Chapter 26: Cat's Out the Bag

Decision made, Stella must have not wasted anytime after making her decision, Gus mused. Her first clue a text from Mac.

What did you do down there, Gussie? -Mac

A terse phone call followed later, though by the time they hung up, Gus thought she had talked him down.

Danny's email was much lighter, bringing a smile to her face.

BB,

Thanks for taking good care of my wife, she had a big smile on her face, though it did dim when I told her how much the place is. I think you took her mind off things, she is refusing to take any time off work. I guess Stella must have had the good time as well, considering her news. I don't know if she meant for the whole lab to know, but when Mac started yelling, we kind of all figured it out. Now I am glad we didn't take a Messer family vacation down there or we might all be relocating, unless of course you know of a nice affordable 2+ bed in a good school district? Did I seriously just type that? Jesus, I'm getting old.

Talk to you later, Messer

Sheldon left her teasing voicemail, wondering where was his job offer and Adam had her in stitches with his impression of Mac when he called.

Her conversation with Don was interesting, to say the least.

"Was this the personal stuff you were talking about before?" Flack asked, an edge to his voice. He was sure that Stella's announcement meant he had lost Gus forever.

"Kinda I knew they were really interested in her," Gus admitted.

"And how did they know about her to even be interested in her?" he pushed.

"Because I may have told her how awful the lab was here and apparently bragged on y'all too much," Gus replied, sheepishly.

He decided to just come out with it, tired of not having firm ground underneath them. "Are you not going to come back because Stella is coming there?" he growled.

"Don, what are you angry about? This is a great opportunity for your friend. Stella will be invaluable down here. I expected Mac to bite my head off, but not you!" Gus was not expecting this.

"Answer the question, are you coming home in a week or not?" Flack rubbed at his throbbing head. They had been so damn close to everything working out the way he wanted it to, the way it should.

"I am coming home," Gus replied, her voice catching.

"In a week or longer?" Don pressed, starting to sound like he was in interrogation.

Gus immediately confessed. "I don't know," I would like to help Stella settle in and I kind of got an offer to extend my time, I haven't talked to Daddino about it, though."

"Haven't talked to our boss about it, sunshine? Did you think about maybe talking to me about it?"

"I haven't talked to anybody about it, Flack!" Gus shot back.

"Stella doesn't need you to hold her hand, Gus, I think you have done enough!"

"That isn't fair, she is a grown woman capable of making her own informed decisions," Gus argued.

"Which is why she'll settle in just fine on her own! Are you trying to avoid coming back here, back to me?" Flack asked through clenched teeth, even though his anger was a cover for his fear.

"I'm not, Don! There is one last thing I need to handle here, not just for me, for us," she begged.

"How is you and me being apart for us?" Flack snapped.

"Not for forever, I'm just saying I might need a couple of extra weeks to do this last thing. If I was going on a yoga mounting retreat would you be as pissed?" she countered.

"Probably!" he snarled.

"And why is that?" she growled back.

"Because I am getting really tired of cold showers and eating by myself, I want you, damn it!" Flack flopped down on his bed, realizing that Piroleaux had heard every word of their phone conversation. He was glad that the stupid kid would be going back to the swamp soon.

"Cold showers, huh?" Gus retorted, her smirk dissolving into laughter for them both.

"Look, Stella's calling in, I should talk to her since, as you pointed out, I created this mess for her. I'll talk to you more soon. And try to think of all the money you have saved with those cold showers. I love you, blue eyes." She had clicked over before Flack could formulate a retort.

"So you just put it all out there, huh?" Gus asked her friend.

"Treat it like band-aid, just yank that sucker off. It still hurt."

"How much does my uncle hate me?"

Stella chuckled, "Mac will be fine, especially since I said I would help find my replacement. Not that anyone could replace me."

"When are you coming?" Gus held her breath.

"I'm not sure. How much longer are you there for?"

"I don't know. It is only supposed to be a week, but I was thinking of taking some time. There's another thing," Gus started.

Something in her tone caught Stella's attention, "yeah?"

"New Commander offered to help me solve my parents' murder if I stay on for six more months," Gus revealed.

Stella hesitated. "That would mean you will have been gone a year."

"I can do basic math Stella! I would never consider it except, I think the he knows more than he is letting on!"

"He is withholding information on a homicide investigation to keep you there for his own benefit? What kind of place am I getting myself into?" Stella blanched.

"That kind of place, means you have the chance to exact some lasting change. I want to get back, but it is my parents, Stel! Remember what it felt like for you to find out about your mother?"

Stella nodded, "true, but what about Don?"

"I need to be free of this," Gus cried.

"Just remember he loves you in the here and now, you can't live in the past."

Gus' final official week in New Orleans slipped by in the blink of an eye. She hadn't made any decisions even though it was weighing on her. She did want to be here as Stella came to look for a place to leave and meet some VIPs, but after that was up in the air.

It wasn't that she was torn between her head and her heart, Gus was torn between her heart and her heart; her past and present, her ghosts and a happy future.

Luckily, other people had her best interests at heart.

"She can't really be thinking about staying, can she?" Flack said, sitting down in Stella's office while she sorted through her things.

"I don't know what she is thinking, Don, " Stella said, seeing the pain clearly etched on her friend's face. She knew what Gus was thinking, but she didn't want to betray her trust. She also wanted Flack to show some damn initiative. Danny flew to Montana for Lindsay and that was well before things got serious between the two of them.

Flack narrowed his eyes, "maybe she is thinking about you moving down there?"

"Flack!" Stella warned though she could see how he would place blame on her and she was willing to take it. Gus had been clear that she wanted back in New York asap until Stella announced she was moving, Flack didn't need to know about the Malleville issue.

Flack growled, "I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought she wanted back in New York, permanently. I feel like I have lost her so many times and Jess' death made it clear that things change in the blink of an eye and that regret eats you alive. I can't go through losing Gus again. She belongs here, with me, forever. I should have gone after her last time, that's my regret to bear, but I am fighting for her, for us this time!"

Stella looked at him with ire, "Don, I'm not the one you should tell this to. If you want Gus back, come down with me, and tell her yourself."

"To New Orleans? You want me to leave New York, get on a plane, go down there and what? Throw her over my shoulder and drag her back like she is an alligator I pulled out of the swamp? Come on, Stel, be serious!."

Stella had a twinkle in her eye. Even though she was leaving, she still wanted the best for her team; and she knew what was best for Don was Gus.

"I am being serious. How many letters has she written, called or emailed? She does belong her, with you, in New York. This is her home. You two have struggled, but you never stopped loving each other. If you want to spend your life with her, go to her and tell her that see what happens."

"I already tried that, I told her I loved her and I wanted to work on things when she got back to New York," Flack petulantly replied.

Stella blew out exasperatedly. "You are only willing to fight for her on home turf? And telling her you love her isn't the same as telling her you want to spend your life with her."

Flack rolled his eyes, "I tried that first, remember, I give her a ring three years ago and it was like poof, disappearing Gus."

"How much has happened since then? Honestly, do you still love her and want to be with her as much as when you gave her the ring?" Stella crossed her arms over her chest, scrutinizing him.

"I'll always love her, and I want her even more, that isn't the issue, Stel!"

"Forget about the issues for just a second."

Flack smirked at her, "that's like saying forget about the evidence, can't believe you would tell me to do that."

"I already know what the evidence says, Don, I'm just trying to get my suspect to confess. Fly down with me and just see what happens."

"What if what happens it all goes to hell?" Flack asked worriedly.

Stella snorted, "In the unlikely event that happens, drinks are on me."

Chapter 27: Knock 'Em Dead (Flack&Stella)

"I'm going to go for a run," Gus said, her nervous energy over Stella coming winning out over sitting on the porch with Billy.

"You sure sugar, I can make you another drink?" Billy said, pointing at her empty tumbler.

"Unless you need my help, Stella is my friend and I am the one that helped convince her to give up her life in New York to move to the swamp."

Billy laughed, "somehow, I don't think anyone convinces Stella to do anything! Everything is under control, darling, enjoy your run."

Gus pulled on a NYPD t-shirt and shorts, trying to not be overwhelmed by the humidity as she jogged around Audubon Park. She took it all in: people whizzing by on skate or bikes, university co-eds soaking up the sun and celebrating finals, the security firm harassing off-leash owners, tourists eating picnics under live oaks hoping to catch catch sight of a celebrity. The same old park it had always been.

Except now it fell strange to Gus, everything and nothing being different at the same time. Gus felt caught between memory and reality as she realized this was no longer her park. She was so caught up in this realization, she didn't notice the goose crossing her path to get to one of the picnics.

She tripped over the goose, feathers flying as she fell, garnering an angry honk. Gus found herself wishing it was the angry honk of a yellow cab instead, laughing as she righted herself on the track hoping no one had seen.

Luck as not on her side, as jogging towards her was a pack of the now adult version of the trust fund, private school kids she had grown up with. She couldn't figure out why they were out here instead of calling drinking at the club a workout as they avoided going home to the spouses and offspring they hated.

"Graceful as always, Augusta Broussard," Caleb Preston remarked, his eyes flicking over her hungrily. "I didn't know you were still around."

"Barely, I head back to New York soon," Gus felt acid climb into her throat.

"You've been awfully scarce since Mardi Gras, New Orleans not good enough for you anymore?" Ross Hebert retorted with a smirk.

Gus was torn between irritation and guilt. "I've just been busy, trying to get the NOPD in shape for all y'all," she replied with a smile.

"Still playing with that?" Tamara Martin said, a look of distaste on her face.

Gus growled, but only Caleb heard. He did not want a scene. "We have to head now, but you should meet up with us tomorrow, have a real New Orleans send off, catch up with everyone before you leave," he said, moving closer to her with a sly look.

Gus instinctively moved away, "Ah sure, Caleb. That would be great." She instantly regretted it, would have never accepted if that crowd still didn't throw her off balance.

"Same time, same place, the usual, except now some of us have to get babysitters," Ross said, his eyes following a group of scantily clad sorority girls.

Tamara narrowed her eyes, snipping, "we need to go," before she flounced off.

Gus stood there shaking her head, some things never changed.

The next day dawned bright and hot. Gus groaned as she rolled over, temporarily confused why her bed was empty as she had yet again been dreaming about Don.

Billy was already at the table, breakfast pastries surrounding him, a strong pot of coffee waiting. "Well what do you want to do on one of your last days?" he remarked, setting down the paper.

"I am going back to New York, not dying, Billy, I can come visit," she countered, swiping a pastry.

He rolled his eyes, "you've done so well with that."

"Don't start" Gus said, though she knew it was the truth. "I'll be better, I promise. I am going to be better about a lot of things."

"You better mean that, Gus, otherwise I will come up there and drag you here myself."

"I don't doubt that, William Brooks. How about we do a little Magazine Street stroll?"

"Sounds divine, sugar!"

Later, laden down with shopping bags and sipping an afternoon iced coffee, Billy turned to her excitedly. "Where should we take dear Stella to dinner, somewhere where she will see how wonderful it is to be a New Orleanian?"

"I'm not sure, but it won't be tonight, Billy. Some big wigs are wooing from City Hall are wooing her at Galatoire's. She's going straight from the airport to meet them."

"She's not even coming here to freshen up first?" Billy asked, looking horrified.

"I am sure Stella will be gorgeous no matter what," Gus laughed.

He huffed, "fine, where should we go then?"

Gus averted her eyes, "I may have accidentally agreed to meeting Caleb, Ross and the rest of them for dinner."

"Jesus, Gus, the trust fund gang. Why are you punishing yourself?"

Gus smirked for a moment, "Billy, aren't we part of the trust fund gang?"

"Not like them! Besides, you don't come from much more than life insurance and a little West-LA oil money," Billy mocked.

"Thanks, sugar," Gus sniffed.

"You know what I mean. You didn't like them before, why would you want to go out with them now? Look around, you told Gage where to stick it at Comus, you don't have to do anything you don't want to!" Billy gestured.

"I know, but I think they will be more shocked if I do show," Gus said, hoping to throw them off-kilter.

"Fine, try to have fun with those pariahs. I'll be at the club later, if you want to come by. It's drag show night!" Billy's eyes lit up.

Gus suddenly drew her friend into a gigantic hug, "Billy, I am so happy for you" she exclaimed her eyes welling with tears.

"Because of drag queens?" Billy looked confused.

Gus sniffed, trying to not break into sobs. "No, because you're so happy" she wailed.

"Baby, you will be too, and soon," he said patting her on the back, thinking about the phone call he had received from Stella informing him that a certain blue-eyed detective would be with her.

Flack sighed, turning his phone off before settling into his seat. No answer on Gus' cell, which didn't shock him, they had spent six months trading voice mails. Stella was already settled into her seat, pulling out files.

Before the fasten seat-belt sign was even turned off, a child behind him started kicking his seat. "It's gonna be a long flight" he sighed, waving a flight attendant down for a drink as Stella smirked beside him.

Billy watched as Gus wrinkled her nose in the mirror. "You'll give yourself wrinkles," Billy sing-songed, zipping up her dress.

"You sound like your Mama," Gus smiled at him in the mirror.

"Hush your mouth, here you go," Billy replied, clasping a strand of pearls around Gus' neck. "Perfect" he cooed.

Gus fought back another eye roll, "sure you won't be needing these tonight?"

"I have plenty," Billy, replied, sashaying out.

Flack sucked down another drink. Between being to tall for the bulkhead, the kid behind him and and Stella laughing at him, he was beginning to think this was a bad idea. As the plane descended, he studied the landscape below. It took him a moment to realize that the roofs weren't painted blue, but still covered in tarps. Flack grimaced and leaned his head back on the headrest.

As soon as they stepped into the jet way, Flack was hit with air so thick it felt like it was gripping his lungs in a death lock. Perspiration beaded on his brow as he rolled up his sleeves. He took a tentative sniff of the air, cented with things he couldn't identify, and he was sort of glad he couldn't. He followed Stella toward baggage claim, taking in the dilapidated airport, tinny jazz playing over the loudspeaker.

"You sure about this, Stel?" he asked, pulling both of their bags from the carousel.

"Yes, Flack, I am, more sure than I have ever been. Now what about you?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Something tells me I better answer in the affirmative," he shot back with a dimpled grin. Stella just rolled her eyes and walked toward the cab stand. They decided on two different cabs since Stella was going downtown.

"You sure you will be fine?" Stella asked him as she grabbed her bag from him.

"I think I can manage giving the cab driver your directions, Stel," he smirked.

"I meant you aren't going to chicken out, right, Don?"

"Good to know you believe in me," he quipped.

Stella smiled, "I do, that's why I don't want you to mess this up."

"I'm fine, Stella, have a good dinner, knock 'em dead," Flack replied, giving her a salute.

Chapter 28: Trust Fund Gang

Gas sat at dinner, feeling out of place. She listened to the chatter around her, same as always: who was doing what and who, how were the Saints going to do, who were the best acts at jazz fest, how bad hurricane season was going to be and so on. Billy was right, she did not belong here. She needed to get home, and soon.

The cab driver Flack off in what appeared to be an alleyway. He looked at him with a 'don't mess with me' face as he pulled the suitcases out of the trunk. "Entrance is around front, on the park," the driver said pulling away. Flack wandered around to the front of the house, which did seem to be in the middle of a park.

"You must be the one Gussie is mooning over, are you just going to stand there gawking all night?" Billy bellowed from the porch having been watching out for the detective. Flack looked up confusedly, shaking his head as he took in the impeccably groomed man around his age yelling down at him. "Well get your cute behind up here so I can get a good look at you in the flesh. I have the feeling pictures don't do you justice!" Billy commanded as Flack's tall figure complied.

Flack was feeling very bewildered, wondering if you could get jet lag with only an hour's time difference."You look like you need one of these," Billy said shoving a drink at him. Flack swallowed most of it in one drink, the bitter liquid biting at his throat. "Sugar, down here in the swamp we sip sazeracs, we don't shoot them, he playfully chastised, making him another.

Flack studied his surroundings and host. Obviously this man had a lot of money. And style. And class. 'Thank god he's gay', Flack thought, otherwise he would not stand a chance.

"Augusta is out with the trust fund gang, god help her. I did not tell her you were coming as Stella made perfectly clear. For such a gorgeous woman she is a little scary," Billy informed Flack, gesturing for him to sit.

Flack nodded slowly, still trying to process everything. "Wait, trust fund gang, Gus?"

"I know, we might technically be part of them, but we are world's apart in anything that matters. Republican wannabes who hate gays and women who don't shut up and look pretty. No wonder Gus and I never got along with them. It was more Gage's thing. Thank god she finally put him in his place," Billy chatted away. Flack set his jaw working at the mention of Gus' ex.

Billy smiled at his ire. "You can find her easy enough, that gang doesn't have the ability to come up with an original thought. Dinner at Antoine's, drinks at Pat O's, then the Ritz for the ones that don't have to go home. Same as always, and boring," Billy rambled, sketching a map out on a napkin. "I would take you there myself, but I have to get to the club and those boys will like you a little too much, if you get my drift."

Flack still hadn't said much, digesting the information and trying to come up with a game plan. The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to keep drinking before he lost his nerve or found his sanity.

He followed the directions Billy had written on the napkin, as well as the verbal instructions of finding Good Friends if he couldn't find Gus and to avoid something called a hand grenade, a drink not the weapon.

The street Flack was on was closed off from traffic and filled with people in various stages of inebriation. Girls in short skirts called from doorways and Flack tried to discern if they were selling drinks or themselves. Neon lights glowed in the dark, a variety of sounds and smells assaulting his senses.

Antoine's had been standoffish until he flashed his badge, which worked despite not being the tell-tale crescent and star shape of the NOPD. He had missed them and was hoping to have better luck at this Pat O's place. He couldn't get over how hot and humid it was here, he needed something cold to drink but the only thing he could get was a frozen daiquiri. "When in Rome," he remarked.

Gus slumped at the table in the courtyard of Pat O's, marveling the alternate reality this group lived in. It didn't matter to any of them that the feds had screwed over the city, nobody knew if the levees would hold or that the murder rate was two times that of New York. They remained insulated by their money, power and connections. They made her feel like a sideshow freak for having a job she loved. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could click her heels and be back in New York.

Flack immediately spotted Gus in the courtyard, her hair a golden curtain over her bare shoulders, a pearl necklace against her tanned skin. He took in the scant floral dress and impossibly high-heeled sandals almost not recognizing her as she threw her head back to laugh at some nitwit in a peach polo.

He knew her well enough to know that was not genuine laughter, and her smile did not reach her eyes. Flack paused as he watched a jerk in boat shoes cozy up next to Gus, hesitating long enough that a bright red drink was shoved into his hands. He took a long pull, making a face at the cloying sweetness.

A girl in cut-offs that Flack would bet was not legal gave him a long look up and down. "Where you from, baby?" she asked.

"New York," Flack replied, finishing the icy drink before he melted.

"Nice," she said appraising him and waving over another drink, "you must be thirsty," she said replacing his hurricane.

Flack continued to stare across the courtyard, Gus illuminated by a fountain with multicolored flames shooting from its center. Flack couldn't figure out why there was a fire in this heat. He was entranced as Gus flicked her hair over her shoulder with manicured fingernails; looking not at all like his partner and much more like the nitwits she was surrounded by.

He was drenched in enough sweat that he accepted another drink from the tuxedo clad waiter. Flack watched as Gus was pulled in for a hug and kiss on her cheek by a newly arrived man-boy, a perfect clone of the rest. He couldn't take anymore of this scene. No wonder Gus was wavering on coming back to New York, she certainly seemed to fit in here. He slammed down the rest of his drink, and walked down the cobblestone alley back into the chaos of Bourbon street.

Gus made a face as she turned away from Ross' inebriated embrace, catching a familiar form out of the corner of her eye. She felt her breath catch, her heart wildly pounding. It's couldn't be, despite wishing to see him countless times over the past six months, there was no way Don Flack was in New Orleans. He hadn't come after last time when they were engaged, why would he now?

Her phone started buzzing from Billy, probably making sure she hadn't shot anyone. "Excuse me, y'all, I need to take this," she said, starting to step away from the table.

"Still hanging out with that queen?" Caleb asked, catching sight of her caller id.

Gus snapped, she had been letting the comments roll off her all night, bolstering her decision to return to New York on the next flight she could with the assuredness that she didn't belong here with any of them. "Yes, I am, and I enjoy his company a hell of a lot more than all y'all's. That 'queen' is more of a friend than any of y'all will ever be.

Chapter 29: Boat Shoes

"Argh, you were right, Billy, I never should have gone," Gus said calling her friend back.

"Well of course I was, sugar," Billy replied, "now did he find you?"

"Did who find?" Gus questioned, fighting through the crowd back out to Bourbon Street.

"Your hunka burning cop" Billy joked.

"Billy, what on earth are you talking about?" Gus asked, teetering over puddles and discarded cups.

"That blue-eyed detective you are obviously desperately in love with. Stella brought him with her, he showed up on the doorstep a little while ago. Quite the hostess gift, if you ask me," Billy chuckled to himself.

"Don Flack, my Don is here in New Orleans?" Gus struggled to not fall as she cut through the Quarter.

"In all his tall, dark, and handsome flesh," Billy confirmed.

"You've got to be kidding me," Gus said with a sigh, leaning against a brick wall .

"I wouldn't kid you about such things, honey. I sent him down with a map to Antonie's and Pat O's. I warned him to avoid gutter punks, lucky dogs, and hand grenades," Billy patted himself on the back.

"Oh Lord, it was him I saw. I gotta go find him, Billy!" Gus exclaimed, realizing he had seen Ross' pawing at her and had misinterpreted it.

"Good luck, baby," Billy rang off.

Gus' eyes darted up and down Bourbon, packed as usual on a Saturday night, the neon dizzying and the smells nauseating. Gus eyed the seedy strip clubs to the left, the gay bars to the right and the cheesy tourist traps in front of her. Not to mention the number of side streets, Flack could be anywhere.

"Show your tits!" came a drunken cry from a balcony above her.

"For the love of all that is holy!" Gus snapped.

"Yeah come on, woo hoo!" the jeers of his companions egging the man on.

The taunting had always bothered her, but tonight it pushed her over the edge, "hey ass face, Mardi Gras was in February and no New Orleans girl would ever show her goods for cheap Chinese plastic," she retorted, storming down the street, feeling the sting of a broken stand of beads hit her back.

Gus kept walking, trying to not trip in the ridiculous shoes Billy had made her wear, dodging vacationers with strollers who missed the memo on what the Quarter was like at night. "Damn tourists," Gus said, snarling as a glass bottle was thrown in the gutter next to her, shattering.

She cut down to Pirate's Alley toward the square to rest her throbbing feet for a second on the benches facing St. Louis Cathedral. She didn't allow herself long to lingering, getting up with a sigh because finding someone in the Quarter on a weekend night was a lost cause.

It was then Gus saw a familiar figure cutting unsteadily around the side of the Cabildo. He looked confused and lost, an expression Gus had hoped to never see again on Flack's face. He also seemed tipsy in a way that was vastly different than all the times she had picked up from his bar crawl of self-destruction after Jess' died.

Gus bounded over to where Flack was standing in front of a palm reader who was trying to entice him with a tarot card reading. "Sorry, you will have to find another easy mark tonight," Gus said to the woman in the head-scarf.

Grabbing Flack's elbow to steady him, she asked, "what are you doing here?" She took in his disheveled appearance and glassy eyes. "What all have you had to drink, blue eyes?" she furthered questioned.

His brow furrowed as he tried to recall them all. "Your friend gave me a couple of those drinks at his place- what do ya call them...a sazerac, oh and then one with mint in it, and a daiquiri. And then I had three of them too sweet red things at that horrible bar."

"So you had two sazeracs, a mint julep, a daiquiri and three hurricanes? Have you eaten?" she inquired.

Flack started to shake his head, but then stopped at the spinning. "No, I haven't. I also had a couple of drinks on the plane. Kid kept kicking my damn seat and Stella thought I was going to strangle it, so she bought me a couple of whiskeys."

Gus was amazed he was still standing. "Let's get you to Café du Monde, get you some coffee".

"Can't," Flack barked out.

"What do you mean you can't?"

Flack slumped on the nearest bench, Gus stood before him hoping he wasn't going to hurl.

"Can't, can't do this, can't give you that!" he gestured.

Gus leaned down to look at him, confused. "Can't give me what now?

"Fruity polo shirts, boat shoes," Flack shuddered, turning a little green.

Gus couldn't help but laugh, "yeah, I know blue eyes, those people make me sick too. Now let's get something to cut all that alcohol." Gus dragged him across the street.

Flack didn't improve much with coffee, "this seemed like a better idea in New York," he said.

"Just eat a beignet" Gus said, pushing the plate toward him.

He looked at the sugar-coated puffs and turned greener.

"Alright, I am taking you home, but please don't puke in Miss Loretta's Jag," Gus said pulling him toward the parking lot and shoving him into a car.

Flack leaned against cool window glass, wanting to say a lot but unable to form coherent words.

Back at the Brook's house, Flack went directly around to the front of the house while Gus was searching for the key to the back door. She looked up, finding him gone, yelping, "don't pull a me," as she moved around to the front.

Flack couldn't bring himself to climb the wide stairs, choosing instead to slump against an oak tree. Gus went over to help him up, but he dragged her down to sit beside him. Flack leaned back against the trunk, staring up into the night sky.

"I love you sunshine," Flack said finally, "but maybe you do belong here and not in New York. I, I definitely belong in New York." He forced himself to stand up again.

"Flack, I am not going to argue with you while you are experiencing your first New Orleans drunk," Gus said, shaking her head,"but I can't believe you came here. I thought we were going to sort everything out when I got back in a few days!"

"I know, but I was talking to Stella and she said I shouldn't wait if what I really wanted was you, so here I am." With that, Flack turned away and threw up about ten kinds of liquor into the base of the oak.

"On that fine note, let's get you to bed, you are going to hurt something fierce in the morning," Gus said, leading him inside.