Chapter 20: What's Up Doc? (Flackcentric)
Bolstered by Adam's visit and her conversation with Flack, Gus worked nearly round the clock for the next week.
"Alright, that's it, Augusta, day off, let's go soak up some sun, before you get New York pale again!" Billy exclaimed one Sunday morning, as she cloistered in her room.
Gus grumbled in protest but was already heading to change. "I am not that pale, I got sun at Jazz Fest last weekend!"
"Oh just hush, you minx or I'll make it a full spa day!"
Gus spent a lovely day in the Quarter with her friend, even if she kept thinking about the tub under her bed and how 35 days had already diminished to 28.
Her feelings of urgency turned to anxiety when she encountered Colston and another cop waiting for her the next morning. "Good morning, Detective Broussard, hope you are ready for another week of great work. Need to wring every last bit out of you that I can in the time we have left. That is unless you are considering the offer. This is Commander Malleville, he'll be in charge of the new cold case squad. He also is helping hire the new lab staff."
Gus shook his hand, studying the man just as carefully as he was her. "Commander nice to meet you, sir, hope I am leaving more to work with."
"Hope you don't leave me at all, you have worked wonders so far. Combine you with that friend of yours and her very impressive resume and I might get a clearance rate worth mentioning yet!"
"Thank you sir, and while I assure you that Stella's resume cannot do her justice and that she would be the biggest asset to your new lab, I am looking forward to getting back to New York."
"That's a shame, I've heard such great things about you. Not surprising given how good a detective your father was."
Gus felt herself start, "you knew my father, sir?"
"I did, we were in homicide together, back before it dissolved out to the precincts. Hell of a guy, shame about what happened to him."
Colston shot Malleville a look, which Gus caught, but couldn't find the words to press the issue further. "Anyway, we should get going, just wanted to introduce you two and to let you know that your friend is top pick with brass and the new mayor, they'll probably want to fly her in soon for a final interview."
Gus just nodded as they left, wondering how well Malleville knew her father and more importantly, what he knew about his death.
She worked straight through the next couple of days barely stopping to inhale food that Chanda brought her, blowing past Billy's waiting dinner when she got home until he all but dragged her back downstairs to eat.
"No, none of this hiding in your room and wasting away. You were like a drowned cat when you got here I will not send you back looking like a skeleton. Don't you roll your eyes at me like a petulant teenager, Augusta Broussard, your little friend Adam told me how much better you looked!"
Gus just kept eating, knowing better than to open her mouth.
She was thinking about all she wanted done in a short amount of time and how now it looked like they were going to offer Stella the job. Everyone was going to blame her if she took was going to kill did she have to open her big mouth? Just like why did she have to find that stupid box in the basement?
She angrily chewed her food, ignoring Billy staring at her, clearing her plate and placing it in the dishwasher. "Am I allowed to leave the table, sir?" she teased her friend.
"Well, since you ate all your vegetables. Have a lovely night doing whatever it is I don't want to know about up there under the eaves. However, if it involves that hunk of a cop, you tell him I said hello."
Gus threw her napkin at him before heading back to her room.
"Are you serious about this?" Flack asked, working his jaw, holding the slip of paper summoning him to staff psych in his hand.
All he wanted to do after the past two days was go home, drink a beer, watch the game and talk to Gus. The Harris case weighed heavily on him, he was just glad the kid's older brother had finally woken up.
"You fired your weapon and saw a suspect get hit and killed by a bus, so yes, you need cleared," McNair replied as the tall detective hovered in his doorway.
"Fine," he barked, taking a seat and trying to look relaxed. "Yes, I fired my weapon, after identifying myself, because he was openly firing at me, after he fired at two other cops! He chucked his gun and ran out into traffic like a frigging moron where he got hit by an MTA bus. Not the best day ever, but not the worse either. Definitely better than Troy Castro's day, the idiot."
"What about the boy, Sam?" McNair asked, flipping through the DB5s.
"What about the boy?" Flack barked back, wishing he had Gus there to coach him through this. "A couple of kids whose dad died a few months ago want to help their mother, so they get a hare-brained scheme to rob a bank and one of the brothers gets shot for it and the other one got scared half to death.
"Their father died of cancer, didn't he? Like your grandfather did, same thing that forced your father into retirement."
"Jesus Christ, McNair, what the hell do they put in our personnel files? What does this have to do with me getting duty clearance?"
McNair leaned forward, tapping his forefingers together. Flack fervently hoped Gus had never done that, an irritating and stereotypical stance if there ever was one. "Fine you have duty clearance, now can we talk?"
Flack narrowed his eyes at the psychologist and sighed, "what do you want to know?"
"Just how you deal with death, illness, loss; as it relates to you personally. I have a pretty good idea from your jacket how you deal with it professionally, but I am a little in the dark about how it affects you and your personal relationships."
"I do okay, about as good as anyone else I know," Flack replied with a nonchalant shrug. This was definitely high up on his stupid ideas list. He had spent his last session with the man talking about his parents bitter divorce and then the idiot suggested he try to talk to his mother about her role in the ordeal. Like that was ever going to happen.
McNair gave him a wry smile, "given the people you surround yourself with, Detective Flack, I'm not sure that is a positive thing."
Flack just leaned back, kicking his legs out and raising his eyebrows. "I deal with things as they come, best as I can. I pretty sure that is all anyone can do, Doc. And no I did not talk to my mother like you suggested or any of the other old stuff. I came here because I need help because a fellow officer all but bled out in my arms and I shot her murderer in the line of duty and I still see both of their faces at night. I came to you because the woman I love seems to keep skipping town and I don't really blame her for pulling a runner this time because I spent a good six months using her and acting like a grade-A asshole. I came to you because I want to know I am not going to mess things up when she gets back here."
McNair was pretty sure Detective Flack was talking about a certain psychologist turned detective, he had heard plenty of rumors about the two of them over the years. He also had heard things about the fellow officer Flack had mentioned and wondered how that fit in to Flack's future plans. "My suggestion to the first part of your problem is time and patience. To the second, all I will say is sometimes you need to go back before you can go forward."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You'll figure it out, Detective Flack, now I am sure we are both needed elsewhere," McNair replied, hastily scrawling his signature on Flack's duty clearance form and ushering the taller man out.
Chapter 21: Issues (Flack)
Gus was scribbling out notes on a legal pad when her phone rang, mere minutes after escaping to her room after Billy's forced dinner.
Only because it was Flack's ring tone did she answer, she would have let God go to voice mail while she tried to piece together information about Malleville and her father.
"Hey, blue eyes, it's been a couple of days," she said in greeting.
"Yeah, it has." His tone told Gus it had been a hell of a couple days.
She sat fully up, putting her pad down, swinging her legs over the end of the bed. "Want to talk about it?"
"I already did. Had to get duty clearance," Flack sighed.
Gus made a face, knowing how much Flack hated talking to cop docs, even if he had volunteered to talk to McNair. "Weapon discharge?" was all she asked.
"Yeah and watching a suspect get creamed by an express bus. Plus a kid got shot and I had to spend the past couple of days with his little brother who was trying to cover for the fact that they robbed a bank because their dad died of cancer a few months ago and Stella and Hawkes and I kind of got into it it just, sucked." Flack let out a large whoosh of air he didn't know he was holding. "How about you, how are you doing?" he asked, wanting to take the spotlight off him.
"Whoa, Don, that was a lot of information just now. You weren't kidding about trying to work through things, were you?"
"I know," Flack paused, pacing through his apartment. "Of course I'm not kidding about trying to work through things, aren't you still trying to work through things? "
"Yes I am trying to work through things! I just feel stuck. Like I am not making enough forward progress and I can't figure out what is holding me back; what is stopping me from forgiving myself so you can maybe forgive me." Gus flopped back on her bed, frustration clear in her voice.
Flack paced back and forth, the past couple of days pulling down on him, his frustrations and anxieties leaving him raw. He found himself gripping the phone tighter and tighter. "You keep saying that, but you are the one who won't take my forgiveness. You keep throwing it back to me, just like you did my proposal!" Flack shocked himself with those last words, where the hell had they come from?.
Gus felt her eyes go wide, her heart sink, once again their conversation had gone careening off-course. "I haven't thrown anything back at you, Don, I have tried to save you, protect you, always!"
Flack ran his hand over his face, stopping his pacing and sat heavily down on his couch. "Look, I thought this whole damn thing was about us figuring out what we wanted, what we needed, putting the past in the past, so why the hell do we have to bring everything back up?"
"Because maybe some things neither of us can ever let go of, things that are always going to stand in the way of you and I being together and we just need to face the facts." Gus chewed on her thumb nail, deep into the quick, not even noticing the pain.
"What are you trying to say, Gus?" Flack asked, trying to interpret her tone, hating that he couldn't see her face, read her body language, she sounded calm enough, but her words sounded so heavy.
Gus felt her breath catch in her throat, "I don't know. That maybe there are still things here I need to face, that maybe I won't ever be enough for you."
She took another deep breath before continuing. "I thought I was banishing all my demons, but maybe that isn't possible for me. The city, it gets in your blood, I don't expect you to understand that, Flack."
"So help me to!" Flack implored.
Gus clenched her fists at her sides, "I am not trying to be difficult, I am trying to be realistic. I made a gigantic mistake running away from you three years ago, but you didn't exactly fight for me, did you? And then I sat stubbornly by as you fell for your new partner. Then I let myself be your fuck buddy, believing that somewhere under your grief and guilt there was still love for me, but I could have been any faceless skirt from the bars."
"That isn't true, Gus, that isn't fair!" Flack protested.
She stared out the window, not really seeing. "Maybe, maybe not. The worst part is, I still remember standing in that alley, with you telling me how much you loved me and how you weren't taking no for an answer and believing you, but it sure as hell looks to me like you took no for an answer."
"We've been through this, how many times? You left, not me," Flack replied, standing once again, emotions running through him like a current.
"You let me go, Don! You didn't come after me. You let me come back and didn't say anything. You moved on. Not me."
Flack growled, "what about Doyle?"
"What about Doyle?" Gus yelled.
"Do you think I am stupid, Gus? You were wearing his vest, you spent the night with him, I can put two and two together. You slept with someone you were partnered with too, it wasn't just me!"
"Yes, slept with, one night, one drunken night because I was lonely and angry and tired of watching you fall more and more in love with Jess while my heart was breaking. It wasn't love or a relationship, it was drunken sex, which I think we are both aware can be pretty meaningless." Her words were as sharp as a knife.
Flack's voice cracked as he spoke. "Not one of those times was it meaningless. Angry, drunk, confused, lost, yes; but never meaningless, it can't ever be meaningless with you, even if I wanted it to."
"Do you?" Gus asked, dreading the answer.
"No, not for a second. That city of yours might get in your blood, but you have gotten in mine, Gus. You running, me not coming after you, Jess, Cade, Doyle, none of it changes how I feel about you. I love you, I have for a long time. I want to help you, protect you, I have since the first time I laid eyes on you; but I can only do that if you let me in!" Flack could feel his pulse thudding throughout his body.
"What if I can't?" Gus asked meekly.
"You can, you have!" he implored.
"What if these damn ghosts keep following me?" she cried out.
"Stop letting them and damn well stop running towards them. Come back home, come back to me."
Gus felt her stomach twist, "I want to, I really do."
"So get on the damn plane the second your exchange is over," Flack demanded.
"And then what?" Gus pressed.
Flack's reply was in a heated growl, "then I will pick you up at the airport and kiss you like I've wanted to do for months and we will figure everything else out, one thing at a time, together, we'll move forward."
Gus was overwhelmed with emotions, unable to sort out what she wanted to say or do. She hadn't been expecting a fight, hadn't been ready for the battle that had ensued, not to mention she could hear Billy hovering in the hallway. "Fine."
"Do you really mean that, Broussard, or are you trying to just get me to shut up?" His smirk was clear in his voice.
This brought the barest traces of a smile to her face, "you know me too well, Don. I guess what I mean is, we aren't going to figure anything out tonight or over the phone." She sighed, "I do love you. You are in my blood too, more than New Orleans. I want to figure everything out, with you, in New York."
Flack groaned as the knock sounded on his door, Danny, he forgot Danny was coming over to watch the game. "Look, sunshine, I gotta go, but please know there is nothing more I want than you back in New York. I miss you. I need you. I love you."
He was gone before Gus could formulate her response, leaving her with a clouded mind and heart as she tried to put on a brave face for Billy.
Chapter 22: See You Soon (Mac)
The game had just finished and Danny was talking about how Lindsay would be ticked that it had run late. Both of their phones started buzzing, and they looked at each other groaning. The last thing either of them wanted was another sleepless night...
Danny processed the scene, even though a security guard had caught the bloodied man fleeing from the opera house as Flack finished up at the hospital, happy Mac had only suffered a broken wrist and couple of ribs. He called Gus for the second time that night, wincing at the late hour.
"'lo," came Gus' croaking answer, she had decided to try to fall asleep after placating a fretting Billy and had done so with the help of whatever little white pill he had given her.
"Sorry to wake you, sunshine," Flack said, his mind filled with images of her curled in bed, warm with sleep, rubbing her eyes and squinting to see the clock.
"Hey, did you mean to call me or are you butt-dialing again?" she said with a yawn, wondering what more he could want at this late hour.
"I meant to call, and everything is fine, don't worry, but Mac had a nasty spill chasing a suspect and he broke his wrist and a couple of ribs. He is going to have to learn to take it easy for a week or so, which will be a barrel of monkeys to witness but he will be as good as new. Right now he is hopped up on painkillers and passed out, but I thought you should know." Flack worked hard to word everything so she wouldn't freak out, he hated having to make calls like this to her, it only supported her ridiculous curse theory. He could almost break Mac's other wrist for doing so.
Gus stretched with another yawn, wondering what the hell Billy had given her. "He really is fine, you aren't leaving anything out?"
Flack grinned, "nope, not one thing, just knew you would be mad if you didn't know right away."
"Madder than a hornet," she agreed, her voice sleepy.
Despite their heated discussion earlier, Flack felt more resolved about their relationship than he had in a while, his anxiety dissolving enough to allow his mind to fill with how he would rather be waking her up in the middle of the night. "I should let you get back to sleep, should try to get some myself," he croaked out silently adding, 'after a cold shower'.
"M'kay, sweet dreams, Flack, love you," she sighed, hanging up her phone and falling immediately back to sleep.
Gus vaguely recalled having a conversation with Flack late the night before, but only as she was scrolling through her phone looking for another number the next day while taking a beak from the basement.
"Crap, Uncle Mac!" she yelped, Chanda looking at her with concern. She called him, relieved to hear that he was fine, his painkillers doing their job, including making him loopy.
Gus was further reassured by Stella who was already playing nursemaid as much as he would allow.
"Really, he is going to be fine, he'll just hurt for a few days and is forced to take a couple of days off," Stella said. Gus could hear her walking away, "I got a call," she continued, her voice drastically lowered, "from the new Mayor."
"The new mayor called you?" Gus squeaked out.
Stella leaned back to make sure Mac was still lying on the couch blissfully unaware. "Yes, they want me to come down, but they said if they liked me and I liked them, the job was all but mine."
"When are you coming?" Gus asked, torn between excitement and dread.
"I don't know, I was going to come next week, but now with Mac out, I need to stick around here. I can't talk about it now, but I just had to let somebody know!" Stella sounded like a kid on Christmas morning.
Gus couldn't help but be happy for her friend, but worried about the potential fall out.
Chanda was on Gus the second she hung up the phone. "Your friend, the crime lab guru, is she coming, did she get the job? Are you going to stay then?"
"Chanda, chill. She doesn't know yet, she probably has the job if she wants it, but she had some things to take care of in New York. I am not staying, I need to get back to New York, I want to get back there. But maybe I should stay a little bit extra to help get Stella settled?"
"Mnn huh, a little bit extra, that is what they all say and then twenty years later they still here."
"Not me, Chanda, I've got things waiting for me back in the city."
"By things, you mean tall, dark, and blue-eyed, don't you? Now that you finally showed me his picture, I can't believe you ever came back down here, girl, you crazy."
"And that is exactly why I am going back!" Gus said, flouncing away.
Gus kept at things, trying to not wonder what was happening back in New York as she worked on trying to get things to a good stopping point in New Orleans in the less than three weeks she left.
She had made little headway on her parents case, other than painfully extracting a few pieces of blurred paper. She also was too chicken to ask Commander Malleville about her father or his death, especially since she didn't want to jeopardize Stella's job prospects or possible future working relationships.
Gus jumped when an email from her uncle arrived, wondering if he knew what Stella was pondering.
Gus,
Typing this with my left hand and not being a south paw like you, it is a little frustrating. As has being in my apartment as I have been for the past week. There are a lot of strange things that go on during the day in New York apartments. You seen a plethora of interesting things. Like your ex-girlfriend coming to town and staying with a conspiracy theorist ex-professor with a penchant for poison and almost getting killed by said guy at a benefit she came to town to attend. We stopped him before he poisoned a couple of hundred people. Don and Danny had a little dust-up on the roof with him, but they are both fine. Stop worrying. Yes, I saw Peyton again and I was reminded about many things: how things between her and I were always so unpredictable, how intelligent and compassionate she is, how things ended so poorly between us because she didn't give me a chance, how much I have missed her. She, of course, picked up on Dr. Hunter, Aubrey, the woman I was telling you about and Peyton admitted to being a bit jealous. I am not sure what to make of all it, especially since she is going back to London in a few days. My point of telling you this goes back to the last time Peyton and I were in New York together, when you ended things poorly with Don and how I should have stepped in then, but couldn't because I was off on my English holiday, blissfully unaware of how things were about to turn out poorly for either of us. I wonder how differently things might be today if I had been there to talk some sense into you or Don back then. I know we can't change the past, but I like to think I have some influence over your future, even if I am just your broken old uncle. I hope you have healed while down there, I know Don has, not completely and he may never do so, I know he certainly won't do so as long as you two are separated.
See you soon, Mac
A smile spread across her face as Gus promptly replied.
Mac,
Ha, welcome to my world! You try finding left-handed scissors yet? I jest. I am glad you are no worse for the wear, though I am acutely aware of how much broken ribs hurt (twice now!) and how long they take to heal. Hope you have learned to eat something with your pain meds. I am trying to imagine you just sitting anywhere during the day, unless it is in your office pondering something until you have a House, MD moment. Of course you witnessed a crime, only you, Uncle Mac! Or possibly me, sometimes I forget we aren't blood related. Peyton, huh? Yeah, I don't know how I feel about that one, but more because I know how hurt you were when she broke up with you by letter. Yes, I know I sent my badge and gun back by express mail, but I told Don in person at least. Even if it was of the most ill- conceived things I have ever done, including the time I hot-wired that nun's car. I can still hear you and Claire yelling about that one...I was just practicing, I swear! No, you can't change the past, but that doesn't stop me from wishing you had knocked our heads together so I wouldn't be in the predicament I am now. Can't wait to see you, promise I won't squeeze you too hard when I do.
Love ya, Gussie