A/N: So I did decide to start fully reposting stuff on here but I am not really re-editing things.

Chapter 5: Christmas in the City

The next couple of days were full of sessions with pre-screenings for wannabe cops, which Gus hated. Most of these young snots had no idea what they were getting into, and half of them were better suited to mall security. Preferably in Ocala or some other place where all the perps had walkers. Something about the Christmas spirit must have made them want to protect and serve. Or their mommies wouldn't let them go off to war. Since Christmastime in the city meant a big upswing in crime, a lot of cops needed clearance to get off desk duty after firing their weapons.

"Just like home," she thought to herself, then corrected, "like New Orleans, this is home now." Christmas Eve came, and they were actually all able to get out of the office by nine and through a long dinner before the pages started coming in. Gus volunteered to help, but Mac told her to go home and get some rest.

Outside the restaurant, right before he left, Mac told Stella to go get the car. He handed Gus a poorly wrapped package, "Uh, Merry Christmas, kid. I didn't know what you needed, so..."

"Thanks, Mac. Take care. Good luck tomorrow and call me if you need me to come in."

"It'll be fine, we are pretty well staffed for once. Try to relax". With that, her last remaining bit of family disappeared into the night.

"Alone again," Gus said as dropped the package in her bag and headed down the block to find sanctuary against a long and lonely night.

Outside the church waiting for Midnight Mass to get underway, Gus fought off a wave of nostalgia for New Orleans, or more precisely a New Orleans stiff drink before mass. She decided to unwrap the gift from her uncle, curious to see what he had come up with. Inside the rather hideous wrapping paper was a complete, Marine approved, First-Aid Kit. She snorted, maybe he did get her after all.

After Mass, Gus wandered back to her place, stopping for scotch and cigarettes. She drew a hot bath in the old cast iron tub and lay in the tub, tumbler in hand, trying to not feel the loneliness of the evening. A heaviness she had felt since that first Christmas without her parents settled in her chest. She took a swallow of the scotch, tearing up as it burned down. She wiped the tears away, refusing to cry. Gus attempted to drain some cold water out of the tub, instead getting her big toe stuck in the ring on the plug. "You have to to be freaking kidding me," she grunted as her phone started vibrating in what would one day be a living room. She hobbled, plug attached to her foot, pulling on a towel, to the living room.

"Broussard," she barked not looking at the number on the screen.

"Hernando?"

"Nope." The response was rapid Spanish. "Hernando no esta aki, hable ingles?"

"No, no Hernado!" the voice demanded.

"Feliz freaking Navidad," she hissed into the phone, slamming it closed. It immediately buzzed again, "Learn how to freaking dial! Hernando no esta!" she yelled.

"Gussie"? she heard Mac question.

"Sorry."

"I was just checking in."

"I'm cool. Hey thanks for the gift. I think I am about to put it to use." She thought she detected a chuckle. "Good. I think. Well, have a good night," he said before hanging up.

"Feliz freaking Navidad," she muttered again. She took another drink and curled on the air mattress, eventually falling into a fitful sleep, no Christmas Miracles for her it seemed.

The next afternoon, Gus managed to find the community center without too much trouble. Meaning she only got lost about three times and her ass squeezed about a dozen. Mostly by a creepy guy on the subway. She reached behind to the offending hand, grabbing a couple of fingers. He was too stupid to jerk away until she twisted until she heard a 'pop'. He got off at the next stop, cradling his hand. She checked the address on the back of Flack's card one more time when she reached her destination. Ray of Hope Community Center. Yep, she was in the right place. Much like New Orleans, the center had an overly optimistic name that did not match its building or the surrounding neighborhood.

She pressed the buzzer, noticing two local miscreant youth staring her down."What's up?" she nodded at them.

"Pig?" they questioned.

"Psychologist," she answered. They shrugged and walked away.

Funny how they would be scared of her, but not the cops. "Figures," she sighed as a dinosaur of a security guard answered the door, frizzy gray hair pointed in every direction. Gus bet she had interrupted a post-lunch nap.

A younger man was behind him, this man was sharp-eyed, dark-skinned, and looked at her questioningly. "May I help you?"

"Yes, I am Dr. Augusta Broussard and I am here to volunteer."

"Broussard, hmm? I'm Pastor Charles Carter, with the church that runs this center. What brings you here, Doctor Broussard?"

Good damn question, what did bring here other than some morbid fascination with being involved in train wrecks. "Detective Flack, with the NYPD," she squeaked.

"Oh yes, the lost lamb from New Orleans, we have several families in our shelter from there. Please come in out of what is supposed to be cold this time of year."

"More than cold enough for me," she said stepping into the cinder block building, shivering. She surveyed the big open space, people appeared to be clustered around tables, children running around chasing each other, parents yelling. A boisterous scene all in all.

"Let me introduce you to Ms. Williams, she knows everyone in the community and in the shelter, and would best know how to put you to use. Sister Mary, this is Doc-tor Broussard from down in New O-rleens".

"Bless your heart child, such a shame. We have about 15 families moved here from there. Only 2 of them have found housing. Rest are in the shelter. No home, no money, no help, little itty bitty ones too, breaks my heart." Sister Williams rushed and embraced her before Gus had time to react. "Let me introduce you around."

Gus trailed behind this massive woman, who moved faster than should be possible. She met what seemed like a thousand people, some of who looked at her like she was from another planet. She was used to it though, Louisiana was full of racial divide. Didn't bother her there, sure as heck wasn't going to bother her here. She didn't see Flack anywhere and felt a mixture of relief and disappointment.

She wandered around the complex, talking to people, listening to their stories, sharing some of her own. Most people couldn't believe she had gone back, some couldn't believe she had come back here. Most were desperate for a sense of normalcy again. Natives were mixed on how they felt about the 'refugees' being here, but most that had come, did so because they had family here. Ninth Warders wouldn't volunteer for the weather here. She found herself in the 'rec center', basically a sad gymnasium with a neglected basketball court and ramshackle stage. She saw a little boy of about 6 or 7 attempting to dribble a half-deflated basketball between his feet as he sat on the bleachers, looking mournfully at the kids playing on the court.

"Why don't you join them?" she asked sitting next to the boy. The boy started, then shrugged, "don't know 'em."

"Ah I see." She rocked back, almost loosing her balance on the rickety bleachers. "I'm Gus," she said to the kid.

"No you're not," he said, his tiny face breaking into a wide grin. "I'm not?" Gus caught the infectious smile.
"No, silly, Gus is a boy's name!"

"Wait and I'm not a boy?" She mocked astonishment, as she stood. "No," he giggled, "I'm Ty".

"Well Ty, how about we find you a real ball and you can show me what you can do?"

"OK!" exclaimed Ty, scampering off to hopefully find an inflated ball.

"Nice work with the kid," said a familiar voice beside her. Gus turned, caught by those damn blue eyes again.

"I, I um, didn't know you were here," Gus stammered, backing up and falling on the bleacher behind her. She attempted to play it off.

"I was waiting for the little ones to clear the court, so I could practice with my team," Flack said, matter of fact.

"Your team?"

"Yeah, I coach 10 to 11 year-olds . Would rather it be hockey, but not of a lot of community centers have rinks, so I do what I can." He shrugged, bashfully, a grin showing dimples she hadn't noticed before.

Gus was glad she was sitting down, as she felt her knees go weak. "He's a cop. A cop. Don't be a cop. Don't date a cop," she chanted in her head, her father's voice reaching out to her through all these years.

"What about cops?" Flack asked.
"Nothing, nothing. Oh look, Ty found a ball." She moved to get up, but Flack caught her arm lightly.

"Hey, if you are hungry after this, Grams sent me home with about a hundred pounds of leftovers this morning."

She could feel herself flushing, "no, I better not."

"Eat? Don't tell me you are one of those wanting to be thin as stick girls. I hate those girls, can't ever go out with them , they don't want to eat or drink, too damn wispy to do anything. Wouldn't have pegged you for the type," he said, surveying her hourglass figure.

"No, I'm not 'that type', obviously." She rolled her eyes. "I meant I better not go to your place," she blurted out, without meaning to.

"We could go to yours, I know where you live, food's in a cooler in the car anyway," he gestured toward the outside.

"I don't currently have a stove," she clipped.

"What kind of wool did they pull over your eyes, Broussard? They sell places with appliances here in the big city."

"Hardy har. I bought a place that needed some renovations. Cheaper that way."

"Was wondering how you got digs by Gramercy Park. So you bought a lemon, huh?"

"Nope. Just a place that needs a little love."

Flack started to say something, but stopped himself. "Well I have a perfectly functioning stove and a microwave, I know, I am living like a king."

"Maybe some other time, Flack. Thanks though." She wandered off to Ty.

Flack looked a little bewildered, this was not the kind of reaction he usually got from newbies, or from most women for that matter. "Oh well," he said shaking his head, watching as Gus zipped off her high-heeled boots to play ball with that kid, "some other time."

Chapter 6: NYCNYE

The next week passed as busy as the week before Christmas, people certainly weren't getting any less crazy. Gus was pretty agitated, as it appeared every other member of the staff psych team had taken vacation and her in box was overflowing every time she checked it, which was about a million times a day. She was away from the lab for the week, cloistered in her office either in sessions or charting, and it wasn't sitting well with her.

She was overjoyed to have someone from the CSI team knock on her door late in day on New Year's Eve. "Hey, Danny what's up? Though, fair warning, I am not in the mood for couch innuendo."

"Just here to invite you to a little New Year's bash," Danny said putting his hands up in mock defense.

"Humph, what a jello wrestling rave?" Gus could only imagine what he might suggest.

"What have people being telling you about me?" Danny was a little worried about his current reputation. "Not much actually."

"Well, I'll have to do something to fix that. But, Mac told me to tell you to be on the roof by 11:00pm, and to bring that bottle of vodka you keep hidden in your desk drawer."

She straightened. Crap.

"Now, just a word of advice BB, when the boss knows what's in your desk, you might want to start towing the line."

"You're one to talk," Gus fought out.

"11:00 sharp." With that, Danny walked away back toward the lab.

At about eight, finally emerging from the mound of charts, Gus heard another knock on her door. "Linds, hey come in, great to see you!" Gus was shocked at how happy she was to have the other woman drop by. The pair was becoming fast friends, something Gus hadn't experienced in longer than she cared to admit.

"Hey, want to grab some food, everyone else seems to have disappeared, preparing for this roof thing." Lindsay smiled widely, she was extremely grateful to have another 'newbie' female to talk to her age.

"Sure let me just lock these in the cabinet." Gus shoved the massive pile in her file drawer, fighting to slam it shut, her finger not getting out in time. "Ouch!" she howled.

"You okay?" Lindsay asked.

"Fine, fine, where do you want to eat?"

The ended up at a hole in the wall place around the corner, picking worriedly through the sushi rolls they had gotten. It was the only place they could find that didn't have hours long waits. "This scares me," Gus said picking at her food.

"Me too." Lindsay apprehensively pushed the plate toward Gus. "You first."

Gus stabbed a piece and swallowed it without much chewing. "Actually not bad, I need some sake though."

They chatted about nothing for a few minutes before Lindsay asked how Gus was settling in. "It's fine, I learned to adapt fast as a kid. What about you, being so far from your family, how's that?"

"Don't go all therapist on me now, but I do miss them. I'm the youngest, so it is hard on my parents for the baby to be away. What about you?"

"Not much family to speak of." She winced why saying that, feeling like she was betraying Mac, but in essence it was the truth. "Only child, parents died when I was a kid. Unattached and here I am."

"Wow," Lindsay sighed, feeling awash in emotion for her new friend.

"Not really, I'm good. So what's up with you and Danny?" Gus asked switching gears. "Nothing, nothing, not anything," Lindsay responded shaking her curls violently. "Gotcha," Gus replied, lightly ribbing her counterpart.

"No really, he is a horrible flirt with everyone, surely you have noticed?"

Gus didn't mention that she had also noticed Danny mooning over Lindsay every second they were within line of sight of each other. She had caught him admiring an unaware Lindsay bent over evidence in the lab on more than one occasion. She never called him on it, boy had enough issues as it was.

"Anyone else catch your fancy?" Gus asked, softly, not wanting to necessarily hear the pretty woman's answer.

"Nah, not really. I've, um, got some personal stuff I am working on and I don't really want to get involved. Especially only having been here a few months."

"I feel you," Gus responded stoically.

"So same for you?"

"More or less." Gus didn't mean to keep everything closed in, but it was what she had gotten used to.

"What about Sheldon or you still on that no coworker thing? Just because Stella supported it, doesn't mean it is a good idea. I mean I am still trying to figure out what's going on between her and Mac."

Gus looked up from her dumplings. "Wha-"

"It's probably nothing," Lindsay clipped off. "Geesh, it's already 10 and I have to find a 'Montana New Year's Tradition' before I get up to the roof. I think they are expecting me to bring corn or something. What about you, what's your New Orleans tradition?"

"Booze, apparently," Gus replied, sighing.

Gus headed back to the office, stopping at a corner store on the way. She wasn't about to bring a half empty bottle of vodka to the party. It would make her look like a drunk. She didn't drink in the 9-5 window, but sometimes she was there until late and sometimes she could only get a cop to open up with a shot of something stiff, ethics be damned. She was buying a bottle of Southern Comfort and a pack of cigarettes when she heard "those will kill you, you know."

"Flack," she said resignedly, of course he would be there and be judging her.

"I didn't know you smoked, horrible habit, one that is very hard to break." Flack mock glared down at the stricken looking psychologist. "You don't look like a smoker," he sniffed at her, "don't smell like one either."

She turned away, not exactly sure how she felt about him being in such close proximity. "So you getting your New York New Year's tradition here?"

"What?" He looked confused.

"Lindsay said she was told to bring a Montana tradition, and Mac told me to bring liquor which I am assuming is a dig at the Big Easy so," she gestured.

"Told by who? I'm just here to get a good bottle of wine. Danny will only bring beer, and usually someone brings a box of something masquerading as wine, which I refuse to drink."

"Streetwise cop and a sommelier. More layers than an onion you have De-tec-tive," she grinned.

"Thanks, Yoda," he replied, dimples on full display.

Gus found herself enchanted with a scuff mark on the floor. "Welcome. I was amazed to see a bottle of 1999 Château Corton Grancey Pinot on the shelf, depending on if you like reds and how much you want to spend. It's a great vintage."

"Well, well Doc, I see you have a taste for the grape yourself."

"Only fermented, and I thought Hawkes was Doc."

"I can call you whatever I want, sunshine. I'm just surprised you can taste good wine being a smoker and all."

"I average a pack every 3 months thank you very much." This had been true before the storm, at least. "I can't really say it is a habit, I can quit."

He scoffed. "Alright then, though when I quit, I had the hardest time."

Gus nodded to the clerk, "take off the cigarettes, put the wine on my tab, and I think I just found my New Year's resolution."

The next morning, Gus languished on her makeshift bed, vowing to go furniture shopping soon. At least the contractor she hired had finally shown himself and would start work next week.

The night before had been damn near perfect, and she had slept dreamless through the night, almost into afternoon, something that hadn't happened in months. "Watch it Gus, you might start to think you belong," she warned her self. "So what?" she argued back with slow grin, "worse places to belong."

Flack had tried to protest at her buying the wine, saying it was his contribution, she told him she wouldn't sell him out. He showed her how to get to the roof terrace on top of the building that housed the lab which she hadn't known existed.

"Wow," she breathed.

"I know, almost makes you actually feel like New York's finest."

Her hypnosis at the lights twinkling in time with her fast beating heart didn't last long as the gang made their way up to the roof. Their arms laden with food and drink and crackers and noisemakers, the whole nine yards. There was still an edge of anticipation, everyone waiting for the pagers to buzz, but the devices remained silent. The first hour passed quickly, everyone telling stories of wild times gone by. Gus told her drag queen bathroom story and had people rolling, trying desperately not to remember New Year's Eve last year. They counted down to midnight, and Danny tried to kiss Lindsay and she turned to hug Stella, so he kissed a lab tech instead, who playfully smacked him and he mocked fell in the beer bucket. Gus hugged Mac, awkwardly, but what else was new, and good cheer was all around. They read their fortunes from their crackers, which were all in horribly translated English and toasted to a New Year with 'to friends who are like family, and family who are also friends.'

Gus became overwhelmed, and wandered to the edge of the roof. No one seemed to notice, wrapped up in their own good time.

Suddenly, a glass of wine appeared before her and a voice said, "you look like you need this more than me, besides you bought it," Flack said, offering the glass to her.

"Thanks," Gus replied taking the glass and blinking her eyes. She took a gulp. "See I told you so, great vintage," she said, brave face on again.

'That you did." He paused expectantly. "Happy New Year, Sunshine," he said, and if it hadn't been for the massive butterfly trying to escape her stomach, she would have thought she imagined the kiss, so quick that he was already back to the group before she opened her eyes.

"Damn", she breathed before she also went to join the group. She saw Mac staring out on the horizon. "I miss her too," she whispered, "I miss them all," she continued.

"They're still here, Gussie," he said, pointing to his chest and was saved from any further sincere discussion with his niece by his phone springing to life. And with that the team was gone, her new 'family' leaving her and a couple of lab techs to clean up.

Chapter 7: Ride Alongs

Gus was beginning to think she had just imagined the kiss, regardless she did a damn good job at ignoring Flack except for the most cursory professional exchanges at scenes they were both at. Between wacko doctors using leeches to cure and kill patients, models dying by ecstasy coatings, murders looking like suicides and people surfing subways literally to death, all on top of her other work, she did a pretty good job of not talking to him until February. And then came the archery case...

As soon as the Precinct Captain called her into his office late in the day, she knew she was up the creek.

"So, Dr. Broussard. You have done an impressive volume of work in the nearly four months you have been here. Impressive resume as well. Though you must tell me, did you scare off potential recruits in New Orleans as well, or is that a new skill?" "Sir?" she croaked.

"We have had some...concerns. Apparently you are a little too honest in pre-hire evals and we are loosing potential recruits at a higher rate when they come through your office."

"Are you telling me to not be honest?" Gus was irked, "Sir," she added hastily. "Not at all. I am rather suggesting that your talents could be better used elsewhere." She slumped, figuring the Captain was firing her.

"Have you ever thought about field work full-time, Broussard?"

"Huh, what?" Gus was taken aback.

"I think you would make a might fine detective, and seeing your background, education, and training, I don't think it would be an issue if you wanted to go through the qualifiers here to get your shield. Chief of Ds is on a mission to get more women in to the squad as it is."

"NO!" She screeched. "I mean, uh, no sir, I hadn't even considered myself the cop type."

His eyebrows raised, knowing full well her father had been a New Orleans detective and the NOPD had recruited her. "Well, why don't you go on a ride-alongs for the next couple weeks and let me know what you think. I'll give all the remaining pre-hire evals to McNair."

"Great," she stated with little emotion, though it was better than being fired she supposed.

"Good, you can start today." He picked up the phone and dialed an extension, her stomach dropped before he had even opened his mouth, a premonition. "Detective Flack, before you go out on your next call, I have a ride along for you. No, no, in-house."

Maybe it wasn't better than being fired, Gus moped to herself.

It was early evening when she heard a knock on her door frame. "Hey. Heard you were riding along, that right?" Flack leaned casually on the frame, twirling keys on a finger, sunglasses hanging from his front pocket, cool as could be.

"Ah, yeah. Captain's idea." Gus willed the desk to swallow her.

"I heard." She glared at him. "Well we got a scene, Stella is there, apparently she was at some art show and someone ended up dead. She just can't seem to keep away from dead bodies.

"Alright, let's roll," Gus said unconvincingly, her father's ghostly warning following her all the way out to the car.

They didn't speak in the car, Gus stared sullenly out the window why Flack talked back and forth with dispatch and Stella. They arrived on scene, apparently a converted loft project in the village, where Stella had been on a date.

"No wonder she hasn't been available for girls' night margaritas," Gus murmured.

There, pinned to a tree, was a couple in a certainly amorous position, the woman dead and the man attempting to be extracted. They were pinned with a 3 foot long arrow.

"Whoa, that's damn lucky shot. Well, not for her maybe," Flack said, gawking.

"Not lucky, talented. With the wind out here, and the distance the shooter was most likely at to not have been seen, we are talking Olympic quality talent here or a very specialized weapon," Gus retorted.

Flack cocked his head to the side, "And you know this from where?" he asked incredulously. "14 years of archery," Gus stated, matter of fact.
"14 YEARS?" Flack figured he had to be loosing his hearing.
"Started at camp and learned to hunt. Kept on at school, added fencing and boxing too." "Where did you go to school, CIA Prep?" Where the hell was this girl from?

"Heh, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a bit of a klutz, those things helped and I had a little aggression issue. Don't even think about snickering."

"She's right," came Mac's voice behind them, "that wasn't a lucky shot, someone waited to make that shot to kill."

After they finished interviewing witnesses at the scene, Flack informed Gus they were heading to the hospital to interview the male victim as he got out of surgery.

As soon as they were in the car, Flack took a deep breath. Dontspeakdontspeakjustdontsayanythingplease, Gus chanted in her head. "Gus, about New Year's Eve," Flack kept his voice cool and controlled.

Too late, Gus deflated, slumped against the window glass. She wanted to bury her head in her lap. "Nothing to say about it, Don," she retorted with a little too much venom. Shut up, she screamed to herself, could you be nice for once, would it kill you?

"Alright then, just wanted to apologize if I invaded your space."

"Nothing to apologize about that I know of." Deny, deny, deny, that was her game plan. He stopped the car. "What?!" she questioned.

"We're here, Broussard," Flack said shaking his head.

After a briefly feeling like she was going to faint, and struggling to get her seat belt undone, she was out of the car. She leaned against the squad car briefly closing her eyes, 'why are you such an imbecile?' she thought to herself.

"Broussard?"

"Yeah?"

"Your coat is shut in the door."

"Shit," she struggled until he freed it, with a smug smirk on his face.

"14 years, huh?" he said walking away.

"I didn't even mention the years of ballet," she muttered, praying for the ground to swallow her up.

Luckily, the questioning at the hospital went without issue and they managed to get back to the lab discussing only the case.

Her ride-alongs only went through that week, a tortuous one at that. Flack usually asked her to grab a bite or a drink or something and she always turned him down.

"What's the deal with you anyway?" he finally asked in exasperation after another rejection.

"I just, it's just-" Gus started but found her throat full of sawdust. "I don't date co-workers."

"Who said I was asking ya out on a date?" She made a strangled noise in her throat. "Dinner or a drink same as I do with Danny or Adam or Mac or you do with Stella or Lindsay or Hawkes after a long shift. That's all, so climb off your high horse."

Gus pinched the bridge of her nose, then rubbed her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...crap. I'm just not used to so many people being involved in my life, and this team is like instant family and it's weird and I'm trying to get my place in shape and..." she rambled frustrated and crumbling.

"Shut it Broussard, I was asking you out on a date, but I got your point. No dating co-workers, end of story." "I gotta go," she said jumping from the car and slamming the door, ready to bolt.

"Coat!" he yelled after her, swinging the door open. "You are a mess," he said.

"You have no idea," she said to no one, staring up at the gray sky.