DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN SAM ROSS AND MARK POWELL. WISH I OWNED ANGELL'S BODY, FACE AND WARDROBE HOWEVER….
A/N: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM LAST NIGHT AND SLIGHT DANNY BASHING. JUST SLIGHT. NOTHING HORRENDOUS. THE MUSE STILL LOVES HIM IN OB OG LAND. IT'S JUST ONE CHARACTERS ASSESSMENT OF SITUATIONS. SO NO OFFENCE TO ANYONE. DANNY'S PRIDE WILL REMAIN UNSCATHED. ENJOY!
I WAS WORRIED ABOUT INCLUDING LAST NIGHT'S EPI IN THIS CHAPTER. I WAS CONCERNED I WOULDN'T HANDLE ONE OF THE WORST MOMENTS IN HISTORY WITH ENOUGH SENSITIVITY. I HOPE THAT I HANDLED IT WITH RESPECT.
I GUESS YOU COULD SAY MY STUFF IS AU...MAYBE? SOME THINGS FROM SEASONS 1- PRESENT HAVE HAPPENED, SOME HAVEN'T. AND THOSE THAT HAVE HAPPENED (LIKE THOSE EPIS I MENTION FROM SEASON 5) HAVEN'T FOLLOWED THE EXACT TIME LINE ON THE SHOW, IF YOU CATCH MY DRIFT. LOL.
ALSO, THANKS TO ALL OF YOU SENDING ME YOUR WELL WISHES DURING THIS FRIGHTENING TIME. I WANT YOU ALL TO KNOW THAT THERE IS LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL AND THINGS ARE IMPROVING.
HUGE THANKS TO LAURA, CASS, HEIDI, MICHELLE AND RACHEL FOR EVERYTHING THEY'VE DONE FOR ME.
AND ANOTHER ONE TO CASS FOR ENCOURAGING ME TO GO WITH CERTAIN ASPECTS OF THIS CHAPTER! LOVE YA, GIRL!
A matter of opinion
"The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful
Stop me and steal my breath
Emeralds from mountains thrust toward the sky
Never revealing their depth and
Tell me, that we belong together
Dress it up with the trappings of love
I'll be captivated I'll hang from your lips
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above and,
I'll be your crying shoulder
I'll be love's suicide and I'll be better when I'm older
I'll be the greatest fan of your life
And rain falls angry on the tin roof
As we lie awake in my bed and
You're my survival, you're my living proof
My love is alive and not dead and
Tell me that we belong together
Dress it up with the trappings of love
I'll be captivated
I'll hang from your lips
Instead of the gallows of heartache, that hang from above
I've been dropped out, burned up, fought my way back from the dead
Tuned in, turned on,
Remembered the things that you said."
-I'll Be, Edwin McCain
Flack peeled back the cuff of his dress shirt and peered at the watch that graced his right wrist. "Quarter after eight," he commented, and flipping the cuff back down, reached for his glass of wine and took a large swallow. "Go figure it's Jess and Diesel that are late and it's us that are on time for once," he said, as he placed his glass back down on the exquisitely set table.
"For once," Sam giggled.
She'd been a flushed, giggling school girl since the moment they'd stepped off of the elevator. She couldn't keep a straight face no matter how serious the conversation Flack was trying to have with her, or if the waiter dared said anything that she found some kind of sexual innuendo in. Of course, there was no sexual undertone to anything the guy said, but she was like a giddy high school girl on her first date with the captain of the football team.
After making out in his father's car first.
"They're probably practicing for when they're newlyweds," she mused, as she leaned forward and picked up her wine glass. "Lucky them."
"What do you mean, lucky them? Lucky you if you ask me," he said, nudging her playfully with his elbow as they sat alongside of each other.
He noticed that the only after effects from their incident in the elevator was a permanent, natural blush to her face. Less then twenty minutes before, just as they reached the third floor, she was a panting, quivering mess clinging to him as she rode the waves of a powerful orgasm. By the time the second level arrived, Flack was leaning against the far wall of the elevator, grinning wickedly -and victoriously- at her as she rearranged and smoothed down her skirt. The only item of clothing that was askew on her body. Once they hit the lobby, he'd grabbed her and kissed her greedily. And then releasing her just as the doors began to open, stared her dead in the eye and licked each of his three fingers. Then the doors opened and life went back to normal. Save for her rosy cheeks and ragged breathing. They'd found the closest public restrooms and cleaned themselves up. Flack washed his hands in the men's while Sam dabbed cold water on the back of her neck in the ladies.
They'd reunited in the hallway outside. And with broad grins on their faces and their dirty little secret on their minds they'd headed for the restaurant hand in hand. Only to find out their friends hadn't even arrived yet.
A maitre-d' clad in a tuxedo with tails and crisp white gloves, had escorted them through the elegant and extremely busy steakhouse. The décor was chocolate brown and robin egg blue. Or, as Sam had so excitedly put it as she took in the beauty of the establishment, Tiffany blue.
Flack had laughed at that. He'd even commented to that maitre d' how it wasn't surprising a woman would find something to remind her of the famed jewellery store. The polished, elderly man had cracked a small smile and informed him that Tiffany blue was the actual name of the colour used in the room. And then he'd proceeded to give them the low down on the Prime Steakhouse. It was the brain child of award winning, celebrity chef and restaurateur Jean-Georges Vongerichten. Their specialities were prime steak, seafood and lamb, along with their extensive wine list and succulent desserts. There were prominent pieces of artwork on display. Including commissioned paintings by Carlos Maria Mariani, George Deem and Michael Gregory. As well as a stunning water themed canvas created by Joseph Raffeal.
Sam was in complete and utter awe and didn't bother hiding it as her golden brown eyes sparkled as she took everything in. Flack hadn't expected to see her that enthused. She had, after all, been to the legendary Tavern on the Green back home. But he could tell, by the way her face lit up with sheer enthusiasm, that this experience was like no other as far as she was concerned.
"It's because of the company," she'd told him, when he'd commented on her exuberance. "I wasn't with the love of my life when I went to Tavern on the Green, was I?" she'd added, hugging his arm tightly and smiling delicately up at him. "How can I not enjoy this more? I'm with you."
He'd smiled back and stopped right there in the middle of the restaurant and kissed her for that. Much to the chagrin of the maitre d' and fellow dinners.
Now they sat, sipping an expensive bottle of imported white wine and browsing the brown leather bound menus as they waited, not so patiently, for their dinner guests to arrive. The view from the patio was outstanding. As darkness hung in the sky, the Vegas strip was light up and the fountains in front of the hotel were in their full glory. There was a slight breeze on the air that tousled the tendrils of hair that lay at the back of Sam's neck and the ringlets on either side of her, and had brought a discernible chill on the table. Sam had wrapped her pashmina around her shoulders the moment they'd sat down, and now they shared body heat as well. Their chairs pushed tightly together, her elbow resting on the arm rest on his seat, their shoulders pressed against each other and their knees touching under the table. Their actions more out of affection then the need to keep warm.
"God…I'm starving," Sam complained, as she rubbed her gurgling stomach. "Think they'd be pissed if we ordered some appetizers or something?"
"Who cares?" Flack responded. "They're the ones that are late. And I'm dying of hunger here, too."
"You know," she dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned into him. "Lots of sex is great. But we do need sustenance to keep going."
He grinned and pressed his lips to her temple. "Great sex, huh? I was thinking it was more along the lines of pretty good. I was hoping we could go up the scale towards greatness."
"Just tonight or over the course of the next five days?" she asked curiously.
"Just tonight if you can handle it," he replied with a grin. "Then tomorrow we can start at the bottom and make our way up again."
"Hmmm…" she considered the idea as she toyed with the commitment ring on her finger. "I did have some delicious plans for later," she told him. "Like relaxing in that tub back in our room with some champagne and strawberries. Or did I mention that already."
"You mentioned that already. And I promised you that tonight was all about the romance thing. I will order you some strawberries when we get back to our room. And some chocolate sauce and whipped cream. Just in case."
She giggled at that and laying a hand on the side of his face, ran her thumb along his lips before kissing him softly. Giving a content sigh, her eyes still closed, she laid her forehead against his as the fingers of the hand on the side lightly caressed his cheek.
She had never thought it was possible to love someone as much as she loved him. To feel that heart tugging, raw emotion that being with him made her feel. That all consuming, overwhelming sensation that nearly brought her to her knees some days. And she never dreamed that she'd ever feel that kind of love in return. Yet there it was every time he kissed her. Every time he held her face so tenderly in her hands. Every time he used his thumbs to gently clear her tears away. Every time he caressed her hair. Every time those blue eyes stared deep into her soul and spoke volumes to what he was feeling. She felt his warm breath against her face and felt him press a kiss to the tip of her nose.
She opened her eyes and smiled dreamily at him. "I don't ever want to go back to New York City," she said. "Things are so different there. Between us. And here it's just…"
"Better?" he asked.
"Not better. Just different. Things are just much more relaxed between us. We're not arguing about stupid things. And we argue a lot and I can't stand that part of us."
"It's not exactly my favourite part either," Flack said. "But it's just something we do. It's just…us. I don't know why we do it. Or what makes thing so different when we're back home. Work stress, I guess? Here we don't have to worry about any of that. We don't have to worry about getting into things over differences of opinion during a case. Or struggle to find five minutes together when we're on opposite shifts. We live together and sometimes we only see each other in passing."
"Well win the lottery and we can both retire early," she laughed and tugged playfully on his tie. "But then, if we were both home all the time, we'd probably drive each other completely insane. So maybe having just that little bit of distance sometimes actually does us wonders."
"Maybe," he sighed. "But you're right. About the fighting thing. I don't want us to fight that much either. Just it seems like we can't help it. It seems like we honestly…I don't know…get off on it."
"All the adrenaline coursing through our bodies I guess," she said. "Makes the whole making up thing so much more intense."
He grinned and nodded. "That it does. I'll never complain about the making up part."
She smiled and pressing a kiss to the spot below his ear, rested her head on his shoulder.
He pecked her forehead and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They sat in companionable silence. Sam's eyes closed, Flack's riveted on the fountains a hundred yards away, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against the side of his wine glass.
"What are you thinking about, baby?" Sam asked, reaching up to comb her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. "I can tell you're thinking about something. So don't even try and tell me nothing. I've known you long enough to have picked up on all of your little habits."
"What little habits?" he inquired.
Reaching out, she captured his hand with hers, bringing an abrupt end to the tapping of his nails against the glass.
"Sorry," he said with a light chuckle.
"You do that at work, at home. Whenever you've got something on your mind," she told him. "You always drum your fingers against something. Your desk, our kitchen table. I've even caught you doing it on the mattress while you're sleeping. Tell me what you're thinking about, Don."
"Us," he said simply.
"As in a good us or a bad us?" she asked.
"A good us. A very good us. I just…" Don't chicken out, Flack. Don't be a pussy. Just be honest with her. Tell her what's in your heart. What's the worse that can happen? She'll laugh in your face? Call you a tool? Tell you that she's just not ready for that thing and going that fast so soon scares her?
Go upstairs, pack all of her shit and head home? And then when you get back to New York City you find all her stuff and her gone? And then you can kick yourself in the ass for the rest of your life because you single- handily pushed her away?
"You just…" she pressed gently.
Flack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew that she wasn't going to let it go now until he did tell her. And he also knew that she could spot bullshit from a mile away. Lying was just not an option. "I want us to get married," he told her. And almost immediately regretted if when he heard the long sigh she gave off.
"Donnie…" she raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him, her fingers drifting down to the collar of his shirt. "We've…"
"I don't mean that I want to get married right now," he quickly explained. "I don't want to rush out tomorrow and go and get a licence and get hitched while we're here. I just…I want to know that that step is coming some time in the future. I need to know that's it coming. I don't know why. It's just how I feel. Like if I don't have that guarantee that it's going to happen in a year, even two years from now, I'll just…" he sighed heavily and leaning forward, snatched up his wine glass and took a large gulp. "Forget it. I don't even know what I'm trying to say anymore."
"What more do you feel you need to say?" Sam asked gently, one of her nails scraping lightly against the slice of skin between his collar and his hair. "You brought it up when we were leaving the apartment. We talked about it then. And now you're bringing it up again. What is going on, Don? I thought that you were happy with the way things are. Us living together. As a married couple. I thought you were alright with that."
"I am alright with that," he assured her. "I'm more than alright with that. I love having you to come home to at the end of the day. Thinking about you being there waiting for me? That's what gets me through the really bad shifts. I love living with you," he took another sip of wine and grinned before adding, "Can't say the same about living with all the stuff that came with you when you moved in, but…"
"I'm self-admittedly high maintenance in some respects," she said, smiling lovingly at him as she brushed some wisps of hair off of his forehead. "I come with a lot of stuff."
"No kidding. How many pairs of shoes and purses does one woman need? Especially when you wear the same three pairs all the time and alternate between only two purses. And never mind all the makeup, body sprays, lotions and everything else that's taking up every available space in the bathroom. And that entire box of those porcelain dolls that you're always on me to put shelves up in the bedroom for."
"Precious Moments," she clarified. "My uncle…the one that worked at The Widdington? He bought me my first one when I was five and Adam was born. I was so pissed off that my parents had the nerve to have him. I didn't want a baby brother and my nose was all pushed in 'cause he was getting all the attention. So my uncle took me out for the day and he gave me this Precious Moments figurine. A little girl holding her baby brother. And he told me that it was from Adam. A best big sister gift."
Flack smiled. "It's nice to know that there were some good times for you, Sammie."
"If it hadn't have been for my uncle and my mom's parents in Albany taking us for a couple of weeks during the summer, Adam and I…well I don't know what would have happened to us."
He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. He knew how difficult it was for her to talk about her childhood. And while she'd come leaps and bounds just from one session with Doctor Melfi, he knew that it was just one small step on what would be a rocky road. He'd learned from the get go that the best way to get her to open up, was to just sit back and wait for it to happen. It was difficult at times to be that patient and that understanding, but the end results were always worth it.
"If they mean that much to you babe, when we get home I'll buy you some shelves and put them up and you can do whatever you want with them little dolls," he said. "I just like teasing you about them. You know that right?"
Sam nodded. "They just mean a lot to me. Because they remind me that my life wasn't horrible all of the time. And I know that I'm not always the easiest person to love and that I'm totally unlike anyone else you've ever been with before, but I…"
"You say that like it's a bad thing, babe. You are totally unlike anyone I've ever been with. But that's in a good way., There's all these different sides to you. There's that quiet, studious, brainiac side that seriously shames me when we watch Jeopardy or that Are you Smarter than a Fifth Grader?…"
She grinned.
"Then there's that bubbly, outgoing, almost childish side of you. The one that likes me to take her to the Statue of Liberty and buy her one of those corny foam hats that look like Lady Liberty's crown. Who likes to put glitter stickers and charms on her nails and wear pyjamas with cartoon characters on them and puts plastic barrettes in her hair. Who get up at two in the morning to make S'mores for a snack."
"Hey…S'mores are the best," she declared, and taking the glass from his hand, sipped at his wine.
"And then there's that feisty, take no prisoners, put up with no shit, bad ass Brooklyn girl. And all of that rolled into one? It's a killer combination. Keeps me on my toes, that's for sure."
She grinned and kissed him chastely.
"And you're not perfect and I know that. But I'm not perfect either and that's okay. You don't expect me to be."
"I just expect you to be you," she said. "Because if you were perfect…I don't know…to me all of your little quirks and all of your little flaws…to me they just make you even sexier. And if you want to get engaged, Donnie, well then that's what I want too."
He shook his head. "I don't want you to want it because I want it. I want you to…"
She laid two fingers over his lips. "I want it because I want it. I do want to marry you. I do want forever with you. I just don't want it to be a rushed thing. I want us to take our time planning things. Making it everything we've ever wanted. I don't want us to running to City Hall and doing it in haste. That's all."
"Well weddings take a long time to plan, right? So there's our long engagement," he said. "No rushing into anything. No frantic trip to a JP. Nothing like that."
"You are just right into this whole engagement thing," she laughed.
"Sammie, I just…"
She silenced him with a kiss. "Donnie…what part of I'm okay with this don't you understand? No more talk about it okay? We've discussed it and agreed to it and now…well know it's time to just pull up your big boy pants and put all of those words into action."
"It's going to happen when you least expect it," he promised, and laying a hand on the side of her face, leaned in close to kiss her. Their lips just brushing against each other before a voice at the side of their table brought the moment to an abrupt end.
"Rent a room, you two…" Jess ordered. "Oh…wait a second…you already have one."
"Speaking of rooms," Flack retorted as he pulled away from Sam. "You two have a hard time forgetting how to open the door to yours? Or did you get lost on the way down here?"
"Actually, we took advantage of the stop button on the elevator," Mark answered.
Sam nearly spit out a mouthful of wine. Swallowing noisily, she coughed several times before pushing her chair away from the table and standing up. "I guess between the four of us, it's good that there's no cameras in those elevators," she said.
"Well if there is cameras, the cops will be coming for us soon," Jess laughed, then embraced her friend warmly. "Mark and I are so glad that you guys were able to come here and share our wedding with us," she said, then kissed Sam's cheek and held her out at arms length. "Check you out…I knew you'd look totally hot in that outfit. Even if the overprotective romance troll made you cover it up."
"And you…" Sam nodded approvingly as she studied the other woman. Jess' traffic stopping figure on full display in a tight, strapless scarlet red dress cut just above the knee, four inch black heels and her lips painted a shimmering ruby red. Her dark tresses were loose and flowing. She looked…exotic. And sexy as hell. "Easy to see why Mark is all over you," she commented. "Hell, in that dress? I would have jumped you in the elevator too."
"Not that is something I'd kill to see pictures of," Mark teased, giving his fiancee a peck on the cheek, his hand grazing lightly over her hip before pulling her chair out for her.
"You and me both, Diesel. Either pictures or permission to be an active participant," Flack said, grinning up at Sam as she rolled her eyes at his comment and returned to her seat. "You clean up pretty nice there Jessie," he commented, admiring his ex from across the table. He gave her a gentle smile before adding, "You can almost pass for a girl."
Almost? Flack thought. She's far from being just a girl. She's one hundred percent, red hot woman. It didn't matter if she was in a pair of jeans and a modest t-shirt with a Kevlar vest over top, or a designer dress that fit like a glove. Jess could make wearing a garbage bag sexy. And it wasn't just her looks. It was in the confident, proud way in which she carried herself.
Sam squirmed beside him. Uncomfortable with the way he was blatantly checking his ex girlfriend and her friend out. The truth was, she could never hold a candle to Jess in the looks and popularity department. In that friendship, Jess had always been the beautiful one, the confident one, the sexy one. Women either loathed her or wanted to be her. Men just wanted her. And to have someone that claimed to love you and who claimed to want to spend the rest of your life with you all but flash fuck me eyes at his ex….
But he's with you, she reminded herself. She didn't dump him because she didn't want to be with him. He broke up with her to be with you. He didn't want to be with her. How much more prove to you need that he does want you and love you?
A smirk tugged at the corner of Jess' lips at his comment. "You don't look half bad yourself Don," she said, as Mark filled everyone's wine glasses. "Nice tie, Sam. About time someone became his personal shopper."
"See baby…" Sam managed to recover from her initial hurt and annoyance, and giving a small laugh, tugged playfully at Flack's tie while he feigned offence at Jess' comment. "It is a nice tie."
"It's the Mona Lisa of ties compared to what you usually own," Jess said as she sipped her wine. "All your usual ties? Well they're like Dogs Playing Poker done on black velvet."
Sam giggled.
"That's it, laugh it up you two," Flack snorted. "And I never said this wasn't a nice tie. I just said it was a little girlie."
Sam rolled her eyes. "This…" she picked up the end of the tie. "…is not girlie. Solid pink would be girlie. This is very masculine and very sexy."
"Don't tell me you were afraid that a little bit of pink made you less of a man," Jess couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of that suggestion. "There's nothing that could make you less of a man, Don."
The wine glass nearly slipped out of Sam's hands. Taken back by the comment, she glanced across the table to where Mark Powell was both frowning and shifting awkwardly in his chair. She was about to open her mouth, ask some random question about who he was hoping would get into the NHL playoffs or who looked like they had a good baseball team going into spring training. Anything to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the table. When the moment was blessedly saved by a waiter arriving to inquire about placing their orders.
They quickly decided on a plate of appetizers for four recommended by the waiter. Stuffed mushroom caps, mini quiches and oysters on the half shell. Conversation stayed relatively safe as they browsed their menus and polished off the bottle of wine. Flack and Mark talked about work, much to the dismay of their dates, while Sam and Jess talked about their plans to hit the pool and do a little shopping the next day. Girl time they called if, while the guys rolled their eyes and made plans to, after sleeping in, hit the in house casino. After the appetizers arrived and orders were placed for entrees - "You're just having a salad?" Flack had asked Sam, after she'd opted for just spinach salad with only half the normal portion of dressing.
"Well I have to get down to a size four somehow," she'd snapped back. "Seeing as that's what you're into."
Everyone at the table had blinked at her outburst. Her words had come out sounding harsher then she had intended them to, and while she had meant them, instead of sticking up for herself under Flack's heavy, angry glare, she'd quickly backpedalled and blamed the mixture of meds and wine screwing with her personality. Then she'd excused herself and quickly left the table. Finding solace in the bathroom of the restaurant. Where she'd sat in a stall for several long minutes. Giving herself a mental pep talk.
He shows you how beautiful and irresistible you are. How sexy he finds you. You can tell my looking in his eyes that he's sincere when he tells you he loves you and wants forever with you. He's not lying to you. He's not settling for you.
He left her -willingly- for you. You're just overreacting to things. Your emotions are all over the place. Your brain isn't quite working properly. Doctor Melfi said that it would take some time to see, and feel, results from the meds. You're just seeing things and hearing things that aren't there. He doesn't want Jess. He wants you. How much plainer does he have to be?
You're just being stupid about things.
She had returned to the table with a renewed sense of confidence and decided to be the bigger person and apologize for her outburst. Even if she wasn't a hundred percent sincere about it. And she'd been relieved when dinner and dessert- a fabulous slice of molten chocolate cake she and Jess shared- that no other flirtatious comments of behaviour were exchanged. And as she and Jess -both with their heels kicked off and their legs stretched out, their bare feet resting on each other's chairs and their boyfriends' suit jackets around their shoulders to ward off the chill - sipped lattes and discussed the upcoming nuptials, their attention was drawn to the other conversation taking place at the table. As soon as the name Michael Elgers was brought up, all talk of a wedding was quickly halted.
"Everyone's favourite psychopathic, scumbag Neo-Nazi," Sam remarked dryly, and with contempt in her voice.
"Is that the one you told me about yesterday?" Jess asked. "The one that called you a….you know what? I can't even bring myself to say the word. He called you a 'insert the N word here' lover because you defended Hawkes?"
Sam nodded. "Same prick that as he was being hauled away, turns to Danny and asks him which of the two of them, him or Hawkes, the little bitch whore was sleeping with."
Jess snorted and sipped her latte. "Asshole."
Sam shrugged. "I've been called worse. The stuff he said about Hawkes makes me sick. Never mind what we found when we went to our vic, Xander Green's apartment. That little secret room of his?" she shuddred from the sheer force of the memory. Of the things she'd seen, both in during projects on the Holocaust in both high school and college and in Green's apartment that day, and in her inability to process how human beings could do such horrific things to each other. "I mean he had a lamp shade made of human skin," she said quietly. "Peoples teeth in a cup. This little doll that.." she couldn't finish.
It had been two months now, but that day still bothered her. She could vividly recall standing between Flack and Mac, overcome by pure shock and horror at the sight of the swatztika mounted on the wall and the items from the Holocaust laid out on tables. And when Mac had dumped the teeth into his palm…Flack had barely gotten the words, "Please tell me those aren't what I think they are," out of his mouth and Sam's stomach had rebelled and she'd bolted from the room. A hand over her mouth as she raced for Green's bathroom. Where she proceeded to drop to her knees in front of the toilet and vomit profusely.
"It was pretty sick," Flack agreed in a soft voice, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulled her into him and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. "I was just telling Diesel about Elgers' attorney trying to get him off on a technicality."
"What technicality?" Jess asked.
"Don may or may not have refused Elgers' request for a lawyer," Sam replied. As much as she loved Jess and Mark seemed like a stand up guy, the truth was she doesn't trust anyone. There were three people in the observation room that day that knew for sure what had gone down in interrogation. And neither she, Danny or Hawkes had mentioned it to outside sources.
Jess arched an eyebrow.
"That's all I can say," Sam told her. "I can't even tell you if I heard it. I just know that it may or may not have happened. And on top of that, on top of the fact that the Miranda Rights may have been trampled on, Elgers is thinking of suing Danny civilly for bashing his head off the floor."
"Guy deserved to have his head bashed off the floor and then a bullet put into it," Flack remarked.
"I'm not saying that he didn't deserve to have the shit kicked out of him," Sam defended herself. "He deserved an ass kicking of a lifetime for the things he said. I'm not denying that. Hell, I would have loved to kill him myself. But the point I'm trying to make is that he goaded Danny into that. He knew how to play the system. By pissing Danny off and getting Danny to go nuts on him, Elgers had him and us, right where he wanted. So that he could turn around and cry police brutality and then bring down this complaint which tarnishes not just Danny, but the whole department."
"You heard what he said Sammie," Flack told her. "You can't tell me he didn't deserve to have his face smashed in."
"I just said he deserved it. But it wasn't up to Danny to do it. As much as I love the fact he's that passionate about defending his friends and colleagues, in essence it was a dumb ass, unhinged thing to do. Did we all want to kick the shit out of Elgers? Of course we did. But we weren't the ones that put Danny in the situation he's in now. And I love Danny. You know that. But think about this sensibly, Don. What's going to happen if Elgers does sue? Who will Elgers call as his witnesses of the incident?"
"You and Hawkes," Flack reluctantly admitted.
"And you don't see something wrong with that? That he's going to call two cops to rat out another cop? We can't go in there and lie. Or is that what you think we should do? We should all just put our badges on the line to defend Danny. God knows you've done it enough times. You've always been there to help Danny out. And that's commendable, babe. It is. But when does that help start being repayed to you?"
"Sam…I think maybe you should just stop now and not let this turn into a big thing," Flack suggested calmly.
"And I think maybe you should let her say what she has to say," Jess was quick to her friend. "Just because you don't agree with it Flack, doesn't mean she doesn't have the right to speak her mind."
"I just think sometimes things are one sided," Sam said, shrugging indifferently.
"Don't do that," Angell scolded her. "Don't fucking back down from him 'cause you feel threatened. You say what is on your mind. Don't ever let anyone bully you into keeping quiet or changing your views. Don't…"
"I'm bullying her?" Flack couldn't help but laugh. "How the hell am I bullying her?"
"Because you intimidate her," Angell told him. "You get that goddamn condescending tone and that look…that look that tells her she better not piss you off. She can say what she wants and think what she wants. You can't control her. So do me a favour and sit there and shut up and let her talk."
Flack sighed heavily and holding his hands up in surrender, sat back in his chair.
"Go ahead Sammie," Angell encouraged. "You're entitled to your opinion."
"I just think that sometimes Don does so much for Danny and doesn't see anything in return," she said. "He has Danny's back no matter what but when Don needs someone…"
"I'm not going to go to Danny and ask for help," Flack argued. "I don't help him out because I expect something in return. I don't ask him to…"
"You shouldn't have to ask," Sam told him. "He's your best friend. He should just do it. Friends don't need to be told or asked. I don't ever have to ask Lindsay to be there for me. She just does it. And she doesn't expect anything in return. She's there for me because she wants to be. Just like Jess. And to me it doesn't seem like Danny is that way with you."
"Name three times that Danny wasn't there for me when I needed someone," Flack challenged.
"I can name two off the top of my head," Sam said confidently. "Todd Fleming for one. Did Danny ever once come to your desk while you were sitting there with your thumb up your ass and no badge and no gun and tell you he had your back? Did you even call you at home after hours and lend support? No. You know who was there for you? Jess, Mac, Stella and me. Even Lindsay sent you an email about believing in you. Where was Danny?"
Flack didn't respond.
"And the second one, courtesy of Stella, was the night after you were nearly killed in a bombing and he didn't even stick around at the hospital when you were in a coma. Stella had seen him and Lindsay leaving. Yet she and Mac stuck around. Hawkes even talked to your doctor. And before you jump down my throat, I am not blaming Lindsay. She's my best friend and I will defend that girl to the death. So don't turn this into a me hating on Danny and Lindsay thing."
"What could Danny have done?" Flack asked. "I was on round the clock care. What could he have…"
"Nothing! He couldn't have done a damn thing!" Sam replied exasperatedly. "But that's not the point! If my best friend was teetering on the brink of death I would have been there! Any normal human being would have I like to think. Would you not have done it if that was Danny in that hospital bed, Donnie? Tell me the truth. Would you not have stuck around?"
He nodded.
"My point exactly. You would have done it for him. All I'm saying is that I wish he was there for you like you're there for him. That is all I'm saying. Because I love you and I'll defend you and have your back no matter what. So when I see that…it just hurts me, okay? Because to me it's like you're being used. And I hate that. Because you care so much about everyone else and when you don't get that back…I take it personally okay? Sue me. I'm sorry if it hurts my feelings to see you treated like that."
"You don't have to be sorry baby," he said and wrapping his arm around her, pulled her into him. "Just because we don't see things the same way doesn't mean you have to apologize. It's how you feel. I'm not going to disrespect that by arguing with you."
"I just wish he wasn't such a stupid little fucker sometimes," she laughed, and reaching out and grabbing her wine glass, swallowed down the remains. "I love him to death. But he can be such an ungrateful, spoiled little brat."
"Can't all humans be that way?" Jess mused. "We all have our moments, trust me. And Sam…don't ever be afraid to speak your mind, okay? Don't ever let anyone scare you out of being truthful. Of having an opinion. Not even Don. Just because you love him doesn't mean…well no offence, Don…but being in love with him doesn't mean you have to quit being yourself to make him happy. And if he can't accept your opinions or beliefs, then fuck him. He doesn't have to agree, but he doesn't have to condemn you for them either."
"I never…"
Jess held her hand up to silence Flack. "I'm not saying you do that. I'm just saying that she should never feel as if you are doing that. She's not saying these things to be anti-Danny Messer. She's saying them because it's how she sees things and she's defending you. And if you can't see that…well then you're a dumbass who doesn't deserve a woman like her."
Flack's eyes widened at his ex's brutal honesty.
Jess smirked and downed the last of her latte. "Isn't freedom of speech wonderful?" she asked cheerfully. "It gives me free reign to be a condescending bitch."
"You don't need freedom of speech for that babe," Mark teased and kissed the side of her head.
Sam laughed out loud at his comment. Then laid a hand to her forehead. "I have had way too much drink," she admitted. "And there's a huge bathtub back in the room and a massive, comfy bed calling my name."
"And some strawberries and chocolate sauce," Flack added, and waved the waiter down.
"In other words you two are going to go upstairs and have some wild and crazy make up sex," Angell mused.
Flack just grinned. Then asked the waiter to put the dinner on a tab to be directly billed to his room. "Consider it an early wedding present," he told Angell and Mark when they opened their mouths to protest.
"Yeah…" Sam said. "I'd like to be able to tell you we're giving you guys a shit load of cash in honour of your nuptuals, but after this trip, I'm afraid Don and I will be living in a pup tent in Central Park and catching pigeons and cooking them on a stick over and open flame and calling it dinner."
"It's called credit Sammie," Flack told her, as he pushed his chair away from the tabe and stood up. "And unlike you, I have amazing credit. So don't worry your pretty little head, okay?"
"Oh now he's kissing up and calling me pretty," she teased.
He grinned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Let's call it a night, okay?" he asked, as he pulled her chair out for her.
"Or at least a night down here," Jess said. "'Cause I seriously doubt you two are actually going to bed anytime soon. And thank you…for dinner."
Flack waved it off.
Sam bent down and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said.
"Bright and early," Jess told her. "You two have a fun night."
"Oh we will," Sam assured her, giving an enthusiastic two thumbs up.
"Night guys," Mark said in farewell, then watched as the couple walked through the crowded patio hand in hand and disappeared inside. "They're a really nice couple," he commented, as he turned back to his fiancee.
"They're crazy about each other," Jess said. "They always have been. And I can't deny that. It doesn't take an Einstein to figure out how much he loves her. Or how much she loves him. Don't you just see it? The way she looks at him? The way he looks at her?"
Mark nodded and laying a hand on the back of her neck, leaned in close. "Looking at Flack looking at Sam…it's honestly like peering into a mirror. You know why?"
Jess shook her head.
"'Cause it's the exact way I look at you," he told her, then covered her mouth with his in a tender kiss. He felt her sigh of contentment against his lips and the way she gently caressed his face.
Once the kiss had ended, Jess smiled adoringly at the her future husband and laying her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes and relaxed in his familiar, wonderful smell and the warmth of his strong body. This was the man she would spend forever with. Have babies with. Grand babies, even. Who she would go old and grey alongside of.
Her life had never been more perfect.
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all of the lurkers! Please R and R!
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