A/N: A huge thank to my new beta, Madison Bellow. Thank you!

Chapter 11: Breakfast with Samantha

Samantha was seated on a table in the back of the diner, studying the menu while chewing on her fingers.

Flack grinned, in his mind appeared a younger Sammie with braids and bruised knees. "So... what's good to eat?"

The young woman looked at her brother, greeting him with a warm smile, "good morning! Mmmn... apple pancakes."

While the waitress was serving their first cup of coffee, Don took his time to read the menu. Sam looked at him carefully. "You look tired."

He dismissed her with a hand, hiding a yawn. "Nah..."

"We're lucky you are one of the good ones, but you're an awful liar!"

"Ha ha ha. Funny." He stared at her, "just a difficult case."

"I don't understand how you can live the way you do. Little sleep, no regular schedules and," she smiled fondly, "you're planning a wedding!"

"The wedding is the thing that's killing me! Balancing job and life is simple by now, you know? But the wedding, every day there's a new problem," Flack concluded with a sigh.

"You know I'm here for you, right? I'm your sister! Tell me what you need and I'll give you a hand. You and Jess are always busy!"

He stared at her, considering her words. "Would you really like to help us?"

"Are you kidding? You've found a good woman who actually wants to marry you, it'd be a crime if I didn't help you!"

"Thank you, I guess... well...", Flack started until the waitress interrupted them, ready to take their orders. "Okay... the winners are the apple pancakes. I'd also like scrambled eggs and OJ, not too cold, thank you," he called out as the waitress walked away.

"So, where were we? Food, flowers, the photographer, all confirmed. The problem is that each person involved is dying to give us suggestions we don't want. For example, the floral designer insists in putting apples, oranges and pears in the centerpieces. What for? We only want dark red roses and Gypsophila. But no, he just can't resist, what do we know? Then... what, what are you laughing at?"

Samantha couldn't help laughing, "you look like Miranda Priestley, you're scary. It's your wedding, not one of your drug busts. Relax! I'll take care of it."

Seeing his sister's amused expression, Don laughed, too. They ate in a comfortable silence for a while. Then Flack seemed to remember something."How are you, Sam?"

"Mostly good, thanks. Dad's still talking to me, mom's not crying every time she sees me..."

"Obviously. She too busy crying every time she sees me!"

"I like my new job, and Adam...", she stopped, blushing.

Flack pondered, murmuring, "do I need to know what Ross is doing with my little sister? Do I really really need to know?"

She slapped his arm, "c'mon! He's a good guy, give him some credit! You scare him more than dad!"

"That's the way it should be."

"I hate you!"

"Sammie, you're my sister. Okay, you're right, he's a good guy. But I'm keeping an eye on him, just in case."

"And he knows it. Seeing as we're talking about it, what did you say to him two days ago?"

Don arched his brows, "me?"

"We had a date, a dinner in that nice new restaurant, but he canceled. See? Now you're looking at me like you want to rip his head off. He didn't abandon me out in the cold rain, all alone. He called me to cancel, apologized and took me out the following day."

"And how is it my fault?"

"You two had lunch together, remember?"

Flack scratched his head, thinking and biting his lips. It was almost genetic the way she was questioning him.

"You're right, Messer was there too. Nothing happened, unless... oops!"

"I knew it! What did you tell him?" Samantha glared at him.

"Nothing. We were having a completely innocent conversation and I asked when you two started going out. I swear, he just panicked and started stuttering, telling me 'almost four months ago'. And so I said, just commenting without any hidden meaning, I swear, 'four months? So, you two are serious!'"

"You're clearly insane," Sam retorted.

He shook his head, looking pissed, "I'm insane? I wasn't out of line! He have known me for ages, he's one of the people who reconstructed the cell-detonator out of my insides and I can't joke with him? Do you want me to tell you in graphic details about the first time I met the Angell clan? I didn't tell him you should get married!"

Sam frowned, disgusted. "The cell-detonator out of your insides? Too much information, thank you," she said pushing away her half-eaten pancake. "Okay, nothing terrible happened. It's just you're scaring him so much yesterday he told me we should ask Detective Flack. I was shocked!"

"Really? How can he be scared of me?"

"Could we change topic, please?"

He chuckled, "alright. Besides, I'm not there to analyze your relationship with Ross. I'm just glad you're fine. And that you're going to help us." Don passed one of his hands over his tired eyes.

She touched his wrist, "I know you're not going to listen, but you should get some rest."

"I can't, not until this case is solved." He sounded serious and worried.

"That bad?" She knew what his answer would be, but asked anyway.

"It'll be if we don't do something soon."

Growing up in a family full of cops helped her to fill in the blanks. She swallowed, paling slightly, "there's more than one victim?"

"Sammie..." he warned.

"Sorry, I know you can't tell me. This city sucks."

He stood, leaving a couple of bills on the table. Then he bent to kiss her on the head,"it's not the city, just some of its inhabitants. Be careful, and call me if you need me."

"Don't worry, Donnie. I'll phone you when the florist and the others are back in their places, okay?"

He smiled: "Floral designer, Sam, floral designer. You're going to offend him, you know?"

She laughed, "oh no! Have a good day, Don, you'll get him, you always do."

He waved at her and left. Maybe Sam was right, after all, if there was no news, he was going to take a little nap.