DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND THE FLACK KIDS

A/N: MASSIVE THANKS AND SHOUTS OUT TO EVERYONE WHO VOTED IN THE AWARDS! I AM HUMBLED AND HONOURED THAT YOU ALL ENJOY MY STUFF THAT MUCH!

AND CONGRATS TO ALL THE WINNERS!

AND POTATO PATCHES ARE A FLACK-ISM (AT LEAST IN MY WORLD) FOR THE FAT AT THE TOP OF THE INSIDE OF YOUR THIGH. LOL


Between Friends

"I've had my moments, days in the sun
Moments I was second to none
Moments when I knew I did what I thought I couldn't do
Like the day I walked away from the wine
For a woman who became my wife
And a love that, when it was right,
Could always see me through
Lookin' at me now you might not know it
But I've had my moments."
-Moments, Emerson Drive


Two hours before the scheduled start of the private memorial service being held at Blackburn and Sons funeral home on the upper East side for Doctor Sheldon Hawkes, Tony Scagnetti found himself stomping snow off of his black dress shoes as he climbed the steps leading up to Flack's front door. The afternoon visitation had gone well. Although closed off to the public, members of the crime lab and the department itself had trickled in and out during noon to two. Making time to stop by and pay their respects during their lunch breaks or while they were supposed to be on the clock. In favour of the public funeral the next day -St Patrick's Cathedral was expected to be packed to the rafters with not just family and friends, but members of the NYPD and FDNY and other police departments in and out of the state of New York, politicians and other dignitaries and the general public- Mari had decided that the visitation and evening memorial service was for close friends and family only. Followed by a small get together, a wake of sorts, at her home that her mother and several of her mother's friends were hosting.

Scagnetti himself, stuck in court from eight in the morning until three in the afternoon, had been unable to attend the visitation, but had accepted Flack's invitation to head on out to the house for a couple of beers before heading into the city for the memorial service. A couple of beers sounded damn good to the big detective, who'd brought along the perfect chaser for those beers in the form of a twenty-sixer of Jack Daniel's and a bottle of Bailey's.

He tapped the toes of his shoes against the bottom of the door frame, ridding himself off the last traces of snow before pulling open the screen door and laying a finger on the doorbell. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a vain attempt to keep himself warm as the chime sounded throughout the entire house. From beyond the heavy wooden door, he could hear Wiener's incessant yapping -the mutt was always set off by the sound of the door bell or anyone that simply walked through the front door- and Sam's loud, scolding voice as it got closer and closer to the front foyer. He saw a burst of light as the door to the breezeway opened, then heard the click of the deadbolt as it was snapped open.

"Special delivery!" Scagnetti greeted, holding aloft the paper bag emblazoned with the liquor store's insignia.

"It's Christmas all over again!" Sam chirped, her cheerful voice a poor attempt at covering up her frayed nerves and tattered emotions as she pulled the door open and held it wide enough for her friend to enter. She looked conservative in her grey jumper style dress, black turtleneck and thick black stockings, a burgundy velvet headband holding her hair away from her face.

She'd spent the entire day firmly planted at Mari's side at the funeral home. Alternating between consoling her grieving friend and greeting each guest that walked through the parlour doors and made their way to the casket. She and Kelli had taken turns coordinating the evening plans with the funeral director and making sure that everything was going to be exactly the way that Mari wanted it. And on top of that had been the everyday stresses of home life. Of taking care of a month old baby and getting two five year olds up in the morning, fed, dressed and to school. Of tending to household chores that had fallen by the wayside and paying bills that had, unfortunately, went completely forgotten on top of the fridge and were now nearly a week over due. All little things that when bunched all together, were enough to drive a sane person crazy.

Or a sober person to drink.

"I figured I can't come over and see my mistress without bringing the beverages," Scagnetti teased, as he stepped into the breezeway and Sam closed and locked the door behind him.

"You didn't have to butter me up with booze," Sam told her husband's partner, as he toed off his shoes and slipped out of his jacket, which she took and hung in the already overflowing hall closet. "You know you don't have to get me drunk to seduce me anymore, Tony. We're past that stage. Besides…" she patted his stomach. "I've missed my chubby Santa."

"Yeah? You keep talking like that and your chubby Santa's little helper is going to get a mind of it's own, if you know what I mean," Scagnetti chuckled, then drew her into a tight, one armed hug. "How you holding up, Missus?" he asked.

"I'm doing okay," she replied, her tiny arms wrapping around his wide, strong body. "It's still a shock, you know? I don't think it's completely sunk in it. Maybe because I haven't exactly had the time to sit back and think about it. It's been insanity in here the last few days. People coming and going, Donnie pulling in crazy amounts of hours, the girls back at school after the holidays, Dawson…" she sighed. "Thank God my brother is here or I'd be certifiably insane by now."

"Don't knock it," Scagnetti said, as he held her out at arm's length and kissed both of her cheeks. "I lost my mind a long time ago. Actually, since I started working with your hubby. But that's a depressingly long story that would require me to be completely tanked to even attempt to get into."

"How do you think I feel?" Sam laughed, as led the way out of the breezeway and closed the door. "I've worked with him for nine years and I've been married to him for nearly seven. That's just downright masochistic if you ask me. Why I continue to torture myself is beyond me."

"You do it 'cause you love the guy," the detective reasoned, as he followed her through the tidy living room and down the narrow hallway that led to the kitchen. "'Cause you'd be damn miserable without him."

"But at least I'd be sane," Sam said as they entered the kitchen. "You have no idea what it's like in this house some days."

"Uh…actually…I do. I'm Flack's partner, remember? We've been buddies for years. I've been here when the two of you have gotten into some of your dandy scraps. I have heard language come out of the two of you that I never even knew existed in the great big dictionary of profanity. I know exactly how nasty things can get in the Flack house."

"Well you missed a good one three mornings ago," Sam told him, as she journeyed to the sink and opened the cupboard above it. Standing on her tip toes, she took down two plastic tumblers - one neon pink and the other bright green- as Scagnetti unpacked the back of booze and then went to the fridge and helped himself to two cans of Pepsi.

"Is this the one about Junior forgetting to tell you that he had the joint task force meeting with DHS and Vice?" he asked, as he snapped open the cans of pop and set them on the island and then shed his suit jacket and laid it over on of the bar stools on the opposite side of the counter.

"Here I was, thinking that he was taking the girls to school. So naturally I was still in my pyjamas right?" Sam moved to the fridge and filled the glasses with ice from the dispenser mounted on the stainless steel refrigerator door. "I'm taking my time, making the girls' lunches while they're having breakfast and tending to Dawson, thinking that Don's going to be down any second to help get them ready for school. You know, washed up, teeth brushed, dressed, the whole nine. Well he comes down all right. Wearing these department issued boots, cargo pants and those black thermal shirts you guys wear sometimes when you go on raids."

"SWAT gear," Scagnetti confirmed, as she joined him at the island and he cracked open the bottle of JD.

"Exactly," she said, observing as he poured the liquor into her glass, waving her hand over it when he'd given her enough. "And he informs me he's heading to work now. Just so casual about it like it was something he told me about already. I had no clue what he was talking about because he specifically told me that he had the girls' first day back at school off and that he'd take them. So that started a big old thing naturally. I was convinced he didn't tell me, he was convinced he did. And you know what it's like when you fight with Don. He's always right. Even when he knows he's full of shit."

"I've learned that it's just best to humour him," Scagnetti told her, as he poured Pepsi into their glasses. "If he thinks he's right…well letting him think he's right is better than the world of hurt you're going to cause yourself by attempting to prove just how wrong he is."

Sam rolled her eyes, and picking up her drink, swirling it around in her hands before taking a sip. Coughing and wincing as she was taken back by the amount and strength of the alcohol.

"I should be kicking your ass by the way," Scagnetti told her, as he leaned back against the counter behind him. "'Cause of you picking fights with Junior the rest of us had to put up with his bullshit for the rest of the day. He was as grumpy as all shit. Gets like that and I just want to put him over my knee and spank the shit out of his ass. How'd you manage to turn him into such a girl?"

"The threat of no sex for the rest of his life always hits him deep," Sam laughed. "We made up when we got home from work."

"Yeah…and I know what making up means when it comes to you two."

"Actually, my brother watched the kids and my husband went all romantic on me and took me out to dinner. A dress up dinner, at that. Quaint little Italian restaurant, candles, some wine."

"And then the real making up came later when the two of you got home," Scagnetti teased. "Don't lie. He walked into work the next morning with this massive, shit eating grin on his face. And he only gets that grin for one reason."

Sam grinned and gulped down some of her drink. "I rock his world, what can I say?"

"So where is Junior? He run away from home? Or is he passed out from exhaustion somewhere?"

"He took the kids over to his mom and dad's for the night. Kellan and Kallison wanted to come tonight. Donnie sat down with them and explained that Uncle Shelly had gotten hurt at work and that the doctors had done everything they could to try and make him better again, but that God wanted him as an angel and the doctors never win against God."

Scagnetti grinned as he imagined the talk between father and daughters.

"So they get the whole idea that Uncle Shelly is in heaven. With God and all the other angels and saints and what not. And that his body stays in the ground, but his soul is everywhere, just floating around. And that they can't see him, but they can talk to him and he's watching them. They wanted to come tonight but daddy didn't like that idea. He doesn't think it would have been good for them."

"Gotta say that for once, I actually agree with the guy," Scagnetti said.

"They were so pissed off. Especially Kellan. She accused him of treating her like a baby. You should have heard her…" Sam laughed and shook her head before bringing her cup to her lips. "…she reamed him out royally."

"'Cause she's just like her mother," the detective concluded. "She takes after you. Shoots from the hip."

"She's got an attitude problem," Sam sighed.

"Hence why I said she's just like her mother," Scagnetti teased. "So how'd it go with the in-law's? I take it the whole 'surprise you have another grandkid' convo went well."

Sam snorted and swallowed her drink. "Are you kidding me? Don's mother went insane. I am talking right ballistic. His dad was okay with it. Massively disappointed that his son not only cheated but couldn't manage to use protection, but okay with it nonetheless. Patricia though? Psycho bitch from hell. She was like something out of the exorcist. Her face went beet red, her eyes were bugging out of her head, smoke was practically coming out of her ears. It was crazy. She now refuses to step foot in our house. Calls it a den of inequity. Says she doesn't want the evil rubbing off on her."

Scagnetti smirked and shook his head.

"Which is exactly why Donnie had to take the kids over there for the night. I wouldn't be surprised if she siphoned some Holy Water from the church and is going to use it to bath the kids in once he leaves. You know, to get all the germs and evil shit off of them. Or maybe she'll make them drink it. To cast out the demons."

"You watch way to many of those poltergeist shows," Scagnetti informed her. "I thought you'd be all happy to get that witch out of your hair."

"Oh I am, trust me. I just…" Sam sighed and rubbed at her temples. "It's just a lot going on at once, you know? Jordan dying, taking in Dawson when we haven't taken care of a baby in five years, planning the adoption, Adam's martial issues, my crazy assed family and now Hawkes. It's just too much all going on at one time. It's no wonder I'm not an alcoholic."

Scagnetti gave a small smile and reached out to gently and comfortingly rub her shoulder.

"But what can I do, right? God only gives us what we can handle. And right now, He's giving me alcohol. So…" she toasted her friend with her glass before taking a large sip. "Drink up."

"Where's your brother?" Scagnetti asked, as he gulped down half of his drink in one serving.

"He's already in the city. He had a meeting with the attorney that Don recommended him to. So he was just going to grab a bite to eat afterwards and then meet up with us at the funeral home. Speaking of which…" she pulled up the sleeve of her black turtleneck and peered down at her watch. "God…I hope Donnie gets home soon. I get paranoid when he's gone too long. I worry about him."

"I knew it," the detective chuckled. "You can bitch and moan about Junior all you want. You can call him every foul name in the book and boot his ass to the couch. Fact of the matter is, you love him and you'd go nuts without him."

Sam just smiled.

"Admit it little Brooklyn," he nudged her playfully with his elbow. "You'd miss the guy if he wasn't around."

"Of course I would," she said. "I mean, if Donnie wasn't here, who would I get to lift all the heavy shit? Who would I get to do all the repairs around here? Who would I get to get things off of the high shelves?"

"Smart ass," Scagnetti smirked. "You know what I mean."

"I do," she said with a nod. "And you're right. I would miss him he wasn't around. My husband makes life very, very, very…what's the best word to use? Interesting? Exciting? Complex?"

"How about complete?" the man beside her suggested.

Sam giggled. "Tony Scagnetti…going on romantic on me, are you? What's gotten into you? Are you feeling okay? You never talk like this? Are you alright?"

"I'm good…I'm good…" he assured her. Then grinned. "Met someone," he told her.

"Someone as in a woman someone?" Sam asked.

He nodded.

"Someone within the department?" she pressed. Relief visible on the her face as the found of the breezeway door squeaking open fell on their ears.

"Just this girl that I've been running into a lot lately," he told her.

"God…please do not tell me you've developed an infatuation on one of Madame Sookie's girls or some stripper that gives you lap dances and a little extra in the back room. 'Cause if you tell me that, Tony, I'm going to my mother in law's and getting some of that holy water and disinfecting every inch of you."

"It's no one like that," he assured him. "And I don't know what kind of stories Junior likes to tell you about my extra curricular activities, but he's exaggerating."

Sam stared at him pointedly, an eyebrow arched.

"He is," Scagnetti insisted. "And this someone that I met…well she's just your normal every day, average girl. Works at the Starbucks across the street from the precinct."

"Uh-uh…" Sam shook her head vigorously. "You are not allowed to date any baristas. Do not let yourself fall into the same trap as Adam did. Them baristas seem all sweet and innocent, but trust me, they will suck you in and get you in their evil clutches and they will destroy you. Doesn't the mere mention of Paisley's name want to scream and go running for your life?"

Scagnetti grinned and sipped his drunk.

"She's a vicious, life sucking monster from which there is no escape," Sam declared.


"You talking about my mother again?" Flack asked curiously, catching Sam's comment as he journeyed into the kitchen, tossing his overcoat across the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

"Did you hear me say venomous, wretched, Satan possessed mother in law from hell?" his wife retorted, as he laid a hand on the small of her back and kissed her cheek in greeting.

"Where's mine?" Scagnetti inquired, tilting his face towards his friend.

"Donnie saves his best kisses for you," Sam informed him, then giggled when Flack pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "He gives me all the wet, messy ones and gives you the intense, toe curling ones."

"Yeah…that's it Sammie…" Flack pried her cup out of her hands and helped himself to a large sip of her drink. "You've discovered my dirty secret. I'm having a wild, sordid affair with Scagnetti."

"Danny will be so jealous," she teased, then snatched the drink from his hand as he attempted to take another sip. "Designated driver!" she cried. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I need something to calm my damn nerves after dealing with my mother," Flack told her. "You have any idea how horrific that experience was? Introducing her to her 'bastard grandson' as she so eloquently calls him."

"Like I said, venomous, wretched bi-otch," Sam declared, and took a gulp from her cup. "She refuses to come into our home ever again," she told Scagnetti. "Because Donnie committed adultery and fathered a child outside of his marriage and therefore, brought Satan into our home. And she will not spend one moment in this house of ill repute."

"Actually, babe, she honestly believes I brought Satan into my home the day I married you," Flack teased his wife.

"Because I am just so evil and villainous," Sam gave a maniacal laugh. "I perform Satanic rituals and practice animal and human sacrifices and dress all in black and drink from a goblet of human blood. But only on full moons of course."

"Rest of the time you just chain Junior up and torture him," Scagnetti quipped.

"Exactly!" Sam chirped. "And he likes it. And no honey, we weren't talking about your lovely mother. Bubsy was telling me about some new flavour of his."

"Jackie from Starbucks," Flack said, and opening the fridge wide, snagged a can of Pepsi.

"You told him before me!" Sam exclaimed in mock horror, and slapped Scagnetti on the shoulder. "Bubsy how could you betray me like that? I thought we had something special! And all along you've been cheating on me with my husband!"

"What can I say?" the big detective asked. "I've got a thing for the nice ass and blue eyes too."

Flack grimaced, and snapping open the tab on the can, took a swig of pop. "I'm going to try and pretend that you never commented on my ass," he said, and belched loudly.

"Gross!" Sam cried, then swallowed a large amount of booze and released a massive burp of her own.

Flack smirked and shook her head as Scagnetti roared with laughter and dropped down to his knees to bow to her.

"Why thank you," Sam said, and curtsied elegantly. "I will not be out done," she informed her husband and tugged playfully at his black, blue and silver stripped tie. "You're quite the handsome shit tonight," she declared.

"How much have you had to drink?" Flack inquired. "'Cause there's no way you're going to no memorial service half tanked."

"This is my first one," his wife told him. "It's my nerves, Donnie. My nerves are so shot that I'm giddy. I can't control myself. I'm so freaked out about this entire thing that I can't think straight."

"Better to laugh than bawl your eyes out," Scagnetti reasoned. "As long as you're not bursting into giggles at the service, it's all good."

"See…" Sam stepped to the big man's side and curled an arm around his waist. "I knew I married the wrong homicide detective way back when. I never should have turned you down when you asked me out, Bubsy."

"Told you one day you'd regret it," Scagnetti chuckled. "Oh calm down, Junior," he said, acknowledging Flack's frown. "You know we're just kidding around. I never once asked her out."

"Well not on a date at least," Sam said. "But you did proposition me."

Flack's eyes narrowed, his forehead furrowing as he glared at his partner.

"Joking, Donnie, joking…" his wife assured him. "We're just yanking your chain. Riding your ass as Danny likes to say. Not once did Tony ask me out on a date or invite me to sleep with him."

"But I did think about," the detective admitted. "Several times in fact."

"Sorry…" Sam gave a sugary sweet smile and batted her eyelashes as she gazed up at Scagnetti. "But honestly…" she patted his stomach. "I am way out of your league. I'm way out of Don's league, but I was thirty-four and beggars can't be choosers."

"I am going to remember all of this when it comes to re-write my will Sammie," Flack told her. "And you're going to get the shock of your life when I kick the bucket and you find out I left you shit."

"Donnie…you work for the city. What would you possibly be leaving me? Unless you've got millions squirreled away somewhere. Then and only then will I be mortally shocked."

"All it takes is a dollar and a dream baby," Flack told her.

Sam rolled her eyes. "So…spill Bubsy," she said, as she released her hold on Scagnetti in favour of stepping in front of Flack and leaning back against his chest. "Whose this Jackie girl and when do I get to meet her and will I approve?"

"She works at Starbucks, soon and probably not," Scagnetti answered all of her questions quickly.

"Cool, how soon is soon and why not?" Sam inquired, not missing a beat.

"What's so cool about it, maybe in the next couple of weeks and because she's younger than you are," her friend replied.

"Cool that at least she's employed, why wait so long and you are a dirty, perverted old man," Sam countered.

"She only gets paid minimum, because I'm not quite ready to introduce her to you insane people and why thank you," Scagnetti grinned.

"It's better than nothing, we're not insane and only you would take that as a compliment," Sam shot back.

The detective opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it shut again.

Sam roared with laughter. "I win! For once I win! He's speechless!"

Flack chuckled and shook his head. "You two and your weird methods of communication."

"It's how we pass secret messages back and forth between each other," Sam declared. "The best is when we're in interrogation and the perps are trying so hard to keep up with us. Drives them insane. Never mind what it does to Mac."

"I can definitely attest to the fact that his hair wasn't as grey and his nerves weren't as shot until you started working there," Flack said, and pressing a kiss to her cheek, cast a glance down at his watch. "We should get going soon…" he suggested.

Sam nodded, and finishing her drink, stepped away from him and sat her cup on the island. "I'm going to go pee and freshen up my face," she said, and quickly exited the kitchen.


Flack waited until he heard her footsteps on the stairs before looking at Scagnetti and sighing heavily.

"Do you have any idea how fucked up these last couple of weeks have been?" he asked his partner. "Like how royally and majorly screwed up it's been? Jordan gets murdered, I'm given custody of the son I made with her, my wife is making plans to adopt a kid I fathered with my mistress and Hawkes is dead. When the fuck did things go so wrong? When did all of this happened?"

"Let me see…" Scagnetti swirled the ice and booze around in his cup. "I guess it all went south the minute you forgot how to say no and couldn't keep it in your pants."

Flack frowned, pop can poised close to his lips. "You come here to give me a lecture again, Tony? Same lecture you gave me eight months ago when Sam spread it around the entire lab and precinct that I had an affair? The same lecture you repeated several times after my wife took off with my kids and moved into Sid Hammerback's house?"

"I wasn't lecturing you," Scagnetti told him. "I was simply letting you know how badly you'd fucked up and trying to make you realize what you were in danger of losin' just 'cause you felt that getting laid was more important than keeping your family together."

"Wasn't as simple as that," Flack snorted.

"I don't care how simple it was or how complicated it was. And there's no goddamn excuse or reason you can give me to justify why you did, Don. You messed up. Plain and simple. I thought you were a fuck head then and I still think you're a fuck head for doing it."

Flack downed the last of his pop and turned abruptly on his heel. "Excuse me if I find it hard to take criticism from the biggest man whore on earth. A guy who will tap just about anything."

"Huge difference between us," the other man said. "I was doing my thing as a single guy. You were doing it while you had a sick wife and two beautiful little girls at home. I didn't have anything to lose by being a shmuck. You had everything to lose. So whose the bigger shit head?"

"Look, you don't know what was going on around here, alright?" Flack defended himself. "You don't know what shit I was putting up with."

"Oh woe is fucking me," Scagnetti growled. "Give me a goddamn break. How long are you going to go one trying to justify what you did? How long are you going to go around acting like you're the fucking victim in all of this? You're wife was sick. Sammie and the girls needed you. And what did you do? You wimped out. You needed to escape. I've heard this all before Flack. You go on and on about it every time it gets brought up. And I am going to tell you now, what I told you then. Love ya like a son but you're full of fucking crap and you're a complete asshole for doing what you did. So spare me the bullshit, a'right?"

"You know what Tony, why don't you take your judgemental BS and just…"

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, as she wandered back into the kitchen, oblivious to the conversation that had been taking place. "You two sound a little…grumpy."

"Everything's good," Scagnetti replied. Then smile tersely at Flack. "Isn't it, Junior." It was more a statement than a question.

"You ready to go?" Flack asked his wife.

She nodded, and picking up a black cardigan sweater that was slung over the back of one of the chairs, slipped into it. "As ready as I'll ever be," she sighed. "I mean…you can't really prepare yourself for this kind of thing, right?"

"Funny thing about life," Scagnetti mused, as he led the way out of the kitchen. "It's always throwing shit at you. From all different directions. I'm seriously considering taking early retirement. I got this weird, creepy feeling that death's just going to start ticking us off one by one."

"Don't say that!" Sam scolded. "That's a horrible thing to say. Reminds me of that movie from a long time ago, Final Destination. Where death stalked that one kid 'cause he ended up getting kicked off the plane after he had a dream it was going to blow up and he went nuts trying to convince people to get the hell off or they'd all die. And the plane does end up blowing up and then death starts coming after the other kids that booted off the flight, too. I was obsessed with that movie. I loved Devon Sawa. Couldn't get enough of him."

"I think you get this perverse pleasure of scaring yourself half to death," Flack declared.

"I just got this crazy assed feeling," Scagnetti said. "And I can't seem to shake it no matter how hard I try. What's that old saying? Things come in threes? Christ…what else could possibly go wrong?"

Neither Flack or Sam dared to offer up a guess.

A huge thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you for all of your love and support! Even all of the lurkers!!!

Please R and R folks!

Special thanks to:

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