A/N: Sorry it took so long, but I've been busy what with Thanksgiving and all. Now that the turkey's been digested, I'm back at it. Now, repeat after me: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Steven Levitan Productions, Brillstein-Grey Entertainment, NBC Television and Sony (The Artist formerly known as Columbia Pictures)Television.

MR GALLO GOES TO WASHINGTON

Based on characters created by Steven Levitan

Maya Gallo held the bottle up in the light of the early afternoon sun and studied it as a chemist might a flask of liquid chemical. She gave it a clinical stare, judging its' color, its clarity, as if she actually knew of such things. She did, in fact, know a little about it. She smiled to herself a sad smile, then thought, 'yeah, like a doctor knows a little about the cancer that was killing her'.

No one knew that of all the things that Maya Gallo was--articles editor for a major magazine, accomplished writer, pilot, journalist--there was one that never made it to her resume. She wondered how it would look to add to all that 'alcoholic'.

Sheer will power, something she'd inherited from her father, had pulled her through her initial bout with it. She wondered to this day how much more successful she'd have been at Stanford, above and beyond the journalism and theater degrees she posessed from the university, had she not been either drunk or hung over much of her four years there. Between Stanford and Columbia Journalism School she'd dried herself up. It hadn't been easy, but she'd done it, and had been recovering for years until that one night, how many years ago? Two, three? Hell, she thought to herself as she poured some of the liquid into a glass tumbler, she didn't even remember the weekend she'd fallen off the wagon, never mind how long the ride had been.

She was so successful at hiding that part of her past that no one knew of it. She'd never told Elliot during their time together, perhaps a good thing. Her father didn't know, either, not that he'd have paid much attention to it. Aside from herself, only one other person knew, and she felt sorry for him, not for his knowing, but for the way he'd found out.

There was a knock on the door that brought her out of her thoughts. Placing the glass on the end table near her couch, she crossed the small apartment's living room and, opening the door, came face to face with that one person.

"Hey."

Dennis Finch stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets.

"Finch!" She nearly dropped the glass in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"Jack told me he fired you. Can I come in?"

"Sure. Come in."

Once he was inside, she walked over and picked up her glass. "So, did he tell you why?"

"Yeah, something about you and Berkeley. I wasn't paying much attention, seeing as I was so busy quitting and all."

She took a quick swallow and swallowed it wide eyed. "You what?"

"Yeah, I called him a jerk and told him I couldn't work for jerks. I might have called him a bastard, but I'm not sure."

This brought a smile to her face. "I wish I'd have seen that."

She downed another swallow as Dennis watched with a cold stare from his blue eyes.

"Don't do that," he finally said.

"Hmm?" She played the drink around in her mouth a moment before swallowing.

"Don't do that, Maya." His voice was low, and hard.

"Do what?"

"This!" He snatched the drink from her hand, "The bourbon! Stop it!"

"I'm having a drink," she protested, "So what?"

"Yeah, but it's what you're drinking. I knew what was happening the minute I walked into your office and saw the bottle was gone from your desk drawer."

She made a grab for it, but Dennis danced backwards and she missed. Another wild grab made her fall forward across the couch. She looked up at him with anger burning in her eyes.

Judging from her spill, Dennis figured he'd been too late and that somewhere in the apartment there was another empty bottle like the one on the table. She may not have been three sheets to the wind yet, but one was certainly up and the second on its way.

"Dennis, give me that back."

Grabbing the bottle off the table as he passed it, Dennis raced to the sink and emptied both down the drain as Maya struggled to her feet.

"Dennis, don't..."

Finished, he sat the bottle and glass in the sink and spun back around in time to see Maya lunging at him. He again sidestepped and back-pedaled. Maya spun around with a murderous look on her face.

"God damn it, Finch, you son of a..."

"Go on!" Finch snapped back, "Get mad, get good and mad. Maybe then you'll remember what happened the last time you decided to hide from the world in the bottom of a bottle!"

"I'm going to..."

She again jumped, but this time Dennis caught her in a bearhug. She struggled against it for a moment, but then relaxed. She buried her face in Dennis' chest and began to cry.

"I'm sorry, Dennis," she sobbed as he held her, "I'm sorry..."

"When is Cal due back in town?"

"Tomorrow." He released his grip on her reluctantly and she wiped her eyes. "My god, Dennis, why did it happen so easily?"

"Don't think about it. Just be happy you stopped it before it got too far along."

Like last time, he almost said, but he kept it to himself.

Maya's face turned worried. "I didn't...well, you know...didn't ask..."

"No, not this time. And if you had, you'd have gotten the same answer I gave then."

She smiled again. "I'm going to go lie down for a while."

"Well, I've got to run anyway. Baywatch is on."

She paused, then said, "You can watch it here."

He smiled at her. "As you wish, my lady."

So, what'd ya think? I know it was a little far afield from the actual plot of the story, but I thought it was important to carry us over into the next edition, where I promise that I'll put more humor and get back on track. In honor of the holidays, there's no questions this time, but be ready for some in our next exciting episode. Until then, friends and fellow readers...