What Happens in Vegas

Fusco blinked blearily awake and listened to Shaw snoring rather loudly beside him. He thought hard. What had happened last night? Where did they go? Had either of them disgraced themselves? After that fifth tequila it was all a bit fuzzy, no wonder his head hurt like hell. They had chased a number all the way from New York to Las Vegas and had very satisfyingly caught him in the act. It would take a few days for the LVPD guys to process the paperwork so they'd suggested that the two visitors hang around and take the chance to play tourist and see the sights. Fusco and Shaw felt like a bit of a break and quickly agreed, giving Fusco the chance to try out their new Machine provided credit cards by checking-in at one of the more expensive hotels. The cards were issued by a non-existent financial institution and untraceable: the Machine intercepted and handled the card authentication itself so there was never a problem although Fusco suspected that the Machine would take a dim view if he went and bought a Ferrari with his. He didn't envy the poor sap in the hotel's accounts department who would have to sort out the eventual problem. He had splashed out on a suite with 2 bedrooms so that there were no complications if either of them wanted to bring someone back. The second room wasn't needed last night noted Fusco wryly although he didn't think that he and Shaw had… done anything – both had been too drunk. "You alright Shaw?" he enquired. "Wassamatter?" she grunted from under the bed clothes "If you're feeling amorous, Fusco, I'm not in the mood. I feel like crap, leave me alone"

"I'll order coffee" he said with sympathy and rang room service. He shuffled gingerly about the room, picking up their discarded clothing and putting the weaponry away in their suitcases to be discreet – no need to spook the cleaning staff. Not for the first time he wondered how a small woman like Shaw could conceal so many guns and knives on her person. Coffee arrived and he opened the door for the waiter to bring it in. While doing so he noticed that some joker had hung a "Just Married" sign on the door so he threw it onto a chair and put the "Do Not Disturb" sign in its place. After a cup he started to feel better and saw a small bouquet of flowers on the table with some pieces of confetti stuck to the blooms. He shrugged, these hotels – this city – saw a lot of honeymooners: he and Shaw had probably run across a wedding reception. Then he found a piece of paper and looked at it with a frown, his addled brain trying to make sense of it. He sat down on the bed and prodded Shaw.

"What do you remember about last night Shaw?" he asked "I think we may have done something dumb". He waved the paper in front of her. "Urrhhhh. Nggggg" she mumbled unintelligibly "Have pity and let me die in peace. I'll never drink again, so help me God"

"Please take a look" he pleaded "It's important". She cracked an eye open "What is it? What does it say?"

"It says that you are Mrs. Fusco" said Fusco, ready to leap across the room if Shaw tried any of her kung-fu ninja stuff. That woke her up. "Coffee. Strong" she demanded and he hastened to obey. "It must be a joke thing, right?" she said eventually in a hung-over voice, reclining on the pillows "We probably got it from a souvenir stall somewhere"

"I don't know. Look: it's got our signatures and some witnesses. Plus it looks very official – Ye Olde Genuine Wedding Chapel. Licensed in the state of Nevada"

She looked at him seriously "Are we actually married, Lionel? I know that I could do a lot worse but you deserve a proper wife. If you want another one"

"I've heard these kind of stories about Vegas" said Fusco "But I always thought they were exaggerated. How could a proper priest marry a couple of drunks off the street, i.e. you and me last night? Marriage is a serious thing"

"Let's go back later and see the guy in charge. Maybe there's a cooling-off period, like when you buy stuff, and we can get it cancelled"

Fusco pulled two bottles of beer from the mini-bar "Need some hair of the dog, Mrs. Fusco?" he said, waving them at her. "Mmmm, gimme one, you lovely man" responded Shaw eagerly and they both gulped the beers down, feeling a lot better afterwards.

"Hey cheapskate, where's my ring?" demanded Shaw, looking at her left hand with disappointment. Fusco looked relieved "Thank God I didn't think to buy one. Those credit cards are unlimited. I could have spent thousands, millions even". Shaw pouted "You mean I'm not worth it?" she said in mock sorrow. Fusco looked stricken "That's not what I meant, Shaw, but it should be a serious gesture, not a drunken New York flatfoot being a fool. When we tie the knot for real I'll get you a real nice one. Scout's honour"

oooooooooo

"Arghhh, the sun!" gasped Shaw like a doomed vampire. She fumbled a pair of sunglasses out of her bag with shaking hands and over her eyes, sighing in relief as her hangover subsided to a more normal level of crapness. Fusco smiled then winced and followed suit as his own hangover flared up inside his poor head. He closed the room's curtains again and they walked slowly out of the suite, hanging onto each other for support and pausing now and then when nausea and dizziness rose up. Several chambermaids smiled knowingly as the pasty-faced couple passed them.

"Christ! If we were in New York and some bad guys popped up we'd be toast. Lionel, what were we thinking of?"

"It's because we never take time off, Shaw. This life we've chosen is a 24/7 thing and there's no Root, Reese, or Finch to share the burden. I think we need to think about scheduling 'us time' in the future. I reckon we should get the Machine to prioritise the numbers – we just can't save every one of them. It's like police work – sometimes the bad guys get away. Talking of the Machine, I haven't heard from it for a while. Have you?"

"No. It's probably tutting away like Finch would have done". She giggled "Do you think it'll ground us when we get back, like a couple of kids?"

They entered the lift and Fusco raised the glasses on Shaw's face, took her face between his hands, and kissed her all the way to the ground floor.

"I may not get the chance to kiss Mrs. Fusco again so I thought I'd take the risk. I'll die a happy man" he said seriously.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll get more chances Mr. Fusco, even if I'm not your wife for much longer"

They lurched towards the nearest taxi.