DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO OWN SAMANTHA FLACK, AND THE FLACK KIDS. DOCTOR AUGUSTA 'GUS' BROUSSARD BELONGS TO THE FANTASTICALLY GIFTED MADISON BELLOWS WHO AS GRACIOUSLY LOANED GUSSIE TO ME.

A HUGE, HUGE, HUGE THANKS TO MADDY FOR ALL OF HER HELP WITH THE UPCOMING STORYLINE. I TRULY APPRECIATE YOUR PATIENCE IN ANSWERING ALL OF MY SEEMINGLY ENDLESS QUESTIONS. I AM WAITING FOR YOUR BILL ;) LOL. CAN I PAY YOU IN COOKIES?

THIS IS A FUTURE CHAPTER AND TAKES PLACE SEVEN MONTHS FOLLOWING THE LAST. A LITTLE ODD, BUT BEAR WITH ME FOLKS. I PROMISE THAT THERE'S A METHOD TO MY MADNESS. OR AT LEAST THAT I HOPE THERE IS.


CLOSED FOR REPAIRS

"Say you're sorry
That face of an angel comes out
Just when you need it to
As I pace back and forth all this time
'Cause I honestly believed in you
Holding on,
The days drag on
Stupid girl
I should have known, I should have known

That I'm not a princess
This ain't a fairytale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet
Lead her up the stairwell
This ain't Hollywood,
This is a small town
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now its too late for you and your White Horse,
To come around.

Baby I was naíve,
Got lost in your eyes
I never really had a chance,
I had so many dreams about you and me.
Happy endings
Now I know."
-White Horse, Taylor Swift


As she flipped through a wrinkled and weather year old copy of People magazine, Sam shivered in the onslaught of the bitterly cold air conditioning that poured into waiting room of the child psychology department at Women's and Children's hospital on the upper east side. Outside, the mid July weather was nearly unbearable. New York City had been suffering from a suffocating heat wave for a week straight. The mercury had failed to dip below a hundred in seven days and with the temperature hovering close to ninety at night time, there never seemed to be any relief. The city had opened school gymnasiums and arenas and were using them as cooling centers for anyone that didn't have air conditioning or even a simple fan. But she knew that there'd be heat related deaths in the days and weeks to come. Mostly elderly citizens in already failing health who simply didn't have it in them to walk down a couple of flights of stairs and walk the three blocks to find relief.

She was grateful that the she had a home with central air. She'd never been a fan of the long and hot summer months and often wondered how in the hell she'd ever survived living in Arizona for so long. It was nice to have a place to head to when it was sweltering and your nerves were on edge from the weather and the havoc it seemed to play on peoples' brains. A place to hide out in and forget about the craziness of the job and insanity of the outside world.

Even if your inside world was completely crumbling around you.

The last seven months had been exceptionally difficult for the entire family, but it was the girls who were suffering the most. Things had started out remarkably well and promising. Flack had returned home the afternoon following the huge blow out. Declaring that he had walked out and immensely regretted it. For a man that always declared he didn't do weak, he had been just that. Instead of facing the problem head on and sticking out the tough times, he'd simply thrown his hands in the air and walked away. Instead of just stepping onto the front porch and catching some air and getting his thoughts and his emotions sorted out and then going back inside to calmly work things out, he'd punked out. He'd turned his back on the one person that had always loved him and had always given him another chance when he didn't even deserve one. The person that he attested time and time again that he loved more than life itself.

Now, he'd said, as he and his wife stood on opposite sides of the kitchen table together, feeling as if a couple of feet were a couple thousands miles, he was back to make things right again. He'd walked back in the door and he had no intention on ever walking back out. Hawkes' death had, in essence, brought unresolved issues to the surface. With their emotions in tatters and hounded by grief, they had been susceptible to the anger and blame that had been bubbling inside of both of them for so long. Their argument the night before, brought on by something so simple and seemingly innocent, had only served to prove that neither of them had actually gotten over the issues that had threatened to destroy them the first time around. His guilt and shame were all consuming and he didn't know how to surpass those feelings. And although Sam had forgiving him, she just could not forget. She had taken Dawson in and fallen in love with him simply because he was part of Flack. Because he shared DNA with her husband and there was no way she could let that innocent, angelic little boy fall victim to the system. But that didn't mean that Dawson, as beautiful as he was, didn't cause her to relive the entire affair every time she looked at him.

Things had worked for a little while. They'd gone away for Valentine's weekend, spending three days and two nights in a quaint, waterfront inn in Cape Cod while Adam stuck around town and watched the kids and hid it from an irate Paisley and his equally as infuriated mother. The shit had hit the fan when Paisley had arrived back home from Florida and found all of Adam's possessions long gone and three messages on the answering machine from her husband's lawyer. For a woman that had shattered and his heart and claimed to never have loved him, she went right ballistic when a process server showed up on her door step two days upon her return and slapped divorce papers and a custody order into her hand. His mother in turn, had showed up on her daughter's doorstep, demanding to know why Adam was behaving like such a child and demanding that he go home and reconcile with his wife and make things right again.

Adam would have none of it and was still waiting for Paisley to sign the documents.

Sam and Flack in the meantime, had come back from Cape Cod a new couple. Or at least they had thought they'd had. The weekend had been spent opening up to each other about their disappointments and their regrets in regards to their relationship. About the faults they not only found in each other, but in themselves as well. There'd been a lot of tears that weekend. The brutal honesty shared between them had cut and wounded deep, but in the end they'd both felt extraordinarily liberated. As if the weight of the world had been lifted off of their shoulders and the vice constricting their chests had been stripped away, enable them to breath once more. They had returned home more relaxed and open with each other then they'd had been in the entire eight years that they had spent together. Dawson's name change and adoption both went down without a hitch. They worked together on solving their problems as a couple for the sake of not only their marriage, but for their children as well. Separately, they tried desperately to fix themselves in order to make the other happy. Which in turn, had been their ultimate downfall.

Trying so hard to change for the sake of impressing each other had turned them against one another. It had made them bitter and resentful and after nearly a month of things appearing fine, their relationship rapidly disintegrated. The verbal insults that they hurled at each other were disgustingly hurtful and unforgivable. The arguing had become so intense that Adam had been forced to physically step between them on several occasions in fear that they'd push each other to the point of violence. The girls were terrified and on edge whenever their parents were in the same room together and their physical and mental health began to suffer for it. Kallison complained of chronic stomach aches and 'jack hammering in her head' and Kellan, when not wetting the bed, was inflicting injuries in the form of biting and hair pulling on both her sister and her self and tormenting other kids at school. A far cry from the meek and mild little girl who loved everyone.

It was the turning point that both Sam and Flack had both needed to realize that they were destroying their family. And it was Adam that gave them the biggest ass kicking of all, when sick and tired of being the one to comfort his bawling, uncontrollable nieces after witnessing yet another of mommy and daddy's fights, told them to get their shit together or he was calling social services and he was taking those kids out of there. He would take them and he would take care of them because what they were doing to Kellan and Kallison was nothing short of emotional abuse.

After the harsh reality check they'd been given, it had been a mutual, and for the most part amicable, decision to separate. Flack had offered to be the one to go. He didn't see the point in upsetting the kids anymore than his leaving was already going to. If Sam left and found her own place, the girls would not only lose their father, but lose the house they were used to, the neighbourhood, their school and all of their friends that were there. Their parents splitting up was enough to shatter their tiny worlds and neither their mom or dad wanted to make things worse on them. So he had agreed to leave and had waited until both girls were at school to pack all of his things and leave. He'd stayed with Scagnetti until he had the time to find his own apartment and had, the day after he'd moved out of the house, took Kellan and Kallison out to McDonalds and to explain to them that while mommy and daddy loved each other, they just couldn't live together right now. That they loved their kids too much to be fighting anymore in front of them and that it was the best for all of them if they all lived in separate houses for a while.

It had been the hardest moment of his entire life. Sitting there in McDonalds trying his best not to cry while comforting two sobbing five year olds. And then an hour later having to physically peel them off of him when he dropped them back off at the house.

Home had become a cramped two bedroom apartment in lower Manhattan a block away from where he'd once lived as both a bachelor and at the start of his and Sam's cohabitation. The girls shared a bedroom that he'd allowed them to decorate -an afternoon out at Walmart had seen them scooping up every possible Dora the Explorer item possible- and Dawson was small enough to sleep in a portable playpen.

They had, much to the relief of both of their lawyers and the court, come up with their own separation and custody agreements. Sam would keep all three of the kids with her at the house, while Flack got them every second weekend and one night a week. Which night exactly changed from week to week depending on his work schedule, but Inspector Whitmore had cleared things with the duty captain to make sure he was off the clock when it came time to be anywhere with, and for his kids. Sam had also agreed, if both of their schedules permitted, to let him come over to the house as often as he wanted to spent a couple of hours with them.

She had gone back to work full time and Mac had been more than gracious granting her straight eight to five Monday to Friday and one weekend a month. No night shift and no overtime unless she put in a request for the latter. He had pulled some strings to get Dawson a spot in the day care centre located on the twentieth floor and the twins, when not in either school or summer day camp from nine until noon hour, split their time between Lindsay's and Mari's, or even with Adam if he was off.

Financially, Flack cut a check each month to cover child support and a portion of the mortgage and household bills. Sam knew he was giving more than what the court had actually dictated according to his monthly take home. But the more she protested the amount, the higher he made it. And he was routinely sending the kids home with new clothes and toys and had shelled out the cash for camp and often tucked envelopes with small amounts of cash with Sam's name written on it in their overnight bags. Along with notes about what the money was for- Kellan wants a new pair of runners, those light up Dora the Explorer ones. Or Kallison wants some new books or new arts and crafts stuff.

Dawson, thanks to the money that Jordan had left strictly for his care in event of her death, was well taken care of financially, yet Flack never hesitated in bringing diapers and wipes and formula over. One thing he wasn't going to be known as was a dead beat father. A horrible prick of a husband maybe, but a lousy dad never.

Relationship wise, Sam and Flack themselves were at a standstill. It frightened them that they got along better not living in the same house, and surprised everyone at how effortlessly they seemed to be able handle working together even though their marriage was disintegrating. While neither intended to file for divorce and both wanted to eventually work out their issues and get back together, that time seemed a thousand light years away. It wasn't about not loving each other. That had never been in question. They in fact, loved each other tremendously -and it seemed, even more so since the split- and remained committed to each other. There were no outside relationships coming into play. Neither wanted to be with anyone else.

And intimacy still remained between them. Something that while they both knew wasn't healthy -mentally speaking- for them or for their children, they just couldn't seem to give up. A bond of sorts that kept them permanently attached to one another.

They both knew that Flack spending the night at the house and being there when the kids got up was only doing them more damage. Each time they got saw daddy in the morning, they got their hopes up that he was back to live with them again. And it always broke their hearts, and their parents' for that matter, when he left to go to his new home later in the day.

It had to stop. Sam knew that. Yet knowing it had to and having the strength and the courage to do it were two entirely different things. She craved the closeness that the intimacy provided her with. A closeness she wanted with only him. She needed to feel that he still loved her and was still attracted to her and still wanted. And perhaps, if she was truly honest with herself, she was using sex as a weapon. To keep him in love with her and to prevent him from needing and wanting someone else. Because thinking of him with another woman drove her mental. Seeing him with someone and knowing he was with someone other than her would send her off the deep end.

And maybe, deep down, he was using sex in the exact same way. So she wouldn't turn to anyone else either.


We're just completely fucked up, she concluded and digging into the messenger style bag on the chair beside her, pulled out a bottle of water and uncapping it, took a long sip. We need our own brand of therapy. Or at least lessons on just how to let go. On how to just cut those last remaining ties and just move on. Because holding on this tight…it's not doing any good for anyone involved.

She didn't want to let go. She didn't want to call it quits. She wanted that happy ending. She wanted the always and forever with him despite all of the bullshit that had taken place in their lives.

She just didn't know how to get start on securing that happy ending.

Maybe there isn't suppose to be a happy ending, a small, nagging voice inside of her head piped up. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe you're not suppose to have forever with him. You've lived and you've learned and now maybe it's time for both of you to go on with your lives and to stop holding onto each other so tightly. Because if you both keep holding on, you're both going to drown. You love each other but you can't be together. You're not the first couple that this has happened to and you can be damn sure you won't be the last.

Tears burned her eyes as the harsh words ran through her brain. She quickly shoved them to back burner and struggled to get her emotions under control. Taking another sip of water, she screwed the cap back on and shoved the bottle back into her purse. You are not going to do this here, she ordered herself. You are not going to sit here and lose it in front of a group of strangers. You're not going to be a basket case in front of other people. Do that kind of shit when you get home. But not here.

Sighing, she tried to concentrate on the magazine in her hands. Her trembling hands, she now realized. She frantically glanced around the spacious waiting area, praying that no one noticed how close she was to a breakdown. There were five clinical psychologists, all specializing in children, located in the office. Five separated receptionists, one for each doctor, took up residence at a massive, centralized sign in area. The recommendation had been made four months ago when Adam went to Mac about his concerns for his nieces and how they were dealing with their parents separation. Kallison seemed to be internalizing her anger and sadness. She wasn't sleeping through the night -waking up several times sobbing in fact- and complained of constant stomach aches and had been caught, numerous times, pulling out her hair when she thought no one was looking. Kellan, on the other had, was externalizing everything. The biting and fighting and bullying that manifested during her parents' incessant fighting was now ten times worse and causing sheer hell around the house.

Mac had made the call to the department's Employee Assistance Program, who in turn contacted the NYPD's Counselling Services Unit. Although they only handled officer related issues, they did have a list of contracted psychologists that were capable of treating children. Mental health had been one of their top priorities since September 11th, and the department had referred many a family of a fallen officer there for help.

What would have been a seven month wait for an appointment, had been turned into a four one thanks to Mac pulling some strings. His niece -Claire's sister's child - Augusta Broussard had come to New York City following Hurricane Katrina and had put her psychology degree to good use. She'd landed a job at Women's and Children's and had accepted the offer to work on a contract basis with the NYPD. Her speciality was marriage/family therapy and, for the children, play therapy. As far as Mac was concerned, no one was more perfect to treat the Flack twins than Gus. And after several phone calls, the plan for her to see Kellan and Kallison had been put in place.

It was Sam's second appointment. The first time she'd gone alone to meet with Gus. To have a sit down. A 'get to know you' as Gus had called it. And to fill out a parent intake questionnaire that now sat completed and signed in a the folder sitting under her purse. The permission forms she was still waiting on.

And I'll be waiting forever by the looks of it, she thought irritably and glanced down at the pink ad white beaded bracelet style watch that graced her right wrist. Goddamn men, she fumed, and tapped the toe of one her white sling back kitten heels on the carpet below. I distinctly said be here for quarter to so we can make sure all of our ducks are in a row before the appointment. One forty-five. I was clear and adamant and it's damn well nearing five minutes to.

She shivered once again and rubbed at her arms, which were bare in the sundress she'd chosen to wear to the appointment. White, with swirls of aquamarine, pink and yellow throughout, it tied at the back of her neck and skimmed just below the knee. A conservative and appropriate outfit that had been perfect in the sweltering temperatures but now had her fearing she'd freeze her ass clear off.

She checked her watch again and agitatedly and nervously fingered the four rows of beads as her eyes surveyed the other families in the waiting room. Three small groups in all. Several seats away was a middle aged woman -professional and well put together in a simple black Dior pantsuit, red Jimmy Choo pumps and her Gucci bag sitting in her lap- and sitting beside her, her teenage daughter with multiple piercing and neon green hair. To the right hand side were two armed guards from a local youth correctional facility, one standing and the other side next to a dour faced young man with a brush cut in orange prison coveralls that wore shackles around his ankles and was handcuffed to one arm of the chair.

On the opposite side of the clinic sat a young couple -both tall and blond and blue eyed and clad in Dockers and Banana Republic clothes- holding hands and smiling down at their son as he played quietly and contently at their feet with a Little Tikes dump truck. He was a strawberry blond, rosy cheeked, blue eyed cherub in Osh Gosh overalls and a Mets baseball cap and Sam couldn't help but wonder what could possibly be so wrong in such a seemingly perfect family.

Looks can be deceiving, Sam thought and drummed the fingers of her left hand on the arm of her chair. Her ring finger bearing no more than her simple white gold wedding band. Engagement ring and anniversary band now sitting at home, tucked away in her jewellery box. There was a time, she mused, long before illness and an affair plagued them, when people thought, just by looking at her own family -a tall, dark and handsome husband, two beautiful, energetic and angelic little girls- that their lives were picture perfect. Now she was sitting in a psychologist's office seeking help for a mentally disturbed five year old and contemplating where her life was heading.

Other than down the toilet.


Her head snapped towards the main door of the clinic as it clicked open. The waiting room quickly filling with the sounds of laughing and chatting coming from hospital staff as they wandered the fourth floor. She watched as her husband strode quickly and confidently into the room, agitation and exhaustion clearly visible. His badge was still clipped to the waist of his charcoal grey dress pants and his holster, weapon and all, still graced his right hip. His face was rough and unshaven and his hair was mussed and there were patches of sweat at the back of his sunburned neck and above his ears. His dress shirt -white with pastel blue and yellow stripes- was wrinkled and the top two buttons were undone and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his solid blue tie was loosened.

The door swung closed behind him, cutting off all sound in the hallway as he headed straight for the reception desk.

"Don!" Sam called out and waved him over.

Flack glanced over his shoulder and gave a tired smile before turning on his heel and changing his chartered course.

"Hey," he greeted, and laying a hand on the back of her chair, leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "Guess they're running a bit behind?"

She nodded.

"Sorry I'm late. I got caught up in a bastard of an interrogation."

"I thought you were off today," she said, motioning for him to hand over his suit jacket.

"I am…or at least I was suppose to be," Flack handed her his jacket before collapsing into the chair on her right. "But I ended up catching a triple in Soho late yesterday afternoon."

"The call that came in just as I was leaving?" she asked, as she lay the jacket over her purse. "Three frat boys in a coffee house?"

He nodded. "There was no one else available to take it so Cap asked me to stay and work. Me, the idiot that I am, said no problem. Then he tosses out this smart ass comment about how he knew I wouldn't turn it down 'cause off all the money my ex-wife is soaking me for."

Sam visibly flinched. "What did you say?" she asked curiously.

"Told him to shut his fucking mouth before I shut I for him." Flack replied, then added "And then reminded him none to gently that you're still my wife."

She gave a small smile, noticing, as he raked his fingers through his hair, that his wedding ring still graced his finger.

It was there two days ago when he spent the night, she reminded herself. Why wouldn't it still be there now?

Flack yawned noisily and leaning back in his chair, closed his eyes and stretched out his legs.

"You didn't have to come," she said gently. "If you're that tired…"

"I'm fine," he told her. "I said I would be here and I'm here. Did I not tell you I'd come today?"

"Yeah…but if you've barely had any sleep you aren't…"

"I'm here for Kellan, okay? I'm here 'cause one of our kids has problems. That's why I'm here. Doesn't matter if I haven't slept in twenty four hours or twenty four years. Our daughter is having issues and she needs us to help her get through them. You said be here, I'm here. So don't start."

"I wasn't starting anything. I was just saying that you're obviously really tired. You've worked a long shift and I would have understood if you'd called me and told me you couldn't make it. I'm not a total bitch, Don. I know the guys at work like to think I'm the biggest one on God's entire green earth. But I would have been okay with it if you'd told me that…"

"I am telling you that I am here for Kellan and I'd be here no matter what," he snapped. "Why do you have to do this, Sam? Why do you have to get on me all the time?"

"I'm not…"

"You start as soon as you see me. You get on my ass about every little thing I say or do that doesn't sit well with you. If I promise you I'm going to be somewhere, I'm going to be there. So just…just drop it, okay?"

"Okay…" she said quietly, surrendering peacefully. "But I wasn't…"

Flack cracked his eyes open and stared at her.

"How about we just not talk?" Sam suggested with a sugary sweet smile. "How about we just go find an empty supply closet or a room somewhere and get to the chase and just have sex. Considering that's the only goddamn time we get along."

He frowned. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"It means exactly what I just said. It's the only time we're not at each other's throats it seems. We can't be in a room alone together without wanting to kill each other."

"We're not in a room alone," he said, sarcasm oozing from every pore.

"You know what I meant. Jesus, Don…are we going to keep doing this? Are we going to keep hating on each other when we're alone? Are we going to just co-exist at work and that's it?"

"We co-exist when I come home and visit," he told her.

"Only because you're in your post orgasmic bliss the next morning and you're incapable of being in a shitty mood when you've gotten laid the night before," she snorted.

He smirked and shook his head. "You're a piece of work, Sam. You really are. Bringing all this up here. In public. You couldn't tell me this after the appointment? We couldn't go somewhere and hash this all out there?"

"Oh where are we going to go and hash things out, Don? To the house? To your apartment? Where it's just me and you and we can yell and scream and get each other worked up and then wind up completely naked and burning off all of our anger and aggression that way? Don't sit there and act like that's normal."

"You're still my wife Sammie," he reminded her.

"I am still your wife. But we're also separated. Legally. And we're living apart. And part of living apart does not include us hooking up every second day for a booty call."

He laughed at that. "It's hardly a booty call. We're married. I think it's a little more personal than a booty call."

"You're impossible," Sam huffed. "You always have been."

"You married me," he retorted.

Sam bit her tongue in order to cut off the mean, hurtful comment that erupted from her lips.

"Oh just say it, Sammie…" he chuckled. "Just say it and get it out."

"Say what?" she asked,

"Whatever nasty, spiteful thing you were about to say. I know you, babe. I've been with you for eight years. I know exactly what you're capable of when you're pissed off. So just say it. Tell me that you wish you'd never married me in the first place."

"You think that's what I was going to say?"

He arched both eyebrows and stared at her pointedly. "Weren't you?"

"I've never once wished I never married you," she said. "Never. Because regardless of what you think of me, I do love you. I'll always love you. And you gave me Kellan and Kallison."

"And?" he asked.

"And what?"

"Aren't you forgetting something? Or someone? Or does Dawson not count 'cause you didn't give birth to him?"

"Oh for Christsakes," Sam rolled her eyes. "You're goddamn ridiculous. You know that? I'm the one that takes care of your kids. Your son. A son you fathered with your mistress. So don't sit there like you're so bloody innocent."

"Is this what's going to happen, Sammie? Is this what this meeting with the shrink is all about? Are you going to…"

"She is not a shrink. Gus is not a shrink and I don't appreciate you talking about her in such a derogatory way. She's a clinical psychologist and she…"

"Gus?" he chuckled. "What? You're on a first name basis with our daughter's clinical psychologist? So what's going to happen when I walk in there and you two are all buddy-buddy with each other? You're both going to gang up on me? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've been painted with the bad guy brush already."

"No one has made you out to be the bad guy," Sam informed him angrily. "I haven't said a goddamn disparaging word about you. Our first meeting was all about me in fact. About my medical history and how my pregnancy was and all about the girls' birth and development. Stuff like that. All part of the bigger picture."

"Yeah? And what did Gus say about your time in the nut house? Or about you and all your meds and the time you say Doctor Melfi? Did she pat you on the back and feel sorry for you? Or did she think that you're probably the reason Kellan is the way she is?"

"You're an asshole!" Sam hissed. "Why did you even come if you were going to be so cynical and pissy about everything?"

"Maybe because I am cynical and pissy," Flack reasoned. "Because I'm just a cynical and pissy bastard."

"You didn't have to come today!" his wife reminded him. "It wasn't a necessity that you came! All you had to do was sign those permission forms I gave you the other day and I could have showed up at your desk and picked them up! It was your idea to come, remember? Because you thought it was a good idea that we both meet with Gus before Kellan starts seeing her. And you still thought it was a good idea even after I told you we'd have to talk about us and our screwed up marriage. You wanted to come! So don't act like someone is holding a gun to your head and forcing you to be here, Don."

"I'm just saying that I don't want to walk in there if there's some huge ass target on my back," he argued.

"There isn't! Would you just shut it and grow up already? No one is holding you accountable for all of our problems! No one is blaming you for the way we are. It took both of us to mess things up this bad and it's going to take both of us to fix things. God…why do you have to be like this? Why do you have to be the way you are? Did you even bother filing out your part of the parent intake questionnaire? She's going to want to see that, you know. She's going to want to make sure our answers and everything match up. And did you fill out the permission forms? Or did you just push it all aside and forget about it?"

"You know what, Samantha…" he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, struggling to maintain his composure. Sitting up in his chair, he reached across her body and grabbed a hold of his suit jacket. "Here…" yanking a handful of rolled up papers from the inside pocket, he dropped them into her lap. "I did exactly what I was suppose to. I answered all the stupid goddamn questions and signed my life away. I wrote down everything I could possibly think of for my family history. Illnesses, disorders, all that shit. Nuclear family, extended family. I got copies of all of my records from the department and the family doctor and already had them sent over here. So why don't you do me a favour and stop riding my ass so goddamn much?"

She opened the papers in her hand and thumbed through them, a tense silence falling over them.


"I already told you a million times," Flack said a few minutes later, his voice softer, gentler. "Whatever you and the kids need, I'll do it. No matter how big, no matter how small. You just say the word and I'm on it. I'll go to the ends of the earth for you and my kids. Especially my kids. You know that."

She nodded and blinked back tears.

"Sammie…" he sighed heavily, and reaching out, laid a hand on the back of her head. "Sammie…I love you…but sometimes…sometimes I can't stand you."

"I know…" she said sadly. "And I'm sorry that things didn't work out the way we wanted it to, Don."

"With us you mean?" he asked.

She nodded.

"There's still time, babe. We're just going through some really rough shit right now. We'll get past it. Eventually."

"Eventually," she snorted. "And when is eventually Donnie? A month from now? Six months from now? A year from now? A couple of years? Do you even know? Is it going to be sometime in the next decade or when all the kids are out of the house so then we don't screw them up anymore with our bullshit?"

"We just…" he sighed and stroked her hair gently. "We just need time, Sam."

"How much time?" she asked, a desperate quality to her voice. "How much time do we need? I can't keep wondering when we're finally going to find time to try and fix us. I can't keep thinking about when you're finally going to come home and we're finally going to be a family again."

"Sam, I'd come home tomorrow. You know that. I'd come home right this second. It's not about that. It's not about me not loving you and not wanting to be with you. It's about the kids and…"

"And not messing them up anymore than they already are," she finished. "I know. I know it's not about us right now. I know we need to concentrate on helping the kids get through this. That we need to worry about them and fixing the mistakes we made with them. And I love my kids. All three of them. But I also love you and I can't keep putting myself, putting us, last. And I know that's selfish. I do. But how are we supposed to fix them if we can't fix us?"

"I don't know," he admitted, shaking his head slowly. "I honestly don't know."

"I just need to know that there is an us. That I'm not just wasting my time holding onto you as hard as I am."

"Sammie…" Flack laid his hand on the back of her neck. "Look at me. Just look at me, babe."

Tear filled golden brown eyes met intense blue ones.

"There is an us," he assured her and leaned over to press his lips to her forehead. "There is an us and you just need to…we need to find us again. And I don't know how long that's going to take. I guess it'll just happen when it happens."

"If we even want it to happen," she added.

"I know I want it to happen," Flack said. "And I know you do too."

She nodded, and sniffling noisily, pulled away from him. "I swore I would never be like this," she whispered. "I swore that after Zack I would never, ever be this dependant on someone. That I would never need a man to make me feel whole. To make me happy. And now look. Look what's happened to me. How weak I am."

"Being in love with someone isn't weak," he told her.

"It is when being in love with them and them being in love with you is all that matters to you," she said.

Flack nodded slowly, allowing her words to sink in. "So what do you want to do, Sam? What is you want? If you've got some kind of answer to all of our problems, fill me in. What is it that you want?"

"I want to learn how to let go," she whispered.

"Is that what you want?" he asked. "You want to let go? Of me? Of us? Is that what you want?"

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I just don't know anymore," she replied. "Because I do love you and I do want my forever with you. But I can't…I can't put myself or our kids through this anymore. I can't do that to them. They deserve better then what we've been giving them."

Flack nodded in agreement. "Maybe we need to just completely back away for a while," he suggested. "Maybe we just need to be nothing more than Kellan and Kallison and Dawson's mommy and daddy."

"Maybe," she sighed. "I just don't know. Do you?"

He shook his head.

"Well when you do figure it out can you let me know?" she asked with a small laugh. "'Cause I'm open to all ideas and suggestions at this point in time. All I know is that you and I…we're not trying as hard as we could be."

"I already told you, Sammie. Whatever it takes, just let me know. I can't have all the answers all of the time. I can't constantly be the knight in shining armour that slays all the dragons and rescues you from all of the bad stuff. I just can't. Sometimes the superheros need a little help too."

"And I have to realize that I'm not some princess in a fairy tale that needs someone to rescue them all the time," she told him. "Maybe I was just really naïve. Thinking that there was such a thing as happily ever after."

"And maybe there really is such a thing and we just have to bust our asses to get it," Flack said. "And if it's worth it, if we're worth it, it doesn't matter how long it takes.," reaching out, he picked up her hand and entwined his fingers with hers and settled their joined hands on his thigh. "All that matters is that we get there in the end."

She gave a solemn nod and stared down at the band on his finger. Remembering a simpler time when all that had been going through her mind was the fantastical idea of becoming his wife. When things weren't exactly perfect, but they had love and trust and respect to fall back on. When other couples looked at them and smiled and commented about how happy they were. How much they cherished and adored each other. How if any couple was going to last the distance, it was going to be them.

And she wondered how in the hell things had ever gone so horrifically wrong.


A huge thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! As you all know, I've never shied away from controversial and dark topics. I've never been the kind to write my stories with rose coloured glasses on, and I appreciate all of you who have supported me and who have stuck by me through thick and thin. And I thank the lurkers, too! Without all of you, I wouldn't be having as much fun as I am!

Please R and R folks!

Special thanks to:

Hope4sall

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Madison Bellows

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