Chapter 23: Bad
Gus forced the cab to stop as soon as she was out of sight. Sure it was getting late, but she was a cop after all and she would rather be anywhere than home right now. Gus found herself wandering around Lower Manhattan surprising herself when she ended up at Ground Zero.
It wasn't a place she went to very often, she didn't need the visual reminder of the day another part of her heart was taken from her.
Gus leaned against the chain link fence, looking into the void below. Despite the years slipping by faster and faster, and workers down in the pit even at this late hour, Gus felt a sense of abeyance.
Grief washed over her as she felt a hollowness in her heart, thinking all of this would be easier to handle if Claire was still here.
Claire, more a big sister than an aunt. Claire who not only understood her mother's mood swings, but also was her constant protector, no matter how many miles separated them. Claire, her ultimate confidant and friend and cheerleader.
"Why did you leave me?" Gus said, tears pricking her eyes and sliding silently down her cheeks.
Gus did not even hear the man approach until he was at her elbow, surprising since you could smell the alcohol and street reek on him from a block away.
"We all lost something that day," he said, his voice gruff and slurred.
"Some more than others," Gus retorted, waiting for him to beg for change.
"They haven't really left us though. You just gotta know where to look for them," the man said.
Gus stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and chewed on her lip, not wanting to encourage the man, not wanting to be mean either. "I don't have any change" she said, turning to face him.
"Maybe you need some," he joked back, his mouth breaking into a toothless grin. "
Tried that, it didn't work out too well," Gus joked back, though her tone was somber.
"Just gotta know where to look," the man repeated, and stabbed a dirty finger into her chest before turning and walking away.
"Wait!" Gus called following after him, thinking maybe she could buy the man some food or direct him to some social services or something.
Gus hurried across Fulton Street, happy there was no traffic, catching sight of the man entering the yard of St. Paul's Chapel.
Gus walked among the gravestones, many of them dating back over 200 years, searching for the man; Gus briefly wondered if he had passed out among them and hoped he had not hit his head.
"Um, sir?" she asked into the night, not sure what to call him, but figured 'sir' was far better than 'homeless dude'.
Gus noticed the gates of the chapel were open, perhaps he had gone inside. Gus entered the chapel, squeezing in through the small space in the heavy wooden doors.
She hadn't been in here before, she would have been, if Mac would have let her join the relief workers that set up camp here. Instead had sent her packing back down to New Orleans, which she supposed was better than him locking her up in the mental ward.
Gus had certainly seen enough pictures of the place, though they didn't do the building any justice. While there were certainly more ornate places in the world to worship, the whole building seemed to ebb and flow with spirits. The lights were dimmed, Gus presumed so people could quietly pray or meditate, and the place empty.
Giving up on finding the homeless man, Gus slid into one of the pews, taking in the deep marks left from the rescue workers boots. She had read they were planning on removing the pews to create a more open and inviting worship space, and that many who had sought refuge here after 9/11 were against it.
Gus was struck with a quote from a hymn growing up, 'New occasions make new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth', perhaps it was something she should consider a little more fully.
Gus bowed her head in prayer and contemplation, a movie of Claire, her parents, and everyone she had ever lost playing though her mind. She was brought back into the present by the wind whistling through the church in an eerie symphony, catching the heavy door and slamming it shut.
Gus' head snapped up and she spun around in the pew, her eyes landing on one of the banners hanging from the upper balcony. Her eyes trained on one of the quotes left by some well wisher...
"Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die," Gus read aloud to the empty church.
The wind picked up again, a chill in the air, proving that fall was indeed on its way. Gus shivered slightly, jumping again as the heavy door squeaky slowly open.
"Don't have to go home, but you can't stay here" Gus joked to herself, feeling goose bumps rise on her skin.
Walking out of the chapel and back towards the street, a streak of inky blackness caused Gus to yelp and stumble. The yowl of a wounded cat filled the night air as Gus pitched forward after stepping on the offending feline.
Knocking against a headstone, Gus immediately tasted blood and shook off seeing stars. Pulling herself up from the ground and brushing off the dirt, Gus too a quick inventory: skinned knees and palms, bit interior cheek, slight welt over her eye.
"Fabulous, thanks a lot scaredy cat," she grumbled at the cat, now curled on a grave marker and licking itself.
Spying an open but dicey bar on the other side of the street, Gus made her way carefully out of the church yard, trying to ignore her aches and pains.
Open with a passable clean bathroom and a neon sign proclaiming cheap PBRs called Gus like a siren song. After cleaning herself up the best should could, Gus sat at the bar nursing a can of beer and occasionally placing it on the welt above her eye.
"I get you ice," the barmaid informed her in a heavily accented voice. Gus guessed former Russian bloc country and wondered if the woman was even old enough to be serving liquor. It also made the name of the place, The National, pretty damn ironic. Judging by the servers, clientèle and decor, the place should be called Pravda or something.
"Ah, it seems Halloween has come early, for this is quite a treat I see sitting at my bar," a man around Gus' age said, sliding onto the stool next to her. Gus rolled her eyes and did not respond.
"Certainly a woman such as yourself does not normally drink something such as that," he pressed on, pointing at her can of cheap beer.
"It's good for this," Gus said, moving the can aside, revealing the gash on her forehead and hoping it would gross the guy out enough that he would move on. Surely he had his pick of underage foreign girls in this place?
"That is quite a nasty scrape you have there, let Ilya take a look at it, he used to be a doctor back in his country," the guy waved who Gus thought was a bouncer over.
"Oh god," Gus moaned to herself, hopefully she wouldn't end up in the Russian mob by the end of the night.
"It's nothing" she protested as Ilya prodded at her cut.
"It is nasty scrape, no stitches though. But need better cleaning. I be back," Ilya said, disappearing up a staircase.
"I am Dimitri and you?" the younger guy said, extending his hand.
"Gus," Gus replied, shaking his hand.
"Firm grip for such a pretty woman," Dimitri flirted bringing her hand to his lips.
"Perfectly acceptable grip for a cop," Gus said, pushing aside her suit jacket to show her badge.
Dimitri stiffened slightly, a police woman, ha, well, I can assure you we are all, how do you Americans say it, above the plank here."
Gus couldn't help but laugh at his slip in the idiom, "I think you mean board, and I am homicide not vice or major case. Just came in for a drink and to clean up."
"In that case, let me get you a real drink. What do you like?"
"Vodka will work," Gus answered, a little frightened of the brown liquor brands behind the bar.
Dimitri gripped at his chest, "you are trying to take my heart" he flirted shamelessly. "Here's what I do, I give you three to try from my favorites and you pick your own" Dimitri said, waving one of the barmaids over.
He spouted off to her in a language Gus had no hope of understanding and sat back studying her until Ilya came back with a first aid kit.
"I fix" he said, opening the kit up on the bar and picking out a couple of items.
Gus bite back a scream as the iodine bit into the wound as Ilya wiped at the gash and then applied two butterfly closures.
"There, better now" the man said before closing the kit and disappearing back into the shadows.
Gus sampled far more than three vodkas before deciding on her favorite, and found herself being pulled in by Dimitri's easy charms. A
fter a trip to the bathroom, Gus found herself being handed yet another cocktail from Dimitri. Protesting at the incessantly late hour, Gus refused it at first.
"Come on, last call, and then you can go home," Dimitri urged her on.
Gus complied, greatly enjoying the last drink, but following it up with some much needed water.
Dimitri continued chatting with her, about all sorts of things, including regaling her with humorous stories from the bar and talking about what it had been like in the neighborhood over the past six years.
Gus suddenly caught sight of the time, "Crap, I really need to go," she said jumping up off her stool. Thank god she was off the next day, but it was still late.
"I take you," Dimitri said, reaching for his leather blazer.
"Er, no, that's okay, the train station is right there or I can flag a cab," Gus said, her face flushing at the thought of this very hot, very foreign guy wanting to take her home.
Trying to reel in her emotions, which seemed to be running high right now, she melted when he said, "I come with you, make sure you get home safe."
Gus found herself nodding in agreement, somehow it seemed like the best idea she had heard in a while.
Seated in the back of the cab, Dimitri sitting far closer than a sober Gus would have been comfortable with, Gus took in the city lights, which appeared brighter and hotter than normal.
"Must have been some vodka," she mused to herself as they moved toward her building.
"Gramercy Park, nice address for police woman," Dimitri remarked.
"It was another life," Gus remarked with a giggle that surprised her.
"Wasn't there one of those spy things over here?" Dimitri asked as they pulled up to her place.
"Yeah, right around the corner," Gus said, getting out her keys."
What a case" she remarked, feeling oddly giddy about it, and forgetting temporarily about Devon and Flack. Well at least as much as she could forget about them.
"Would you like to come up for some coffee?" Gus asked, as the cab waited, feeling a sudden connection with Dimitri.
"That would be lovely," he answered with a wide grin as he waved the cab driver off.
"Damn," Gus swore as she had trouble fitting the key in the lock, in fact she was having trouble focusing on the lock. Coffee seemed like a great idea, with a boat load of water, she was so freaking thirsty.
"Let me," Dimitri said, leaning over her, helping her unlock the door.
Gus marveled at how soft and cool his skin was, she felt like she was burning up. She let her hand linger on top of his, barely aware of his pushing them through the doorway and her punching the elevator button.
"You are very beautiful police woman," Dimitri said, as the elevator doors closed on them.
Gus felt like things were in slow motion as he pushed her hair behind her ear and then pressed his lips against hers.
Everything seemed so clear, vivid and alive in that kiss, that Gus suddenly felt herself falling, then realizing it was just the elevator doors opening behind her.
Gus let them in to her apartment, gesturing for Dimitri to settle in on the couch. She hung up her suit jacket and set her gun, keys and badge on the entry table.
"I'm going to make that coffee" Gus said, fighting for breath and trying to keep her wits about her.
Gus puttered around in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish, laying her hot skin against the cold counter top and trying to figure out what she was doing.
She felt lost, confused and most of all muddled. As much as she wished it was Flack here instead of this random guy from a dive bar, she knew he was probably happily making out with Devon, if not doing much more, in her penthouse apartment.
Sighing, Gus prepared a tray of coffee and took it into the living room.
Dimitri seemed to be taking stock of her place. "Very beautiful belongings for a very beautiful-"
"If you call me a police woman again, you can leave," Gus cut him off.
"Lady. I am sorry, where I am from, woman such as yourself would not be allowed on the mean streets, they would be treated like princesses," Dimitri said, settling on to the sofa.
"Gilded cages are still cages," Gus said, taking a long drink off the bottle of water she had brought with her from the kitchen.
"True, true," Dimitri said, fixing himself a cup of coffee.
They sat in silence for a few moment while Gus tried, and failed, to get a grip on her hormones. This guy exuded sexiness in a slightly dangerous way, the bad boy she had fallen for too many times in her youth.
She knew she would most likely get burned, but knew on her turf without getting too many emotions involved, a night with this man could be just what she needed to get over Flack. Not to mention he had excellent taste in vodka.
"You look like deep thinker now," Dimitri remarked.
"I do that some times" Gus said, acutely aware of his hand inching up her thigh. What the hell, as long as we're safe, Gus thought, giving in to the waves of passion currently engulfing her.
Leading him to her bedroom, Gus forged ahead before she could chicken out, unbuttoning his shirt in the doorway.
He caught her arms, "I can tell, you like to be in charge," he growled.
"Part of being police woman I suppose," Gus teased, latching onto him and confused when he stepped away.
Must be some sort of culture thing, Gus mused, thinking about all the compliant mail order brides she had heard about.
"Look, I did good with vodka, right?" Dimitri asked, his eyes heavy with lust. Gus nodded, words escaping her. "Than trust me" he said, lifting her onto the bed and working Gus out of most of her clothing.
"No, what?" Gus lamely protested between heated kisses as he wound a scarf over her eyes.
"Shhhhh, zolotoi, just lie back and enjoy," Dimitri said, his tongue making her incapable of thought or speech as it dipped from her ear to her cleavage to her stomach.
Gus squirmed at the lack of control, but found herself more turned on by it than anything.
At least until she felt the cold bite of metal into her wrist and heard the scrape of her cuffs as he wound them through her wrought iron headboard and on to her other wrist.
"What? What are you doing?" Gus said, struggling against the metal.
"Hush now lastochka," Dimitri whispered into her ear, nibbling slowly on her lobe. The handcuffs bit into the skin of her wrists, but the pain was just one more sensation washing over her, as Gus writhed on the bed beneath his skilled hands.
Gus was suddenly caught with the thought that this feeling of powerlessness, helplessness, utter lack of control was something she had been running from her whole life. But in all actuality it wasn't so bad, because she had survived, no matter what she always did.
She was struck with another flash of introspection, that despite the myriad of rolls in the hay with Flack, they had never actually used their cuffs on each other, both being such strong personalities. But maybe it would be nice.
Better than nice, in fact, she rather wished it was Flack lapping at her skin right now. How wonderful it would be to give herself over to him completely. In the light of day she'd never admit to that.
A groan escaped her lips as Dimitri stopped his lavish ministrations.
"Be still, kisa, I'll be right back," Dimitri said, leading a trail of kissed from her neck to her toes.
Gus waited, acutely aware of her pounding heart and her scantily clad body cuffed to the bed. And waited, and waited. "Dimitri?" she called out, wondering what the hell he was up to.
She felt as though she suddenly had bat like hearing, picking up on every sound in the building and the deafening silence in her apartment. A faint click caused her heart to drop.
"Shit," she said a couple of minutes later, now sure it was her door she had heard close.
Gus was able to shake the scarf loose, so she was able to see there was certainly no man in her bedroom. Now what the hell was she supposed to do? Gus spied her cell phone in her pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, but they may as well be in Antarctica for all the good it did her, linked to the headboard as she was.
Contorting herself, Gus was finally able to get her phone closer to her head. Now if only she could remember how to use voice activated dialing. And who to call to come rescue her after being handcuffed with her own cuffs to her own bed after bringing a guy home from a bar?
This was beyond mortifying. Gus yelled at her phone, sighing with relief when it replied, "Dialing Stella."
She groaned when her voice mail picked up. There was no way she was about to leave her predicament on a voice mail, where it would be recorded for all to hear through out time. Sighing, not wanting to resort to this, especially considering she was in a state of undress Gus yelped out, "Dial Mac."
Rationalizing that her uncle had seen her in a bathing suit, probably one more revealing than her bra and underwear she felt slightly better until an annoyed voice answered, "Flack and this better be frigging good!"
"Crap!" Gus swore, cursing technology as she felt embarrassed heat flood her body.
"I was trying to get Mac" Gus stuttered.
"Well you didn't," Flack said, obviously through clenched teeth, wondering why she as trying to call Mac at this hour, but it wasn't like either of them slept.
"I'm sorry," Gus moaned.
"It's fine, I'll just let you go so you can call him," Flack said, trying to ignore the pouting act Devon was currently doing.
"No, wait...don't hang up!" Gus begged, with more than a hint of pleading.
"Gus, what's going on?" Flack said, suddenly on full alert.
"I, er, can't really...it's well bad and embarrassing and just bad," Gus said, her neck cricking from the odd position she had angled herself in towards the phone.
"Where are you?" Flack asked, concerned and annoyed at Devon draping all over him like a second skin.
"At home," Gus squeaked.
"Are you hurt?" Flack asked, feeling like he was playing twenty questions, and knowing he wasn't going to like the answers.
"Well sort of, more my ego bruised, I suppose, but the things is, I kind of can't...move," Gus said, not able to fully express what was going on.
"Can't move like paralyzed?" Flack said, throwing Devon off of him and pulling his shirt back on and buckling his belt.
"Can't move like...aw hell, could you possibly come over here? I hate to ask, I tried Stella but she was busy and I don't want to interrupt Danny and Lindsay and-"
"Ever think you might be interrupting me, sunshine?" Flack chided.
"I wasn't trying to, I was trying to get Mac, I told you. But the point is, I need someone on the team over here ASAP, and I would prefer it to be someone I trust," Gus pleaded, desperation clear over the line.
As much as Flack was disappointed in his important third date being interrupted yet again, he couldn't say no to Gus, especially since she was obviously in need.
"I'll be there in 10 to 15," Flack informed her, despite Devon's look of wrath.
"Thanks" Gus squeaked, "and make sure you bring your cuff keys."
Flack hung up before catching her last words and did a double take as he slid his phone on his belt and slipped on his shoes. As he was exiting Devon's apartment, he knew he was in hot water with the socialite.
"Why do you have to go? I thought you already did that work thing today!" Devon pouted.
"My work thing doesn't keep normal hours, doll, the job never sleeps, like the city," Flack said, moving in to peck her on the cheek.
She turned her head away, in a show of passive aggressiveness. "Maybe you should think about finding a new job," Devon sniffed.
"Maybe you should think about finding yourself a new toy," Flack said as Devon slammed the door behind him.