A/N: Spoilers for 8x10 (and 8x12 if you squint and are a real stickler), there is a side fluff story called Fairytales of New York.

Chapter 4

"Hey, psst, partner sleepyhead, shake a leg, we got a dead one!" Don said gently, poking at the mound of blankets, putting a coffee on Gus' night stand.

"Partner Sleepyhead?" came her muffled reply from under her pillow. "Why didn't I hear my phone?" she asked, emerging and grabbing the mug.

"Because you left it in the office after yakking with Billy forevers last night. You just saw him, babe, I don't understand," he said, as they both readied themselves.

"He was having a costume emergency, Don! The Petronius Captain changed the theme a month before the ball masque, who even does that? And then his Krewe of Saint Anne beads got seized by customs in L.A. Why he thought a homicide detective in New York could help him with that…" she trailed off.

"I'm real glad we went on that trip, sunshine, even if I didn't get to see you in a bikini, I actually understood most of what you just said."

A wide smile spread across Gus' face, glad they had been able to have a fun time in her hometown as opposed to their last time there. "You don't need a beach to see me in the bikini, blue eyes," she said, grabbing his lapels and pulling him in for a kiss until their phones started buzzing again.

"Duty calls," he groaned, opening the door.

Flack covered his own grimace at the look on Gus' face. "Woof," she said, covering her nose with her arm, "don't think I'll be cooking us steak anytime soon," she quipped.

"You wanted this, remember?" he teased, backing them both away from the charred remains and the overwhelming smell of burning and gasoline.

Gus rolled her eyes, "I wanted to be back in the field with you, babe, not at a cookout gone real wrong. You want the homeless guy with a cart or the talking to herself homeless woman?"

Flack surveyed his options, "she is definitely more your wheelhouse, sunshine," he said pointing to the woman currently worshipping a concrete pillar.

"Fair enough," she agreed, bouncing off, happy to be back in the field with work and life partner.

Her happiness dimmed somewhat when she spied an angular blonde trying to talk her way past the uniform at the crime scene tape. "Can I help you?" Gus asked looking the woman up and down.

"I hope so," she replied with a big smile, also taking stock of Gus and pulling up the tape to duck under.

Gus took in the woman's fake smile and glowered at the hand moving the tape. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step back," she said through clenched teeth, this woman immediately rubbing her the wrong way.

Something in the detective's eyes made her step back, holding up her palms, "sorry, I should have opened with these," she said, pulling out a lanyard with an array of badges on them. "Jennifer Walsh, freelancer for the Journal, the Tribune and the Citizen," she said, gesturing to the credentials and sticking her hand out in introduction.

Gus ignored the outstretched hand and settled her hands on her hips. "Ma'am I don't care how many fancy media credentials you flash, you aren't getting past the tape, this is an active crime scene, no badge, no entry."

"You're the niece," Jennifer said, a spark of recognition at the 'Broussard' on the ID she spied on the woman's waist. She smiled, satisfied with her extensive research on Mac Taylor and what a boon, as some of the pliable rules she was researching involved the young woman before her.

"Excuse me?" Gus said, her hackles further rising.

"I am working on a story featuring the Crime Lab and Detective Mac Taylor, your uncle, I believe? This is perfect! Care to give me a quote or two?"

Gus shook her head in disbelief, while their relationship had certainly deepened in her time in New York, she still kept a professional distance from Mac, neither of them wanting to fuel rumors of nepotism, especially with her recent promotion. "You want a quote, I'll give you a-"

Flack saw Gus facing off with the other blonde who was attempting to talk her way through the police tape and it didn't take her husband to see the annoyance radiating from her. Annoyance quickly turning to anger. He waved off the uniform and strode towards his wife, catching her elbow as he heard the bite in her words. "Hey, Broussard, Smith might have something for us, check it out will ya?" he said, giving her a look that held an entire conversation.

He could see the anger leave her as a slight smirk played at the corner of her mouth; she knew he was trying to make sure she didn't get yanked from the field for something as stupid as this annoying journalist. He dimpled down at her, squeezing her elbow gently before he let her go, turning his smile to the woman before him.

"Ms." he paused, taking in the badges, "Walsh, sorry about my partner there, she skipped breakfast," he said, trying to smooth any ruffled feathers.

Flack's cordiality diminished at the next word's out of Jennifer's mouth. "Partner, yes. How is married life treating you, Detective Flack?" she asked, cocking her head coquettishly.

Flack narrowed his eyes slightly, forcing down the growl in his chest. "What was it you needed again?" he forced out.

Jennifer didn't miss a beat, taking the opening. "Mac Taylor, I assume he will be here soon to process the scene. How do I get in good with him?" she fake whispered conspiratorially.

He raised his eyes brows and smirked. "You really want in good with Taylor? Bring him a large black french roast and a blueberry scone, Angelina is his favorite."

Jennifer grinned like the cat who ate the canary, completely oblivious to the fact she was being pranked. "Perfect, you've been a big help, Detective Flack, maybe I'll bring your partner," she stressed the word, "some breakfast as well."

"She's a real piece of work," Flack said, coming up behind Gus as she hung up the phone, "thought the two of you were going to end up in a cage match."

Gus curled her lip. "No kidding, I can only imagine what kind of expose she has hidden up that tight skirt of hers. How the hell did she know Mac's my uncle?"

Flack stifled his laughter at her ire and shrugged, "probably same way she knew we were married, that stupid announcement Billy put in the paper."

Gus shook her head, thinking about the flowery announcement that had run in the New York and New Orleans papers, noticing the lab trucks arriving. "At least she left before Mac got here," she said, sighing, "damn announcement. Tibs has never been subtle. Though Miss Loretta would have haunted us all if he hadn't done one. At least it was a great picture, something to show the grandkids one day," she finished absently.

She missed the ardent look Flack gave her. "Need kids for grandkids, sunshine," he said softly as he turned to brief the team.

"What is she doing back here?" Gus groaned at Jennifer Walsh's figure as Flack walked back to where she was getting a debrief from the canvassing uniform.

Flack didn't even try to hide his smirk as Jennifer proffered the cup and bag at Mac. "Just wait," he said, biting his lip.

Gus watched in delight as Mac informed Jennifer of his coffee sabbatical and blueberry allergy, snorting as the woman dejectedly said, "your buddy Flack is quite the practical joker." Gus smiled up at Don, hooking a finger through his belt loop, "good job, babe."

"Yeah, you liked that, huh?" he chuckled, squeezing her arm, "let's hope Mac is as amused."

"This your fault, Broussard?" the desk Sergeant bellowed as the pair entered the precinct. Gus knitted her eyebrows together, waving Flack off.

"At least read me the charges before I confess, Sarah," she said to the lean woman at the desk.

Sergeant Sarah Huck glowered at her, pushing the box in her direction. "This diabetic coma waiting to happen, half of my uniforms are already in danger of not passing their next fitness eval and then you come in here with this monstrosity. Why didn't you bring it to the pit, half of those jokers wouldn't run if a bear was chasing them!"

Gus shook her head with a laugh, "you mean the king cake? It's practically a giant cinnamon roll, and I did bring one to the pit and one to special vics and one to the lab and…" she trailed off sniffing, catching a whiff of something underneath the cinnamon and sugar wafting from the box. She sniffed at her shirt, how had she gotten gasoline on her at the crispy critter scene?

Flack didn't venture too far into the pit, wondering what Huck wanted with Gus. Hopefully the woman was not trying to convince them to go barefoot jogging with her again. He made a face, catching sight of a twitchy unkempt kid in the vestibule much too close to Gus' back for this liking. He moved forward, asking, " need some help buddy?" The now familiar scent filling his nostrils. "Is that gasoline?" he asked, as the kid reached into his coat.

Gus turned as the timbre of Flack's voice changed, seeing him slam the kid against a table, yelling, "do not move!" She gasped as Flack turned the kid back over, his coat falling open to reveal his shirt. "Is that blood?" she said pointing as Flack pressed, "what the hell happened to you?"

The kid could barely choke out between sobs, "I think I killed somebody last night."

Gus handed the shivering kid a sweatshirt in interrogation, Flack pacing back and forth behind her; not that they needed a bad cop, Marty was already spilling his guts.

"You're telling me you woke up dosed in gasoline, covered in blood and you don't remember how it happened?" Flack queried.

Gus was not shocked when Marty replied, "I was drunk." She had to bite back a snort when Flack shot back, "I've had my share of rough nights, but I think I would remember taking a bath in somebody else's blood." Their eyes caught, both of them thinking back to the night Flack revisited every New Orleans cocktail on the roots of a live oak; he hadn't even been able to smell a hurricane on their recent trip.

"No, I was really drunk," Marty continued, "yesterday was my 21st birthday. My friends took me out to Dutton's Tavern to celebrate."

The detectives looked at each other again, a clear picture forming. Flack sat, saying, "let me guess, this celebration included you doing 21 shots?"

Marty started crying again, choking out, "I made it through the first 10 without a problem, after that things get a little sketchy."

"Sugar, you gotta pick your shots carefully for the birthday challenge, more lemon drops, less whiskey. What happened next?" Gus gently chided.

Marty sighed, "I was really sloppy. Everything was spinning, I was so wasted, I decided to walk home. Next thing I know, I woke up in my dorm."

Flack leaned back, "is that when you saw the blood?"

He nodded, "yeah, I was scared, I thought it was mine and when I realized it wasn't I came straight here!"

Gus and Flack raised their eyebrows at him before Gus pulled out a photo of the vic and Flack started pacing again. "You recognize him?" Gus asked gently.

Marty nodded again, "that's Ryan Richards, I've seen him fight. Why?" He looked up at Flack towering over him.

"There were three murders in the city last night. Two of them have been solved. He's the third," Flack glowered, "he was killed and then set on fire, with gasoline, like the kind you were drenched in."

"Oh god," he cried, "do you think I did it?"

"I don't know, but we are going to find out," Flack replied with a sigh.

"Sit tight, Marty. I'm going to get you some water before your liver walks away on its own," Gus said, shaking her head.

"What do you think, sunshine?" Flack asked her as they observed Marty gulp down the bottle of water before collapsing on the table in tears.

"That child is terrified and a mess, but I doubt he is a murderer, Don," she said, pursing her lips.

"Guess we gotta wait on the lab then, because we can't arrest him for that," he replied with a wink before looking down at his phone, "Messer wants me along to pick up Richard's stalker up in Spanish Harlem, you coming?"

Gus shook her head, "pass, Messer's driving makes me carsick and I wanna see what else I can get this one to remember." Flack gave her a look. "Psych tricks, babe, I already told you I don't think he did it."

"Anything on Marty's clothes?" Gus asked Lindsay, wandering up to the lab for coffee while Don and Danny went after Aaron Collins.

"Yes and no," Lindsay replied. "DNA isn't a match to Richards, but it is human, gasoline doesn't have the additive as the scene. Marty may have gotten into trouble last night, but he didn't set Ryan Richards on fire."

"I didn't think so, I thought he was going to wet himself with Flack's bad cop. He got into something, but I couldn't get him to remember anything more, maybe if we retraced his steps…" Gus shrugged.

"I did find asbestos on his shirt, that might narrow it down," she suggested looking at her friend for a long pause before finally asking, "you know anything about Mac's repeat visitor?"

Gus let out a puff of air. "Blonde, little taller than me, a lot skinnier and barely older?" she said blinking as Lindsay nodded. "Speaking of stalkers," she drawled, "she's on him like white on rice. Some journalist trying to do a feature or something. Thinks she's in high cotton because she knows I'm his niece and that Don and I are married."

"Okay, Broussard. Someone's a little protective," Lindsay said with a laugh, "I promise you, Jo and I will circle the wagons around Mac if needed." She paused, "but don't you think it would be nice for Mac to have a life outside of the lab?"

Gus made a face, knowing her friend had a point. Her aunt had been gone ten years, Mac was allowed to find love again. She just didn't think she could stomach it being Little Miss Expose. "Of course he can but preferable someone older than we are and less manipulative. Someone more like-" she cut off, thinking it must have been their recent trip to New Orleans that prompted her to almost say Stella's name. "Him," she finished, thankful for the buzzing her phone.

"I told you Marty didn't do it," Gus remarked as they finished up their paperwork in the pit much later.

"I never said he did, babe," Flack said, happily shoving the king cake Huck had banned from the desk into his mouth. "Sucks about Richards' pregnant wife though, all he was trying to do was protect his family and an opportunity presented itself," he said through a mouthful, dropping colored sugar over both of their desks.

"Is marriage turning you into Parker, Don?" Gus admonished, brushing it off before it stained their file.

Flack made a face, "very funny. Marriage has chilled you out, though," he said, looking at her seriously.

"What do you mean?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You didn't freak out when Jo pulled Marty aside to do that woo woo thing on his memory, you just let her be," he said, pride in his tone.

Gus gave a bashful shrug. "Guess I finally figured out I am not being replaced."

"There is absolutely no replacing you, babe. Now how about we go get some real food before I turn into a plastic baby?" he said, closing the lid on the box and setting it on Parker's desk before pulling his wife to her feet with a quick kiss.