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

ANOTHER FUTURE CHAPTER. THE BEGINNING OF WHICH IS DEDICATED TO ALL OF THEM PEANUT LOVERS OUT THERE WHO ASKED FOR MORE ADAM AND SAMMIE! ENJOY!

SPECIAL THANKS AGAIN TO MADDY BELLOWS AND TO MY DEAR FRIENDS, CASS, RACHEL AND AJ FOR LETTING ME BOUNCE THINGS OFF OF THEM!

AND THANKS TO CASS FOR THE SONG!


Safety net

"There ain't a lot that I know, but what I do goes to show
You know it's never enough-Oh, it's never enough
I take it in and let it out, 'cause baby that's what it's about
Either I'm in your way, or back in your arms again, arms again
Let me in now

Don't hide your love
Your pride is all that you're thinking of
Don't hide your love 'cause there ain't time enough

Same old song in a brand new dress-I grow so bored, I acquiesce
Tell me what can I do, to bring you back to me, back to me
Gotta bring it back now

Oh, don't walk away-I need you to stay
You've got to believe there's more than this
Oh how will I know, if you're letting go
I want what you're wanting more or less
Today I'm out, tomorrow in-I'm feelin' upside down again
You know it's so hard to tell, oh it's so hard to tell
I'll try to see beyond the rain, to where we see light again
You know it's here in my heart-Its burning bright for you, bright for you
You gotta bring it home now."
-Don't Hide Your Love, The Rembrandts


"And, there we were, all in one place - a generation Lost in Space, with no time left to start again. So, come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick - Jack Flash sat on a Candlestick, 'cause fire is the Devil's only friend. And, as I watched him on the stage my hands were clenched in fists of rage, no angel born in Hell could break that Satan's spell. And, as the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite, I saw Satan laughing with delight the day the music died."

Samantha grinned at the sight that greeted her as she stepped into her kitchen. Her younger brother, clad in a pair of extremely baggy, well worn and faded olive green cargo shorts and a black t-shirt with Johnny Cash's name and likeness splayed across the front of it. His feet were bare, as were his legs, the horrific scar from an equally horrific childhood burn -their father had dumped boiling water from the tea kettle into the tub and as 'punishment' had dunked a then two year old Adam into the bath- that travelled from the top of his left foot to the his hip on full display. They'd never been able to afford the extensive skin grafting and surgeries that Adam would have needed in order for his leg to ever look completely normal, and he'd been well into his twenties before he'd ever gotten up the nerve to wear shorts. Even on the hottest of days.

And now, here he was, pushing thirty five and not giving that injury a second thought as he rocked out to Don McLean's American Pie as it blasted from the Bose music system attached to the underside of one of the cupboards. The broom serving as a guitar as he sang at the top of his lungs and danced wildly around the kitchen. Much to the delight of his eight and a half month old nephew who, strapped tightly into his vibrating Diego chair, kicked his legs excitedly and chuckled heartily at the entertainment he was being provided with. Dawson's blue eyes were huge and sparkling and his laughter -he'd officially let out his first belly laugh just a week before, after he apparently found his mother's cursing and antics hilarious as she jumped around the room on one foot and clutched her injured big toe after she'd stubbed it on the end of his crib- bounced off of the walls.

He has his father's laugh, Sam mused. And his smile. Look at the way that dimple in his left cheek stands out. And the way his eyes just crinkle. He looks just like him.

She tried not to let the immense sadness overwhelm her as she stood there, watching her younger brother playing rock star and her son enjoying every minute of it. While she and Flack had parted on a positive note -filled with hope for their future, a definite game plan on how to get started on working on things, and a chaste kiss he'd placed on her cheek after they'd walked hand in hand to her car- she still found her heart aching at the thought of walking into her house alone. Of spending her nights alone. Of not feeling him beside her in the middle of the night. Not hearing his soft breathing or feeling the heavy weight of his arm as he draped it over her in his sleep. Of not having this warm, moist lips kissing her awake and those big, strong hands pushing her hair out of her eyes and cradling her face ever so gently. Of not hearing that laugh or seeing that charming, boyish grin.

It was the same thoughts that had haunted her since he'd walked out the door. And despite the fact she had been supportive of him leaving and had known it was for the best for not only themselves, but their children as well, it didn't make his absence any easier to bear. She missed him. With a gut wrenching passion she'd never felt before in her entire life. And it took all of her will power -as it had many, many times in the past months- to not get on the phone and beg him to come home.

"They were singing, bye bye Miss American Pie, drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing this'll be the day that I die."

Adam belted out the final segment of the song with enough gusto to rattle the windows, his head tipped back and his eyes closed as his left hand strummed wildly at his 'guitar'. Sweat beaded his forehead and glistened on the back of his neck, and as the music faded and the song segued into a classic Elton John tune, Adam's head snapped upright and his eyes opened and he laid the broom up against the nearest counter.

"Whew…" he wiped his brow with his forearm. Then grinned down at his nephew as Dawson squealed in excitement and clapped his tiny hands together, showing his obvious approval. "Why thank you," Adam curled his upper lip and spoke in his best Elvis impersonation as he yanked up an invisible shirt collar. "Thank you very much."

"Do you take requests?" Sam asked, as she dropped her car and house keys onto the counter with a clatter.

Adam gave a small start, then glanced over his shoulder. "Well hey there pretty lady," he said in his Elvis voice. "For a foxy dame like you I can do whatever number you want."

"How about It's the End of the World As We Know It by REM?" she asked, as she scooped a stack of mail up from where Adam had tossed it earlier. "That seems to suit the way I'm feeling right about now."

Adam frowned. "That good, huh?"

Sam shrugged as she flipped through the envelopes. Bills, bills and more bills. All still in her husband's name save for her car insurance, Master Card statement, and a reminder from the pedeatrician that the kids all needed to come in sooner rather than later for check ups. "I guess it could have been worse," she said, sighing heavily as she laid the mail down once again. "I mean, we could have tossed chairs around the room and strangled each other."

"Which means that you both managed to stop at just hurling insults and screaming outrageous amounts of profanity," Adam concluded, as he bent down to snap open the clips holding Dawson in place in the Diego chair.

"Small amounts of profanity, tons of insults and a couple buckets of tears," Sam corrected. "But one good thing is that through all that nastiness, we said all of the things that have been bugging our asses for months. And you know what Peanut? It felt so damn good. It was like this huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. It was such a relief. I just wish I'd done it a lot sooner. If I did…I don't know…if I did maybe all of this wouldn't be happening right now."

"Well unfortunately," Adam said, as he scooped Dawson up into his arms. "Life is full of what if's Sammie. And we're not meant to have answers to them."

"Now is not the time for you go to all deep and philosophical on me Adam," she scolded. "Now is the time for you to just stand there and listen to me bitch and moan and whine about how much I miss my husband and how the only thing I want to do is call him on the phone and tell him to come home."

"Which isn't the right thing for either of you," Adam told her. "And as for the bitching and moaning and whining…well I am pretty good at other things you know. I'm much more than just an expert listener."

"Yeah? You mean you're more than just a pretty face and a the maker of the best damn b-52 shooters and Singapore Slings I've ever tasted?"

"Okay…so I am a kick ass bartender if I do say so myself and it's been a long time since we got polluted together…"

"Don is picking the kids up at six," Sam reminded him. "You could make a run to the booze can and secure us some provisions. I'm in the mood for a good drunk. A real good one. As in bawl my eyes out and then fall down, barf my guts out kind of drunk."

"Yeah…I could use one of those myself. And if I do remember correctly, you owe me a Chug-a-Lug rematch."

"Hey, it is not my fault that you couldn't handle your liquor at Danny and Lindsay's wedding and you ended up throwing up on that poor, unsuspecting Justice of the Peace. I bet you that man was traumatized for life. Having you toss your cookies all over him."

"It still say you were drinking water downed rye and Cokes," Adam grumbled. "No way a little thing like you can polish the stiff ones off that fast."

"I beg to differ," Sam huffed. "Get your butt to the liquor store and I'll see you your game of Chug-a-Lug and then some. I'll drink you under the table and you know it."

"Isn't it sad when we're so proud of the fact we can drink that much?" Adam chuckled. "I mean, when you're bragging about being able to drink a man under the table…"

"Peanut, I'm still dealing with the fact that my marriage is falling apart," Sam sighed. "Let me cope with that first and my booze problem second."

"I'm just teasing you Sammie," he said. "You are far from having any kind of problem. And if anyone deserves to get totally polluted, it's you."

She nodded in agreement.

"So I would be honoured to be your drinking buddy this evening. But first…I've got something I'm even better at then pounding them back. Something I think you definitely need right now."

"A swift kick in the ass?" she asked, as her brother sidled up beside her.

Adam shook his head, and shifting Dawson over onto his left hip, reached out with his right arm and wrapping it around his sister's petite body, drew her tightly into his side. "It's going to be okay Sammie," he whispered, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "It's going to be okay."

She gave a weak nod, and stepping in front of her brother, curled both of her arms around his torso and buried her face in his chest. Relaxing into the warmth of his body and his familiar smell and the feelings of safety and security that he provided her with. Two feelings that had slipped away the moment that her husband had walked out the door months ago. The two things that Flack had always been able to instill in her despite the horrendous childhood she'd suffered and her infamous trust issues. He'd come into her life at a time when she'd not necessarily been looking for a boyfriend, but when she had needed someone the most. He had shown her that not all men were bad. That they didn't all inflict hurt. That love wasn't painful. And that she deserved to be adored and adore someone in return.

She'd taken it all for granted. She hadn't given him the credit he deserved or thanked him for everything he'd ever done for her. For loving her at the times she'd felt anything but loveable. For taking care of her and the girls when he was already overwhelmed with work. She'd never told him how much she'd appreciated him.

And now she worried it was too late. That she'd never get that chance again. That he was slowly slipping further and further out of reach.


"What am I going to do Adam?" she cried, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "What am I going to do? What have I done?"

"You didn't do anything. Well, I mean, you did 'cause it obviously takes two to mess up a relationship this bad and you and Flack both have huge issues to get a handle on and it's the whole lot of shit bunched together that screwed things up majorly…"

"You are not helping right now," Sam muttered.

"What I'm trying to say is that you are not solely to blame for what's happened. You both have said and did some things that are definitely not cool. You both let all of this crap just build up and build up to the point neither of you could take it anymore. But you know what? You're also both working on fixing things. It's not a one way street. You guys stick together and everything will be gravy. Trust me."

"I pushed him away. I pushed him to Jordan," Sam sniffled. "I was sick and he was taking care of me and the girls and working insane hours on top of it. He was trying to be a home care nurse and daddy and mommy and cop all at the same time. It was too much for him to deal with. I expected too much and I dumped too much responsibility on him and he needed to get away. He had to escape. To save himself."

"Then in that case, escape to the gym after work every night and beat the shit out of a punching bag for an hour or so. You get a goddamn hobby of some kind that relieves your stress," Adam said, wincing as Dawson yanked at his hair. "You don't create a secret life for yourself and cheat on your sick wife. That's just wrong. I know you love him, but that's one thing I'll never forgive him for. I'll never forgive him for what he did to my sister."

"Maybe it's the last name Ross," Sam reasoned, nuzzling her face into her brother's chest. "Or maybe it's the Ross genes. Maybe we're cursed. We're both so screwed up, Peanut. It's like we poison everything and everyone we come in contact with. Maybe we're just not meant to be happy."

"And maybe we spent so long being miserable that when something good happens, it seems too good to be true and then we pick it apart and find all the things that are wrong and could go wrong. 'Cause we just don't know any better," Adam suggested.

Sam wiped her eyes on the front of his t-shirt and lifting her head, grinned up at him. "Since when did you become the mature, sensible one?"

"What do you mean since when? I've always been the mature, sensible one. Not to mention the disgustingly intelligent and insanely good looking one."

Sam rolled her eyes.

"Things'll work out, Sammie," he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "In the end, it'll all work out."

She gave a small smile. "I hope so, Peanut. Because the way things are? I just…I love him. And I miss him. I miss him so much it hurts. And I want him to come home. I need him to come home. I just need him period."

"I know…and when the time is right, you need to tell him all of that. Because Don's the one that needs to hear it."

Sam nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry," she said. "For being like this. You're dealing with your own issues and you don't need to be putting up with mine too."

"You're my sister, Sammie. That means your issues become mine. And after everything you've done for me, especially when we were kids…well let's just consider all of this paying it forward."

"God, I love that movie. I haven't seen that in years," Sam laughed, and pulling away from her brother, sniffled noisily and cleared her throat. "Maybe we should call Sid and invite him over tonight," she said.

Adam arched an eyebrow, perplexed.

"So he can tip 'em back with us," Sam explained. "He can relive that night he was celebrating his second divorce years ago. Get polluted enough that he falls down a flight of stairs and doesn't remember a damn thing afterwards. God I love that man. If I had have been into older, eccentric guys Sid would have been it."

Adam grimaced.

"I should go and get the kids' stuff ready. Linds will be bringing them home soon and…"

A tiny, saliva soaked fist reached out and grabbed a hold of a thick section of Sam's hair. And as she glanced over, Dawson gave a gurgle and wide smile.

"Ma-ma," he chirped, and leaned towards her.

She smiled, her heart melting at the sound of his voice and the sight of the charming little grin. "Look at you!" she gasped dramatically and wiped the last of her tears away before using her fingers to clear her son's chin of saliva. "You're almost drowning in drool here. Too many teeth coming in at once."

"Well at least he's not insanely grumpy with the teething," Adam said, as he passed Dawson over to his mother. "Remember what Octavia and Sebastian were like?"

"You mean other than the fact they were like never ending fountains of spit? You mean like how they chewed and bit everything that could get a hold of? Including Don's toes a few times? And how they whined and moaned constantly? All this time we've been calling my kids the spawns of Satan and in reality, yours are so much worse," Sam laughed, as she showered Dawson's face with kisses and stroked his thick black hair as his pudgy hands grabbed at her earrings and her nose.

"It's that Ross gene thing I think," Adam told her. "Makes every kid we create just plain freaking evil."

"Which is why you, my handsome little man, are an adorable little angel," Sam informed the baby in her arms, as she removed her hoop earring from his hand and turned her face as she reached for her nose once again. "Because you have no Ross in your whatsoever."

"Lucky kid," Adam quipped. "Mom called earlier by the way."

Sam groaned. "Wonderful…what does Cruella Deville want now?"

"She wants to kidnap Wiener and add him to her collection of other peoples pets she's snatched so she can skin him and use it for a rather delightful new winter coat she's planning on making," Adam said.

"That would not surprise me whatsoever," Sam snorted. "Neither would her planning on taking over the world."

"Oh she's been planning world domination for decades now," Adam gave a dramatic shudder. "Can you imagine? Mom running the planet? Finding herself some lackey to do her bidding? Some poor bastard with half a brain and a displaced loyalty to her?"

"Like a real time version of Pinky and the Brain," Sam laughed.

"That was a kick ass cartoon," Adam declared, and clearing his throat, launched into his Pinky voice. "Gee Brain, what do you want to do tonight?"

"The same thing we do every night Pinky," Sam responded. "Try to take over the world!" she gave a maniacal cackle.

Dawson giggled noisily and clasping his mother's face in his hands, planted a wet kiss on her open mouth.

Adam laughed hysterically. "That show was classic," he said, shaking his head at the fond memory.

"Ren and Stimpy was sooo much better," Sam argued. "Happy happy…"

"Joy joy!" Adam chimed in. "You know what my absolute favourite line EVER from that show was? What cracks me up even now? Don't…"

"…whizz on the electric fence!" both siblings cried in unison. Then looking at each other, burst into laughter.

Adam gave a long, content sigh and brushed tears off of his cheeks. "Classic…just classic…man, I miss those shows. Things were so…different then."

"Uncomplicated," Sam said, and laying a hand on Dawson's neck, brought his head down to rest on her shoulder. "Long before either of us thought of marriage and kids and the stress that came with all of it. When all that mattered was making ourselves happy. Doing what we wanted. When we wanted."

Adam nodded, then smiled and reached out to run a hand over his nephew's hair. "Things are complicated," he agreed. "But would we really give it up for anything in the world? I mean, I know that things are pretty shitty for both of us right now. Relationships wise. But we've got amazing, beautiful kids, Sammie. And a hell of a lot of memories of when things were good. You and Don…you are Don are going to be okay."

"And if we're not?" she asked. "If no matter how hard we try we just can't fix things?"

"Well…" Adam chose his words carefully. "In that case, you'll be okay. You're my sister, Sammie. I won't let you drown. You need me and I'm here. No matter what. You know that."

She smiled and gave her brother a wink. "You're the first guy I ever loved Peanut. Most girls say that about their fathers, right? How their dads are the first men they ever loved?"

"I've heard that…"

"It was you. You've always been more than just a brother to me. You're my best friend. My confidant. And I honestly don't know what I'd do without you."

Adam nodded slowly, tears brimming in his eyes as he cleared his throat noisily in order to clear away the lump of emotion that had settled in it.

Sam reached up and laid a hand on the side of his face as he leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. "I should go and get the kids' bags ready," she said. "Will you…"

"Look after the pip squeak?" he asked, as he pried Dawson out of her arms. "Like you have to ask that?"

"I just need to run upstairs and…" Sam visibly winced and taking in a sharp, hissing breath, brought her hand up to grasp at the back of her head.

"You okay?" Adam asked in concern.

"I just…those stupid, sudden pains I keep getting…" she squeezed her eyes shut and laid her other hand on the counter top. "They just jump up and bite me in the ass and it drives me insane…"

"Maybe you'd know why you're getting them if you hadn't have cancelled that last MRI," Adam remarked gently.

"I couldn't make it the appointment," she said. "I've booked another one."

"Yeah…and it's like five months away. Maybe you should call the nuerologist and…"

"And what?" Sam opened her eyes, then blinked a few times to clear her vision. "And have him tell me it's cluster headaches? Stress? I don't need him telling me what I already know. I'm just getting them 'cause I'm stressed out and I'm not always eating properly. Once I get the kids' stuff ready, I'll have something to eat."

"And you'll lie down for a bit," Adam told her.

"Peanut, I'm…"

"Fine," he finished for her. "You're fine. I know you are. But like you said, you're stressed and on top of not eating right, you're also not sleeping right and it's catching up to you. So do me a favour? After you get the kids' bags packed and you put some food in the tank? Take a nap. I'll look after Dawson and the girls when Lindsay brings them home."

"Adam, I can't ask you to…"

"You're not asking me to do anything. I'm telling you what you're going to do."

Sam sighed heavily, then held her hands up in surrender. "Yes, Doctor Ross," she quipped.

"Gotta look after my heart," he told her, and pecked her cheek. "Go on…get outta here. I've got everything under control."

"If you need anything.."

"I won't," he assured her, and nodded in the direction of the door.

"I'm going…I'm going…sheesh…" Sam laughed, and journeyed out of the kitchen. Adam could tell by the slow, tentative steps she took and the way she drifted her hand over counters and walls that her balance or eyesight, or maybe both, weren't at the top of their game at the moment.

A frown on his face, Adam waited until he heard his sister's footsteps on the stairs before turning on his heel and moving towards the fridge. Snatching the cordless phone from the top of the appliance, he juggled a squirming and whining -and exhausted- Dawson on his right hip as he used the thumb of his left hand to dial the familiar telephone number.


"Hang on for a second buddy," he spoke to the baby in a soothing, quiet voice as Dawson whimpered and rubbed at his tired eyes. "You'll go for a sleepy in a minute…just give Uncle Peanut a second and he'll…"

"Flack," the deep and exhausted sounding voice finally surfaced on the other end.

"Yeah…Don…it's me…it's Adam…you got a second?"

"This better be good, Ross. I'm trying to get some form of sleep here before I gotta come and pick the kids up."

"It's about Sammie," Adam told him.

"Okay…what about her? Is she okay? I just say her like an hour ago and…"

"I'm worried about her," Adam admitted. "She keeps having those headaches. And there's more and more of them now and I…I'm just worried about her and she won't take it seriously and thought that maybe you would. Take them seriously. 'Cause she's just brushing them off like it's no big deal. She cancelled that last MRI and the next one ins't until October and she just keeps saying it's stress. And it might be just stress but at the same time it might be something worse and I'm concerned that the longer this goes on without it being taken care of that we run the risk of it spiralling out of control and the doctors not being able to do anything about it if it is something serious and I…"

"Adam…take it easy, okay? Just…"

"She's my sister," the younger man continued. "She's my sister and the mother of my nieces and my nephew and I know you guys are separated but she's still your wife and I thought that you'd be worried about her too. Obviously I made a mistake by calling you. I thought that you'd want to know what was going on and that maybe you'd want to get involved and that you'd be concerned to and that you…"

"Ross!" Flack snarled. "Shut up for five seconds for fuck sakes!"

Adam's mouth snapped closed.

"Of course I'm worried about her. Sammie's my wife and there's never going to be a day where she's not my wife. You woke me up out of a dead sleep here and you go on and on and on and that just drives me fucking nuts. So just relax. Take a pill, alright? I am worried about her. I love her. And I'm glad that you called and told me about this. 'Cause she never mentioned a damn thing about it today."

"Of course she didn't. 'Cause she doesn't want to make things between you guys worse," Adam reasoned, as he tucked the cordless between his ear and his shoulder and carried Dawson into the living room, where Adam himself had set up the portable playpen earlier. "She thinks that by telling you about these things that she'll piss you off."

"Well for a smart woman, your sister is a dumb ass sometimes," Flack retorted.

Adam couldn't deny that. Leaning over the playpen, he gently laid a half dozing Dawson on his back and covered him to his chin with the polar fleece Happy Feet blanket that had been tossed in the far corner.

"Where is she now?" the detective asked, and yawned noisily.

"Upstairs. Packing the kids' stuff for tonight," Adam replied.

"And she obviously doesn't know you're calling me 'cause she'd have your ass if she did," Flack concluded.

"Exactly," Adam sighed and plopped down on the couch. "Look…I don't know what you can do about her. If anything. 'Cause we both she can be pretty stubborn…"

"Now there's the understatement of the year," Flack muttered, and Adam could tell, by the rattling noises emitting through the phone that his brother in law was hurriedly pulling on clothes. "Your sister is the most obstinate, stubborn and insufferable bitch on the face of the earth," the detective said. "Love her to death mind you…"

"Yeah…and the way she is…well she's going to be the death of you…" Adam snorted.

"One day," Flack agreed. "But right now, I've still got enough fight in me to put up with her. And if I dare find out you repeated anything that I've said to you about her…"

"You'll kill me and dispose of my body where no one will ever find it," Adam finished. "I know the threat very, very well. I don't know what you'll be able to do about her, if anything, but I just thought that if you knew what was really going on with her, that maybe you'd be able to talk some sense into her."

"That's like asking me to part the red sea, Ross."

"Well anything is worth a try, right? I mean if man as a whole can put a man on the moon, you can succeed in talking some sense into my sister."

"I guess a modern miracle isn't too much to ask for," Flack sighed. "Alright…I'm on my way…I'll see what I can do. Okay?"

"I take it you don't want me telling her that you're coming?"

"Do you value your package exactly where it is, Adam?" Flack asked.

"Uh…yeah…"

"Then for your own personal safety and for the well being of your manhood, I'd keep your mouth shut. Kapish?"

"Kapish," Adam responded.

"Be there as soon as I can," Flack said.

"Okay…hey, Don!" Adam called to his brother in law before he could disconnect the call.

"Yeah…"

"I know things are pretty shitty right now with you guys and I know I'm probably way overstepping my boundaries here. But my sister…Sammie really misses you. And she loves you. And she…just know that she loves you and misses you, okay?"

"Just know that I love and miss her too," Flack said, then promptly hung up.

Adam sighed heavily, and pressing the end button on the cordless, stared down at the phone in his hand.

It shouldn't be like this, he thought.

Love should not be this complicated.


The curtains covering the bedroom window had been drawn straight across in an attempt to block out every speck of sun. Darkness was a blessing and a relief when the pain became too intense. When even the smallest shred of light made the agony even worse and the slightest bit of noise felt like a jackhammer doing a extensive work on your brain.

Flack himself had suffered from migraines in the past. The memory of the excessive torment and the nausea and dizziness the pain brought on still fresh in his mind. And as he let himself quietly and cautiously into the bedroom, sympathy and concern hung over him as he observed the silent, unmoving lump in the middle of the bed. Sam had, thankfully, managed to fall asleep by the looks of things, and had yanked the covers up over her head in order to block out the minuscule amount of light that was managing to sneak through the window coverings.

He journeyed into the en-suite bathroom and snatching a face cloth off of the rack by the sink, he soaked it thoroughly with cold water before ringing it out before grabbing a plastic cup from where Sam had left it by the toothbrush holder and filling it with water. Shutting off the tap, he carried the cloth and the cup in one hand and picked up the waste basket with the other and headed back out into the bedroom.

The trash can went on the floor beside the bed and he placed the glass of water on the dusty nightstand before gently peeling the covers back, exposing his wife's sleeping form. Curled up in a fetal position on her right hand side, facing the window and clad in a sweatshirt of his and a pair of sweats as opposed to the dress she'd been wearing earlier.

Sighing heavily, he reached into the front right pocket of his jeans and pulled out the prescription bottle of Percocet bearing his name before taking a seat on the edge of the rumbled queen size bed.

Sam mumbled incoherently, easily stirring in her ill state as the motion of the mattress shifting beneath her tore her from her sleep. "Adam…" she mumbled irritably. "Go away…just please go away…leave me alone to die, okay?"

"Sorry babe," Flack said, as he ran his free hand over her hair. "No dying on my watch, okay?"

Her eyes flickered open. "Donnie?" she asked, squinting as she regarded him. "What are you doing here? What time is it? How long have I been sleeping?"

"About an hour, hour and a half tops," he replied, and picking up the face cloth from where he'd set it on the night table, placed it against her forehead.

"Donnie!' she grimaced. "That hurts! A hot one! I need a hot one!"

"Sorry…" he said and got to his feet. "Used to be a cold face cloth you liked."

"Just hot now…" she told him, nuzzling her face into her pillow as he headed for the bathroom. "You never told me what you're doing here. You weren't supposed to pick the kids up until later."

"Girls are staying at Messer's and Adam's gone to my place with Dawson."

"You're confusing me," she complained.

"All you need to know is that there's no kids here and there won't be any kids here until some time tomorrow," Flack told her, as he journeyed back into the bedroom.

"But they have camp," Sam protested. "And Dawson…"

"Has daycare. Adam knows and he'll drop the baby off when he goes into work. And Lindsay will get the girls to camp. Don't worry about that kind of stuff. You just lie there and be quiet, okay? You're sick and you need to relax and get some sleep."

"I'm not sick," she said. "I just…I just have a headache. From stress."

Flack wasn't about to argue with her. He wasn't about to make things worse by letting on exactly how concerned he actually was. And he certainly wasn't going to get on her ass about the MRI appointment she'd cancelled or the fact that he didn't think she was taking her own health seriously enough.

"Here, baby…" sitting down on the edge of the bed once more, he laid the face cloth against her forehead. Smiling as she gave a long, content sigh. "Not that it will do much considering the pain is nowhere near there…"

"It's here," she pointed to the back of her head. "It's like someone is squeezing my brain over and over again. I know they're just cluster headaches, but shit…do they have to be this bad?"

He didn't respond. Everything that he wanted to say would only make the situation even worse. He didn't want to cause an argument by telling her how full of shit he thought her doctor actually was.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm here to keep an eye on you," Flack replied. "Adam called me. Said he was worried about you."

She frowned.

"And honestly, Sammie? So am I. But we're not going to talk about that right now, okay? 'Cause talking about that will only get you all worked up. And that's the last thing I want. How are you feeling now? You dizzy? Nauseous?"

She shook her head.

"What about your eyesight? How's that?"

"It's fine," she told him. "It's just my head."

"I brought you a little something for it," Flack told her, and picking up the prescription bottle, shook it and rattled the pills inside. "Our little secret."

"Doping me up, huh?" she gave a small, weak smile.

"Whatever works," he said. And combing his fingers through her hair, ran his hand along the back of her neck and across her shoulder. "Sammie…"

"Please don't say it," she begged. "I know what you're going to say. You're going to tell me just how worried you actually are and that you think I should call the doctor tomorrow. Or worse, that you should take me into the ER and get looked after."

"I think that you should…"

"You didn't come here to nag did you?" she asked. "'Cause if that's what you're here to do, maybe you should just leave."

"I came here to take care of you," Flack replied, his hand drifting down her back. "That's all I'm here for, baby."

She smiled, relaxing under the warmth of the washcloth and the close proximity of his body. His familiar scent and his voice soothing her.

"And I'll be here as long as you need me to be. If you want me to be that is."

"I need you here," she told him, and laid a tiny hand on his thigh. "And I want you here."

"You've got me, Sammie," he whispered, and leaning over her, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You've always had me."


A huge thanks as usual to everyone that is reading and reviewing! And even lurking. I appreciate all of the tremendous support that I, and this story, has been receiving! If it wasn't for you guys, none of this would exist and I wouldn't be having so much fun! So hugs and kisses to you all!

Please R and R folks!

Special thanks to:

Afrozenheart412

CSINYMinute

Hope4sall

HighQueenReicheru

xSamilciousx

wolfeylady

Delko's Girl 88

Soccer-bitch

Forest Angel