A/N: A lil something that simply popped into my head after watching "Time's Up" last night. Hope I'm not the only one who wonders about Flack's family life!

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If she had been asked, she would have to say that it was the jeans that got her distracted.

Of course, at that time, she thought it was Flack-Flack standing there, and since he seldom wore jeans to work, she was fully grasping the moment. It was no secret that the man filled his jeans quite nicely… more than quite nicely, actually, but saying so was grounds for either sexual harassment issues or harassment over having a huge crush on a work partner. Either way, and since she didn't want any sort of harassment linked to the name, she simply took the opportunity to blatantly ogle from afar. It wasn't until she heard his voice behind her that she realized she had been staring at the wrong Flack, but back then she hadn't known that, so there was not much she could have done to prevent the whole thing. Actually, even if she had known the whole story from top to bottom she wouldn't have been able to do anything to prevent what happened later, but that was a small consolation, no matter how you looked at it.

"You gotta be shitting me!"

His swearing statement, delivered in a perfect rage-contained pitch, made her tumble away from the hormone induced daydream she was having. Because of the jeans. Because of the way a man she thought was him filled them. Because she found the way HE filled his jeans hopelessly irresistible. But it wasn't him, and he was mad about something and for a second, for just a small second, she thought he was mad at her for staring at the man who had brazenly taken over HIS chair and his desk.

He walked past her, hands fisted tightly at his sides, long strides until he reached his own space in less than three. He wasn't happy about this man's presence there, and he wasn't shy about letting it be known loud and clear. His hands went to the front of the other's shirt and pulled him to a standing position, virtually lifting him up form the floor an inch or two. She gasped when she saw the man he was roughly manhandling. He had heard rumors that this man existed, had read about him in Flack's personal file (she had read it when she had been the one to do the paperwork when he had been injured in the bombing), but had never expected meeting him. And yet, there he was.

The other Flack.

Same height, same jet black hair, same cerulean eyes… if you wanted to know how Flack would look in 6 or 7 years time, all you had to do was look at this man. Granted, his hair was longer and he wore a goatee and he had a gruffer air about him, but the resemblance was striking enough for people to do double (and even triple) takes when meeting one if you knew the other. And yet… all the "justice defender" air Flack had around him was lacking in the brother. No "aww shucks" grin, no ability to blush, no boy-next-door charm… none of that were present in the older man, and she couldn't help but shiver when she remembered where this Flack was coming from…

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Nice way to treat family, bro…"

"I'll ask one last time, Edmond, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Whatcha think, Donald? Got out two days ago, no welcoming committee waiting for me. Went to see the old man and he doesn't live there anymore, went to the bank and turns out momma's account is gone. Are you really surprised to see me here?"

So it was true. She remembered hearing rumors about how one of Lt. Flack's kids was doing time for manslaughter but she had always believed it was just rumor, although she was curious as hell, but... she wasn't going to be nosing around prison records, and she certainly wasn't going to ask Flack about it. The man seldom talked about his family. If his dad hadn't been some sort of legend during the late 70's and early 80's nobody would have been none the wiser when it came to the Flack clan. She had heard that there had been 3 brothers once…

"You haven't answered my question…"

"I need money and a place to stay"

"And you think I'm gonna give you either?"

"Least you could do for your brother, dontcha think?"

"Only brother I had has been dead for 12 years"

"So that's how it's going to be?"

"You brought this upon yourself… live with it anyway you can… just like we've done"

The older man was now grabbing at Flack's shirt sleeves, and the disgust and contempt in his voice were clearly evident on his face as well and for a moment she feared for her coworker's safety. She received a saving page just then, the perfect excuse to pull Flack away from this odious man who simply happened to look just like him. She had been this close to calling Messer; if fists were going to fly, better to have him around for backup or containment. She slid quietly behind Flack, her eyes never once leaving the other man.

"Flack, Mac wants you up there ASAP"

He didn't even bother to turn around to acknowledge her presence. The other man, however, took his sweet time undressing her with his eyes, making her feel both exposed and dirty. The lewd gazing had not gone unnoticed by Flack, who tightened his grasp on his brother's shirt front.

"Thanks, Angell. Tell him I'll be right up as soon as I finish here"

She nodded and quickly walked away, not once looking over her shoulder. Inasmuch as she wanted to make sure was okay, she didn't want to find the other man still looking at her. Another difference between the two of them: she knew Flack stared, too, but he was discreet and only resorted to it when he thought she wasn't looking… but God bless mirror-like window panes…

"Angel, huh? You banging her?"

"Get out"

"Ohh… touchy much, bro? She that good?"

"I said get out"

"You gonna throw me out on the street?"

"If it were up to me, I'd throw you back in jail"

"Since you ain't helping much, I'll have to pay a visit to dear old Pop…"

"Do what you like. I don't care. Just don't come back here or I'll swear I'll lock you up again"

With that, Flack let go off the man and left. A part of him, a not so small part of him, was worried Edmond would jump him from behind… he just kept on walking, brushing the fear from his shoulders, trying to get his grated nerves back in the game, back into his current investigation, trying to push the memories back where they belonged, where he only visited after a bottle or two of whisky…

The rest of the day had gone by without much happening, but she was certain he was avoiding her on purpose, having mumbled some apology about having to do "something" instead of meeting her for lunch, as they usually did when they were both at the precinct. Not that she could blame him… she wasn't sure she'd be in the mood for talking if it had been her family story taking place in the public eye like that.

At the end of her shift, she went back into the bullpen to get her coat. She found Flack at his desk, intently looking into a picture he held in both hands. She was about to call his name when his broken sob reached her. She stood there for a moment, unsure as to what to do. In the end, she got her coat and walked to stand next to him. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she gave him a light squeeze. He shrugged her hand off, and refused to look at her and she kept on walking towards the parking lot. She was hurt, but not surprised: Don wanted everyone to open up for him, but he opened up for no one.

Lost in her thoughts and worried about her friend, she failed to notice the man waiting for her near her car until it was too late, until she felt the tip of the blade tight against her neck, and his wandering hand got hold of her gun, not without feeling her up in the process.

"Where's my brother?"

"I don't know"

"You're gonna take me to his place…"

"I don't know where he lives…"

"So Donnie never graduated from back seat fucks, huh? And here I thought you were a high class angel…"

"Screw you!"

"Oh, the mouth you've got, whore!"

"Let me go"

"Oh, no way, bitch… that ain't gonna happen. It's been a while since I fucked real pussy and if you're good enough for one Flack, I guess you're good enough for two of them…."

The sound of a gun cocking, deafening as a gunshot, surprised them both. Edmond spun around, Angell still held close, to find his younger brother training his gun at him.

"She told you to let her go"

"You were always a sucker for saving helpless broads…"

"That would be Detective Jennifer Angell to you, and she's perfectly capable of kicking your sorry ass on her own. Now drop the knife!"

Both brothers stared at each other for long, their eyes unreadable, their emotions palpable. For a moment, the attacker seemed to forget about his prey, and she took advantage of it to the fullest. She elbowed him as hard as she could in the middle of the chest, pushing away from him as soon as he lessened his hold on her. A quick kick to his elbow and her own gun went flying towards Don, who quickly recovered it and handed it over to her.

"You okay?"

"Never been better"

"I'm sorry"

"So am I"

"Don't you two look sweet together"

Both guns swung, trained on the elder Flack, still sitting on the floor, looking at them full of disdain and badly disguised hatred.

"You have any idea, Don, any fucking idea at all, just how bad it is being locked up with a dozens of guys that have some kind of grudge against the Flack clan? If it wasn't Dad it was you, but one of you had put them behind bars… did you ever stop to consider what was my part in this whole show?"

"The part you chose to play when you started dealing drugs and got Patrick killed! The part where you decided to go on a shooting spree that ended up with you in jail and 4 kids on the morgue! The part where Mom simply stopped caring and Pop walked out on us!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

"I'm sick of hearing that! You had a choice, Edmond! Dammit, Pat and me were also accosted by the same gang and we walked away from them. Why couldn't you?"

"Pat was Mom's boy and you were the apple of Pop's eyes. What did I have? Nothing! I had nothing at all!"

"Well, you made sure everyone else lost everything as well, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Why should you? You were imprisoned inside yourself and could never see beyond your own needs! Did you know that Mom died from a sleeping pill overdose? That I haven't spoken to Pop since she passed away? That he blames you for Pat's death but blames me for hers? Because I was never good enough to make up for the two sons they lost…"

"And this is my fault? I was 22, I couldn't have known better!"

"And I was 18! And Pat was barely 15! We looked up to you! You were my fucking hero and when you went down everything went down with you!"

"You want me to say I'm sorry?"

"Save it for your parole officer, Eddie. You're going down again for assaulting a police officer, attempted kidnapping, attempted rape and attempted robbery of a fire gun. Put your hands behind you. You have the right to remain silent; everything you say can and will be used against you…"

She stood there, gun still trained, covering her partner, watching as he mirandized his own brother, still in shock from what she'd heard. She waited in silence while Don handed Edmond to his parole officer, and silently they watched as he was put inside a cruiser and driven away. And in silence hey walked back to the precinct, where he typed up the report for her to sign.

All through this, she'd wondered what would be the best way to handle the situation. How could she tell him she'd been scared shitless? That for a moment or two she had been threatened with rape and she actually believed the man was going to go through with it? How do you say that to the brother who was stuck with picking up the pieces when everything blew up… to the man that had been carrying an unjust burden of blame for over a decade? How do you start that kind of conversation?

"Jenn?"

"Yes?"

"Wanna grab a hamburger?"

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A/N: This came out a lot more angsty than I intended I to be. Me bad! I shouldn't go this dark, should I?