WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I OBVIOUSLY OWN SAM AND I AM PROUD OF HER. JUST SO THE WORLD KNOWS ;) SHE MAY BE DESPISED BY SOME, BUT TO THOSE WHO LOVE HER, I THANK YOU!

A/N: THANKS TO EVERYONE ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS!

OKAY, SO I KNOW I SAID NO ONE WOULD DIE. WELL THE MUSE HAD OTHER IDEAS. I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE, BUT ASSURE ALL YOU DANNY GIRLS OUT THERE THAT HE IS GOING TO BE PERFECTLY FINE!

JUST TO CLEAR UP CONFUSION, THE SAM AND FLACK PARTS AT THE BEGINNING TAKE PLACE AT THE SAME TIME AS THE DANNY SECTION.


In the blink of an eye

"And they were all born pretty in New York City tonight,
And someone's little girl was taken from the world tonight,
Under the Stars and Stripes
As strong as you were, tender you go.
I'm watching you breathing for the last time.
A song for your heart, but when it is quiet,
I know what it means and I'll carry you home.
And I'll carry you home."
-Carry You Home, James Blunt


Flack couldn't sleep.

An hour and a half after climbing into bed, feeling emotionally and physically exhausted, he found himself wide awake, flat on his back in the rumbled queen sized bed, his right forearm draped over his eyes. The steady tick of the watch he sported on his right wrist and the soft, rhythmic breathing of the sleeping form that lay next to him sounded thunderous to his ears. He was uncharacteristically nervous and anxious. After stopping at Danny and Lindsay's to pick up used baby clothes of Danny Jr's that they'd been keeping in storage and their basement, they'd stopped off at the nearest twenty four hour pharmacy and stocked up on necessities. The disgustingly expensive pre-made liquid formula that came in small, glass single serving bottles, a couple of tins of the powdered kind, a wide variety of nipples and bottles, and an the largest box of Pampers Swaddlers the store had to offer. Sam, the paranoid mother hen that she was, also insisted on grabbing gripe water, infant Tylenol and a digital thermometer that went in the ear. He'd complained, as she'd dropped it into the cart, that they already had one just like it at home.

"But this is for babies, Donnie," she'd insisted. "The one at home is for the rest of the family. It's too big to go in Hunter's tiny ears."

He had submitted, naturally. He'd always had a hell of time saying no to her. One flash of those golden brown eyes and a flick of those impossibly long dark eyelashes and a tiny pout of those lips and he was putty in her hands. Of course, it didn't hurt that she was usually right. Although that would be a cold day in hell when he actually admitted that to her face. Instead, he'd grumbled and bitched as they made their way to the cash register, and had raised his eyes when the young girl working nights announced what their total was.

"You're going to have me living on a park bench soon," he'd informed his wife, but handed over his credit card anyway.

"It's for the baby, Donnie," she'd said, as cuddled Hunter, wrapped in a polar fleece Winnie the Pooh blanket they'd grabbed at the hospital gift shop before heading home, tight to her chest.

She looked years younger then forty one as she stood there, her short hair mussed, no make up covering the spatter of freckles across her nose, and her glasses perched on her face. A graceful smile on her face as she stared down in awe at the tiny angel that had come so quickly and unexpectedly into their family. While guilt continued to flood through him at the reminder of how badly he'd hurt her and how he'd almost lost it all, her face glowed with nothing but pure, unconditional love for that little boy in her arms. She may not have been able to completely forgive and forget, but the remaining key to her healing lay embedded in that baby she accepted with no strings attached. She had wanted another baby so badly. Had spent so many nights and days over the past five years over the fact that her chance to become a mother again had been ripped away from her. And now here was Hunter Gates. Unknowingly answering all of her previously unanswerable prayers.

Making her genuinely happy.

And much to the chagrin of the cashier, Flack had reached out, laid a hand on the back of his wife's head and pulled her into him for a long, tender kiss. He adored her. Always had and always would. And he was hell bent on putting his all into her and his kids.

And that included his son.

It wasn't going to be easy. Flack knew that. Hunter, as adorable as he was, was a constant reminder of his massive fuck up. The kid of course, was the only innocent party save for Sam and the girls- in the sordid mess. It wasn't Hunter's fault that his old man couldn't keep it in his pants. That his father simply just couldn't say no and walk away the first time that it ever happened. Hell, before that even. That he couldn't say thanks but no thanks to Jordan's blatant proposition. Flack had been a complete and utter ass. So desperate to rid himself of the stress at home and to feel that someone actually wanted him and loved him, that he'd been willing to toss his entire life away. He knew, even when he was doing it -doing her to be more precise- that he needed to just get the hell out of there and never go back. He never once spent the night at her place. He'd go there, once, twice, sometimes even three times a week, do his business and leave after a couple of hours. It had been nothing but sex.

Not that it made what he did any better. No excuse was a valid one. And he'd always, for the rest of his days, feel like the lowest scumbag on earth for getting himself mixed up with Jordan.


Sam stirred beside him. Muttering in her sleep and sighing heavily as she rolled over onto her stomach. He raised his arm slightly and glanced over at his own sleeping beauty. Her hands tucked under her pillow, her face turned towards him. Eyelashes falling on her pale cheeks and a gentle smile curving her lips. Even in her sleep she looked happy. And it had been a long time since Flack had seen her truly content.

Sighing heavily, he put his forearm over his eyes once more and willed sleep to come. Begged his racing heart and his anxious nerves to just calm the hell down. It was the first time, since his initial crime scene back from the bombing when truth be told, as he speed towards the call, had felt nauseous and tense at the thought of being back on the streets, that he'd been that uptight about the prospect of a raid. And he wasn't even a physical part of it. Mac had called, shortly after they'd stepped in the door with their new bundle of joy, and told him about identifying this Sal Grecko character as Jordan's killer, and finding the link between Grecko and Jordan's ex. Flack couldn't say he was surprised that the ex was in on it. Even from behind bars. Once a nut job, always a nut job was his philosophy.

Mac had told him that he was heading to Rikers. And that Hawkes and Danny were heading out to nail Grecko with Bernstein, Maka and a few uniforms. And it was that 'raid' that had Flack's stomach in knots and a million and one fatalistic, horrific thoughts swirling through his head. Something just didn't feel…right. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt it. He only hoped that those involved would be smart.

A tiny sneeze, followed by a slight whimper erupted from the portable playpen he'd erected hours earlier by Sam's side of the bed. It had been a hell of long time since he'd heard baby noises coming from his home but Flack's ears pricked up immediately and he lay there, silent and still, wondering if it was just a restless night on Hunter's part, or if he was going to be waking the entire house in a matter of minutes.

The whimpering became louder and more insistent, bordering on full out crying. At the foot of the bed, Wiener raised his head and glanced towards the play pen. There was a slight jingle as the tags on his collar clinked together as he slowly got to his feet and cautiously made his way over towards the newcomer making such strange noises.

"Wiener!" Flack whispered. "Lie down and mind your own damn business!"

"He's just being protective," Sam mumbled, as she raised her head from her pillow. "You know what he gets like when the girls get sick. He plops down right on their pillows and stays with them until he feels it safe to leave. That they'll be okay without him."

"Lap dog who thinks he's a guard dog," Flack snorted.

"I'll have you know, Wiener-Beaner could do a lot of damage," Sam yawned. "If he's not gnawing your shins, he can jump up and latch on firmly to your ass. Who needs a pit bull or a Rotti? We have Wiener the vicious, man eating dachshund."

There was a slight rustling in the playpen as the baby managed to free his hands from the confines of the tight swaddling Sam had wrapped him in before putting him to bed, and Hunter let out one shrill, angry cry.

Sam groaned and propped herself up on her elbows. "It's been a long time since we've heard something like that in our lives."

Flack nodded in agreement. "We going to lie here all night and talk about it or are you going to take care of things before he wakes up the whole house?" he asked.

"And here I was thinking you were going to let me sleep," she mused, and leaning sideways, pressed a kiss to his lips. "Would you be a sweetheart and go into the bathroom and warm up that bottle I left on the counter? A little time under some hot water should do the trick."

"You're demanding," he declared, but shoved the blankets off nonetheless and slipped out of bed. Snapping on the lamp on the night table before heading for the en-suite bathroom.

She sighed heavily and rubbed sleep out of her eyes, she gave another loud yawned and stretched until her aching back and shoulders cracked. Aren't I in just fantastically awesome shape? Sam thought, as she pushed the comforter off over her legs and swung them over the side of the bed. Standing up, she hissed at the freezing cold hard wood under her feet, and turned to face the bed. Taking the time to arrange her pillows against the head board before finally taking the two short steps to the play pen.

"Well aren't you just a little stinker," she said, addressing the fussy baby in a gentle tone as she leaned over the makeshift bed to extract him from his swaddling. "You are way too little to figure out how to get out of that," she informed him, as she scooped him up into her arms. "You ARE just like your sisters," she declared, as she made her way back to the bed and climbed into the middle of it.

"Too smart for his own good you mean?" Flack asked, as he caught her last remark as he journeyed out of their bathroom, bottle in hand.

"Well I was going to say sneaky and crafty," she replied, as she laid Hunter along her arm. "But that sounds about right too. He managed to get both arms out of his receiving blanket. Even the girls took longer than that to grasp the whole concept of escape and freedom. But you…" she pressed a kiss to the baby's soft forehead. "You are just like your daddy. A huge study in contradiction. Aren't you, sweet doll."

Despite the fact that the baby's presence brought the pain and betrayal of her husband's affair to the surface, the love that she felt for that little boy was incredible. Not being able to have other children had been a tough, bitter pill to swallow. Before they had gotten married, she and Flack had talked long and hard about wanting a fairly large family. If her body -considering the trauma done to her uterus when she suffered her miscarriage with Zack's baby years previous- would allow them to. A well kept secret from their family and friends, the moment they'd moved in together they'd began to discuss, on several occasions in fact, having a baby. It had never been a definite yes we should, but they hadn't busted their asses to remember to use contraception every time they made love. Nor were they shocked or disappointed when she'd found out that September, that they she was pregnant.

The shock and disappointment had hit them hard when only two weeks after the test had come back positive, she'd lost the baby. She'd been less then three months, so the loss hadn't been a severe one.

Kellan and Kallison had been, and still were, the miracles of their lives. After almost a year of trying once they were married, finding out that she was finally pregnant had been a relief, but had also filled them with a sense of fear. Neither wanted anything to go wrong. Flack had held his breath and silently prayed each and every time his expectant wife stepped onto a crime scene. Hell, everything she stepped out the door for that matter. For two months, he'd nagged and begged and pleaded with her to go on sick leave. Or modified assignment. Sam in turn, had assured him she and their twins, were feeling great. She was under a doctor's strict care and everyone at work was watching out for her. She would pull herself out of the field once she felt she was endangering the babies. And he'd been relieved when that time had come when she was six months pregnant.

Having the radical hysterectomy had nearly destroyed her. It had caused her to feel like less of a woman. She was angry and ashamed for not being able to give her husband more children. On more than one occasion, she'd told him she'd understand if he wanted to move on. To find someone who could give him a bigger family. To which he'd narrowed his eyes and not so politely warned her to never, ever say something like that again. It didn't matter to him that they couldn't have more kids. He had his girls. His angels. And they made him feel complete.

She'd been furious when Flack had come to her, in the midst of their marital turmoil and revealed that not only was Jordan pregnant, but that an amnio had proved that it was his. It was that announcement that had sent her scrambling to a divorce lawyer and bringing her dangerously close to ending everything. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd decided to forgive him and take him back. Part of it was purely selfish on her part. She was ill and knew she couldn't take care of their children alone. Another part was because deep down she loved him and didn't want to break up her family. She herself had come from a seriously dysfunctional, broken home and she didn't want her girls going through that.

She'd never thought in a million years that Hunter would ever come into their lives on a permanently basis. But he had and she was tumbling into love with him. He needed a family. People to love him and care for him. He was completely dependent on them and there was no way she could abandon him. Or disappoint him.


"I'm starting to feel a little left out here," Flack complained, as he climbed onto the bed alongside of her and leaned back against the head board.

"Why's that?" she asked, eyes never leaving the baby's face, her fingertips gently gliding across Hunter's forehead, tracing his eyebrows and drifting down the bridge of his nose.

"I've been the only guy in the house for five years," Flack reasoned, stretching his legs out. "Only guy in your life for nearly eight. Now all of a sudden there's another guy here to give me competition. All this time I've had all the females around here wrapped around my finger. Dotting on me and thinking I can do no wrong. And now…well now he's just come along and upset the balance of things. Infringed on my popularity."

She laughed at that. "You're a silly man, Donnie," she said, and leaning sideways, pecked his cheek.

"I mean look at you and your new boyfriend there. He sucked you right in. How can I ever compete with that?"

"Because he's my little boy," she told him with a soft smile. "And you're my man and my one and only. You know that."

He gave a smile of his own and kissed her tenderly.

She giggled against his lips and pulled away. "He's going for my boob again," she said.

"Like you said in the hospital, he's a boob man like his old man," Flack grinned and handed her the bottle.

She accepted the milk from him and glided the nipple along Hunter's lips before he finally opened up and took his drink eagerly. "He's a very, very good eater," she declared. "Like the girls."

"He's my son. Was there any doubt he'd have a huge appetite?"

"He acts like he hasn't eaten in forever. I know the doctor said that he was healthy and all of that. But I seriously hope that she wasn't…I don't know. Mistreating him in anyway."

"CPS said that there'd be no complaints against Jordan," Flack reminded her. "She was being treated for depression, but that his doctor said he showed no signs of neglect. Maybe he's just extra hungry. He's a growing boy after all."

She nodded and stared down at the infant as he sucked aggressively at his bottle. "Feels weird after five years, doesn't it." It was more a statement then a question.

"Just a little," Flack said. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. "You're doing alright, though."

"He's everything I ever wanted," she admitted in a quiet voice. "After the girls and the operation and after all of those requests to adopt blew up in our face, I never thought I'd get this chance again. And I know it's hard for you. That he brings back a lot of bad memories for you, but he's so beautiful, Donnie. And we can give him a really good home."

"We can," he agreed with a smile, and laying a hand on her hair, drew her head down to rest on her shoulder. "And we will."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. The only sounds in the rooms their hearts beating, their collective breathing, and the soft suckling as Hunter concentrated on his meal. Their eyes riveted on the baby, and their thoughts on the drastic turn their lives had taken. Flack couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong. While he knew he couldn't be actively involved in the case, a huge part of him wanted to be behind his friends going through that door on the raid on Sal Grecko's place. He was worried about them. A genuine worry that he hadn't felt in a long time. He knew that Danny and Hawkes were more then qualified and experienced to handle picking up a dangerous felon. And with Bernstein and Maka and uniforms there, the chances of something going wrong were remote.

But then again, Flack never thought he'd be blown up in a building that Sunday afternoon many years ago. It had been the last thing he had expected to happen to him. And in such a short expanse of time, from when he met Monroe at her department issued vehicle to when he'd turned to go after the shmuck in the noise cancelling headphones who hadn't heard the alarms, his life had been seriously shortened. And had reinforced his belief that anything could happen.

"You're worried about Danny and Hawkes," Sam said, her voice breaking through the silence.

"A little," he admitted with a sigh, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

"They know what they're doing, Donnie. They wouldn't go into something like that unprepared. They've done tons of arrests just like this."

"I know…it's just…something doesn't feel right, Sammie. I can't put my finger on it. I just feel it."

"I'm sure everything is fine," she said. "Mac will call you to let you know how everything went. Try not to get too anxious, okay? Besides, Danny's not the same Danny anymore. He's not that guy who used to run into a building after perps with no vest. Having a wife and kids smartened him up. And Hawkes…well Hawkes is the epitome of going by the book. You're probably just out of sorts because this case is so personal."

"Probably," he agreed, watching as she removed the empty bottle from Hunter's mouth, placed it on the bed and lifted the baby to her chest. "You want me to do that?" he asked curiously.

"I'm okay," she replied. Then looked at him. "Why? Did you want to do it?"

"I'd like to," he told her.

She smiled brightly and carefully passed the infant to him. "You always did do the big, strong, tough guy with a baby thing very, very well," she observed, as he laid Hunter against him, the baby's stomach to his chest, one hand supporting the infant's head , the other rubbing his son's back in soft, slow circles. The white gold of his wedding band sparkling in the lamp light.

"Yeah…I remember you telling me on many occasions how it did something for you," he teased, grinning at her as he attempted to illicit a burp from the baby. "Besides, I was always the master of getting the girls to burp, remember? You used to hand them to me to do it."

"That's because they would never cooperate for anyone but daddy," Sam mused. "They're still like that."

"Daddy's girls," he said proudly. "And now I've got a daddy's boy too."

She rolled her eyes. "Isn't it suppose to be a mama's boy?" she asked.

"Only if we want him to turn into a wimp," Flack replied.

She slapped his shoulder lightly. "That's mean. Just because a little boy loves his mommy does not mean he's a wimp. It just means that he's…"

"Soft?" Flack offered up.

"In touch with his emotional, feminine side," Sam finished.

"Metro-sexual you mean."

"That is not what I mean!" she scolded him.

"Look, be as close to him as you want, babe. I'm just saying that I don't want you turning my kid into some…what the hell was that guy's name years ago? He was in that rock band. Fall Out something or other. He was married and had a kid with one of them Simpson girls."

"Pete Wentz," Sam told him. "Fall Out Boy. He was married to Ashley Simpson. Probably still is. Who knows?"

"Well whatever. Guy used to wear eyeliner and all that crap. Makeup, babe. No guy should be wearing makeup. That's just wrong. No way are you turning my kid into a Pete Weirdo."

"Wentz!" Sam cried, and pulling a pillow out from behind her, smacked him lightly with it. "Pete Wentz!"

"Wentz…Weirtz…Wierdo. Whatever. I'm just saying there's no way Hunter is turning out like that. He's going to be playing football and hockey and looking like a dude. Kapish?"

"I think you need to get in touch with your feminine side," Sam informed him and lay down on her side facing him.

"Only touching of a feminine side I need to be doing, is getting my hands on your…"

She smirked and gently yanked at a piece of hair on his thigh. "Keep that thought to yourself, babe," she said.

"I am just saying…"

"I know what you're saying and I think you're being a tool about the whole thing. So what if your son turns out a little girly?"

He stared at her as if she'd grown two heads.

"You worry about him going soft but what about Kellan or Kallison? One of them might go totally hard and come to you one day when they're fifteen and tell you they want to dress like a boy and that they like girls. As in like them, like them."

Flack frowned. "I have said this on many occasions and I will say it again. You are all kinds of sick and twisted.

Sam stuck her tongue out at him. Laying her hand on his thigh, she closed her eyes. "Donnie?" she asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

"What, babe?"

"I need to ask you something and I don't want you to be upset when I do."

"Then maybe you shouldn't ask it," he teased.

She sighed heavily.

"Just kidding, Sammie. You know you can ask me anything."

Her eyes flickered open and she looked up at him. "Did you at least take your wedding ring off when you…you know…when you…with Jordan?"

He blinked.

"I know that it shouldn't really matter and that it's behind us. But I just need to know if you…"

He sighed heavily and pressed a kiss to his son's head. "Every time, Sammie. Each and every time I took it off."

She gave a small smile.

"Not that it made a difference," he said. "I just shouldn't have done it to begin with."

"No…you shouldn't have," she told him. "But we're going to get passed it eventually right? Like completely get past it?"

He nodded slowly and looked down at her. "I hope so," he sighed.

She pressed a kiss to his leg and closed her eyes once more. "I hope so too," she said sleepily.


"Danny!…Danny!"

The frantic, terrified screams echoed through his brain and sliced through the thick, black shroud that suffocated him. His entire body felt numb. His limbs felt heavy and useless. All noises and words were muffled and garbled. As if he was thousands of miles underwater trying to make sense of what was happening above. His lungs burned and his back ached. Discomfort coursed through his body with each breath he took. Raising his right arm took tremendous effort and he let out a guttural moan as fire shot through his entire body. His bloody fingertips briefly touched warm flesh sprawled on the ground mere inches away before a trembling hand grasped his tightly.

"Danny!" the figure hovering above him screamed his name once more. It was…female. Through his agony he was able to determine that the warm, shaking hand so strongly holding his and the voice belonged to a woman.

"Lind-say…" he choked each syllable out. With all the strength in his body, he used his free hand to reach for the mass of brown hair and that smooth, angelic face that represented everything that was comforting and welcoming in his life. The woman who'd made him the happiest, luckiest man in the world the day she became his wife. Who had given him the greatest, most precious gifts in the form of their three children.

"Listen to me, Danny…you're going to be okay…just lie still…you're going to be fine…"

He shook his head. The simple act sending daggers of pain through his brain.

"Yes…yes you are…" she insisted. "There's nothing to worry about...just breath nice and slow…deep, slow breaths…no sudden movements…just try and relax…"

He coughed noisily, then moaned as his lungs burned and failed to draw proper breaths.

"Danny! Open your eyes! Open your eyes and look at me goddamnit! I need to know that you're hearing what I'm saying…"

He whispered her name once more. He felt weak and disoriented. He could hear shouting and quick, panicked movements next to him. He wondered where he was. And what the hell had happened to him. Slowly he opened his eyes and light returned to his world once more. He found himself staring up at a dirty, water damaged ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye he was aware of another body stretched out alongside of him. He could see legs shaking frantically, uniformed officers in Kevlar vests hunkered down. Shouting for help into walkie talkies as they tended to the injured party before them. Through his haze, Danny was able to see Detective Bernstein, a grave look on his face, marching a handcuffed suspect out the front door, a sawed off shot gun in his free hand.

It was then that Danny broke free of his fog and realization hammered down. The events of the evening flooded through him. Jordan Gates dead. Sam and Flack taking baby Hunter home from the hospital. A con named Sal Grecko being linked to Jordan's ex husband. The nearly hour drive from the lab to that rat trap of an apartment building in Brooklyn. Strapping on a Kevlar vest. Teasing Maka about her trip to Vegas. Standing outside the apartment door, waiting to make his move. Rushing through the kicked in door.

And then…a strong hand on his shoulder forcefully yanking him out of the way as a gunshot rang out. Stumbling backwards, he'd lost his footing on the trash that littered the apartment door and gone down hard. Had he hit his head? Knocked himself out?

Turning his head to the side, he reached out for that prone figure beside him. A burgundy shirt with the cuffs rolled to the elbows. Black pinstripe pants. Smooth dark skin.

Hawkes.

Danny struggled to get into a sitting position. Anxious to get to his friend. Propelled into action at the pool of blood quickly spreading across the floor. Only to have two small, yet firm hands shove him back down. He shouted profanities, fought his captor off, screamed Hawkes' name over and over again.

"Danny! Listen to me!" Maka shook him forcibly. "Listen to me! You need to lie there and calm down! You've been shot! Do you understand me? You've been shot!"

He shook his head. "One shot…" he managed. "I heard one shot…"

"You only heard the first one. It caught you in the vest. You've had the wind knocked out of you. It probably collapsed your lung. You fell backwards and hit your head. Knocked yourself out. Are you understanding me, Danny?"

"Hawkes…grabbed me…he grabbed me and…"

"He grabbed you and pulled you out of the direct path but you still took it in the vest. It would have hit you in the side where there's no Kevlar. If he hadn't have grabbed you…"

"Hawkes…" Danny wheezed. His bloody hand once again reaching out for his friend.

"They're doing everything they can," Maka assured him. "He took the second shot in the neck. It ricocheted off the wall and hit in the left side of his throat. EMS is on the way. He's going to be fine. The best thing you can do for him is stay calm, okay?"

Danny shook his head. He heard the uneasiness in Maka's voice. The uncertainty. The frantic calls being made to the ambulance on route. He saw the uniform office straddling Hawkes' chest as he attempted, in vain, to staunch the flow of blood from the wound with his bare hands. He could see the way Hawkes' left hand twitched uncontrollably. The gold wedding ring on his finger glittering in the light of that crappy apartment in Brooklyn. He was seizing. Danny could recognize those movements anywhere.

It can't end like this, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut in order to hold back the threat of tears. Not this way. Not this night. Not Hawkes. Anyone but him. It wasn't his time. It was far from his time. And as he lay there, listening to the officers work on his friend and colleague, Danny Messer was besieged with years of memories. The Marvin Heckman case. The super-sized music producer who'd fallen to his death from his apartment balcony while attempting to retrieve chocolate he'd stashed inside a gargoyle. Hawkes, making one of his rare trips out of the morgue, had called the canopy their big man had fallen onto an awning. Danny however, had been quick to correct him. It was a canopy. His cousin made them for a living.

He thought of countless other moments at work that he and Hawkes had shared together. The way that the former ME had slightly scolded him on the way to a crime scene about his bitching and moaning because his girlfriend at the time was insisting that he go to her boss' son's Bar Mitzvah. He remembered, during the investigation of murdered weather girl Tara Stansfield, going to the television station and meeting up with slimy producer Ethan Fallon, and stumbling upon the homemade sex tape featuring their deceased and the very marred Mr Fallon. And then watching it, poor quality as it was, in the lab with Adam Ross.

He easily recalled the trip they'd made to Coney Island during the search for Scott Colson's killer, and while Danny himself had silently thought the sideshow performers they were questioning -as nice and down to earth as they were- were complete and utter freaks, Hawkes had never blinked an eye or talked down to them or looked at them as if they were anything but regular people. Hawkes had that kind of heart. He accepted people, no questions asked. He was compassionate and kind and soulful. Gentle.

But Danny's most vivid memory, save for the personal moments they'd shared over the years - their respective weddings, kids' birthday parties, the death of Hawkes' mother- was of the time that Danny had had to save his friend while he was trapped under the mast of a sunken ship. It wasn't so much that act of saving Hawkes that Danny relished the most. He had just been thankful that he'd been able to do it. It was the light hearted moment they'd shared at that back of the ambulance. Danny teasing the good doctor about what he was thinking about as his life flashed before his eyes, and Hawkes, despite the pain from a dislocated shoulder and a fractured rib, had given a chuckle and a charismatic smile and told him that his only thought playing through his mind was laying on a slab down in autopsy while Sid fired up the bone spreader.

There'd been many other moments. Too many to mention, in fact. The injustice of Hawkes being arrested for Kelly Jones' murder. Danny would have defended him to the death if need be, and would have stopped at nothing to prove that his friend was innocent. And Danny realized, as he lay there, his head swimming both from the years of memories tumbling through it and the horrific headache that was quickly and effortlessly assaulting him, that while he'd usually been the one that needed defending, he had had his stellar moments over the years that had defined him as a pretty damn good friend.

Danny felt nauseous. Both from the injuries he'd received and from the realization that Hawkes lay close to death beside him. And he thought of Mari and the kids. Of how she'd cope without her husband, the man she called the most beautiful, tender soul on the planet and the love of her life. How Jasmine and Elijah would cope without him. Hawkes was a patient, attentive and loving father. He adored Jas as if she were his own. He never missed a school or extra curricular event. He bragged about both his children and kept framed pictures on his desk. When he spoke of them -of Mari in particular- his entire face lit up with pride and adoration. He had found true, unconditional love and was not afraid to express it to the world.

"Danny?" Maka's voice cut into his thoughts. His memories the only thing keeping his mind off of the burning in his chest and the agony in his head. The only thing keeping him sane as the thought of losing such an influential person in his life swept through him.

His eyes flickered open.

"EMS is here now…they're going to take Hawkes' out first, okay?…then the second crew will come back and get you…are you understanding me?"

"Quit talking so fucking much," he responded. "I've got a bad enough headache without listening to you go on and on and on and asking me stupid questions. I can hear ya. I'm not deaf, ya know."

A grin tugged at the corner of Maka's mouth.

"Just…" Danny struggled to comprehend what was happening around him. His head slowly turning to the side to watch as EMS workers wasted no time in loading Hawkes, now shirtless with an oxygen mask over his face, heart sensor pads affixed to his chest and IV lines running into him, onto a stretcher. "Make sure you call Lindsay…tell her that I'm fine…that I'm going to be fine…and tell her that she has to tell Mari herself…I don't want anyone else going to that house and scaring Mari and the kids…tell Lindsay what happened and that she has to get to Mari first…"

"I will," Maka promised him. "You're going to be okay, Danny…you're a tough little shit, you know that? You're lucky all you got was a knock to the head and a twenty two to the vest."

"Lucky…" Danny gave a small, dry laugh. "Hawkes though…"

She gave a grave smile. "They're doing what they can," she assured him. "It's in God's hands now. Put your faith there, too."

Danny sighed and shook his head and closed his eyes.

Terrified at the realization that faith had deserted him a long time ago.


The shrill ringing off the beside telephone shattered the peacefulness of the Flack household. Flack's eyes snapped open immediately and his hand reached out in the dark to fumble for the offending object in the dark. The last thing he wanted was Sam and the baby to be disturbed. Hunter had gone back to sleep immediately after his feeding, and once he was safely swaddled and placed in his temporary bed, the lights were switched off and his parents were able to return to bed themselves.

A quick glance at the clock radio next to his head told Flack they'd been asleep for just shy of an hour. Definitely not long enough, he thought, issuing silent profanities at whoever had the nerve to so rudely interrupt their slumber. And then the reality of the night hit him full force. The memory of Mac's phone call and the news on the raid replaying in Flack's mind. And immediately his heart began to hammer in his chest and his stomach knotted.

Beside him, Sam stirred. At the end of the bed, Wiener shifted position but didn't awaken. In the playpen, Hunter gave a soft sigh. And then was silent once again.

Flack snatched up the cordless and sat up quickly, moving the phone to his right hand as the left reached out to flick on the bedside lamp. Sam rolled over onto her stomach and raised her head to look at him just as he hit the talk button on the phone.

"Yeah…this is Flack…" he said in way of greeting. "Whoa…whoa…" his eyes widened and he was already throwing the covers off of his legs. "Slow down…take it easy Kaile…take a breath and go a little slower…what's going on?…what happened?"

Panic registered on Sam's face. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and then moved into a sitting position. Watching nervously as her husband jumped out of bed and hurried for his dressing, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he began a near frantic search for clothes.

"When?" Flack asked, as a pair of jeans a sweatshirt were tossed onto the bed, followed by boxers and a pair of socks. The items narrowly missing the sleeping dog. "How in the hell did that happen?…Is Danny okay? What did the doctors say?"

"What happened to Danny?" Sam asked, her entire body trembling. "Donnie? What happened?"

He ignored her as he turned towards the bed and began stripping off his bed clothes and yanking on the boxers and jeans. "So he's okay then? Linds is with him?"

Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

"And what about Hawkes?" Flack asked. "What?…When?"

Sam didn't like the sound of her husband's voice, nor the way he stopped what he was doing and the way shock registered on his face.

He raised his eyes and looked at her. Blue eyes meeting golden brown. His were serious and dire. Hers were terrified.

"Donnie.." fear crept into her voice. "What…?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he said into the phone, and then hung up and tossed the cordless onto the bed.

"Donnie…" Sam said again, her tone pleading. "Everything's okay, right? Please tell me that everything's okay."

He shook his head slowly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes. "What…?"

"It's Hawkes…" he told her. Fighting his own emotion. "He…he was shot…during the raid…he…"

"Don…don't say what I think you're going to say…please don't say it."

"I'm sorry, Sammie…"

She shook her head, then covered her mouth with her hand as a sob threatened to erupt.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "But he's…"

"Please don't…" she pleaded. "Please…"

Flack abandoned dressing himself and climbed onto the bed. Kneeling before her, he gently took her face in his hands. Forcing her to look him dead in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered. "Hawkes is dead."


Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate all of your support! Even all the lurkers! So please R and R folks!

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