from me."
"I promise you," he said and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. He cradled her face in his hands and cleared her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "As long as you promise not t scare the crap out of me like that again. Don't walk away like that again, okay? 'Cause I can't take shit like that. I can't lose you, Sam. I waited too long to get you to lose you that easily. Don't do that again, a'right?"
"Alright," she agreed.
He kissed her gently. "You should get back upstairs. So much for the whole staying away from you thing."
She gave a small laugh. "You were warned too, huh?"
"Went in one ear and out the other apparently," Flack said and pressed the button for the elevator. "I can just imagine what they'll write in my file. About my lack of respect for authority and failure to follow instructions."
"Hope they don't go all ape shit and demote you. Like all the way down to uniform or something," she mused.
Flack shrugged. "I kinda missed those days. You'd be the talk of the place for dating a lowly uni."
"Maybe," she said. "But I bet you look hot in that uniform."
"I can hold my own," he grinned.
The doors to the elevator opened and he kissed her one last time before she stepped inside.
"Hell of way to come out to everyone, huh?" he mused. "Nice make out session in front of the whole squad room?"
She just smiled. The doors closing between them.
Flack sighed heavily and ran a hand over his hair and turned to head back to his desk.
And found himself face to face with a furious Deputy Inspector Whitmore.
He gave a smirk and side stepped her and continued on his way.
Fuming, Whitmore turned and stared after him. Then turned back to the elevators and decided to take the issue to the one person she trusted to put an end to it.
Mac Taylor.
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of my fans! Even the lurkers! But please, please, please review folks! I am afraid this fic may be on borrowed time. I will see how I feel in the coming days. But thanks for all of the support!
Special thanks to:
Hope4sall
Forest Angel
Afrozenheart412
New-york-babeee
wolfeylady
HighQueenReicheru
Soccer-bitch
Delko's Girl88
