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

SPECIAL WELCOME TO: DANAAA

THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO LAURZZ.

ANY LAURZZ AND 'WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO' FANATICS READING THIS: PICK OUT THE SMALL HOMAGE TO MY FAVOURITE BRAND OF CRACK AND YOU WIN AN (UNFORTUNATELY) IMAGINARY TRIP TO HAWAII.


HASHING IT OUT

"What day is it? And in what month?
This clock never seemed so alive
I can't keep up and I can't back down
I've been losing so much time
'Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do
Nothing to lose
And it's you and me and all of the people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you
All of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right
I'm tripping on words
You've got my head spinning
I don't know where to go from here

There's something about you now
I can't quite figure out
Everything she does is beautiful
Everything she does is right."
-You and Me, Lifehouse


"We need to have a word, Detective Taylor," Inspector Gillian Whitmore announced as she boldly pushed open his closed office door and strolled in.

Mac glanced up from the stack of paper work in front of him. He was in a foul mood. The Sam and Flack fiasco as it was becoming known around the lab was grating on his last nerve. More because of the unfair treatment he felt the two were receiving on behalf of Internal Affairs then the fact the insanity was just proving what he long attested. Work and romance were a deadly combination. No matter how much you drilled the ground rules into someone's brain, the personal, in the end, always reared it's ugly head and got in the way of the professional. Intimacy between co-workers, while enjoyable and well intentioned, only served to throw a monkey wrench into the priorities of the job. Cases were put on the back burner, evidence was too often ignored or slipped through the cracks, and the rumours were nearly unbearable.

Instead of concentrating on work, others in the lab were more worried about who was sleeping with who or who was cheating on who or who wanted to be sleeping with who. It was bullshit and Mac didn't like it. He ran a well oiled machine. He wanted peoples' heads on straight. His workers to follow the protocol of the lab and forget everything but work the moment they stepped off the elevators at the beginning of the shift. He expected nothing but the best. And as budget cuts loomed once again and employee morale sank to an all time low, catching criminals seemed to be the last thing on anyone's mind. Short of a staff meeting aimed at telling them all to leave their shit at the door on the way into work, there was little he could do to stop people from indulging in relationships that extended far beyond the professional realm of things. He could threaten action against anyone who spread rumours or knowingly inflicted grief on a co-worker, but that felt as if he was crossing the line from being a boss to being a school principal.

These people were adults. And each and every one that Mac had hauled into the office and gave 'the talk' to had promised the same thing. That they'd be able to successfully separate the two sides of their lives. Professional to the right, personal to the left. Mac had known that such promises were usually broken within at least several days of making them, so he'd been pleasantly surprised when Danny and Lindsay had not only managed to keep their relationship a secret for months, but also maintain their professionalism while on the clock. For a while, at least. The death of Ruben Sandoval and Danny's tendency to isolate himself and push away those that loved him the most, had brought him and Lindsay's professionalism to a screeching halt.

Thankfully, when the relationship got back on track, so had their work ethics. There'd been no Danny and Lindsay related issues were nearly a year and counting. In fact, their numbers of solved cases had nearly doubled, and they seemed more focused on their work then ever.

And now Samantha and Flack. Of all people, Mac had thought they'd be the ones to successfully carry on a workplace relationship. Mac sighed heavily as he thought about them and the dilemma he was faced with. IAB was pushing hard for one of them to transferred. Mac had no desire to send one of his best people to a different lab, and Chief Sinclair had no desire to ship the NYPD's golden boy to another precinct. Both were assets to their respective fields and people of that calibre were not easily replaced. A compromise needed to be made. And it was up to Mac to come up with one. No matter how much it pissed him off.

"Closed usually means knock before entering," Mac informed the Inspector as he turned his attention back to the work in front of him.

"I need a moment," Whitmore insisted. "I doubt a moment is too much to ask for."

"At this point in time, I don't have a moment. I have mountains of work to catch up on, a CSI that is busting his ass to re-run ballistics testing that you and your people say isn't good enough, and Melanie Flack downstairs in interrogation, refusing to talk to anyone unless her father and brother are in the room. Something you people are hedging on."

"Her brother has been pulled off the case and their father, although highly decorated, is no longer part of the NYPD," Whitmore argued. "There's no reason why either of them have to be in there with her."

"No reason? How about the fact that she'll give us both an ID on our John Doe, and cough up their partner in crime. Who, I may add, killed someone and is out there on the street somewhere armed and dangerous. Isn't locking someone like that up more important then the department's political and bureaucratic bullshit?"

"This has nothing to do with politic agendas and everything to do with weeding out the good cops from the bad cops," Whitmore responded.

"Bad cops?" Mac asked incredulously. "Are you insinuating that Samantha Ross and Don Flack are bad cops? I've worked with Detective Flack for years now. And I personally picked Detective Ross out of a pool of a hundred applicants for the open CSI position here. I picked her based on sheer merit and experience and education alone. I interviewed her over the telephone. Hired her ten minutes after I'd hung up. Hiring her was one of the best decisions I've ever made. And for you to stand there and question my ability to pick the best people for my lab…"

"No one is holding your decisions in question, Detective Taylor. But the fact remains, Detective Ross and Detective Flack kept back pertinent information to the case they were working on."

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Mac snapped. "There's no proof that Flack knew about his father's tie to that gun or that his sister was involved. And there's no proof that Samantha went along and withheld information to help him protect his family."

"There's no proof either way," Whitmore said. "We don't know if they did, or didn't."

"I trust my people," Mac told her. "And if Samantha and Flack say they didn't know, then they didn't. Plain and simple. I've never had a problem with either of them. They're honest and trust worthy. I would pick either of them to have my back going through the door on a raid any day. I've gotten nothing but the best out of both of them and at no point since I've know them have either of them lied or withheld information."

"There's a first time for anything, Detective Taylor. If they're romantically involved, then…"

"They know how to separate the business from the personal side of their lives," Mac cut the Inspector off. "I've already talked to both of when they came to tell me that they were together outside of work. I told them I expected nothing but professionalism and they promised me their personal feelings would never interfere with work. So far so good."

"The pictures. You saw the pictures and…."

"Those pictures were taken while they were both off the clock," Mac reasoned. "They weren't on the job. Someone invaded their privacy. That's what you and your people should be pissed off about. That someone like Anthony Martino is out there earning a living making other peoples' lives a living hell. And to be honest, the fact that the NYPD would even look at those pictures and toss them up in Samantha and Flack's faces makes me sick. It disgusts me that what went on during a personal moment between them gets brought up in the workplace."

"They're very explicit pictures, Detective Taylor."

"Very explicit pictures that are none of your business. They're no one's business. And the fact that you and IAB would stoop so low as to sit my CSI down and bring her personal life into question makes me physically ill."

"It becomes a problem with myself and IAB when her personal life starts affecting matters of the department," Whitmore argued.

"Whether or not Samantha and Flack are in a relationship has nothing to do with the department. It doesn't affect their work in the slightest. I believe both of them when they say they didn't lie or keep anything back. And from what I've heard, they're both manhandling this Lieutenant Malley. He can't prove they did anything wrong. The only thing he's succeeding in is making himself look like an incompetent ass. And from where I stand, this whole thing seems like a witch hunt."

"And how is that, Detective Taylor?" Whitmore asked, a smug smile on her face as she took a seat in the chair in front of his desk. "Enlighten me."

"During a case nearly two years ago, it was brought up that Chief of Detectives Sinclair sent Samantha Ross an email. That could easily be construed as sexual harassment. She erased the email. She didn't see it as a big deal and got rid of it. Only Sinclair in his infinite wisdom kept the draft in his sent box. And when his residence was robbed, the thieves, using wireless technology, were able to access his computer. That email, which suddenly seemed so harmless, reared its ugly head. And Sinclair blamed both myself and Samantha when it got out to the public."

"Well it had to be released somehow, Detective Taylor."

Mac smirked. "Why am I not surprised you'd take that stance?" he asked. "Instead of being ashamed and appalled that your direct supervisor was sending harassing emails to women, you're laying the blame on the women themselves. Re-victimizing them. What he did doesn't even bother you. It only bothers you that he was caught."

"Of course I care that he did something so insensitive and unbecoming," Whitmore attested. "But the incident neither harmed, or derailed Chief of Detective Sinclair's career. Or marriage for that matter."

"Well that's his wife's downfall isn't it," Mac retorted. "And if you came up here to try and validate the crap you're pulling with Samantha Ross and Don Flack, you're wasting your breath. I'm a busy man. I have no time to listen to this nonsense. So if you'll excuse me, there's the door."

Whitmore frowned as he went back to the paperwork in front of him. "Something needs to be done about Detectives Ross and Flack. ASAP."

"I already told you earlier that I'd talk to them about the fine line they're treading. I'm sure that once I lay things out to them, they'll realize their professional missteps and that it won't happen again on either of their parts. And in their defence, Kendall Novak isn't known for her credibility and she could have just made that story up to cause problems."

"I don't know what happened in the ballistics lab, Detective Taylor, but I know what I saw downstairs," Whitmore fumed. "And what I saw, was two members of the NYPD engaged in a very private, and highly inappropriate and unprofessional moment."

"And just what did you see?" Mac smirked. "What did you see that has you this upset that you'd come barging in, guns blazing, in complete disregard of me and my work?"

"I saw them kissing."

"And?" he asked.

"A very serious, intense kiss at that."

"And did their hands remain above the waist at all times?" he inquired.

Whitmore frowned. "Of course. But…."

"And did all items of clothing remain on?" Mac asked.

"Naturally. But…"

"Then quit wasting my time," he growled. "I don't have time or tolerance for this crap, Inspector. Unless they're engaging in lewd acts in the locker room or supply closets or the garage, I could care less about what they're up to. A small public display of affection is the least of my worries. Now please, see yourself out of my office."

"I want something done about this, Detective Taylor! I want something done about that girl!"

"That girl?" Mac couldn't help but laugh. "That girl happens to be a thirty-three year old woman, Inspector. She's not a girl. And she's not corrupting Detective Flack. They're in a committed, adult relationship. Which is none of our business. What is it you want me to do? Slap her on the wrists? Send her to detention for a week? Ground her? Take away her telephone and internet privileges?"

"Do not mock me, Detective Taylor!" Whitmore snapped.

He leaned back in his chair and held up his hands in surrender. "I am not mocking you," he assured the furious Inspector. "But in reality, what is it you want me to do? I can't stop my team from having relationships with your detectives."

"I want you to adjust your schedule," Whitmore said. "I want you to remove Detective Ross from the schedule she's currently on and do something else with her. Straight afternoons, straight nights. I really don't care. Just as long as she and Detective Flack are kept apart."

"I am not adjusting anything," Mac told her firmly. "I am not splitting my people up. Samantha Ross is an important member to the team. She's well respected and well loved, she gets along with all of her co-workers. She and Detective Danny Messer are my dream team of sorts. Their number solved cases since they've become partners is phenomenal. I'm not splitting them up."

"So then move both Detective Ross and Messer to a different shift so you don't have to split them up."

"I'm not moving anyone. No one needs to be moved. Things are working just fine the way they are. I don't come to your office and demand you to make changes with your people. So don't come here to mine and try to strong arm me into screwing things up. My schedule stays the way it is. You want them separated so bad? Move Flack to a different shift."

"You're out of your bloody mind," Whitmore huffed. "He's invaluable!"

"As are all of my people," Mac told her. "We're a team. Plain and simple. We're not individual units. We work together and we stick together. You don't like that, find another place for Flack."

"That's impossible," she argued. "You're impossible!"

"I'm the boss of the Crime Lab," Mac reminded her. "I call the shots. You simply oversee how it's run. And it's been running exceptionally well. Thanks to the people I have working for me. So unless you have a better argument then seeing them kissing, Samantha and Flack both stay right where they are."

"You're insufferable," Whitmore declared and jumped to her feet. "I am warning you right now, Detective Taylor," she said as she headed for the door. "If I see anymore behaviour like that from your CSI…"

"I will certainly handle it if she takes advantage of, or forces herself on, Detective Flack," he said snidely.

"I don't want to come back up here on this matter," she spat.

"Oh trust me Inspector, I don't want you to have to come back up here either," Mac retorted.

There was a loud tap on the glass door of the office. Danny Messer stood in the hallway, tests results in his hand.

Mac waved him in.

"Sorry to interrupt," Danny said, as he pulled open the door. Ignoring Whitmore's presence completely as he stepped into the office. "I've got all the results from the re-runs on those ballistics tests. You know, the ones IAB thought Sam may have fixed to help Flack cover his ass."

Mac couldn't help but smirk. He knew that was Danny's personal shot at the woman standing next to him. Everyone was furious with how Sam and Flack were being treated by the department. Just like they all knew there was no way either of them would ever lie or fuck up an investigation.

"And what did you find out Danny?" Mac asked.

"I found the exact same things that Sam did," the CSI replied. There was a cocky tone to his voice. As if he was getting immense pleasure in shoving the results in the Inspector's face. "I was able to confirm that all of her results were in fact, the correct ones. The gun that was used to kill Aaron Clarke was a rare .45 automatic colt pistol that used hallow point nine millimetre bullets. And our John Doe, was killed with a nine millimetre, .380 ACP. No doubt about either one of the weapons."

"And did you run the tests more then once?" Mac asked.

"I test fired each gun three times," Danny replied. "Each time the striations matched perfectly."

"Detective Messer, is it?' Inspector Whitmore asked curiously.

Danny nodded.

"You're very good friends with Detective Flack, are you not?"

"For the love of Christ," Mac groaned. "Give it up. Danny wouldn't fabricate evidence to cover for Flack."

"You know," Danny said to the Inspector, a grin on his face. "I had a feeling you'd pull that. So I asked Detective Stella Bonasera to oversee each and every test I did. She was right there beside me the whole time. She can vouch that all my work is on the up and up."

Mac couldn't keep the smirk from spreading across his face at the sight of a furious Gillian Whitmore. "Good work, Danny," he praised. "Thanks for taking the brunt of this."

"No problem," Danny handed Mac the test results and made for the door. "Never should have been a reason for it, but…"

"Thank you, Danny," Mac said dismissively. "I may need you for interrogation soon."

The CSI nodded and pulled open the door. "I'll be waiting," he said as he stepped out into the hall. "With bells on."

Mac looked down at the report in his hands, and then up at the Inspector with a victorious grin on his face. "I think you and I are done here," he said.

"For now," she told him. "Keep an eye on your employee, Detective Taylor. I'd hate to have her shipped off to another crime lab."

"Never going to happen," Mac retorted. "At least not on my watch. Have a good day, Inspector."

She snorted and stomped towards the door. Tossing it open and storming from the office without a further word.

Mac shook his head in disbelief of the day's events and returned to his desk. While it felt great to shove the results in Whitmore's face, he also knew that the woman was right in some respects. If Samantha and Flack's behaviour was indeed inappropriate and unprofessional on the job, then both had to be called on it.

But only one was under his direct command.

Picking up the phone on his desk, he dialled the familiar cell phone number. Leaving a short and not so sweet voice mail demanding her to show up at his office ASAP.

Then he hung up and thought long and hard about what he was going to say.


"Is it safe to come in?" Danny asked, as he lingered in the doorway of the office he shared with Sam.

Parked behind her desk, Sam glanced away from her computer screen and gave him a small smile. "Why wouldn't it be?" she asked in return, adjusting the blue tooth headset she wore over her left ear.

"I knew you were down talking to IAB earlier," Danny replied. "So I wasn't too sure what kind of mood you were in."

She shrugged and looked back at the computer screen. "I'm okay," she said. "Could be better, could be worse."

Danny nodded in understanding and journeyed into their office, closing the door behind him. "Just so you know, I rechecked all of your ballistics evidence and I came to the same conclusions that you did. So everything was on the up and up there. I just dropped the results off with Mac. All but shoved them into that bitch Inspector's face. Insubordination never felt so damn good."

"Did you really think they wouldn't be Danny?" Sam asked, her eyes riveted on the screen, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

"What's that?" he asked, plopping down on the couch he'd been passed out on that very morning.

"My results. Did you really think before you rechecked them that they weren't going to be on the up and up?"

He frowned. "That was not what I was trying to say," he assured her. "What I meant is that I did them over again and got the same results. Not that I didn't expect to. Just that I did."

She nodded.

"And between you and me, Melanie is downstairs sweating it out in interrogation. Apparently she's refusing to talk to anyone unless Flack and their dad is in the room at the time. The brass is dragging their heels on that one."

"I don't see what the big deal is," Sam said. "I mean, if that's the only way she'll cough up our shooter…"

"Mac's argument exactly. You're starting to sound more and more like him everyday. Who knows? Ten years down the road and maybe you'll be his first pick to take over running the crime lab when he moves on to bigger and better things."

Sam snorted at that.

"You never know," Danny said with a heavy sigh. He leaned back in the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. "You don't ever want to be a big boss?" he asked.

"Not here I don't," she replied. "I get bored way too easily. If I'm still here in ten years, shoot me."

"I'll remember that when we're busting out your tenth anniversary cake," he chuckled. "So how did it go? With IAB?"

"As well as I heard it went with you and Lindsay."

"She told you about that?"

Sam nodded. Then laughed out loud.

Danny arched an eyebrow. "What's so funny about my Montana dilemma?" he asked.

"I wasn't laughing about that. I was laughing at something my brother said."

"Are you addicted to instant messaging or something?" Danny asked. "Seriously Brooklyn. You're obsessed."

"It's not instant messaging," Sam informed him. "It's…never mind. Just know that it is keeping my sanity at the moment."

"So how much did Lindsay tell you?" Danny inquired. "And I know when you're lying, so don't bother doing it."

"She told me that she was pregnant and that she dropped this To My Daddy Valentine's Day card in your lap practically. Personally, I think that's an amazingly creative and beautiful way to tell someone you're knocked up. Remind me to do something like that when I break the news to Don."

"You're pregnant too?" Danny asked.

"Are you insane? No. I meant in the future. Anyway, she told me about the baby and there was the expected shrieking and squealing and jumping up and down. And then she let me know what an insensitive ass you were."

"In my defence, she did just drop the news in my lap. And that's not something to just dump on someone. And then she just ambushed me at a really, really, really bad time. All hell was breaking loose up here and you and Flack were in the process of being eaten alive by IAB and I had the brass up my ass about all that work. I mean, it just wasn't the right time and place to be talking about that kind of thing."

"Doesn't give you an excuse to be a complete tool," Sam said.

Danny sighed heavily. "What is it with you Brooklyn girls and brutal honest. Are you all born that way or is it something that you're all taught or what?"

"Actually," Sam said with a small laugh. "It's a gift. It came to me naturally somewhere in between training bras and menstruation."

He grimaced. "Some things I just do not need to hear about, okay? And you're right. Completely right. I did act like an insensitive ass."

"And a complete tool," Sam added.

"Don't push it Brooklyn."

"And did you hunt her down and make it up to her?"

"Not yet."

Sam frowned. "What the hell are you waiting for?" she asked. Then spoke to the computer screen. "What the hell are you thinking, Adam? Like seriously. Are you mental or something?"

"You actually have to ask that question?" Danny asked and swinging his legs off of the coffee table, jumped to his feet. "What the hell are you doing that's so important?" he inquired, as he crossed the office and slipped in between his friend's desk. "Oh my God!" he exclaimed, and nearly double over with laughter when he saw what she was doing. "Are you kidding me? Second Life? You're a Second Lifer?"

"Just so you know, it's all Adam's fault," Sam defended herself. "He got me addicted to it when I was living with him."

"You're a geek," Danny roared, tears springing to his eyes. "Brooklyn's a closet geek! Does Flack know you play this?"

"Hell no. He'd shit himself and never stop teasing me about it. I wait until he's asleep and sneak out of bed to play it."

"This is just too much," Danny wheezed and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his rust coloured shirt. "I can't believe this. You're a nerd. I never would have thought you'd be a nerd. You and Adam and Hawkes need to band together. So whose the cute little red head in the mini skirt and tank top?"

"That's me," Sam answered proudly.

"And whose the statuesque blond with the massive boobs?" Danny asked. "She's hot."

It was Sam's turn to laugh. "That's Adam!" she cried.

"Get outta here!" Danny grimaced. "What in the hell…his character is a woman?"

"It's an avatar," Sam corrected. "And no. He's usually a real bad boy type. All the ladies like him. But we're sort of running a covert operation. Totally unrelated to work. Trying to nail this asshole whose been going around harassing the Second Life girls. It's a long story. But it's a necessity we get him."

"So what do you do on Second Life?" Danny asked. "You there hooking up with a Mister TCB or a Don Juan whatever the hell his name was?"

"Actually, me and Taylor have been having a crazy, unadulterated, cyber sex fuelled relationship."

Danny stared at her long and hard. "You are seriously fucking disturbed," he declared. "Cyber sex. How does that even work?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "But next time you see Don, ask him to explain the ins and outs of IM sex. And no pun intended on the ins and outs."

"You and Flack have serious problems," Danny informed her. "Is there anything you two won't do?"

Sam considered it. "No," she answered. "Not really. We're easy."

"Obviously," Danny dead panned.

Sam's cell phone, resting on the top of her desk, rang noisily. Snatching it up, she checked the call display and sighed heavily as she sat the phone down once again.

"Speaking of your boy Taylor," Danny said, as he caught sight of the name on the screen of the phone. "Aren't you going to take his call?"

"He'll leave a message. I just know I'm going to be heading down there to face his wrath. I'm just stalling at the moment."

"Sooner you do it, the sooner it's over with," Danny reasoned.

"I know…it's just…I'm not ready to face him. Not yet. There was an incident downstairs. Between Don and I. And I'm pretty sure Whitmore has already run to Mac and squealed on us. I'm just not ready to hear about it just yet."

"What did you guys do? Have a massive blow out or something?"

"Or something. We had a mini makeout session in front of the elevators."

Danny raised both eyebrows.

"Well maybe it wasn't that scandalous," Sam said, as she bid her brother farewell and logged off of Second Life. "We got into a small fight and we sort of broke up for about five minutes. If that. Don chased me down and kissed me."

"Five minutes?" Danny grinned. "Two of you can't even stand being apart that long, huh? It's like an obsession for both of you. You're both incapable of being without each other. And forget about staying away from each other. Not possible."

"Hmmm…there's a comment about you flying all the way to Montana to be with someone that wasn't even your girlfriend at the time just dying to get out. But I'll hold it in."

"She just tells you everything, doesn't she."

Sam gave a smile. "It's what best friends do, Daniel."

"Flack and I don't tell each other everything," he said, stepping out of her way as she pushed her chair away from her desk and stood up.

Sam rolled her eyes at that. "You and Don just indulge in locker room talk. And don't deny it. Don't lie and tell me you two don't talk about Lindsay and I in a sexual way."

Danny didn't respond.

"Pigs," Sam huffed. "I better go. Get my twenty lashings or whatever Mac has in store for me."

"Judging from what Flack's told me," Danny called to her as he moved to his own desk and sat down. "You're into that sort of thing."

"Yeah? If that's what he's said, he's only told you that tame stuff. And do you think you could do me a favour while I'm out getting in trouble?"

"Depends what it is," Danny told her, looking across the room as she paused in the doorway.

"Go and find Lindsay. Apologize to her. She's pregnant and she's probably hormonal already. And she's my best friend. You guys are my best friends. And I can't take it when there's so much angst and drama going on. I want you two to be happy and in love and enjoying life together. The way things have been around here for you two....I don't know. It's like watching a poorly written CBS show."

"Yeah Flack told me that you watch that crap and then have crazy ass dreams afterwards. Wake him up at three in the morning and everything to talk about it."

"Nothing is sacred to that man, I swear. But seriously Danny. Hunt Lindsay down. Say you're sorry. Get down on your knees and kiss her ass. I don't care how you do it. Just do it."

Danny smirked and snapped off a crisp salute. "Yes, m'am!"

Sam winked and held up her hand in the Vulcan Salute.

"Live long and prosper," Danny chuckled as he turned on his computer. "She's such a goddamn nerd."


"Sammie!" Adam called, as he caught site of her breezing past the AV lab. He pushed his chair away from his work station and jumped to his feet and went after her. "Sammie! Got a second?!"

"Not really Peanut," she responded reluctantly. "I have to go and see Mac. And we both know that's only going to go one way."

"Frighteningly horrible," Adam concluded.

Sam glared at him.

He gave an apologetic smile and a shrug and fell in step alongside of her.

"Did you catch the guy?" she asked.

"I managed to find out who he was. I enticed him with my smoking hot body and my glowing personality and I sucked him right in. Only he wanted a little more then what I was up for and he called my game and took off. But I managed to get his IP and real world address. Because I'm sneaky like that and they pay me to track people down. Just call me a Cyber-Sleuther."

Sam grinned.

"Anyhow, I decided the best course of action at the moment was to sick a Graffer on his sorry ass. See if that doesn't get him to knock it out. In the meantime, I sent him a nasty email, from my personal account, telling him to stay away from my sister or pay the price. We'll see if I get a response. How did it go with IAB?"

"It went," she sighed. "I can't really talk about it. You know, the whole confidentiality issue."

Adam nodded in understanding. "You don't think that they'll want to talk to me do you?"

"Why would they want to talk to you?"

"Well I am your brother. And Flack's your boyfriend and it's his family that's involved. It's like that six degrees of Kevin Bacon game we play when we're drunk and there's nothing good on tv. Everything ties back to you. Flack's sister, Flack's father, then me 'cause I talked to his father and then Flack whose his father's son, Melanie's brother and your boyfriend. See where I'm coming from?"

"You lost me somewhere around Flack's father."

"Well it's all connected to you in a way. And you have no idea how badly it hurt to refer to Flack as your boyfriend."

"Get a grip, Adam," she said, and paused to take a drink at the water fountain three doors away from Mac's office.

"Seriously though. Do you think they'll want to talk to me?" Adam asked, worry in his eyes and lining his face.

"You're a civillian employee. I don't even think IAB has any jurisdiction over you. And even if they do, trust me, they would have found you by now. But just in case, I'll hunt you down some garlic, some holy water, and a sharp, pointed stake you can drive into his heart. I bet you that's why it was so dark in interrogation. Sunlight will kill him."

Adam gave a nervous chuckle.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Sam reached out to rub his arm reassuringly. "I think they used up their nastiness for the day on Don and I. So you're safe."

"Good," Adam breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Well not good that they were that nasty with you guys. But good they might stay away from me. And what I really was running out to tell you about, was that I just got a really weird phone call."

"From who?" Sam asked, lingering outside of Mac's door.

"Angel of Mercy Hospital. A nurse there said that she came across your business card on one of her patients. I guess it was in this guy's personal belongings or something. Only when they called the extension written on it, it was your old extension which now belongs to the Trace Lab. Anyhow, they mentioned Samantha Ross and Frank in trace told them to hold up and ran down to get me and I took the call."

"And?" Sam asked, waiting patiently for the rest of the story.

"And it turns out the patient was Zack. Which totally threw me because for one, I had no clue that he was even in New York City, and two, how would he get a hold of a business card of yours from when you first started? The only logical explanation I came up with is that maybe you sent the business card back to Phoenix to someone and he got a hold of it. But that's neither here nor there. The real issue is that he's here in the city."

"I already knew Zack was here," Sam admitted. "He paid Don a visit at his desk about a week and a half ago."

Adam's eyes widened.

"Don told me it was just a lot of bullshit and threats on Zack's part. Nothing major."

Sam wasn't about to tell her brother that Zack had shown up at her apartment looking to get back together, and that things had turned real ugly, real fast. Nor was she about to tell him about seeking out a convicted criminal's help in punishing her ex for the years of torment he'd inflicted on her. The less Adam knew, the better. For everyone involved.

"So what did this nurse want?" she asked, getting the conversation back on track.

"I guess Zack was mugged or something when he was leaving his apartment yesterday. And apparently whoever did it, really messed him up bad. She didn't go into the exact extent of his injuries, but she told me that he was going to be okay. And that he was asking for you."

Sam sighed heavily and briefly closed her eyes.

"He wants to see you," Adam said. "I told the nurse I'd talk to you, but that I wasn't making any promises. That I didn't think you'd want to go there after all the crap he put you through."

"Did you write down the room number and all of that?" she asked.

Adam nodded and reached into the back pocket of his cargo style pants and pulled out a folded piece of scrap paper. "Are you actually going to go and see him?" he asked, holding the paper out.

"I don't know," Sam replied and took the information from her brother. "We'll see."

"Well you can't go alone," Adam told her. "That would just be insane. If you want me to go with you, so that you have someone there for moral support, I'm off at six."

Sam smiled and nodded. "I'll buy dinner?" she asked.

"About time you treated," he replied with a grin. "I should let you go talk to Mac. You need to talk afterwards, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, Peanut," she said, and kissed in unshaven cheek in gratitude. And affection.

"I'm going to go back on line and see if I can't find that jackass," Adam said as he walked backwards down the hall. He placed a finger over his lips. "Our little secret."

Sam grinned and watched as he turned around and sauntered down the hall with his hands shoved in his pockets. Waiting until he disappeared into the AV room before taking a deep breath. Steeling herself, she released the breath slowly and then curled her fingers around the handle on Mac's office door.

Now or never.


Lindsay felt sick to her stomach. She'd been queasy every day, all day, for nearly three weeks straight. It had been a difficult thing to keep from everyone. At first the constant runs to the washroom at work or around the corner at a crime scene were easy to blame on a self diagnosis of the flu. But the longer it went on so did the mystery as to why those around here didn't come down with it as well. Especially Danny, considering the depth of their intimacy. He couldn't quite seem to figure out how they could share a bed and live in such close quarters and exchange bodily fluids, but not come down with her illness.

She had had the explanation all along. The true culprit behind her misery. She had missed two periods by the time she actually summoned enough courage to purchase a home pregnancy test a week ago. She hadn't considered the missed cycles anything to be alarmed about. Her system was notoriously screwed up when it came to dealing with highly stressful situations. And with planning a wedding and coping with issues at work and the general gruesomeness and nastiness of the job, she'd been a near basket case for a couple of months. But paired together with then uncharacteristic weak stomach, and she knew there was a slight problem.

It had thrown her for a loop when she'd seen that positive result on the home test. She had waited until Danny was fast asleep until she slipped out of bed and crept into the bathroom to pee on the plastic stick. She still remembered sitting on the ledge of the bathtub, her hand trembling and tears spiling down her cheeks as she stared down at the results before her. She was scared at the prospect of becoming a mother. Terrified in fact. She was pretty sure that neither she, or Danny, were at a place in their lives where they were ready for a baby. A big wedding was in the works. A baby would screw with that totally.

Yet at the same time, she'd been ecstatic at the surprising news. She was going to be a mom. There was a baby inside of her. She and Danny had created a life together. Unplanned and shocking, but not unwanted. That baby was already very much loved and she knew that it was blessing. A child for them to love and care for and make their strong bond and love even more powerful. For half an hour she'd sat in that bathroom, crying tears of joy and fright, before she wrapped the test in toilet paper and stashed it at the bottom of the full waste paper basket. Then she'd cleaned herself up and crept back to bed. Climbing back under the covers and cuddling up to the man she loved, who continued to sleep, none the wiser.

She'd held off on telling him until she had her first check up and ultrasound. She'd wanted to make sure everything was okay before dropping the bomb on him. She didn't want to get his hopes up -and hers for that matter- only to have them dashed by bad news.

She realized now, as she sat at her desk, nursing a lemon tea in hopes of quelling her persistent morning sickness, that she had handled the news of the baby all wrong. While she stood by her decision to tell him through the Valentine's Day card, she knew she'd overstepped her boundaries by insisting he talk about the baby when his mind was preoccupied on work. It was quite obvious, by his agitation, that he had had huge issues on his mind and she hadn't let things go and hadn't shown him the smallest ounce of respect by putting her needs on the back burner in order to support him.

It hadn't given him the right to be an asshole. It had hurt to see him, and hear him, being so cold and callous. Yet at the same time, she realized that was often the way with Danny. When he couldn't cope with something, he pushed those closest to him away. And it took the stronger ones to push back to help him deal.

They were both at fault. Lindsay knew that. And she knew that Danny was just too damn stubborn and proud to make the first move towards reconciliation.

Always up to the woman, she thought with a heavy sigh and reached for her cell phone. She hadn't gotten even half the number punched in before she sensed someone watching her from across the room. And as she glanced over to the door, a smile tugged at her lips at the sight of the love of her life standing there. A container of milk and a small paper bag in one hand, a single red rose in the other.

"Friends?" he asked, a teasing glitter to his eyes.

"Are those your peace offerings?" she inquired in return.

Danny nodded.

She smiled and waved him inside.

"I guess I should be thankful that you're letting me anywhere near you," he commented, as he walked into the office, closing the door behind him.

"I'm still pretty pissed at you," Lindsay admitted. "But not as pissed as I was."

"What's cooled your jets a bit?" he asked, setting the milk and bag down on her desk before gallantly presenting her with the rose.

"The realization that I crossed our line between professional and personal," she replied, holding the flower close to her nose and breathing in it's intoxicating scent. "I realized that there's a time and place for everything. And I should have respected that. And you're issues. And I'm sorry for that."

"Apology accepted," he said and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"Not that that gives you free reign to be a tool," Lindsay informed him. "Because by no means am I going to sit back and let you act like a completle tool."

Danny smirked as he grabbed Hawkes' chair from behind his empty desk and wheeled it over and placed it beside Lindsay. "You're hanging around Brooklyn way too much," he said as he sat down. "You're starting to use your vocabulary."

She's definitely rubbing off on me. I didn't swear like a drunken sailor until she arrived."

"Her language is definitely colourful," Danny agreed. "Look, Montana…" he sighed heavily and laying a hand on the back of her neck, kneaded it gently. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I shouldn't have pushed you, or the news about the baby away like I did. I was just stressed with this whole Sam and Flack IAB shit and I…"

Lindsay laid a finger over his lips to silence him. "Let's just both say sorry and let bygones be bygones? Okay?"

He smiled and kissed her fingertip. "Okay," he agreed. "And for the record, I didn't mean I thought the baby was a mistake. I just meant…I don't know what I meant. I just know I was stunned and having a hard time processing it. But I love you. And anything that's part of you. And so it's a little shocking and unexpected. We'll deal. We always do."

"We always come out on top," she agreed. "We'll be okay, Danny. All of us."

"Damn right we will," he said confidently and ran a gentle hand over her hair and along her face. "Go on," he nodded at the paper bag. "Open your surprise."

"An early Valentine's present?" she asked, her eyes sparkling as she picked up the bag and opened it.

"A just because present," he replied.

"Just because? You're hanging around Flack way too much."

"Guy has some good ideas," Danny reasoned with a shrug. "And we both worship the ground our girls walk on."

"And so you guys rightfully should," she teased, and reaching into the bag, pulled out a blueberry muffin. She arched an eyebrow at her fiance.

"A muffin for my muffin," he announced, and pecked the end of her nose.

"You're kidding, right? Muffin?"

"My two muffins actually," he said, and laid his free hand on her stomach.

"Have you been spending too much time breathing in some fumes down in tox or something?" she joked, and breaking a piece of muffin off the top, popped it into her mouth.

"Naw…I just happen to be madly and crazily in love with the most amazing woman in the world," he declared.

Lindsay beamed.

Danny winked at her and pressed his lips to her temple before placing a hand on the back of her head and drawing it down to his shoulder.

And there they sat. Basking in the silence that suddenly enveloped them. Hearts beating in unison as the craziness of life went on beyond the office walls. Spending a small shred of their hectic lives together.

As a family.


Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing. Things have been R and R wise and I hope it's not 'cause this story is that awful and just that y'all are having issues at school and such. So I am looking forward to hearing for you guys! Thanks for the support!

Special thanks to:

Laurzz

Hope4sall

afrozenheart412

Laplandgurl

muchmadness

Soccer-bitch

Wolfeylady

Bluehaven4220

Forest Angel

Danaaa