Chapter 43: Spillway
Flack slid in beside her, barely getting the door closed before she slammed the jeep into gear, slinging mud behind them as they shot northbound. "I take it opening the spillway is not a good thing?"
"It is great for downriver, it is what stops New Orleans from getting flooded again," she said, trying to see through the mud on the windshield.
"Let me take a guess on where that water goes," Flack said, fighting the urge to look behind them.
"35,000 to 100,000 cubic feet per second from the river to the lake," she said, trying to avoid the ruts in the road.
Flack did some rough calculations in his head, wishing one of the lab rats was here. "How far from the river to the lake?" he asked, giving in and looking behind them. Sure enough, the land below the levee they were on was quickly disappearing.
"Six miles, but we just need to get to Airline," Gus said, pressing gently down on the gas as she shifted gears, trying to ignore both the rising water and her sense of panic.
She wasn't going to have finally figured out who killed her parents only drown before she and Don had a true shot at happy ever after. She wasn't freaking cursed, damn it!
"What was that, sunshine?" Flack asked, thinking he was hearing her say something about a curse again.
Gus let out a whoosh of air, "highway," she barked out, jutting her chin forward as they emerged from a last strand of cyprus trees. She pressed down on the accelerator hopping up on to the pavement, squealing across several lanes.
Flack held on for dear life, vowing to never her give her the keys in New York. They sped west less than a mile when she jerked them around a barricade. "Did that just say-" he started asking.
"Road closed, yeah, it's fine," she said as cut through LaPlace and back towards the interstate, the rain and wind buffeting the jeep as she white knuckled the steering wheel.
"Fine, there is nothing about this that is fine, Gus!" Flack protested, silently praying to not die in Louisiana.
Gus gulped, "I know, but we just need to get back. See if you can get a signal and call Billy, see if he knows anybody in the Feds locally."
They made it back to the interstate the only people out on the roads other than a couple of state troopers that flashed their lights at them.
Gus turned east, back towards New Orleans as Flack threw down the phone in anger, "not a damn bar, freaking technology, freaking hurricane."
Gus didn't blame him, she felt the same way, not to mention she was realizing how reckless it was to chase answers in the middle of a hurricane. She stabbed angrily at the button to turn the radio on, straining to hear through the static.
'Eye to pass ..Southeast Louisiana...next hour...unprecedented...all 350 bays...spillway...open' came the voice through the crackles.
"Damn," Gus breathed, slowing as they came up over the spillway on the interstate.
"I need a translator again," Flack said, wondering why she was slowing down, but slightly relieved.
"Means the eye is going to pass over us, which means this will let up for a bit," she said gesturing as she pulled to the shoulder, "and that all the bays of the spillway are open.
She had the jeep in park and was getting out before Flack realized what she was doing.
"Gus, what the hell, get back in the car, haven't you tried to kill us enough today?" he yelled after her, stopping short as he saw the look on her face as she surveyed the swamp below.
Flack shook his head, exiting the jeep as well, it wasn't like they were going to get any wetter. He paled slightly as he spied the river in the distance and the now lack of land between it and them; raging waters flowing under their feet as the water made its way unrelentingly toward the lake. The earth had disappeared as though it had never existed in the first place.
He took in Gus' expression, could tell she was holding back tears. Flack looked back out at where they had been, trying to spy the three separate groves of trees. "How often do they open all the bays?" he asked, a sinking feeling in his gut.
"All 350? Almost never; It floods too much habitat, washes away everything in the spillway. Everything," she implored, a single tear escaping from the corner of her eye.
Flack realized what she meant when she said 'everything'. "Gus, I'm sorry," he said as she angrily brushed the tear away.
"It isn't your fault, Don," she said.
"Maybe the camp didn't flood, we were pretty high up," he suggested, knowing it wasn't true.
Gus closed her eyes, "nice try, Don, but you and I both know, Malleville is getting off. Again. And now Stella is going to be working with a serial killer."
"You don't know that, you could still take what you saw to the FBI," he trailed off, his training kicking in; knowing they would look like lunatics if they tried to take this further. "Fuck!" he bellowed into the wind and rain that were still lashing out at them.
"That sick fucking asshole is going to get away with it unless-" Gus said, before stopping short.
Flack saw the look in her eyes, knew it from his own darkest day. "No, I won't let you, it won't bring your parents back, it won't fix anything. I won't let you. I barely came back, Gus, I wouldn't have if..." he trailed off.
He grabbed Gus and pulling her to his chest, holding her tighter as she struggled, knowing the battle happening between her head and her heart. "I am not going to let you kill Malleville because I love you and there has been enough blood spilled already. That is not the life I am going to build with you. We have to let everything else go."
Gus looked up at him, raining pelting down on them, their clothes plastered against their bodies, seemingly the only two people on the all but abandoned highway. "He deserves to rot in hell, Don," she said, looking up at him.
"But you aren't going to be the one putting him there. You are better than that and I want you, no need you, only you, Gus, forever," he said, his voice cracking slightly, the ghosts of their past breaking free as his lips sought hers, being swept away with the raging waters below them.
Chapter 44: Let It Go
The ringing of their phones brought them back to reality, the cell towers back up as the sky over them cleared, the eye of the hurricane passing overhead.
"We should head home," Gus said, meaning more than just back to New Orleans.
Flack nodded, realizing how soaked they and the mud covered jeep were. "Get your boxers out of a twist, Brooks, we are fine and headed back," he said into Gus' phone as she pointed them back east.
"Who the hell goes into the spillway in the middle of a hurricane while they are opening the bays?" Billy exclaimed as they tried to explain why they showed up soaked and covered in mud on the back porch.
"I just can't even, I should turn the hose on both of you, trying to give me a heart attack and going to mess up my clean floors. Just go, hot showers both of you and I'll fix us something to eat and drink. Dear Lord tiny baby Jesus," he said, shaking his head.
"I think we should just burn them," Gus said, pointing at their sopping pile of clothes on the floor, wrapped in a robe after she showered.
"As if they would catch," Flack remarked, squeezing out his shoe. "Are you going to tell Brooks about the camp?" he asked when he emerged from the shower.
"I don't know," Gus replied with a sigh from her seat at the vanity, fighting the wet tangles in her hair. "I mean, what good will it do? Like you said, I have to just let it go, I wanted to know who killed my parents, now I do, and I can't do a damn thing about it!"
The bitterness was clear in her voice, causing Flack to look at her with concern.
"I am not going to sneak away and put a round in his head, Don, even if I want to. I heard you, I know what you meant and that isn't how I want to start over with you either. Besides, I am too pretty for prison."
The joke lay flat between them, worry etched on Flack's face. "It isn't starting over, Gus, it's picking up where we left off."
"Which time?" she asked, looking at him in the mirror.
"I'm just saying, I know it isn't a blank slate between us, but that's good in some ways. Like we already know what drives the other person crazy and we get to skip over all the bullshit."
"Don Flack, endless romantic," Gus replied with a smile, knowing what he meant.
"Never took you for the flowers and chocolate type, Augusta, I remember that not going well the few times we tried it."
"It isn't that I don't like romance, Don, it's that I don't think love is something that you only express when socially mandated, you know?" she said, giving up on her hair and just pulling it back.
"Noted," he said, kissing her on her head as he passed by, towel around his waist, hoping he had clean clothes, he hadn't packed much.
Gus followed him into the bedroom, taking in his scowl as he looked at his empty carry-on. She opened a drawer on the dresser to reveal his freshly laundered clothing. "
As much as I hate to tell you where your clothing is," she said with a smile, tugging on the towel around his waist, "I made sure it all got to the laundry before I had my little childhood revisit yesterday."
"Another non-socially mandated reason why I love you," Flack replied, moving in for a kiss, giving her a smirk when he broke off, taking in the flush of her cheeks as he let the towel fall to the floor.
"You two going to tell me what you learned on your little jaunt or not?" Billy asked as they sat around the table playing cards and drinking later, the remains of the hurricane blowing through.
Flack and Gus exchanged a long look, Billy just sat with his eyebrows raised until Gus said, "not now, and I fold."
"What happened out there to you, Augusta, you never fold!" Billy exclaimed, looking at his friend but not pressing when he saw the look on Flack's face.
"Finally learning my lesson and growing up, Tibs, that's all," she said, getting up to make them more drinks.
"Perish the thought," Billy teased but giving Flack a look.
Flack just shook his head, saying, "call."
Gus was plagued by nightmares all night long, soothed only briefly by Flack holding her tightly. She had just bolted upright from another one involving raging waters sweeping him away when she heard the doorbell chime at daybreak the next morning.
Flack was passed out beside her, was snoring lightly. She felt bad, knowing how sleep deprived they all were. She slipped out of bed, pulling her robe around her, the doorbell sounding again. She was thankful it hadn't woken Billy, he had left sometime late the night before, wanting to make sure the bars had made it fine through the storm.
She peered out the sidelight on the front door, thinking it was probably some stupid tourists looking to see what damage there was in the park, but was taken aback when she saw Lieutenant Colston and a uniform standing there.
"Sir," she said, opening the door warily.
"You are still here," he said, giving her a nod.
Gus suddenly felt very naked underneath her robe and clutched in closed around her. "For the time being, why don't y'all come in and I will put some coffee on?"
Colston cleared his throat, "this isn't really a social call, Broussard."
Gus just nodded, unsure how to react, wanting to know why her temporary boss was suddenly on her doorstep acting close-mouthed.
The uniform shifted behind him, his hand resting on his service weapon in a way that made Gus' eyes narrow. Colston caught her change of expression, following her eyes. "
Reade, get back in the damn car, I've got this," he barked, causing the uniform to practically run down the steps and back around into the service alley.
"Cup of coffee sounds great, Broussard," he said, still uneasy.
Gus threw open the door, hoping that Flack stayed asleep upstairs. "Please, come in," she said, ushering them to the kitchen. "Pick your poison," she said, gesturing to the coffee. She got out cream and sugar, sliding the cup of french roast back at Colston.
"So if this isn't a social call and you know I am not accepting any job offers, why are you here?" she said, taking a large gulp of coffee and getting straight to the point.
"Angela Grant come into the station early this morning to turn herself in for killing Commander Malleville."
Gus barely made it to the sink in time to spit her coffee out, "she did WHAT?!"
Flack chose that point to come padding down the stairs, still pulling a shirt over his head. "Sunshine, why are you up, I thought we could sleep in one morning since we figured out-" he stopped seeing the obvious cop sitting at the kitchen island.
"Care to join Lieutenant Colston and I for coffee, Detective Flack?" Gus asked by way of introduction as though they were hanging out in the precinct break room.
Flack shot her a smirk behind Colston's back, he had to give it to her, even in clad only in a short robe, she still could bust some balls.
"Out early this morning, huh, Lieutenant? I don't know how to convince you guys, but I'm under orders to get her back to the NYPD asap," he said, sidling up to the kitchen island, towering over the seated Colston.
"As I was telling your, uh, Broussard here, it isn't a social call. I understand you two met Victor Grant's widow yesterday, she was under the impression you worked for the NOPD, which I found highly interesting when she showed up in my office looking to confess to shooting Commander Malleville late last night."
Gus forced herself to look directly at Colston, hoping Flack would follow suit, staring the man square in the face before asking, "did she now?"
"Considering she was still covered in his blood when she came in, I would say yes, don't get many false confessions these days, especially not when they are coming in with bits of the vic in their hair."
"What exactly can we help you with then, Lieutenant?" Flask asked, standing tall with squared shoulders and his arms flexing across his chest.
Colston stood as well, though it was Gus he chose to face off with. "Just found it curious why Mrs. Grant wanted me to tell you that she hoped this answered all the questions she didn't yesterday. Anything you want to fill me in on, Broussard?"
"Officially?" Gus asked, wishing she had put on some damn pants before answering the door.
Colston put his hands up, "how about you tell me and I let you know what I put in the report?"
Gus allowed herself one small look to Flack, who gave the smallest shake of his head. "We did meet her yesterday, we never said we were with NOPD."
"How the hell did you meet up with a woman who lives out in the swamps in the middle of the hurricane?" Colston said shaking his head and wondering if this had anything to do with the mud covered jeep the cruiser parked behind.
Gus gave a shrug with little information. "I was curious to who killed my parents, sir."
Colston looked from one detective to the other, weighing what he wanted to know and what he needed for his damn report. "Are you still curious, Broussard?"
Gus gave a firm shake of her head, "nope, think I got it out of my system, sir."
"Full confession, she say why?" Flack asked, his face still blank.
Colston looked at the other man curiously, "said she blamed him for her husband's troubles and suicide, felt it was time for him to face the music."
Flack raised his eyebrows, "sounds like you have everything you need for your report then."
"I supposed I do, just wanted to pass the message along and see, oh hell, what does it matter? How much longer are you in town for, Broussard?" Colston said, rubbing as his head.
Gus looked at Flack before answering, "I'm thinking not much longer, sir."
"Good, next time just come back for Mardi Gras or something and stay the hell out of my hair," he said, already walking toward the door, "thanks for the coffee."
"Are you freaking kidding me?" Flack said as soon as Colston left.
Gus slumped at the counter, feeling shaky, "I don't...I can't even, but I think I will take it. As horrible as that sounds."
"Do you think she knew?" Flack asked, rubbing her shoulders.
She nodded, sadly, "as I said, I don't think someone can be married to somebody for that long and not have some idea. I think she knew all along, she just didn't want to admit it and then we show up on her doorstep and stirred everything up."
"Please don't tell me you are blaming yourself for Angela Grant taking out a frigging serial killer!" Flack protested, spinning her stool around to face him.
Gus sighed, "I'm not, it just almost seems too easy, too convenient."
Flack made a strangled noise, "Gus, you've spent most of your life wondering what happened to your parents, thinking you were cursed. We almost got washed away in a hurricane yesterday, none of this has been easy or convenient. It's done now, you can move on, we can move on. Who cares how it happened? He got what he deserved."
She nodded stoically."You're right, it certainly hasn't been easy but it is over. I can let it go and we can move on. Maybe I put some pants first though?" she said with a forced smile.
"In a minute," Flack retorted, pulling her up off the stool and in for a kiss, turning her smile into a much more genuine one.
Chapter 45: Walk Among the Angels
"Anyone want to tell me why I just ran into two policemen in my drive wanting to know where you two were last night and good lord, could you please take that upstairs it is far too early for that nonsense," Billy said, coming in the backdoor off the kitchen.
"Pants," Gus said, breathlessly, running for the stairs.
"Morning, Brooks," Flack replied with a Cheshire grin.
"About those policemen?" Brooks queried, making himself a cup of coffee.
Flack nodded, unsure of how much Gus wanted him to know. "Let's just say I am guessing we will be heading back to New York soon."
"Well thank god for that, though you better be good to her, or I swear I will get on a plane and kick your fine behind," Billy said, shaking his finger at Flack.
"I am planning on it and I would love to see you try, Brooks."
Gus came downstairs, clad in another sundress Flack knew he was going to miss when they headed back to the city and she had to start dressing like a detective again. "Boys, do I need to separate you two?" she said with a wide smile.
"We're fine, Gus," Flack replied, looking at her admiringly.
"Detective Sexy here was just telling me he wants back in the Big Apple soon, and I was just thinking you better make sure you show him all of the Big Easy first," Billy said, looking at his friend and her beau, silently wishing them both the best.
"Well let's see, he got wasted in the Quarter, I gave him the disaster tour, he saw the house I grew up in and the one that I sold to buy my co-op, he helped me solve my parents murder, we almost drowned in a hurricane and we learned that Stella's almost new boss was a serial killer who got shot by a woman we met out in the swamp yesterday. I am thinking we're good, Tibs, but thanks," Gus said, ticking the items off on her fingers.
"I'm going to need a minute to digest all that and a lot more coffee, sugar," Billy said, shaking his head in amazement.
"Speaking of hurricanes, where are your keys to the jeep, Broussard?" Flack asked, his arm wrapped around Gus' waist.
Gus gestured with her chin toward the hooks but the door, "over there, why?" she asked, looking up at him curiously.
Flack kissed her on the forehead before striding over and grabbing her keys, "because if you think I am letting you drive again today after almost getting us both killed yesterday..." Gus narrowed her eyes at him until he broke into a dimpled smile. "Just teasing, sunshine, it's a nice jeep and maybe I don't get much of a chance to drive without tons of traffic."
"Fine, Flack, you can drive my jeep, but I control the radio," Gus said, grabbing her bag and following him out the door.
"What else is new?" he said with a smirk.
"Don, why are we here, how are we here?" Gus asked as Flack pulled up in front of familiar structure.
He turned off the jeep, "I know how to use my smart phone, you know! I thought you might like to light a couple of candles," Flack shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear, looking into her eyes.
"Yeah, but how did you know about this church?" she asked, as a couple of elderly women gingerly walked out after early morning mass.
"You pulled out those moldy photo albums when you first met Reed, I remembered you telling him it was the church your parents met in, showing him the pics of Claire at their wedding."
"Don, that was years ago!" she exclaimed.
"Yeah, but as I said, we ain't starting from scratch, that's a good thing. Now how about we go light some candles and you can tell Grams I willingly stepped foot in a church."
"You're a good man, Don Flack," she said, giving him a long kiss before heading in to light her candles.
Flack waited in the back of the church as Gus immediately made her way to the altar. Given the early hour of the weekday morning, the church was empty. He slipped in a pew, trying to think of the last time he had been in a church, the last time he had prayed, Grams certainly was on his ass about it enough. But faith had left him shortly after Jess bled out in the OR and he put a bullet in Cade's head.
Much had left him that day, except the blonde haired woman making her way to the side altar, until he almost destroyed them both and forced her to run again. He swallowed, bowing his head, thinking maybe it was time to find that faith again, to seek forgiveness.
He looked up seeing Gus' hand waver over a smaller votive, trying to decide to light it or not. Flack knew she was wrestling with her feelings over Malleville, torn between letting go and remembrance. He knew those feelings all too well, and his chest ached that she was hurting like he had.
Flack made his way toward the altar, his feet moving before his head could catch up. He couldn't help but think about another time he had been in a church with her lighting candles. The first ill-fated proposal after the case where those terminally ill kids were acting out murder-suicide fantasies. Had that really been over three years ago? Flack dropped to his knees beside her, lighting one large candle, crossing himself and mouthing a silent prayer.
Gus caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, barely shifting her eyes to look at him, the stick in her hand becoming engulfed in flames as she still debated. Flack looked at her for a long beat before taking the stick from her and lighting a smaller votive himself, raising his eyebrows at her before handing it back. She gave the barest of nods before lighting one last candle, offering up a small prayer, her eyes glistening with tears.
Flack squeezed her shoulder, kissing her on the top of her head before rising and walking back out of the church, wanting to give her a moment. Gus emerged from the church a couple of minutes later, looking slightly subdued but somehow lighter.
"Hey," he said, studying her carefully.
"Hey, yourself," she replied, standing on tiptoe to give him a peck, "thank you," she almost whispered.
Flack gave a small shrug, unsure of what to say. Gus could sense his discomfort, equally unsure of what to say. Wanting to not just stand there, she said, "we already found parking, wanna walk along the river?"
Flack nodded, following her down to the river path.
They walked along the wide river, cargo ships passing by, the Calliope of the paddlewheel sounding in the distance. They walked close, occasionally brushing up against each other, but lost in their own thoughts.
Having already felt distance from him too often, it was Gus who broke their silence first. "That big candle, it was for Jess wasn't it?" she said softly, looking out at the river instead of at him.
She knew this was the case, just like how she knew the smaller candle had been for Jess' killer. She wasn't sure why she wanted to hear Flack say it, except he had closed in on himself since walking along the river.
Flack nodded as he kept walking, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his voice almost terse,"yeah, that alright?"
Gus skidded to a stop, reaching out to catch his elbow, forcing him to stop as well. "Of course it is alright, Don. You loved her and she died! Do you think I am that petty?" she looked up at him with concern.
"I just know you and her were kind of on the outs before, you know-" Flack gestured, stepping off the path to let a pack of mothers with strollers roll through.
"Because I was stupid and lost you to her. Who wouldn't fall in love with her? I was jealous and angry, but that doesn't mean I don't understand how much it hurts. I know there will always be a little bit of your heart that died that day too, Don, I'm just hoping there is enough of it left over for me." Gus swallowed, trying to keep her emotions in check, feeling suddenly insignificant next to the river. She had thought her ghosts were put to rest, but she wasn't sure about his.
His response was to pull her to his chest, off the path as well, holding her tightly, despite the heat and humidity dampening them both. "How many times do I gotta tell you that I love you, that I have always loved you and I don't know how to stop even when I've tried?" Flack said, his voice heavy with emotion.
Gus stayed wrapped in his arms, though not returning his embrace as she was at war with herself. She had spent the past few months running herself ragged to banish all the demons in her life, but she still somehow felt something weight down her heart.
Flack stepped back slightly, releasing her, his hands remaining on her upper arms looking down at her. "What, what is going on with you, Gus?"
Gus walked over to the edge of the banks, wrapping her arms around her even as the heat weighed down the air. She looked out over the river with a sigh. "I do love you, Don, that is why I left, why I have worked so hard to get rid of all this stuff," she gestured widely, "but I still worry."
He stood beside her, a light smirk playing on his lips, "what else is new?" he asked, teasingly.
She studied the scenery for a moment before closing her eyes, knowing she had to let loose with all her fears if she really expected those ghosts to not keep haunting her, them.
"I worry that there will always be a little part of you that is wondering 'what if', what life could have been like with Jess, how easy and wonderful it would have been. I worry that you will never get over wondering that, especially since it is something that can't be known."
Flack sighed, shaking his head as he moved to the other side of the path, looking out at Jackson Square splayed below them, the French Quarter and rest of New Orleans beyond that.
"I worry the same thing about you and this damn city Gus, that you will always wonder what it would have been like if you had stayed, married Gage, down the uptown thing, if Katrina had never happened. So Jess is my New Orleans and we'll both never know what if, but that shouldn't stop us from the here and now. I want to give us another chance!"
"What if we've used up our second chances, Don?" Gus asked, following after him. She was slightly exasperated, though more with herself than Flack. She looked down at the square before looking back at him, the city disappearing as she took in his expression.
"Second chances don't expire, sunshine," he replied, reaching out and lightly stroking her cheek.
"What about third chances?" she quipped.
He smiled down at her, dimples on display, "you keeping count?"
Gus couldn't help but smile back, he had made her weak in the knees since the day she first ran into him. "Maybe," she said, her tone much lighter.
"Well then, third time is the charm, right?" he said, pulling her in for a deep kiss, much to the bemusement of the tourists around them.
Chapter 46: Home
"We need to get home," Gus said as they pulled back into the drive behind Billy's.
Flack gave her a sidelong glance, turning the ignition off, amazed she had relinquished her jeep to him again. "Um, sunshine..." he said, pointing up, wondering if she had gotten lost in her worries again; though he had hoped they were hashed out somewhere between the riverbanks and their long talk over breakfast.
Gus gave a sigh, looking up at the house before giving it a curt nod, as though she had been in silent conversation with it. "Home home, Don."
"What about helping Stella settle in?" Flack asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
"She can have Billy," Gus retorted, sliding down from her seat, her tone matter of fact.
"What about your jeep?" Flack asked, twirling the keys on his finger as he followed her up the back stairs.
"She can have that too. I just want to be home, in New York, with you!" Gus looked at him pleadingly as they reached the top of the stairs, standing on tiptoe and pulling him in for a kiss as she backed them through the door.
"I wasn't arguing, sunshine," he said as he broke away for air.
"Are you two still at it? Though I suppose you were apart for six months, still..." Billy chided, fanning himself.
"Shut it, Tibs, and slide that laptop over here, I need to book a couple of plane tickets back to New York," Gus said, sitting on a stool next to him and reaching for his computer.
"You mean like the plane tickets I already booked for tomorrow afternoon? Assuming you aren't so hot to trot that y'all can't give me one last night to show off this fine Yankee?" Billy all but batted his eyelashes at Flack, who blushed slightly.
Gus looked up at Flack questioningly. "It's fine, Gus, what's one more day?" Flack asked with a shrug.
"Did you really already buy us tickets, Billy?" Gus asked, looking shocked.
Billy nodded, "listening to Detective Finest over there this morning, I knew y'all needed to get back in a hot minute. Now I am assuming Colston isn't going to be trying to put either of you in handcuffs if y'all stay one more night, is he?"
Billy pulled out all the stops for their last night in New Orleans including the chef's table at Commander's complete with the full tasting menu and endless bottles of champagne.
"Maybe we could stay longer," Flack remarked over coffee as the dessert course was cleared, "though I'm not sure how I could handle runners in this heat eating like this all the time.
"They don't pay cops enough in this town to eat like this," Billy shot back, "which is a damn shame."
"They don't pay cops enough to eat like this in New York either," Flack mused.
"True, and we don't have your ridiculous housing costs here. Final offer on taking over the Brooks compound. Maybe we could just trade, Augusta, I could use a change of scenery." Billy looked at his friend with only a half teasing smile.
"Pretty sure your place is still worth more than mine, Billy! Feel free to come up to visit any time, darling," Gus said, feeling a bit overwhelmed.
"I don't know if New York could handle you both at the same time," Flack said, dimpling at them both, trying to lift the cloud of wistfulness that was suddenly hanging over the table. He was trying to understand, knowing that despite all the sadness New Orleans had cast over Gus' life, it still had been her home and Billy was her Danny. He was having similar feelings over his best friend possibly moving boroughs, let alone being 1300 miles away.
"Besides, I don't know what we would do with all that space in your house, I don't know how you deal with it."
"I am pretty sure y'all could come up with some ideas," Billy said, giving them both a knowing look.
Both men laughed as Gus turned beet red. Flack squeezed Gus' leg under the table, thinking he was very much looking forward to being back in the privacy of their own New York apartments.
"You sure about this?" Flack asked suddenly, halfway through their flight back to New York.
"That's quite the question at 30,000 feet. You expecting me to jump out of the plane, Don?" Gus replied, turning slightly in her seat to look at him.
He raised his eyebrows as a dimpled smile spread across his face, unable to resist teasing her, "you have made some pretty dramatic exits."
Gus gave a small snort and an eye roll before saying, "I am 100% positive. Besides, I don't think the NOPD could handle both Stella and I at the same time."
"No kidding, but I'm sure she'll kick their asses into shape pretty damn quick," Flack mused.
"Yeah you right!"
Flack couldn't help but laugh at Gus' drawl on an expression he had finally only understood after coming down to New Orleans, his laugh growing as her eyes narrowed at him and she haughtily asked, "why are you laughing at me?"
"Just remembering when you first crawled up out of the swamp, sunshine, half the time I didn't know what the hell you were saying."
"And now?" she pressed, her nose wrinkling.
"I get it, most of the time. Doesn't mean the guys aren't going to tease the hell out of you." Flack paused, looking at her for a long beat.
"What, what is it?" Gus' green eyes grew wide with worry.
Flack's expression turned serious, teasing gone as he came out with, "I was just wondering, if you and me are, you know, are you coming back to homicide?"
"Seeing as I'm a homicide detective, why wouldn't I? If Daddino didn't have a problem before he sent me on this little adventure, why would he have his panties in a bunch now?" Gus said with a shrug, but slid the magazine she was reading in the seat pocket in front of her, wondering where this conversation was going.
Flack ran his fingers through his dark hair, until reaching his neck, rubbing at it, one of his rare nervous tics. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to come out with it.
"I just heard that they got budget to hire an extra detective over in special vics and I think your name may have been mentioned."
Gus had an inkling at the underlying message by his tone. That it was Jimmy Doyle that had most likely been the one that had mentioned her name. She hadn't had much contact with Doyle while she had been away, and she hoped it wouldn't be entirely awkward when she got back to New York.
She twitched her nose slightly, silently reminding herself that they were both committed to making things work and putting ghosts to rest. "And?" she asked, refusing to give anything away, wanting Flack to admit his true feelings.
"I know you're good at it and I know they like you over there." He cleared his throat, looking at her intently, not ceding, even though Gus could tell he knew she was waiting on him to do so.
"Stubborn as a mule," she muttered under her breath, with a slight growl before remarking, "they do have better coffee and I suppose..." she trailed off, leading him on until she took in his expression. "I am kidding, Don, unless you want me to transfer or they make me, I have no intentions of going anywhere any damn time soon!"
"Good," he leaned back, his long legs tucking easily under the first class seat in front of them, leaving her infinitely thankful for Billy's gracious gift.
They continued on in silence for a while, Flack leaning his head back at closing his eyes, Gus staring out the window until she couldn't take it any longer. "You don't want me to transfer, do you?"
He didn't even open his eyes, but Gus knew by his tone that if he had, he would be giving her a look. "No, I don't want you to transfer, who else is going to make sure you don't shoot yourself in the foot?"
"Just because I am not the most graceful person ever, I have not once shot myself!" she protested, though she found his overprotective act slightly endearing, as long as it didn't affect their ability to do their jobs.
Flack's eyebrows shot up, eyes still closed in a silent "yet." She grumbled slightly, before a smile played on her lips as he reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers through hers. "I love you, sunshine."
"I love you too, blue eyes," Gus replied before leaning back for her own nap before they landed back home, in New York, were they both belonged.
A/N: I told y'all this one wasn't as dark. Continue on over to "How Does Your Garden Grow" for happy endings! (I mean not actually endings given my snippet stories and the fact that my muse decided to randomly come back after YEARS away!