DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. OBVIOUSLY. 'CAUSE IF I DID, I'D BE STINKING RICH AND FINDING ANOTHER HOBBY. LIKE COUNTING MY MONEY. AND BOSSING AROUND MY MAID AND MY BUTLER AND MY…YOU GET THE PICTURE.
THIS IS A FUTURE CHAPTER! JUST TO SHAKE THINGS UP A LITTLE
AND PLEASE GO AND CAST YOUR NOMINATIONS FOR THE 2009 CSI:NY FAN FICTION AWARDS!
Angels among us
"Well I never once
Backed down from a punch
Well I'd take it square on the chin
Well I found out fast
A bully's just that
You've got to stand up to him
So I didn't cry when I got a black eye
As bad as it hurt, I just grinned
But when tough little boys grow up to be dads
They turn into big babies again.
Scared me to death
When you took your first steps
And I'd fall every time you fell down
Your first day of school, I cried like a fool
And I followed your school bus to town
Well I didn't cry, when Old Yeller died
At least not in front of my friends
But when tough little boys grow up to be dads
They turn into big babies again
Well I'm a grown man
And as strong as I am
Sometimes its hard to believe
That one little girl, with little blonde curls
Could totally terrify me
If you were to ask
My wife would just laugh
She'd say "I know all about men
How when tough little boys grow up to be dads
They turn into big babies again."
-Tough Little Boys, Gary Allen
"Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, the little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head. The stars in the bright sky look down where they lay, the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay."
Flack paused at the top landing as Kellan's soft, angelic voice drifted up the stairs from the living room. Where she'd been briefly left 'in charge' of her baby brother as he lay on a blanket that was spread out in the middle of the room, a perimeter of pillows and sofa cushions created around him and various stuffed animals and dolls from Kellan's room 'standing guard'. While Kallison seemed to be keeping her distance from her magically appearing brother for the time being either out of disinterest or fright, Kellan refused to leave Hunter's side.
She was curious about everything and anything. She asked a million and one questions and expected answers to each and every one. She followed her parents around whenever they carried the baby somewhere. She excitedly helped with every aspect of her brother's care, and then stood watching protectively over their shoulders as they fed the baby, burped the baby, changed and dressed the baby. She asked every five minutes if she could hold him. Or if he needed his bum cleaned or needed a change of clothes. If he was lonely and wanted someone to play with him or read him a story. And she constantly touched him. Marvelling at his head full of dark hair and his silky smooth skin and his impossibly tiny feet and hands. She gushed about his little pink lips and his cute little nose and his teeny-weeny ears and told him over and over again that she loved him and he was everything she ever wanted in a little brother.
And now that voice…that innocent, angelic voice attached to an even more innocent and angelic face, singing so quietly and slightly off key, entertaining her baby brother with a song she'd been taught in Sunday school and had preformed at a church pageant with a large group of children. That voice was enough to bring tears to Flack's eyes and cause a lump of emotion to form in his throat.
He'd always considered himself a hard ass. Years on the job and the horrors he'd seen and the sickening tales he'd heard had toughened him emotionally. A younger Flack had been able to pride himself in the fact that he'd managed to be both hard core when it came to the perps, and sensitive when it came to the victims and their families. He'd always been the one, out of the entire team save for the females, that seemed better equipped to handle emotional breakdowns. To be the proverbial shoulder to cry on.
But time had taken it's toll on his emotions and he had, as much as he hated to admit it, become just like his father. Closed off and distant. He no longer shed tears or felt his nerves about to combust after a particularly rough case. While he'd always feel bad that an innocent life had been snuffed out, especially under such cruel and horrendous circumstances, he no longer dwelled on the things he couldn't change. He no longer beat himself up over the fact that a perp caught a lighter sentence then what he deserved. If case after case went unsolved. He didn't blame himself for not being able to get the bad guy. A team was only as good as its weakest link, and he wasn't the sole person to shit on if something went wrong and an entire case ended up down the crapper.
He slept well at night and wasn't haunted by the dead he'd seen. He had a clear conscience, work wise. He didn't bring his job home with him and take out his shitty days on his wife and kids. He left the murderers and the rapists and the general scum of society on the front porch before he walked in the door. He smiled and laughed and hugged and kissed Sammie and the girls when they greeted him after work. And the moment that that badge and cell phone was dropped on the nightstand and his weapon secured in a lock box kept far, far away from tiny, prying eyes and fingers, he ceased to be Detective Don Flack and slipped into the role of husband and father and provider. He helped with the house work and made dinner. He did loads of laundry and tended to whatever repairs needed to be done. He made sure the bills were paid and helped with the grocery shopping. Either doing it himself, or as was most common, staying home with the girls while Sammie did it and then helping her inside with the bags once she got home.
And to his daughters he wasn't the tough guy that locked up bad guys or scared confessions out of perps. He was the guy that put together doll houses or fixed broken toys. Who wasn't above getting down on the floor in the basement and playing Barbies with them or being a guest at countless tea parties. He was the one that they went to when they wanted something after mommy said no. Because they knew that deep down, he was a softie that couldn't resist their huge blue eyes and the way they pouted their tiny lips. It was his side of the bed they went to when they wanted breakfast. It was his name they called out in the middle of the night if a nightmare had seen them wetting the bed.
But when push came to shove, when there were skinned knees from falling off a bike or there were cuts and bites and bruises from a vicious scrap between them, it was mommy they went to for comfort. Mommy who was the best at kissing the ouchies away. It hurt too much when daddy put the medicine on a cut or pulled off a band-aid. But when mommy did it, it never stung. And it was her kisses and her hugs and the way she made hot chocolate and her cookies that made all the pain go away the quickest.
"Jesus loves me when I'm good," Kellan's voice continued, as she moved on to another song. "When I do things I should. Jesus loves me when I'm bad, though it makes Him very sad."
Flack smirked, and thanked whatever power that lurked above that his kids weren't following in his spiteful, bitter ways when it came to faith and spirituality. That was their mother's doing. While she described herself as a lapsed Catholic, it was her persistent nature that saw their daughters going to church to every Sunday, either with them -Flack spent the entire time grumbling and tugging at his tie and rolling his eyes at every word the priest said- or with their grandparents. Who insisted they go to a Catholic school.
"They don't need to be like you in every way," Sam had angrily informed him once, when he'd protested about the idea of sending them to a school where they'd have to wear a uniform every day. Uniforms were expensive he'd argued, even though she saw right through that line of bullshit. "You've seen a lot, Donnie. A lot of bad things and I don't blame you for doubting things. I'm not going to argue with you and beg and plead with you to change your way of thinking. But our girls are innocent. And they think the world is beautiful and good. And I don't want you ruining that for them. They're just babies still."
Behind him, the bedroom door clicked open and Sam poked her head out. She was clad in her bathrobe and had a towel wrapped around her wet hair. "Is everything okay?" she asked.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Flack asked, casting a glance at her over his shoulder.
"I heard you coming down the hall and then you just stopped. You didn't come in the room or go down the stairs so I…"
He grinned and turning around, walked to the bedroom door and bent down to place a kiss on her lips. "You've got some super-sonic hearing or something, woman."
"I just thought maybe…"
"Everything's fine," he assured her, and kissed her a final time before heading back towards the stairs. "You need to get a handle on your whole mother hen paranoia. Lawyer will be here in half an hour. You better…"
"Haul ass," she finished, and rolled her eyes. "Yeah…yeah…yeah…" she grumbled, and disappeared into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her.
Flack smirked and journeyed down the stairs. "What are you doing, sweetie cheeks?" he asked his daughter, who was sitting next to Hunter, gently combing her fingers through his hair.
"I'm singing to baby Hunter," Kellan replied. "He likes my singing, daddy. And he likes it when I suck on his toes."
Flack grimaced as his daughter peeled off one of her brother's socks and proceeded to pop his toes into her mouth.
"See?" Kellan giggled as a loud gurgle emanated from the baby. "See daddy?"
"I see…"
"And he pooped his pants, too!" she exclaimed. Then plugged her nose with one hand and made a fanning motion in front of her face with the other. "Stinky! Boys are stinky!"
"Your diapers were no better when you were a baby," Flack informed her, as he stepped over a pillow and joined his daughter and son in their 'play' area.
His knees cracked noisily as he crouched down alongside of Kellan, and then tears filled his eyes and bile rose in his throat as the smell of a ripe diaper hit him. He coughed, then gagged. I wasn't good at this five years ago and I'm not good at this now, he thought, then considered sending Kellan upstairs to get her mother. It wasn't the sight of shit that bothered him. He could look at it all day long. Just like he could look at bodies in full decomp and corpses that were missing various parts or badly charred from fires. But smells…his stomach was weak when it came to smells.
And human shit was one of those smells that turned him into a complete wimp.
"Go and get me a clean diaper and the wipes, would you Kellan?" he asked his daughter, swallowing noisily and trying his best not to breathe through his nose.
"Okay daddy!" she chirped and jumped to her feet and scampered off excitedly. Returning within seconds with a clean diaper and a container of Huggies wipes. "Want me to do it, daddy?" she asked, as she dropped the items beside him.
"You don't know how to change a diaper," he replied, as he snapped open the buttons on Hunter's sleeper.
"You can teach me!" she cried, clapping her hands together.
"Get your mom to teach you," Flack said, then held his breath as he peeled off the tabs on the baby's diaper. He physically retched as he lifted his son's legs and yanked the offended nappy out from underneath them. The smell was just…too much…just too much.
Kellan, fully aware of her father's discomfort, opened the wipes and pulled several out. "Here!" she exclaimed, and slapped them into his hand. "Don't be a wimp, daddy!"
He let out his breath. "I am not a wimp," he informed her and wiped Hunter's bum. "I just…daddy' stomach just can't handle that kind of thing, okay? Wanna do me a favour? Wanna help me out?"
She nodded.
"Get that diaper out of my face, would ya?"
"Okay!" she agreed, and jumping to her feet, picked up the dirty diaper, folded the tabs in neatly and then raced out of the living room and down the hall towards the kitchen.
"You're foul, kid," Flack said to his son, as he lifted the baby's legs once again and slipping the fresh diaper underneath him, tightly secured it. "I thought your sisters were capable of stinking up the whole house when they were babies," he continued, as his big hands worked at doing the sleeper back up. "And trust me…double the trouble? They had a lot of shitty diapers to tend to. But you….you are the smelliest of the whole lot."
"That's 'cause he's his father's son," Sam quipped, as she caught his words as she descended the stairs. She walked behind him on her way towards the kitchen, then abruptly paused, back tracked and stood behind him. "Beautiful just like you," she declared, bending down to lay her hands on Flack's shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "And I mean beautiful in a masculine way, so don't be going and getting your undies in a twist."
He smirked.
She pecked the corner of his lips, tousled his hair affectionately and then stood up and walked away. "Hope you remembered to take the garbage out and let Wiener out for a pee and a poop!" she called, as she disappeared from the room.
"Yes, dear!" he shouted back. "I remembered! You've only been nagging at me do all of it for the last two hours straight!"
"I keep you on your toes, Donald!" she responded.
Yeah…right, he thought. Then looking down at his precious son, smiled softly.
"See what I put up with?" he asked Hunter. "All the bitching and the moaning and the nagging? Makes you wonder why I stick around, huh? Well let me fill you in on my dirty little secret. Let me tell you what keeps me coming back for more."
"Don!" Sam yelled. "Don't be saying dirty things to him already!"
"I wasn't going to, Sammie. Now mind your own and let me have a moment with my boy, okay?" he shook his head and turning back to the baby, ran a hand over Hunter's hair. "Love, buddy. Love conquers all. And the way I love her…your mommy? It's the only thing that keeps me going some days. And one day, you'll find some girl that hopefully makes you half as happy as your mom has made me."
"That's very sweet, baby," Sam said, as she hovered in the doorway.
"But let me give you a piece of advice," Flack quickly added. "For your own sanity? Stay away from the Brooklyn girls."
Sam snorted.
Flack chuckled and looked over at her. "To the stars and beyond, Sammie," he said, and gave her a wink.
She smiled brightly and blew him a kiss and went back into the kitchen.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Flack grinned down at his son.
"That's the first thing you need to learn," he said. "How to ass kiss with the best of them."
Flack glanced out of the corner of his eye as a profanity laced tirade spewed from his wife's mouth and was quickly followed by a cell phone being tossed angrily onto the dashboard. What had started out as a relatively friendly call -as friendly as it could be when the person on the other end was most possibly the most vicious, cold hearted bitch Flack had ever encountered in his entire life- consisting of small talk about the holidays and the weather in Florida and all of the fun that was being had at Disney World, had quickly took a sharp, nasty turn when talked turned to Adam and his marital issues. Sam had done her best to avoid getting involved. Her loyalties lied, and always would, with Adam and out of respect for her two friends -one deceased and the other lying in the hospital- the last thing she wanted to be doing under the circumstances was fighting with her mother over something that had little to no bearing on what was happening at the moment.
She had placed the call to her parents hotel room two hours ago following the thankfully pleasant meeting with Jordan's attorney. There'd been a custodial agreement to sign and a savings account in Hunter's name to take control over. Jordan had began putting cash into the thing since she the day she'd found out she was pregnant. And not just pocket change either. A hundred bucks here, a couple hundred there. Regular deposits made twice a week that had, in her death, added up to quite a fair chunk of change for her son. In addition, she'd left a will that had clearly indicated that if anything happened to her before Hunter's eighteenth birthday, his biological father was to be given full custody. And she'd left a sizeable amount of cash, intended to go towards their child's basic care, in Flack's name.
The last matter of business, other then giving them advice on how to handle both the legal name change and Sam's desire to adopt the baby, was procuring Hunter's belongings that still remained sealed up in Jordan's apartment. Once the crime scene was cleaned up, the lawyer said, a court appointed officer would accompany them into Jordan's apartment to gather up Hunter's things. Any belongings they didn't want, they were responsible for finding a way to dispose of.
The signing of the papers and the frank discussions had taken place at the kitchen table while Adam played with the girls in the basement. The whole process had taken under an hour and had left both Sam and Flack with a sense of finality. That their years of wallowing in their own self pity over not being able to have another child, that the tough times that had nearly shattered them beyond repair, had actually been somewhat worth it. Had they'd not suffered through the worst of times, they would have never been given the chance to take Hunter into their lives and love him and care for him. And it was somewhat of a comfort to know that the hurt and the pain along the rocky path they had travelled, hadn't been in vain. That their mistakes and their tears and their anger had actually brought them closer together and made their family stronger.
After the lawyer had left, Flack had called the real estate agent and requested that the house be taking off the market, then had left a message on Sinclair's voice mail asking to have his resignation withdrawn and to still be kept on the NYPD payroll. So far, Sinclair hadn't called back, but Flack imagined that the Chief was either pissed off that he'd wasted his time on what turned out to be a bogus resignation, or relieved that he was actually sticking around.
He suspected that it was a bit of both.
And wished it had have been the Chief calling as opposed to his wicked witch of a mother in law.
The whole purpose of Sam's initial call to her parents had been to tell them what had happened regarding Danny and Hawkes, and to politely ask if one of them could come back early from Florida and stay with them. Help them out with the kids while they spent time with Lindsay at the hospital and assisted Mari with funeral arrangements. Adam was perfectly capable of taking care of Kellan, Kallison and Amanda. But his patience was stretched to its breaking point when a new baby was tossed into the mix. Especially when he was trying to deal with his own anguish over his marriage falling apart and one of his colleagues being killed. It had been a perfectly acceptable request on Sam's part. And she'd been calm and polite about it.
Too bad the response hadn't been calm and polite as well. Flack had been able to tell, by the rolling of her eyes and the heavy sighing and then the frowning that whatever was being said over the phone, that Sam was not a happy camper. And the profanity and the tossing of the cell phone, which had hit the windshield with such force the battery fell out and the body of the phone slid off the dash and onto the floor, had just confirmed what Flack had already known at the beginning of the phone call. Hell, what had known since the day Lynne Ross had shown up unexpectedly at her daughter's door eight years ago.
That his mother in law was the biggest bitch on the face of the earth.
"I take it she said no," Flack commented calmly, as he turned his eyes back onto the snow covered road.
Adam had agreed to stay with the twins and Amanda while they headed into the city to pay Danny a visit and to run errands at the Babies R Us in Times Square, but he'd been extremely nervous about taking care of three rambunctious kids and a barely month old baby. Which was why Hunter was currently bundled up in his car seat in the back. Fast asleep.
"She didn't just say no. She told me I was a selfish, ungrateful, mean spirited little bitch who gets off on making everyone else's lives miserable. And she told me that I had a hell of a lot of nerve calling there and ruining their vacation by bitching and moaning about my problems."
Flack smirked and shook his head.
"I told you that you should have thought twice about marrying me. That you should have given your head a shake when you decided to propose knowing what kind of mother in law you'd have to live with for the rest of your life."
"What can I say? I get off on torturing myself," he joked.
"You must," Sam snorted. "Think of all of the years of pain and suffering you would have been able to avoid if you'd just decided to not marry me after all. If you'd just stayed away completely the first time we broke up instead of being so damn persistant that we get back together, you would have been able to keep your sanity in tact. Instead you willingly wanted to get mixed back up with me and my crazy assed family. "
"You're talking a whole lot of shit," Flack said. "You're just pissed off at your mother and trying to cause a fight with me to make yourself feel better. I know the methods to your madness, Sammie. I've spent the last eight years figuring them out. Your mom's a fucking bitch and I've accepted that. And the less I have to deal with her, the better."
"So you know what this means, then? We're going to have to ask your parents for help."
"And that's a bad thing?" Flack asked. "I mean, I know my mom and you despise each other but…"
"They don't know about Hunter. They have no clue that they had another grandchild out there. And what are we going to do? Just call them and ask them to baby sit this kid they've never met before? That they didn't even know existed?"
"Pretty much," he said. "Your parents don't know about Hunter either. Were you just going to let them show up at the house if they came back and drop him in their arms and say, 'here, meet your grandson'?"
She sighed heavily.
"You were going to have to drop a huge bomb on them, too. And something tells me that your folks? That they wouldn't be as accepting as mine will be."
"Your mother accepting? Since when?"
"Okay…so maybe my mother will have a massive freak out…"
Sam nodded in agreement. "This is all just too much…" she whispered, and propping her elbow on the ledge of the passenger's window, put her hand over her eyes. "All of this…I just can't take all of this right now…it's just all so much and I just can't…"
Dropping a hand from the wheel, Flack reached out and combed his fingers through her hair before settling his hand on the back of her neck. "Just calm down, baby…" he said, voice calm and soothing. "Don't get worked up over her. You've got enough on your plate without dealing with her shit too. Just take it easy, okay?"
"All my life she's been like this. All my life I've been useless and unworthy of her. The biggest mistake she's ever made."
"She's a crazy bitch who sat around while your father molested you and knocked Adam and you around. She's the fucking useless one. You know what the huge mistake is, Sammie? And I don't condone guys smacking around women and you know that. But the huge mistake is that your father didn't take his shit out on her and rid the world of her bat shit insanity. That was the huge mistake. He did all of that shit to you and Adam when he could have just cut right to the fucking chase and got rid of her."
Sam couldn't help but let out a small, dry laugh.
"It's fucking true. And it makes me sound like some evil, wife beating bastard. But for nearly forty one years she's caused you nothing but sheer hell. She stood around and let your dad turn you into some stand in with when you were five years old. She turned a blind eye to the fact that he was bashing you and Adam around. From the time you were a little kid she's told you that you're a worthless piece of shit and that she made a mistake ever having you. That you don't deserve to be happy and that you don't deserve to be loved. Well you know what? She's a fucking nut job. She needs to be committed. Or you need to just wash your goddamn hands of her for good and tell her to piss off and get out of your life."
"Donnie…" she sighed heavily. "I can't do that. We've been arguing about this for years and I can't just shove my mother out of my life."
"Why the hell not? Give me one reason why you can't tell her to take a hike."
"Because she's Kellan and Kallison's grandmother and…"
"And what? She's their grandmother. So? Does she do grandmother things with them? Does she act like a grandmother? She can't even be bothered to send them birthday and Christmas cards and she only lives in Manhattan. She couldn't even call them on Christmas morning. Does that seem like something a normal grandmother would do?"
Sam shook her head.
"She treats them like shit, Sammie. She's treated them like that since they were born. She's always tripping over herself to do nice things for Adam's kids but when it comes to ours?" he shook his head. "Our kids are the black sheep in your family just like you were years ago. So why the hell would you want someone like her around the girls? Around Hunter? Or Dawson. Or whatever the hell it is we're calling him. You actually think she's going to just accept him as a grand kid? That she's just going to fawn all over him and welcome her into her life?"
She shook her head once again.
"That bitch doesn't deserve Kellan and Kallison calling her grandma. What she deserves is a swift kick in the ass and a hand delivered, personal invitation to fuck off."
"Don…please…don't start, okay?"
"What am I starting? Your mother starts it all 'cause of the way she treats you. I'm not going to just sit back and let her abuse you like that. She's emotionally abusive. She's been that way all of your life. And I'm not going to just sit back and let her treat you like that."
"She's my mother," Sam reminded him.
"And you're my wife. And no one treats my wife like that. You think just because she's your mother that it gives her permission to be the way she is? Just because she's your mom doesn't mean she has the right to be like that with you. She doesn't even deserve to be called a mother. And if you think that I'm going to let that go down, that I'm going to let her treat my wife and the mother of my kids like that…"
"Would you please…"
"Please what? Please don't feel the need to stick up for you? To protect you? To love you enough to not let her shit all over you? I've been dealing with her for years. Willingly. You won't tell her to fuck off? Then give me your phone and I'll call her and do it."
"You don't need to…"
"No. I don't," he said, as he eased his foot down onto the break and coasted to a stop at a red light. "But unlike you, I'm not scared to stand up to her. Seven and a half years ago, Tavern on the Green ring a bell? My father getting that polite yet sarcastic, mean way about him? Melanie getting shit faced and calling your mother a stupid ass bitch? You running off to the bathroom in tears and then me and Adam in the ladies room trying to coax you out of a stall? Or about how me and your mom having the mother of all screaming matches in the parking lot? Does this all sound vaguely familiar to you?"
Sam laughed and wiped tears off of her cheeks with the sleeve of her winter jacket. "How could I forget? That night was a complete disaster. An engagement slash 'get to know the future in laws' dinner? It was World War Three. I was expecting you to either bail on me right there or wait until the next day to tell me the next day you never wanted to see me again 'cause you didn't need all the drama."
"I didn't do either. Did I?"
She didn't respond. Instead she sniffled noisily and chewed at her bottom lip pensively.
"Did I?" he repeated, reaching out to lay a hand on the back of her head. "Did I bail on you, Sammie? Did I break up with you?"
She shook her head.
"The one and only time we broke up was your doing, remember? Because you said you needed space and time to 'figure yourself out'. I'm still trying to figure out what the hell that was really all about and it's been seven years. But I'm here, aren't I? I'm here and I'm still dealing with all the craziness. I may have gone slightly astray a couple of times, but here I am. And I'm not going anywhere. I've got my shit together and no one or nothing is going to take me away again. I told you years ago that you were stuck with me for the long haul. I warned you, didn't I?"
She gave a small smile and nodded.
"Just don't get worked up over that bitch, okay? There's more important things to worry about. We just lost a really good friend of ours. Danny's in the hospital. We're suddenly parents to an infant all over again. That's a lot to deal with all at once, babe. Don't take on anything else."
"I can't believe I'm even acting like this," Sam said.
"Like what?"
"Like this whiny, spoiled little bitch. I mean, we all know I am just like that naturally. That's just who I am. But at a time like this? What is wrong with me?"
"Sammie, you're not a whiny, spoiled little bitch. That's your mother talking. Not you."
"I'm just sitting here whining about my shit when Danny's in the hospital and Mari's dealing with losing her husband and…"
"And you're dealing with your own grief in your way," Flack interjected. "And on top of all that grief, you're getting shit on left, right and center. Just try and calm down, babe. Shove all that other crap aside and focus on what's more important. Your mom wants to be a bitch, let her. Ignore her and concentrate on other things. You don't need her crap."
Sam sniffled noisily, and scooping her purse up from its resting place at her feet, unzipped it and rummaged through it until she found a package of tissues. "What is wrong with the world when you suddenly become the sensible and logical one?" she asked, as she used a Kleenex to wipe her eyes.
"I've always been the sensible and logical one," Flack said. "Remember my whole theory on how the higher the education, the lower the common sense? Well I love you honey, but…"
"Don't even finish that sentence," she laughed and reached out to playfully flick his ear lobe with her thumb and forefinger.
He chuckled as well, and leaning across the seat, kissed her softly. "I do love you though, Sammie," he said, and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You and the millions of tons of baggage you came with."
She smiled, and laying her hand on the side of his face, covered his lips with hers in a slow, soft kiss.
"I still remember what you said to me a long, long time," she said, as she trailed her thumb along his bottom lip. "When I was so worried about my past and scared of all of the ghosts in it. I was freaked out 'cause I kept wondering when you'd take off 'cause you didn't want to deal with all my drama. And you told me that you were a big, strong guy and that you would help me carry all of the weight. I'll never forget that. I think it was possibly the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
"Oh I don't know about that," he said, pecking the tip of her nose before turning back to the road as the light turned green. "I still think my greatest most romantic moment was the night I proposed. I mean, I quoted a poem. What more could you possibly want?"
"You read verses of How Do I Love Thee off of a piece of paper," she teased, her eyes sparkling playfully. And happily.
It never seemed to amaze her, that despite all of the nasty arguments and mean spirited words that often passed between them in fits of anger, that her husband still remained the one person that could cheer her up at the darkest of moments. It was his uncanny ability to crack a joke or toss out a sarcastic yet humorous comment at the most unexpected times. The way he'd reach out and run a hand over her hair or gently caress her face. Or he'd press a kiss to her forehead. That tenderness and affection -something that even years later he still struggled with- achieving far more than any well thought out, rehearsed words.
And then there was that smile. That genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made his blue eyes sparkle. A smile he'd passed down to his daughters. And maybe, just maybe, his son.
"Hey, I'll have you know that I spent an hour surfing the 'net looking for something that was perfect for the way I felt about you and would get across what I wanted to say," Flack defended himself. "I've never been good with words so I thought seeking a little assistance wouldn't hurt. And then there's the great pains I went to just to hide the ring and keep the entire thing a secret. That was hands down my best moment."
"Yeah…" she agreed, smiling in recollection of that night, almost eight years ago, when on their last night in Vegas, he'd proposed to her in front of the Bellagio fountains.
She'd been in a 'down' mood that night. Their first vacation together was quickly coming to an end and soon they'd be heading back to the hustle and bustle of New York City and the stresses and demands of real life. Flack would return to unpredictability of work in three days and she'd continue with her psychiatric appointments and her sabbatical. Gone would be staying up until the wee hours of the morning and then sleeping well past noon hour. Of eating room service and hitting the casinos and the bars and hanging out by the pool and having an afternoon at the spa. In the morning they'd wake up excruciatingly early, pack the last of their things and head downstairs to check out. By ten they'd be on a plane heading home, and if all went smoothly and according to schedule, they'd be walking though their front door no later than three in the afternoon.
And she still had nothing on her finger. Since their talk -and agreement- about getting engaged, she'd been waiting on pins and needles for the moment he'd propose. She was so excited and so anxious that she couldn't think of anything else other then when he'd do it, what he'd say, what the ring would look like. And each and every time she'd thought he was about to finally get the show on the road, her hopes were dashed. She had relegated herself to the fact that he'd either changed his mind or didn't have the heart to tell her, or he'd decided to wait until they got home to do it.
She had hoped it was the latter.
It had been his idea to take a late night walk around the hotel grounds. They'd been sipping wine while lounging on the couch with the lights dimmed and the stereo on, and Flack had drained his glass and setting it on the coffee table, dropped a kiss on the top of her head as she lay back against his chest and then suggested they head out and grab some fresh air. That it would make her feel better. And when she'd mentioned that they should call Mark and Jess and invite them along, he'd been quick to insist they go alone. Then added that Mark and Jess were too busy playing newlyweds to care about going for a walk.
It hadn't taken long to find out just why he'd been so insisted. No sooner had they stopped to marvel at the beauty of the fountains -Sam with her hands on the railing in front of her and Flack standing behind her with both arms wrapped around her waist and his chin resting on the top of her head. She had just leaned the back of her head against his chest and closed her eyes, relishing the cool night breeze and the feel of his arms around her, when she'd felt him remove one of his arms and heard the rustle of fabric as he reached into the pocket of his jeans, followed by the crinkling of paper.
She'd cracked an eye open and was about to ask what he was doing when she felt him reach around her body again and place something in the palm of her hand. When she had looked down, she'd gasped in surprise, tears immediately springing to her eyes as she saw that little velvet box, it's lid open and the diamond ring sparkling up at her.
And then he'd recited the poem. Reducing her to a blubbering mess. It hadn't matter that he didn't get down on one knee. What had mattered most was the thoughtfulness he'd put into the moment. Their moment.
It had been the most magical night of her life.
And now, eight years later, she regarded her husband with the utmost love and adoration in her eyes. Sure, they'd had their share of rough times. When things were bad, they'd been horrifically bad. But they'd travelled every road and climbed every mountain and there wasn't part of her that wouldn't do it all again. Despite his past issues and mistakes, he was a loving, attentive man and a phenomenal father. And her life had been truly blessed by having him in it.
"I love you," she announced, breaking the silence that had descended on the vehicle.
He stole a glance at her, a smile playing at his lips.
"You know…just in case I don't tell you enough," she added, and reached out to lightly rub the back of his neck.
"Always nice to hear it," he said with a grin.
"It is…" she agreed, then issued a long sigh and stared out her window.
Silence once again fell between the occupants of the SUV. The only sounds gently assailing their ears the consistent swish of the windshield wipers working overtime to combat the rapidly falling snow, the hum of the vents on the dashboards and the sides of the doors as heat pumped into the vehicle, and Sam's soft sniffling.
As he drove, Flack caught a glimpse of his wife as she lay her head against the cold window beside her and closed her eyes. Leaving one hand on the wheel, he reached out with the other and ran it tenderly over her hair. Her eyes flickered open and her head turned towards him. A soft smile curving her lips as he trailed a finger tip along her cheek.
"I love you too baby," he told her.
Her smile broadened and brightened, and laying her hand over his, she pressed a kiss to his palm before entwining her fingers with his and then settling their joined hands on her thigh.
It was nice to hear it.
A huge, huge thanks to all of those who are reading and reviewing! Even to all of those who are just lurking! I truly appreciate each and every one of you for all of your love and support. Now R and R and nominate me! LOL
Special thanks to:
CSINYMinute
Hope4sall
Forest Angel
muchmadness
wolfeylady
xsamiliciousx
HighQueenReicheru
SpankyMcDoogleFace
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