DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. BUT I WISH I OWNED ANGELL'S CLOTHES, LOOKS, BODY AND HER ABILITY TO HANDCUFF AN EXCEPTIONALLY HOT AND SEXY, GROWN MAN TO A BED POST. TRUST ME FOLKS, YOU WILL SOON SEE WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT.
A/N: HUGE THANKS TO HOPE4SALL, MUCHMADNESS AND AFROZENHEART412 FOR ALL OF THEIR SUPPORT AS OF LATE. I REALLY APPRECIATE IT!
As you'll recall, I touched briefly in a chapter a long, long while back where Sam talked about losing a baby and not knowing if she could ever carry to term. So...yeah....I follow up a bit on that. So heads up those who don't remember it!
Changing of the guard
"Maybe I was stupid
For telling you goodbye
Maybe I was wrong
For tryin' to pick a fight
I know that I've got issues
But you're pretty messed up too
Either way I found out I'm nothing without you
'Cuz we belong together now,
Forever united here somehow,
You got a piece of me
And honestly
My life (my life) would suck (would suck) without you
Being with you is so dysfunctional
I really shouldn't miss you,
But I can't let you go,
Oh yeah
'Cuz we belong together now,
Forever united here somehow,
You got a piece of me
And honestly
My life (my life) would suck (would suck) without you."
-My Life Would Suck Without You, Kelly Clarkson
Flack cast a weary glance at the illuminated digital numbers of the dashboard clock. Quarter to one, he thought, sighing heavily and raking his fingers through his hair. He hadn't expected to be gone that long. An hour and a half, two tops. But the more beers that Sarge had drank, the looser his lips had became. He'd spilled ever emotionally powerful secret and relived every possible harrowing tale of his struggle to secure his step daughter the help that she had so desperately needed at seventeen years of age.
Flack had simply sat and listened. Nodding or shaking his head at appropriate moments, offering up brief answers if the need arose. He had managed to somehow keep his face devoid of any emotion despite the fact that his heart was breaking for both Sam, and her step dad. It had been a tremendous struggle for the burly, frightening and often overbearing ex Air Force Sargent to deal with. His voice and his eyes had betrayed the pain he still felt all those years later. He had told gut wrenching tales of coping with a teenager with a myriad of issues. Excessive underage drinking, manic impulses, the pulling out of hair and the eating binges that went on for hours. Even longer periods of hysterical inconsolable crying and panic attacks so powerful that trips to the hospital had been in order. He had talked about having to physically restrain an out of control seventeen year old girl so she wouldn't hurt anyone around her. Or herself. He spoke of discoveries of self mutilation and rambling notes found under her mattress that had expressed hatred for everyone around her. Disgust that she felt for herself. And the overwhelming desire to make the pain go away.
Sarge had known -as did Flack, who'd seen his own sister go through some tough moments during her own teenage years- that the words were just that. Words. There'd been no suicide attempts. The notes had been nothing more than someone so desperately reaching out for help. In the end, that help had come through a three day stay in the hospital and an intervention by a psychiatrist and the introduction of medication. Within six weeks, things had begun to change. Sam's moods stabilized and she was smiling and laughing again.
Sarge wasn't entirely sure where things had gone wrong after that. He had surmised it had been when Samantha had gone away to university and she'd had no one around to properly keep an eye on her and her issues. She was thousands of miles away and the letters she'd sent and phone calls she'd made had given the impression that she was doing great. She was popular and had tons of friends. Her grades, while not at the top of the class, were far better than anyone had expected. Five years had come and gone without a hint of real trouble. She had gone back to Arizona on every major holiday and never gave the impression that she was struggling.
And then, following her graduation from the Phoenix PD academy and her success at the CSI exam, she met Zack.
Zack had been a knight in shining armour. He was handsome, charming and completely devoted to her. He'd sucked not only Sam in quickly and effortlessly, but the whole family as well. He had become a permanent fixture at their home. He had showered her with affection and gifts. He had taken her side during nasty arguments with her mother. He had stuck up for her. And in the end, 'rescued' her by convincing her to move in with him. Essentially giving her the opportunity to escape the wretched woman who'd done little more than give birth to her.
For two years the relationship had flourished. They were immensely happy and in love with each other. They had become engaged and began planning a wedding. Things seemed…perfect.
And then it all changed in the blink of an eye. Sam had lost the baby and Zack had lost his mind.
New York City had been her escape. Her chance to make a break and create a new life for herself. It had been Sarge that had helped her. Who had given her a hand, while Zack was out of town, to pack all of her things. Most of which, aside from clothes and personal effects that she cherished, remained in storage in her parents basement. He had gone to the bank with her and didn't bat an eyelash when she withdrew every last cent from the joint account. Then he'd had all of her things shipped to Adam's New York City apartment , given her enough cash to get by for at least two months, and then put her on a plane three days later. It had been a sheer coincidence that the New York City Crime Lab had began searching for help at the same time.
Zack had gone 'raving, bat shit insane' as Sarge so eloquently put it, when he'd gotten back from his vacation and he'd discovered that she'd not only cleaned the house out, but their bank account as well. For three straight weeks he'd done nothing but harass Sam's parents and slander her to the entire department. He'd also quickly gotten himself a new girlfriend. A close friend of Sam's from the Phoenix lab. But as that relationship progressed Zack's dirty secrets began to become public knowledge. Emails had begun to circulate, even among the brass, of Zack's 'extracurricular activities'. Including his practice of letting women he pulled over for various traffic violations off if they preformed sexual favours.
Sarge had never told anyone, not even Samantha of even his own wife, that he and Adam had been the culprits behind the campaign of hate. But the alcohol he'd consumed had started to kick in and the big man readily admitted his secret to Flack. And then remained adamant that he'd do it all again.
The emails and a lengthy suspension had calmed Zack down considerably. He'd began to get on with his life with his new girl and had seemingly let both Samantha and their tumultuous past, go.
Until the girlfriend dumped him because of his cheating, abusive ways and his obsession with his ex fiancee. Being scorned had sent Zack to New York. With a totally messed up agenda and warped belief that Samantha was his and only his. And that she just needed some poking and prodding to realize it too.
After that, a lull had taken place in conversation. Flack -who'd by then cut himself off of alcohol and settled for a pitcher of Coke instead- had sat at the table quietly, leaning back in the cracked, rickety plastic chair he'd parked his ass in hours before, his eyes closed and his hands behind his head as he attempted to sort out everything Sam's step father had told him. While Sarge sniffled noisily and refilled his beer.
"You know," Sarge had said after what had seemed like an eternity. "I blame everything…the way she is…on her bastard birth father. If he'd just kept his goddamn hands and his dick to himself."
Flack's eyes had snapped open at that bombshell. It was the first time he'd heard of any accusations of molestation. He was shocked and disgusted. Bile rose in his throat as he thought of his girlfriend…
He hadn't been able to think about it. He couldn't even think about it now as he drove home. Because when he entertained those types of thoughts, the rage threatened to consume him. And he didn't want Sam seeing him like that, or knowing that her step father had betrayed her. It was logical that Sarge had thought he'd known. That Sam had told him considering they'd known each other for a year and a half, involved for nearly six months and living together. And while he was slightly angry at her for not telling him, Flack understood at the same time. It was no doubt painful for her to talk about and relive. She was probably afraid of his reaction. And maybe even worried that he'd be disgusted with her and not want to be with her. Irrational thoughts, of course. But he couldn't deny her them.
His job now was to wait until she was ready to tell him herself. And to help her find her way out from underneath the heavy, dark cloud threatening to suffocate her.
His first step, once a more respectful time of the day hit, would be to find Doctor Sheldon Hawkes. He knew he could trust Hawkes explicitly. And that the ME turned CSI had connections within the medical community. Flack's main concern was keeping Sam, and her issues, off of NYPD radar. With getting her help on the outside and not having her under blinding scrutiny with the brass. The less people who knew, the better. She was no danger to herself or other. And was coping with the job just fine. Until that changed, Flack was determined to keep everything on the down low.
Sarge had snagged a pen from the waitress and proceeded to scribble down the names of the various medications Sam had once taken, on a napkin off of their table. That napkin, now folded and in Flack's back pocket, would come in handy. He'd run the types of meds by Hawkes, get the low down on them. And maybe even see if Hawkes, as a license physician, could do him a favour and write a couple of 'scripts.
For now, as he pulled into his building's dimly lit back lot and killed the ignition, all he wanted to do was upstairs and go to bed. Seven in the morning would come quickly, and he wanted to spend some time curled up to the angelic, sleeping figured in his bed. He wanted to listen to each soft breath she took. Feel her heart beat against him. Smell her hair.
Because during those quiet, peaceful moments in the still of their bedroom, as she was immersed in sleep, everything was perfect.
Danny's eyes snapped open at the sound of keys jingling noisily in the lock of Flack's apartment door. The florescent light above the kitchen sink was on, filtering out into the front hallway, giving Flack just enough illumination to let himself safely into the apartment. The lamp on the end table next to the coach was flicked on at its lowest setting and the volume on the television had been turned down to a near whisper. Danny had been relying on closed captioning in order to keep himself both awake, and somewhat amused, with an old episode of Law and Order while Lindsay, her legs tucked underneath her, slept soundly with her head on his chest. Her light snoring filling the room.
He heard the slight squeak of the front door opening and then closing again. The rustling of clothing as Flack removed his coat and toed off his shoes, followed by the sliding noise of the hall closet being opened and the rattle of a hanger. He heard Flack yawn noisily, then shut the closet door and journey into the kitchen. Keys were deposited in a dish on the top of the microwave. The fridge was opened and then shut. There was a soft clicking noise as a cap was twisted off of a bottle of water, and then the beeping of buttons as messages were checked on the cordless phone.
Danny tossed the remote control onto the cluttered coffee table and slowly slid his body away from Lindsay's. Gently holding her head in his hands as he slipped out from underneath her and then laid her down on the couch. Covering her to the chin with the wool blanket laid across the back of the sofa, he yawned noisily and stretched until his back cracked. Then journeyed into the kitchen. Where his best friend, weary and unshaven, leaned against the counter next to the sink and sipped at a bottle of water.
"I was starting to wonder if you'd run away from home," Danny commented.
"Time got away from me," Flack said apologetically.
"Everything go okay?" Danny asked, leaning against the counter beside his best friend.
"Best that can be expected," the detective replied, and yawned noisily.
He sipped his water. That was all he was prepared to say. He wasn't about to go into detail about his conversation with Sarge, or the startling things that he had found it. Danny was his best friend and would have the guy's back come hell or high water in a heartbeat. But his true loyalties lied with Samantha. And there was no way he was going to talk about her, or her issues, behind her back.
"Sam's step dad give you the low down?" Danny inquired. "You two buddy up for the sake of the greater good?"
"We talked," Flack said. "And honestly Dan-o, that's all you really need to know."
The other man nodded slowly. "You know…" he scratched at the back of his head. "You really should have called if you were going to be this late. I mean, we all got to work tomorrow. It's late."
Flack smirked. "Gee, Dad. I didn't realize I need to check in. Or that I still had a curfew."
"Look, I know that you're going through some shit here, Don. That you want to help Sam. We all want to help Sam. But Linds and I did you the favour by coming over here and agreeing to baby sit."
"Baby sit?" Flack arched an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? You seriously consider watching out for a friend babysitting? Well here…" reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet and snapped it open. "So what's the going rate for sitters these days? Eight, nine, ten bucks an hour? I'll pay you for the three and half hours that you worked your ass of for. I'm sure Sam was just a complete terror to put up with."
"I never meant it like that," Danny assured him, his hands held up in defence. "I just meant that…"
"Here…" Flack yanked two twenties out of his wallet, folded them and stuffed them into the side pocket of Danny's jeans. "Forty should cover the hell you were put through."
"I don't want your goddamn money!" Danny spoke in a harsh whisper as he pulled the cash back out and tossed it onto the counter. "You're taking things way out of context. I didn't mean anything by it. You're on edge and jumping down my throat 'cause of it. Take a fucking pill. Relax. All I was trying to get at is that it would have been nice if you'd called to let us know you were going to be this late."
"Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you call and say, 'Yo Flack…you around? Is it okay to take off 'cause it's getting late here?'. I would have come home and you know it. So don't make me out to be the inconsiderate bastard. You know how to use a phone."
"I didn't think you'd be gone that long," Danny reasoned. "And I knew that going to Sam's dad was a huge deal and I didn't want to mess that up. And I'm just thinking about the time 'cause Linds being pregnant and all of that, she needs…"
"She needs what?" Flack asked. "She's not the first woman in the fucking world to ever be pregnant. Billions of women have babies, Danny. Don't walk around like she's the Queen of the Fucking Universe 'cause she is. No difference between what she needs and what other pregnant women need. Christ, something happens to Monroe and the whole world has to come to a standstill. We all have to get on our knees and bow. Give it a goddamn rest with that shit."
"Don't be going talking shit about Lindsay 'cause…"
"I'm not talking shit about your precious Lindsay. I'm talking shit about YOU. About the way you are. About the way I've bent over backwards over the years to help you out but the second I ask you for something, you act like a whiny little bitch. You didn't want to stay and look after Sammie, you could have just said that Danny. I would have understood. And I would have respected you more if you were upfront about it. But this? Yapping about it when I get in? It's pissing me off."
"Don't be like that, Flack. Don't be picking fights 'cause you're in a shit ass mood. I know you're dealing with some heavy crap here. And I'm here for you. You know that. But just like you've got that overwhelming obsession to take care of Sam, I've got the same thing with Lindsay. We love them and we want to protect them, right? And that's what we're doing."
"You're right," Flack said with a nod, and finishing off his water, recapped it and tossed it into the recycling bin across the room. "We are taking care of them. We've gotten to the point where we've finally grown up and realized we don't come first. We've got people in our lives that depend on us. And from now on, I'll take care of Sam on my own. I won't ask you for any more favours."
"Don…" Danny sighed exasperatedly and watched as his friend headed for the doorway. "This is just ridiculous. Fighting over something like this."
"We're not fighting. Do I look upset? Do I sound upset? We're having a disagreement. I'm not liking what you're saying and you're not liking what I'm saying. Nothing wrong with that. Friends fight, Danny. And then the next day they both realize they overreacted and apologize for it. In the worst cases, they're pissed and sore at each other for a little while and then they both realize they need to grow up and get their shit together. Right now, I just want to go to bed. I'm tired. You and Lindsay can crash on the couch or see yourselves out. Either or. Your choice."
"So are you and I good or…"
"What did I just say? Am I freaking out? Am I kicking your ass on out of here? I'm exhausted, alright? Emotionally and physically. I appreciate you guys coming over and looking after Sammie while I tended to things. I'm sorry I didn't call to say I was going to be late. But right now, Danny, you're seriously irritating the shit out of me and it's best I just walk away. Or we're both going to say shit we regret and then we went be good."
"I just…"
"What are you? A girl?" Flack chuckled. "Do we need to kiss and makeup or something? I'm going to bed. Feel free to make yourselves comfortable or feel free to get your asses out. You know where the extra blankets and pillows are. Just leave me the hell alone until the morning."
Danny smirked. "You got a way with the hospitality Flack," he called, as his best friend headed out of the kitchen.
"Just damn well make sure there's coffee in the morning," the detective said, as he poked his head back into the room. "And if there's no milk when Sam wants her tea? I warn you now, there will be hell to pay."
"So in other words I better haul ass to the bodega on the corner," Danny concluded. "Gotcha. And just so you know, Sam's fallen asleep. In the bathroom."
Flack frowned. "In the bathroom?"
"She had a moment earlier tonight and she hid out in the john. I guess her intention was to stay in there until you got home. I checked on her two hours ago and she was curled up in the middle of the floor. I didn't have the heart to wake her, or the balls to deal with her if she freaked out on me for touching her. So I just grabbed the comforter off the bed and covered her up. I figured you could deal with her."
"Good call," Flack praised. "Alright…I'll handle it. 'Night."
"'Night," Danny echoed. "And hey…I ain't making breakfast so you can forget about it!"
"Damn…" the other man laughed as he headed through the living room. "Just when I was looking forward to one of Messer's famous omelets. I keep forgetting you only make those for girls you…"
"Shut up and keep walking, Flack…" Danny mumbled.
Wonderful, Flack thought, issuing a long, heavy sigh as he stood in the doorway to the en-suite bathroom, palms on the door frame on either side of him as he stared down at his girlfriend, curled into a tight fetal position in the middle of the floor. Fast asleep with the comforter pulled up to her chin and tucked tightly and securely around her.
He'd left the bathroom light turned off, relying on the glow cast by the bedside lamp to manoeuvre around the bedroom. He'd already changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and tossed the dirty laundry into the basket in the closet. Thankful that the room was relatively tidy. Save for two empty glasses on the night stand along with a couple of bowls and spoons with melted ice cream taking up residence inside of them, the place was immaculate considering what he'd been expecting to come home to.
But what the hell are those light brown spots on the back of the door? And why is the floor so damn sticky?
He would worry about all of that in the morning. When it came time to drag his ass out of bed and haul himself into work, then and only then would he take the dirty dishes out to the kitchen and rinse them and set them in the sink for further cleaning. The floor he'd manage to get to some time after work. For now, his main desire was to finish getting ready to bed and calling it a night.
And getting his girlfriend off the bathroom floor.
Stepping over her, Flack went to the sink and turned on the water. Shaking his head and smirking at the sight of the various women's beauty products taking up the majority of the room on the shelves mounted over the toilet and that lined nearly every possibly area of the sink ledge. Moisturizing washes, night cream, day cream, exfoliating scrub, Pro Active solution to correct an acne problem she didn't even have. Pink, rose scented soap and a little jar of purple bath beads that smelled like lavender. It was like living in The Body Shop for Christ sakes.
Or at least the beauty department in Macy's with the outrageous amount of make up that inhabited three plastic bins under the sink and four accessories bags that sat on the shelves. Make up she didn't even need, nor did he like her in. He preferred the fresh faced Sam. The 'Noxema Girl Commercial Sam', as Adam had dubbed her make up free look. She complained it made her look like she was thirteen years old. And showed off her freckles. She despised the spots that littered the bridge of her nose and took up residence on her shoulders and did her best to always cover them up despite Flack insisting she was much more beautiful without 'all that shit' all over her face.
One day, she's going to come home from work and all this crap is going to be gone, he thought, and turning off the hot water, towelled dried his face and then set to brushing his teeth. All by the trickles of light managed its way into the bathroom. And then I'm going to take away her credit cards so she can't buy any more.
Setting his toothbrush back in the holder, he turned off the tap and turned and stared down at the sleeping bundle at his feet. It wasn't the first time that she'd fallen asleep on the bathroom floor. Although those moments had come after nights on the town and were more passing out then falling asleep. And while Danny had been right -she did look peaceful and it did suck to have to disturb her- there was also no possibly way he could just leave her there.
At least not if he valued his balls on the outside of his body.
"Why you do you always have to make things so difficult for me?" he asked out loud, then crouched down and gently rolled her over onto her back. Peeling the comforter away from her body, he slipped one arm under her shoulders and slid the other at the back of both of her knees. Scooping her up effortlessly into his arms, he stood up and carried her out into the bedroom.
She stirred in his arms. Giving a long content sigh before wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Donnie?" she mumbled, nestling her head into his shoulder and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.
"What, babe?" he asked, slowly and delicately lowering her onto her designated side of the bed. Early on in their relationship, he'd learned hard and fast that she liked to sleep by the window. Had to, in fact. An open one regardless of how goddamn cold it was outside. She preferred to snuggle under mounds of covers and use body heat to keep warm because she said she found it easier to breathe, and that she slept better if it was cold. And if she was on the side of the bed near the door, she'd toss and turn all night and pester him until he reluctantly submitted to switching places.
Years of sleeping alone had spoiled him. And getting used to having someone next to him and hogging all of the covers and pillows and talking incessantly in their sleep had taken a considerable amount of getting used to. Especially when his preferred sleeping area was also by the window. But now…
Despite her stealing the covers and yapping his ear off all night, he now found he couldn't sleep alone. Nor did he want to.
"Donnie?" she asked again, rolling over onto her side, eyes closed as she reached for him.
"What?" he repeated, sitting down on the edge of the bed and setting the alarm on the bedside clock.
"What time is it?" she inquired curiously.
"Almost two," he told her, groaning inwardly as he programmed seven am into the clock radio and flicked the switch to enable the alarm.
"In the afternoon?" came the childish reply.
He couldn't hold back the laugh as he stood up once more and headed to fetch the comforter from the bathroom. "Yeah…in the afternoon."
"I'm late for work," she declared, and bolted up right into a sitting position. Eyes still closed.
"Just lie back down, sleeping beauty," he said as he returned from the bathroom, heavy blanket in hand. Taking her by the shoulders, he pushed her down onto her back and tucked the comforter securely around her. "You're not late for anything. It's two in the morning. Just be quiet and go back to sleep. It's late. And I know how you can't function if you don't get your eight hours."
"Eight hours…" she muttered, then gave a dreamy smile and rolled over onto her side, presenting him with her back. "Must be nice…"
"Must be," he agreed, and flicking off the bedside lamp, lifted the comforter and climbed into bed beside her.
"Did everything go okay?" she asked, her voice muffled by her pillow.
"Hmm?" he responded. "I didn't catch that."
"I said, Did everything go okay?" she repeated.
"Are you actually awake or are you having one of your marathon conversations while dead to the world?" he asked.
She lifted her head from the pillow and glanced over her shoulder. "I'm awake, smart ass."
"Well how should I know?" he said with a chuckle. "Half the time we have our best talks when you're half out of it," he settled himself on his left side and wrapping an arm around her, drew her back against his chest. "Everything went fine," he assured her, and buried his face in her hair. Relaxing as the intoxicating, familiar scent of her vanilla honey shampoo permeated his senses. His hand sought out hers, and entwining their fingers together, he rested their hands against her stomach and pressed a kiss to the back of her head.
"Did you get everything finished up?" she asked.
"Things didn't go exactly according to plan," he replied. "There's been a slight change in plans and it's taken an entirely different path."
"Is that good or bad?"
"It's not either," he said. "It's just…different. Nothing I can't handle. I'll just go back to the drawing board and figure things out from there. Tackle things with a clear head. Best way to do it."
She nodded in agreement and yawned noisily.
"What about you?" he asked, adjusting his position and bringing his free hand up to stroke her hair. "You okay?"
Sam shrugged.
"You want to talk about?"
"It's really late," she said. "You need sleep."
"Not like it would be the first time I'd wander into work on little or no sleep," Flack reminded her. "If you want to talk about it, that's okay with me. You want to tell me how you're feeling? What made you loose it on Lindsay and hide out in the bathroom?"
"Miss Perfect," she snorted. "No. I don't want to talk about her."
"Okay…then let's talk about how you're feeling," he suggested.
"I'm feeling…tired."
"Well I know that. But I mean…how are you feeling? Like mood wise? Are you sad or depressed or frustrated or pissed off or…"
"I'm pissed off that you're insisting we talk about this at two in the morning," she told him.
"Consider it payback for all those times you've woke me up at wee hours of the morning to talk about something," he said, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
She sighed heavily. "I'm feeling…exhausted. Mentally exhausted. And I'm feeling happy that you're home and I have your arms around me. Because that's the only time I feel safe and secure. The only time I feel protected."
"No one's going to hurt you, babe," he promised. "I've told you that a million times."
"I mean protected from myself," she said.
"Come on…don't talk like that. We both know you'd never do anything to hurt yourself. You're just…in a mood. Once these things get settled down, you'll start to feel better. Everything's going to be okay. I'm going to make sure you get what you need, okay? No one is going to know about this. It's not going to go further than me and you and Danny and Lindsay. No one at work will find out. Especially not Mac. But you have to promise me that the second you feel that it's affecting how you do the job, you'll step back for a while. Can you promise me that?"
She nodded.
"Let me hear you promise me that," he gently ordered.
"I promise you," she said.
"The job is not worth your health, Sammie. And your health, whether it's physical or mental, is what I'm concerned with. So if you ever need a break, then we'll go and talk to Mac and tell him what's going on. Okay?"
"Okay…" she agreed, and yawned once more. She snuggled closer into him. Her head tucked under his chin and her hand grasping his tightly. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For what?" he asked. "What do you have to be sorry for?"
"For making your life such a living hell," she replied. "For being whiny and argumentative and…and just plain crazy. For being such a baby about things."
He frowned. "Don't ever think that I think that way about you," he scolded her. "You're going through some stuff, Sam. Adults are just taller kids, anyway. We still whine and bicker and fight. We still say mean shit and sometimes slap each other out. But we also love each other and support each other no matter what. So don't ever think that I'm going to think less of you or pick sides. And if I had to…trust me, I'd have your back no questions asked. Whether you're in the right or not. So just…just don't talk like that, alright?"
"It's just seems like I've really messed things up," she said. "Like I've really screwed up your life."
"Sammie…trust me. You haven't messed things up or screwed up my life. You gave me a life. Someone to love and come home to. Someone that relies on me and trusts in me. Someone that loves me regardless of the monumental fuck ups I make. Someone that I know is going to stick up for me and have my back just as much as I'd have theirs. So we're going through some shit. Couples go through shit. Some more than others. It's how you get through it that matters. We're only going to come out of this stronger then we ever thought we could be."
"Or come out of it despising each other," she mused.
"Never going to happen," Flack told her. "We've already dealt with some heavy duty shit and came out on top. So this? This is nothing. We're going to be just fine."
She sighed heavily. "I hope so…"
"I know so," he said confidently. Kissing the top of her head, he closed his eyes and relaxed in the warmth of her body.
"I don't want to have a baby," she announced suddenly.
"No one said that…"
"I know we talked about it a few times," she continued. "About how if it happens, it happens. But I'm not ready for that Donnie. I couldn't give a baby what it needs."
"All it needs is love, babe."
"But I can't…I'm just not ready. I need to get my own shit in order before bringing a baby into this world. There's just too much going on…in my head…for me to be able to properly take care of a baby. And I know that you thought it was a good idea to try and get pregnant but I…"
He propped himself on his elbow, and leaning over her, silenced her with a kiss. "That's fine," he assured her.
"Are you sure?" she asked, as he settled back down. "I know that you want to be a father and that you'd be a great father and that we were going to try regardless of whether it was successful or not."
"I've got lots of time to be a father," he told her. "Lots of years ahead of me. When you're ready, let me know. Until then, I'll sit back and wait. And you're right. We need to get all of this other stuff in order before thinking about bringing a kid into our lives."
"And if I can't have kids?" she asked, almost fearfully.
"We talked about this, Sammie. We can't do it the normal way, we adopt. No biggie."
"I can understand if you'd want to find someone that can give you a family the normal way. If you want to have your own children and not…"
"Sammie…listen to me. I want children with you. Biological, adoptive, I don't care. I just want to raise them with you. Doesn't matter how they get here. Just as long as they do. You honestly think I'm that selfish and shallow that I'd walk away from you 'cause you've got some medical condition that could possibly prevent you from carrying a baby? I know I can be a prick, but I mean, come on. I'm not THAT bad."
"I never said you were," she said defensively. "I just was giving you the chance to…"
"To what? Walk away? Hook up with someone that can give me 'real' kids as you call it? Not gonna happen. Ever. We will deal with whatever shit is tossed our way. Sure, it's going to hurt like hell if some doctor comes and tells me we can't have our own baby, but there's tons of kids in this world that need good homes. And we could give them a good home. I've told you I'm not going anywhere. I can't keep reassuring you, babe. You just need to believe me. And if a man does leave a woman for something like that? Well he's a fucking tool and not much of a man. And he obviously never loved you in the first place."
"He never did love me," she whispered, as she released her hold on his hand and rolled over to face him.
"Are we talking about Zack here?" Flack asked, curling his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. His chin resting on the top of her head.
She nodded. "He never loved me. Regardless of what he says. Because if you love someone you don't treat them like that. You don't beat on them and treat them like a piece of shit. You don't tell them they're worthless and that you're lucky to have them because no one else would ever want you. If you love someone you don't…" she sighed. "You just don't do the things he did."
"No…" Flack agreed. "You don't."
"And I didn't deserve what he did to me. I realize that now. I realize that I try to rationalize everything people do. I try to explain things that have no explanation. I make excuses for people. And all this time I've been blaming myself and making excuses for him. And he doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve me torturing myself over something I didn't deserve."
"Sammie…why…?"
"I need to say all of that out loud," she said. "I need to say it because saying it and hearing it makes it true. Because it makes me feel…cleansed. Because it means I can close that chapter of my life and devote myself completely to the next one. To you. And I…"
He pulled back from her and silenced her with a long, tender kiss. "I love you, Samantha. You know that. And if you're ready for that…well so am I."
She smiled and kissed him. "I love you, too," she whispered against his lips. "You know what I'm ready for right now?" she asked.
He chuckled.
"Mind out of the gutter!" she scolded. "I was going to say I was ready to get some sleep. If you'd shut up long enough to let that happen."
"Me?" he laughed. "You're the damn chatty one. You're the one that…"
It was her turn to use her lips to cut off all words. And completely take his breath away. "Good night, Donald," she said, and turned her back towards him once more.
"Good night, Samantha," he whispered in return, and reaching out, found her hand and held it tightly once again.
Within moments they were both fast asleep. Weary troubles put to rest.
At least for the next few hours.
The bullpen was a scene of chaos at nine thirty in the morning. Phones were ringing off the hook. Uniform and plain clothes officers were arguing and wrestling with handcuffed perps in their possession. Detectives, cell phones pressed to their ears, paced in front of or behind their desks, agitation evident on their faces, anger and vehemence dripping from their tongues as they found themselves engrossed in less then pleasing conversations.
She strode through the busy area confidently. Her thick, silky brown hair tumbling down her back and glistening in the rays cast by the overhead lights. The heels of her black leather boots clicked noisily on the tiles. She ignored the curious stares and the once overs she received as she made her way past men she had once worked right along side of, and who know openly ogled her in her form fitting skinny jeans and her burgundy scooped neck top that clung to each curve and her stylish, navel grazing black leather jacket. She'd also been the darling of the squad room, whether she liked that idea or not. The men had been besotted by her beauty yet terrified of her take no shit demeanour. She hadn't given most of them the time of day when she worked there, and she wasn't about to start now. Her life was heading into a completely different direction. With a man that was not just insanely attracted to and in love with her, but respected her as well.
Without hesitation she headed directly for her destination. Second last desk, left hand side. Where Flack, suit jacket on the back of his chair, his tie already loosened and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, was intently focused on paper work in front of him. His elbow on the desk top and his right hand burrowed in his hair as his left hand, tightly grasping a pen, flew over the forms in front of him.
At for a brief moment, as she stood at the side of his desk watching him, her heart pounded in her chest and her stomach fluttered. There were times when the sheer mention of his name or the memory of their time together both brought a smile to her face and angered her all at the same time. A small part of her still cared deeply for him. It had months ago ceased to be love. And yet another part of her hated him with a passion for what he had done to her. For the selfish, moronic way he'd handled their break up. And the reasoning behind his decision to let her go in the first place.
She steeled herself against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Sitting her purse down in the chair beside his desk, she perched herself on the edge of his work surface.
At the sight of those leather boots and the long, shapely legs clad in those tight jeans, he looked up. His eyes travelling a slow, direct path from her feet all the way to her face.
"Hey," he greeted simply, a smile slowly appearing on his face.
"You called," she said, her voice void of emotion as she stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets and prayed he couldn't see her trembling.
"It's good to see you, Jessie," he told her.
"You said you wanted to talk," she told him coolly. "So let's talk." It's not going to affect you, she firmly told herself. That pet name and those eyes and the memories of those lips on your own and his hands travelling your body...none of that is going to come into play here. You're here for a reason. And falling for him all over again is NOT it.
He nodded. "What do you say we get outta here?" he asked.
She felt her resolve begin to crumble as she stared into those amazing blue eyes. Her mind awash with memories of the good times they'd spent together. The intense nights and the lazy mornings. The unbridled passion one instant and the breathtaking tenderness the next.
"I say I know just the place," she replied.
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! And thanks to all of the lurkers for their support as well! So…this story is now taking an entirely different direction and since it's futile to battle the muse, I hope you'll all stick around for the ride. And despite TPTB's plans with Angell, she's sticking around in OB OG land. And honestly, thanks hope4sall for my sudden Angell epiphany of sorts!
Please R and R folks!
Special thanks to:
Hope4sall
afrozenheart412
muchmadness
Xsamiliciousx
wolfeylady
Soccer-bitch
Forest Angel
SpankyMcDoogleFace
Delko's Girl88
