DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. CBS OWNS ANY AND ALL CHARACTERS BORROWED FROM THE SHOW. I ALSO DO NOT OWN ANY SONGS I USE. I ONLY STAKE CLAIM TO SAMANTHA ROSS-FLACK.

A/N: PLEASE VISIT MY PROFILE AND VOTE IN THE POLL!!

A MASSIVE THANKS TO ALL OF MY REVIEWERS! A 1000+ ALREADY! YOU GUYS ROCK!

THIS IS A LINDSAY CENTRIC CHAPTER IN MY OWN TWISTED, LITTLE WAY. SO I AM DEDICATING THIS TO MY DEAR FRIEND DORI!

HUGE THANKS TO CASS FOR HELPING ME OUT WITH THE MEDICAL STUFF!


Lean on me

"In Our Darkest Hour
In my Deepest Despair
Will You Still Care?
Will You Be There?
In My Trials
And My Tribulations
Through Our Doubts
And Frustrations
In My Violence
In My Turbulence
Through My Fear
And My Confessions
In My Anguish And My Pain
Through My Joy And My Sorrow
In The Promise Of Another Tomorrow
I'll Never Let You Part
For You're Always In My Heart."
-Will You Be There, Michael Jackson


The slap of flip flops against cement was nearly deafening in the silence of the cavernous underground lot of St. Vincent's Medical Center. Lindsay her trembling right hand through her messy shoulder length curls as she hurried away from her SUV, the keys dangling noisily from the left as shaky fingers fought in vain to attend to the simple task of setting the alarm via the remote clasped tightly in her clutches. She cursed the tiny, Godforsaken piece of technology and fought both the urge to toss the key chain across the parking lot and to sit down in the middle of the garage and succumb to the tears that threatened. She was terrified. The early morning phone call had not only tore her out of a peaceful sleep, but had rocked her to her very core. Never getting a simple, groggy hello out of her lips before her husband was telling her to get to the hospital. ASAP. That Sam had been taken there, vital signs near absent. Lindsay had shot out of bed in an instant, yelling questions into the phone as she moved through both a haze of exhaustion and fear. Danny had been oddly and eerily calm, cool and collected. All business and straight to the point as she frantically tore around the bedroom, tearing off pyjamas and yanking on clothes in the process.

That had been over and hour and a half ago. She'd spent nearly an hour waiting for in-laws to arrive from Staten Island to watch the kids. In hindsight, it would have been a lot easier to run across the street and pound on the front door of her usual sitter's house. Mrs Tompkins was nearing seventy, but relatively spry and agile for someone her age. She was able to keep up with the Messer brood when others years younger were washing their hands of them and vowing to never sit for those 'hellions' again. Lindsay had known, as she paced her living room waiting for her father in law's pickup truck to pull into the driveway, that the old woman across the street should have been her first choice to come over and keep an eye on the kids. She wouldn't have refused knowing it was an emergency. A family emergency, as far as Lindsay was concerned.

But instead of quickly getting to the hospital in lower Manhattan, she'd foolishly made the wrong call in the midst of her panic and then had spent the half an hour drive barely able to see the road due to the hot tears that poured down her face. She had berated herself for not thinking straight, for letting her heart rule her head, and had hoped and prayed as she kept a firm foot on the gas and her shaky hands on the steering wheel, that time was on her side. And not dead set against her.

Finally engaging the alarm, she shoved the keys into her purse and rushed towards the sliding doors a hundred yards away that would take her to the elevators. Which would lead her to her best friend. The woman that she'd spent years working alongside of and whom she'd come to love like a sister. Their bond stretched far beyond colleagues and best friends. Despite the occasional disagreement and falling out, they always found their way back to each other. It killed them both to be 'on the outs' and it never took long for one of them to crack and finally call the other one in an emotional state. Which in turn, lead the other to dissolve into tears themselves and reduced them both to blubbering messes on the telephone. At work, they'd always had each other's backs. Upholding each other's decisions and lending either a supportive ear, a shoulder to cry on, or well meaning advice. Whether it was asked for or even appreciated. On rare occasion, when differences of opinion regarding the handling of a suspect or the processing of evidence arose, they had always simply agreed to disagree. Respecting one another and ultimately, defending one another.

Outside of work, the friendship they'd developed was akin to a sisterhood. There was never a dull moment when they were together. Never a time where they didn't smile or laugh. They finished each other's sentences much to their husbands' dismay. Giggled and chatted on the phone for hours. Took day trips to Coney Island and ate too much junk food and rode the rides until they thought they'd throw up. They got their faces painted and their pictures taken together on the boardwalk. They played midway games and brought home countless stuffed animals that they neither really wanted, or needed.

"You two will never grow up," Danny had muttered on more than one occasion, when Lindsay had wandered through the front door after a day out, sparkling butterflies painted on her cheeks and Coney Island prizes tucked under her arms. Strawberry sauce from a funnel cake staining the front of her t-shirt and a bag of cotton candy clutched in one hand. "You'd think for mothers you two would be a little more…mature."

Both Lindsay and Sam had long ago learned to just take the ribbing from their husbands. The bitching and moaning the two men did when it came to their wives' propensity to 'not act their age'. She and Sam had developed an almost Peter Pan like enthusiasm for life. Inside the home they were reserved and mature. Taking care of their husbands and their children. Tending to the housework and the grind of daily life. When they were able to 'escape', they became kids again. They threw caution to the wind and lived their time together to the fullest. Vowing to never, ever grow up.

Nine years ago, Samantha Ross had steamrolled her way into Lindsay's life. Quickly and easily breaking down the iron clad barriers that the girl from Montana had years ago successfully built up around herself. The brutal slayings of her friends in that diner a little over ten years ago back in Bozeman had essentially shut Lindsay down. Survivors guilt and a decade of horrific nightmares had found her shying away from getting too close to anyone. Leery of letting anyone into her life for fear of having them so suddenly and violently ripped away. For years she'd guarded her heart and steeled her emotions, accepting a rather quiet and lonely existence in favour of getting to close and losing someone.

Until that day the feisty little Brooklyn girl had walked into the crime lab via Phoenix, Arizona. With her assortment of body jewellery, her collection of tattoos and her vibrant personality, Sam had rapidly captured the piece of Lindsay's heart that she had thought would be missing forever.

And the thought of losing the woman that she loved like a sister…it absolutely terrified Lindsay and sent her into a near blind panic.

Slamming the palm of her hand against the button for the automatic door, she drummed her fingers against her hip in agitation as it swung open painfully slow, than gave a heavy sigh and slipped through before it was even half way ajar. Ignoring the curious and condescending looks from the elderly man and woman who were already waiting in the postage stamp size foyer, she stomped past them and jammed her index finger into the already illuminated up button. She tapped the toe of her right flip flop against the tiled floor and continued to jab at the call button while her nervous, frightened eyes flickered between the numbers above the three elevators before them. She knew she probably looked like a raving lunatic with her shoulder length curls messy and wild and her petite body clad in a pair of blue and green striped satin pyjama pants, one of her husband's shirts unbuttoned over the tank top that matched her pants and her favourite sandals from the dollar store. She'd been too busy pacing and worrying and attempting to call Flack during the time she waited for her in laws, that she hadn't even thought of getting herself cleaned up and dressed. And when Danny's parents had finally arrived, she'd simply tossed on whatever she got her hands on first and hurried out the door.

"Come on…come on…" she huffed and repeatedly and angrily jabbed at the button for the elevator. "What is taking so damn long…piece of shit…"

"Such language for a lady," the man beside her muttered to her husband, just loud enough for Lindsay to hear.

She ignored the comment. Her nerves were shot and she felt sick to her stomach. A million and one dreadful thoughts were stampeding through her and she knew that if someone trampled on her last nerve, there'd be hell to pay.

"This is such bullshit…" Lindsay muttered. Then on the verge of tears, held the button down with her fingertip. "Hurry the hell up you sonofabitch!"

"You know dear," the elderly woman looked past her husband and shot Lindsay a frown. "A watched pot never boils. Didn't your mother ever teach you that?"

"Yes she did," Lindsay gave a sugary sweet smile. "And she also told me to mind my own business and to not tolerate anyone sticking their nose in mind. And that includes miserable old bitties who think the entire world owes them for living so long."

Both husband and wife gasped loudly, shocked by the young woman's outburst.

"Now if you don't mind, keep your traps shut and leave me alone."

The couples' eyes widened and the husband opened his mouth to offer up a retort, only to be dissuaded by a loud chime announcing the arrival of the elevator.

"Finally!" Lindsay exclaimed, then with another fake, pleasant smile, motioned for the other two to go ahead of her when the doors to the lift finally slid open. Her eyes narrowing and a glare burrowing into the backs of their heads as she followed them onto the elevator.

Hitting the button for the main lobby, she retreated to the far side of the elevator and leaned back against the mirrored rear wall. She kept her eyes riveted on the illuminated numbers counting the floors as they made their ascent. The seconds passing agonizingly slow as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously and tapped her foot against the ceramic tiles beneath her. She felt queasy and light headed. Her stomach was twisted into a thousand knots and fear of the unknown choked at her. And she felt cold. So cold and so numb on one of the hottest nights on New York City record, and as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, she rubbed at them in a vain attempt to warm herself.


As the elevator finally reached the lobby, the cell phone tucked into her purse rang loudly, rousing her out of the fog of pessimistic thoughts that had shrouded her since she'd gotten the original call from Danny. Rummaging through her crowded and overflowing bag, she snagged her flip phone and checked the caller ID. She'd left four messages for Flack when his own cell went straight to voice mail each and every time she'd attempted to get a hold of him. She had no clue where Sam was within the hospital and her initial plan had been to hit the admissions desk to find out just what the hell was going on.

"Danny…" she gave a tremendous sigh of relief at the sight of the familiar number and flipped the phone open. "Please tell me that this is at least a little bit of good news," she said in way of greeting.

"Flack called," Danny told her, his voice solemn. "From a payphone. Had to turn his cell off when he got to the emergency room."

"And Sam?" Lindsay asked, her heart thudding in her chest as she stepped off of the elevator. "Did he say how…"

"She's been in surgery for the last hour and a bit," her husband informed her. "Didn't tell me exactly what happened, but that the best neurosurgeon in the place is looking after her."

"Neurosurgeon?" Lindsay's head swam as she tried to process the information. "What…"

"I don't know what's going on or what's wrong with her, Montana. All I know is that by the sounds of things…by the sounds of things she's not doing so good. Flack sounded…I don't know…he just didn't sound like Flack."

"But did he say if she's alright? Did he say what the doctors said? Did he…"

"Lindsay…it's not good, okay? He didn't say much and he didn't really need to. It was the way he sounded…he was just…distraught. I've never heard Flack that way and I don't want to ever hear him like that again and it's killing me that I can't be there right now. Killing me."

"I'm sure he understands," Lindsay told him, her heart breaking at the sound of disgust and frustration in her husband's voice.

"I should be there," Danny said. "I should be there with him. He's always there for me no matter what and the one time that he needs me…"

"You have to work. You have to handle the case on your own. And if anyone can understand that, it's Flack. He knows how much you want to be here, Danny. Believe me, he does."

"He's my best friend, Linds. I love him like a brother. And Sam…" Danny's voice cracked. "Sam's the love of his life and if he loses her…I can't let him be alone if that happens. I need to be there for him and I can't. I can't be there for him because of this fucking place!"

"Nothing is going to happen to her," Lindsay hoped that she sounded more confidant than she felt. "She's going to be fine and things are going to…" she took a deep, quivering breath and released it slowly. "Things are going to be okay. Just try and keep yourself busy. Just jump head first into the case and get it wrapped up as soon as you can so you can get over here. Just concentrate on the job. Keep yourself sane, alright?"

"It's hard," Danny sighed. "It's hard 'cause Flack's there and Sam's there and…"

"And they'll still be here when you get done," his wife assured him. "Just try to keep yourself busy, Danny. Try to keep your mind off of what's going on here."

"It's just hard you know?" he sniffled noisily. "It's hard keeping focused knowing how bad off she is. Knowing that Flack's probably scared shitless and he's going through this alone. It's just…hard. It's hard."

"I know," Lindsay sympathized. "And I know that there's no place in the world you'd rather be than here. But Sam's in good hands and Flack…I'll take care of him, alright?"

"A'right…" Danny gave another shaky sigh. "I better go. Keep myself busy. Don't be surprised if Mac shows up there. Word travels fast around here and apparently Sinclair is on the war path about something happening to one of the team on the clock that's not work related."

"Oh…so he'd rather she'd gotten shot and killed in the line of duty?" Lindsay asked incredulously. "Would that have been better? To have a perp murder her as opposed to her falling ill? What the fuck is that? His logic is totally messed up. Is he a complete and utter moron or is it me?"

"Do you really need me to answer that? Isn't it plain obvious?"

"I can't believe the nerve of that man!" Lindsay huffed, as she peered up at the brightly coloured signs dangling from the ceiling advertising the locations of different wards. Locating the sign for the operating suites, she turned on her heel and headed left down the main corridor of the first floor, passing through the cavernous, empty lobby and the small café. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods permeating her senses. "Something happens to her and he has the nerve to wish it was something so much worse?! What the hell is wrong with him?"

"He's a jackass?" Danny suggested. "All he cares about is the image of the department. Not the actual people like us who do the grunt work. I guess he feels it would be a better personal interest story, garner public interest and sympathy for the department if something happened to her in the line of duty."

"Remind me to buy him a coffee if he shows up here," Lindsay muttered. "So I can slip arsenic into it."

"Get in line. There's already plans to spike his breakfast with cyanide. How the hell he's been in charge for so long is beyond me. But if that guy ever gets in as commissioner…"

"That's the day we get the hell out of this godforsaken shit hole," she finished for him. "I better go," she issued a heavy sigh. "I'm almost at the OR and…"

"Call me if you hear anything. No matter what it is. Big or small. Good or…" he couldn't bring himself to finish.

"I'll call you," she said.

"And take care of Flack okay? Keep an eye on him. Take care of my boy."

"I will," Lindsay promised him. "He's in good hands."

"I know…we'll talk soon, okay? You need anything, just give me a shout. Anything at all. You hear me?"

"I hear you daddy Danny," she grinned. "We'll talk soon."

"Yeah…okay…and Linds!"

She waited for him to continue, her thumb lingering over the END button on her cell.

"I love you baby," Danny's voice wavered once again. "So much and I..I just needed you to know that. 'Cause you never know what's going to happen. One minute everything can be fine and the next…I just needed you to know how much I love you. And how I can't live without you. I know we've had our share of shitty times and there's been a lot of moments where we haven't gotten along or you wanted to kill me for one thing or another…"

"There's been a few," she teased lightly, a soft smile on her face.

"And I know I haven't always been the best man for you. But I love you and our kids and this…this thing with Brooklyn…it's just made me realize how precious this life is. That you've only got one shot to make things right. That each day you go about hating and fighting…well that's like walking a tight rope. 'Cause it could all be gone just like that and you wouldn't have the chance to make things right. Say the things you always wanted to say but never did. What's happening…puts things in perspective, you know?"

"I know. And you know what else I know? It shouldn't take something like this to happen to make us realize how much we love and appreciate someone."

"Amen to that," Danny agreed. "I'm just glad that Sam and Flack..I'm just glad they found each other again before this happened. 'Cause if something does happen to her…well at least they both know how damn hard they worked to get back together again and they both know how much they love each other. He'll have that to fall back on if…"

"No if's Danny," Lindsay scolded him. "I don't want to hear any if's. She's fine. Sam's fine and she's…" she stopped walking and briefly closed her eyes in an attempt to compose herself. "Sammie is fine and she's not going anywhere. Do you hear me?"

"I'm just saying that…"

"Well don't say it!" she snapped. "I don't want to hear it! She's going to be okay. I'm not going to lose her. I will not lose her! Understand me?!"

Danny paused briefly before answering. "Completely," he told her.

"No one is going to take her away from me," Lindsay vowed. "Not you, not Flack and not even God. This is not her time. She can't leave. I'll tell her when that time is. And I'm not ready…I'm not ready to let her go. I'll never be ready to let her go."

And with those final words and tears spilling down her cheeks, Lindsay disconnected the call. Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she opened her eyes and dried them off her sleeve.

You're not going anywhere you stubborn little bitch, she thought, envisioning her best friend's face and brilliant smile and hearing that musical giggle as she strode confidently and purposefully towards the OR suites.


The waiting area was eerily quiet when Lindsay burst through the doors. Banks of chairs, their beige vinyl cracking and faded, lined each sterile white wall. The floor was covered in slate grey indoor/outdoor carpeting that was torn and discoloured in several places. Clearly visible tread patterns could be seen in the middle of the room. Marks made over the years by nervous and anxious family members as they paced the floors while waiting on pins and needles for news regarding their loved ones. Four eighteen inch colour televisions, each with the volume on mute and three tuned into CNN and the other on a channel notorious for showing endless supplies of infomercials, were mounted near the cieiling in each corner of the room. Half a dozen people took up residence in the room. A family of four took up on row of chairs; cuddled together under hospital supplied blankets. A middle aged woman to Lindsay's left kept herself busy by listening to an MP3 player and knitting what appeared to be a blue and white baby blanket.

But it was the lone figure at the far end of the room that captured Lindsay's attention. Clad in a pair of worn out jeans, scuffed Doc Marten boots and a grey t-shirt were small spatters of blood near the left shoulder and down the chest, he was slightly bent over at the waist with his elbows resting on his knees, eyes closed and his hands locked tightly together at the nape of his neck.

She approached slowly and cautiously, not wanting to startle him out of his obviously private moment by storming across the room and demanding to know what the hell was going on. She needed to calm, cool and collected. Even if inside she was falling apart.

"Don?" her voice was quiet as she reached out and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

His eyes snapped open and the iron clad grip his hands held on each other loosened as he raised his head to look at her. His brow furrowed, confusion, worry and fear etched on his handsome face and clouding his usually vibrant blue eyes.

"Lindsay? What…"

"Danny called me," she explained, and leaned down to embrace him warmly. "He told me that Sammie got sick at work and you had to bring her here," she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he returned the hug with a brief one of his own.

"She fainted…" his voice was hallow, disbelieving. "…had a seizure at the crime scene…and two more on the way here."

"She's never had a problem with that before," Lindsay stated, as she slipped into the empty side beside him. "Not that I know of any way. I mean, did she ever have any at home? Did she ever have seizures or fainting spells after they found that spot on the brain stem?" she asked, rubbing the space between his shoulders comfortingly.

"Passed out a couple of times but never seizures," he replied. "She saw the doctor yesterday and he said that that spot was nearly gone now. That it had shrunk since the last time he'd seen her and that it wasn't posing any kind of threat to her."

"Well that's some good news right?" Lindsay's voice was hopeful. "It means that there's not something worse wrong with her. Did they say anything to you in the ER? Do they know what might have caused her to faint? Or the seizures even? Has she been sick? Maybe she's having some kind of reaction to medication or she got too much sun or…"

"There's bleeding in the brain," he said in a near whisper. "They did an MRI right away and said that she…" he took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face and exhaled slowly. "…a leaky aneurysm they're calling it. They took her to the OR right away. To have it coiled or clipped or some shit like that. Something about doing it through her femoral artery."

Lindsay nodded. She knew of the procedure. Her grandmother on her father's side had had the same procedure done when she was in her early seventies and a CAT scan done for what doctors assumed were cluster migraines were actually caused by an aneurysm just steps away from bursting. Unfortunately, her aunt had never made it off of the operating table. At least not alive. But she wasn't about to tell Flack any of that.

"I don't know…" he sighed heavily. "I barely heard a damn word they said. I guess I was just freaked out. Seeing her like that" he struggled with his emotions. "I know she's been sick a lot with the fibromyalgia and I've always taken care of her and all that. But seeing her lying there with blood coming out of ear and her nose and…she was grey, Linds. She was lifeless. She looked…she looked dead."

Lindsay gave a brave smile and stroked his shoulder softly.

"And seeing Sammie like that…" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat noisily. "If I couldn't handle seeing her like that, how am I going to handle seeing her if she's in worse shape when she comes out of that OR? What if she doesn't come out of there at all? What then? I've got three kids at home that need their mother. I need their mother."

"She's going to be okay Don," Lindsay promised. "She's tough. You know that. She's a tiny little thing but she's a fighter. She's going to make it out of there and she's going to be just fine."

He shook his head. "She's not going to be fine. She might be alive but she's not going to be fine. She's never going to be fine. The doctor was spewing off all this crap about permanent brain damage from the seizures. About how she'd have loss of some or all cognitive function. That she could even be reduced to a child like state. That she…I don't know…it was like a million people talking at once. And talking a foreign language at that. And they were shoving all these papers at me to sign and I just…I blanked out. I shut down. Everything was a complete blur to me and then some nurse brought me here and told me a surgeon would come out and talk to me when the operation was finished."

"Doctors have been wrong before," Lindsay gently reminded him. "Just because they think it's going to happen, doesn't mean it will. Did they tell you how long it was going to take or…"

He shook his head and ran his hands along his thighs before planting his elbows on his knees once more, the middle and index finger of his right hand toying with his wedding band. Twirling it around his finger, pulling it up to the knuckle and pushing it back down again. Over and over again. A nervous habit he'd long ago developed. "All they told me was that it was going to take a while," he said. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? A while? How long's a while? An hour? Two? Three? More than that?"

"It means that they need time to make sure that what they have to do is done right," Lindsay told him diplomatically. "They don't want to rush this, Don. They want to make sure it's done properly. So that there's no problems afterwards. It's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

Flack nodded.

"Was she sick at all Don? Danny told me that lately…that lately she hadn't been…well that lately she hadn't been Sam. Not that Sammie that we know anyway."

"Sammie's been…" he sighed heavily, torn between betraying his wife's confidence and leaning on the one person in Sam's life that loved her just as much as he did. That had always been there through thick and thin. And who Sam trusted explicitly. "She's sick, Lindsay. She's really, really sick."

"Don, what…?"

"She's got a tumour. On her pituitary gland. She was going to go in for a biopsy in a couple of weeks to see if it was cancerous or not. Have it removed if the doctors felt there was a safe way to do it. And they think that it caused this aneurysm. That the pressure of it against her brain caused this to happen."

Lindsay blinked. As tears welled in her eyes, an iron like fist closed around her heart and her stomach churned. "How long has she known about this? Why didn't she say anything? Why was she working if she was that sick? Why weren't the doctors taking it more seriously?"

Flack held his hands up in self defence as she peppered him with questions. "She's only known for about twenty four hours. I'm the only person she's told. She asked me to give her the space and the time to tell Mac. And she was worried about telling everyone at work. She was paranoid that people would think she was guilting them into feeling sorry for her."

"What?" Lindsay cried. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard! No one would ever, ever think that. And if they did…well that's just disgusting."

"I know…and that's what I told her. But you know Sammie. Once she's got something into her head…"

"It takes a damn crowbar to get it out," Lindsay finished. Then shook her head in disbelief. "Don…you should have come to me and Danny. You should have told us about this."

"I just found out tonight myself. And I didn't want to betray her. I didn't want her to think she couldn't trust me. I wanted to give her the chance to tell you guys herself. She just needed some time to adjust to the news, Linds. That's all. She needed time for it to sink in and for us to come to terms with it. Together. She wasn't intentionally keeping anything back from you. She wasn't trying to hurt you. She just…we just needed some time to deal with it."

Lindsay nodded in understanding. She was determined to hold it together. No matter how shocking or how terrible the news, she was determined to be the rock. To lift the burden of being everyone's saviour and protector off of Flack's back. To take that often overwhelming weight from his broad, strong shoulders and bear the load herself.

"This never should have happened," he whispered. "This never should have gone down like this. If I'd just told her to tell Mac she couldn't come in. If I'd just told her that I didn't want her out there…

"She would have told you to stop being so overprotective and to give her some space," Lindsay informed him. "She would have accused you of not trusting her and treating her like a baby and then that would have lead to a huge fight and all of the work you two have put into each other would have been for nothing."

"But this wouldn't be happening right now," Flack argued. "None of this would be happening. We wouldn't be sitting here right now if I'd just told her to stay home. She was at my apartment and if I'd just told her not to go into work, we wouldn't be here right now."

"No, we wouldn't," Lindsay agreed. "But you know where we would be? I'd be at home and you'd be at work. And guess where Sammie would be? Alone and passed out on the floor. Having seizures. Bleeding from her brain. With no one around to help her. You two were called out together for a reason. So that you'd be there to help her. You've got to stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong, Don. You've always done it and you need…you need to stop being such a damn martyr all the time."

Flack blinked. Taken back by her honesty. Then he simply nodded in agreement and commenced playing with his wedding ring once more. His shoulders tense, eyes riveted on the worn out carpet below him.

"Have you called anyone?" Lindsay asked. "Your parents? Sam's folks? Adam even?"

"Last thing on my mind," Flack replied. "I know Adam and Sarge will both have my ass for not calling them. Doubt her mom would even give a shit less. Knowing her, she'd throw a damn party if Sammie didn't make it out of here."

"Do you want me to call them? I'm sure that Adam and Sarge will want to be here. And probably your dad too."

"I just don't want them telling the girls anything. I don't want Kellan and Kallison knowing that mommy is sick and in the hospital. They don't need to know that Sam's here. Or that anything is wrong. I'd rather wait to hear what the verdict is before I tell them anything."

"Fair enough," Lindsay said, and massaged the nape of his neck. "I'll call everyone and let them know what's going on, okay? And tell them not to tell the girls. I know you had it out with your mom a while back. Is there someone that would go to your place and look after the girls so Adam can come down?"

"I guess Kelli or Mari. That's the only two people I can think of."

"I'll make some calls," she rubbed his shoulder once more. "And grab some coffee. Sound good?"

He nodded and gave a shaky smile.

"Hang in there Don," Lindsay pecked his cheek and got to her feet. "Sammie's strong. She's going to get through this. Have faith in her, okay?"

"I'm trying," he admitted. "I really am. But all I keep thinking about is…what will I do without her Linds?" his blue eyes were tortured as he looked up at her. "What would I do? How would I cope? When I think about what life would be like without her…"

"Don…" she gently took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead. "…stop thinking so much. Stop thinking and just breathe. Put all your energy and all of your thoughts into her. That's what Sammie needs right now. She needs you to be strong. She's always relied on you to lift her up. And now…now she actually needs you to follow through on those vows you took. Trust her. Trust in her. Okay?"

He sniffled noisily and nodded.

"You're going to be okay," Lindsay promised, and running a hand over his hair, gave a small smile. "I'll be back soon. Just hang in there, okay?"

Flack gave another nod, and sighed heavily as he watched her head across the room and disappear through the door. Swallowing noisily in a vain attempt to clear the lump of emotion that threatened to choke him, he leaned his head back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes.

Just hang in there. Lindsay's words rang noisily in his ears.

But those words of wisdom were difficult to grasp when life seemed as if it were dangling by a tattered thread.


So life won out! It won't be easy, but when is it ever in any of my stories? I think you'd all be shocked if I didn't wander down a dark path from time to time.

Thanks to all of you who are reading, reviewing and even just lurking! I appreciate the overwhelming support and love I continuously receive from all of you and I can't thank you all enough!

Special thanks to:

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