Chapter 8: Night With the Boys
The next week, Gus was swamped in staff psych work and didn't have time to ride along, or, in reality, she did all her charting at a snail's pace and didn't allow time for them. She managed to avoid any V-day massacres and was desperately looking forward to margarita night with the girls. Only to discover they both had plans.
"With boys," Stella mocked, "you should try it some time."
If on cue, Danny said, "Well if you are up to it, cher?" They all groaned at his horrible accent. "Fine, fine, I'll stop. Flack and I are going out to Sully's after work, not fancy 'cocktails' but if you want you can come. Not a date, because I know you have your policy."
Gus dropped her head to the table, and threw her pen at Danny, of course missing him and having it land buried into Mac's shoe that had just stepped into the canteen.
"Your aim has improved, Guss-" he stopped short of a telltale nickname. They really needed to give up this charade. It wasn't as if Gus hadn't proven herself useful in her own right in the time she had been here. But she was hard-headed and stubborn, which was certainly similar to Claire. It would come out eventually.
That evening, at the end of the work day she wandered into the women's locker room to get ready. She peeled off her suit, leaving on the camisole underneath, slipped into jeans, zipped her boots and pulled her hair out of its bun. She stepped out of the locker room and ran immediately into Danny and Flack. Both sets of eyes flicked over her, surveying.
"Hot Damn!" Danny exclaimed.
"No," Flack said shaking his head and gesturing, "We are not taking her to Sully's. We are not taking those into Sully's. You do know it's a cop bar right, Broussard?"
"I'll put a coat on, I was about to go get it!" Gus looked at Flack as if he had grown a second head, what was up with him?
"It gets hot in there," Flack retorted.
"And, your point is?" Gus was strangely both agitated and flattered.
"Just...no!" Flack was exasperated now.
"This is no different from when I go out with Stel and Linds thank you very much," she retorted, cackles raising as she squared off with him.
"I need to go out with you ladies more often then," Danny said, trying to defuse the situation.
"A little help, Messer?" Flack said, jaw clenching.
"No way man, I kinda dig the look," Danny said putting his hands up.
"Wait here both of you." Flack ducked into the locker room behind him and came out with a slightly crumpled button down. "Here," he said shoving it at Gus, "put this on."
"Then can we go drink, because I really could use one now?" she said, snapping the shirt out of his hand. She pulled it on and buttoned it half-way, attempting to ignore the fact that it smelled spicy and musky and entirely too much like him for her liking.
The trio walked out of the building, down to Sully's. Danny went in first, Flack held the door open for Gus to go through, he leaned down to her ear and hissed, "all the way, Broussard, you missed a few buttons!"
Gus tripped over the step while fumbling with the buttons and mocking him. "All the way, Brouss-oaf!"
Flack grabbed her arm and hauled her next to him so it her entrance wouldn't be so grand. It also allowed him to shield her from the prying eyes of every hot-blooded man in the bar that night. "Sit," he barked, parking her in a stool between him and Danny and shoving it toward the bar to further block her from view. "And try to not fall off!"
"You're a laugh a minute, aren't you Flack?" Gus said pulling herself on the bar stool.
"Do you two need to duke this thing out, because if so, I want ringside seats," Danny asked enjoying the saga unfolding before him.
"Shut up, Messer," they both snapped at him. "Bartender!" he yelped.
They all relaxed after a pint or two, when Gus inquired about their drinking habits, "so besides beer, can y'all handle anything stronger?" she challenged them with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm mainly a beer man myself, can't speak for pretty boy here, but sure I can handle it," Danny broke into an easy grin.
"So besides fancy wine and beer then?" she smirked at Flack, hoping to get him to flush, which it didn't. He didn't respond. "You in or not?" she asked, he nodded imperceptibly. "Hey dawlin' " she leaned off her stool to get the barkeeper's attention, and garnering everyone else's as well.
Flack caught her belt loop and yanked her down, trying to ignore the eyeful of lace he was getting. "Would you sit, ya goin' to break ya friggin' neck if ya aren't careful," his NY Irish accent surfacing more than usual.
"Chill out, I'm not the complete bumbling idiot I seem to be. 3 bourbons, straight," Gus said to the bartender. "Sure thing, doll," he said winking at her. He set the shots up and put them in front of her.
"If they are all for you, then they are on the house," he said.
"If my companions don't object they are," she flirted back. Danny and Flack each grabbed a shot before she could move. "Sorry to disappoint," she said with a perfectly plump pout, lowering her head and leaning toward the bar.
He roared with a laughter, "I like you, you've got spunk, on the house anyway, doll!"
The three knocked back the shots, and a couple more rounds after that, all having obviously done this many times before, though Gus could tell they were waiting to see how well she could handle herself. "Y'all forget where I'm from, sad really, come on, I want to take you boys somewhere, if you're up for it." She threw a bill on the bar. "Thanks, sugar," she called to the bartender over her shoulder, sashaying out the door.
"No problem, lose those two next time though, would ya?" he replied with a wink.
Shaking their heads in disbelief, Danny and Flack followed her out the door and into the night. Like magic, she hailed the first cab headed toward them. The guys slid in on either side of her. "West 3rd and 6th Ave, please kind sir," she said to the driver.
"Hey, Gus?" Flack questioned.
"Hey, Don."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see," Gus teased.
When they got to the intersection, Danny looked around and something clicked. He looked quizzically at Gus and back at the club. Lindsay had brought him here just last week, she must have told Stella and Gus about Mac's little jazz adventure.
"Why are we at Cozi's?" Flack asked.
"Just pay the nice man, Flack," she said hopping out of the cab. It was early enough that the club wasn't too busy yet, and she greeted the doorman by name "Stanley, sweetie, how's the knee?" Gus asked, a genuine smile spreading across her face.
Flack and Danny exchanged looks, who was this person? "We need to give her shots more often," Danny muttered.
"Gussie, how you doing baby, your boy's on in an hour," the bouncer greeted her with a warm hug. Gus made a slashing movement across her neck, and tilted her chin toward the guys. They were waved in, and she led them to a table a couple of rows from the stage and to the left.
Danny didn't know if he should let on that he knew what was going on or not, "So, Gussie," he quipped, "come here often?"
"Not that far from my place," Gus shrugged nonchalant.
"No it's not," Flack interceded. Danny shot Flack a look, how did he know where Gus lived?
Gus caught a look at her phone seeing a SOS message from Lindsay, her date must not be going well. "Listen boys, I'm gotta pop to the ladies, but you all order a round of drinks. Best sazeracs in town, I gar-on-tee!" She disappeared in a flash.
"How do you know where she lives?" Danny asked the same time Flack said "What the hell is a sazerac?" Both shrugged at each other, and they flagged the server down to order.
Tucked into the bathroom, Gus dialed up Lindsay, "Hey, Linds, bad night huh?"
"Yes, yes, no I understand, I can be there in a few minutes. Where is your exact location?" Lindsay spit out professionally.
"I'm at Cozi's with D&D."
"What?" Lindsay couldn't contain her shock.
"Just call me when you get outside," Gus said. 30 seconds later her phone flashed again. "That was quick!"
"It was bad. He kept wanting to see my gun and making handcuff jokes. I was ready to shoot him by the time the appetizers were out. I am never letting Meika set me up again," Lindsay miserably remarked.
"Heh, better you than I."
"So why are you at Cozi's with Danny and Flack?"
"Uh," Gus stuttered.
"Is Mac playing tonight?" Lindsay's voice raised.
"Uh-huh," Gus mumbled, the bourbon starting to hit her.
"Does he know you are there with them?"
"Bourbon."
"What?"
"We had a few shots at Sully's at they were being all, well, macho and I wanted to take 'em down a notch."
"Oh."
"You coming?"
"Yeah, I don't want to miss this. Though I kinda brought Danny there last week."
"Really?" Gus replied, own voice raising.
"Yeah, listen I'll be there in 5 or 10."
Gus hung up dialed Mac's number. "Are you at Cozi's?" she asked by way of greeting.
"Yes, I am," Mac replied, wondering what was going on.
"Where?" Gus demanded urgently, "where exactly in the club are you?"
"The back room, why?"
"Because I am here, Uncle Mac, with Messer and Flack."
"I see." Mac did not let any emotional through, as usual.
"Sorry." Gus suddenly felt stupid, very stupid.
"Do they know that you and I are related yet?"
"No, they were just being stupid and I, I..."
"It's fine, Gussie."
"Are you sure Mac?"
"Yes." He did not sound the least bit fine.
"Crap!" She stopped by the back bar on her way back to the table, and had another shot. She rejoined the guys and plastered a beauty queen smile on her face, "Linds is coming, her date was a nightmare". She took a sip of the drink waiting in the table for her, "so, what do you guys think of the sazeracs?"
"Wait, Montana's coming here?" Danny squeaked, "Now?"
"In about 5 minutes." He attempted to preen without anyone seeing. Flack snickered.
"Be nice," she said narrowing her eyes at him.
"So the no dating rule doesn't apply to anyone else?" Flack quipped.
"My choice alone. Actually I lie, its one of my father's rules."
"Don't date co-workers? Your dad is weird." Danny said attempting to use a knife as a mirror.
"Was, my parents died right before I turned 13. And it wasn't co-workers. It was cops. Don't be a cop, don't date a cop. He was one, so he should know."
"So you are OK with breaking part of the rule?" Flack asked.
"What? I'm not a cop!" Gus protested.
"You work with NYPD," Flack enjoyed challenging her. "Doesn't make me a cop."
"Looks like a duck, walks like a duck."
"Ducks waddle, I'm a staff psychologist if you do recall."
"Except you scared away enough recruits that they need you to be put on the street to make up for them!"
"Just some ride-alongs, those stupid kids have no idea what they are signing up for anyway. As bad as marine recruits."
"Ah-hem," she heard a throat clear behind her, Danny's eyes went wide, Flack stayed blank. She turned, half wincing "Mac, hey!"
"Good evening, Doctor, detectives, interesting choice of venue, Sully's throw you out so soon?"
"Just a New Orleans gal needing a jazz fix, you know," she spit out.
"Good place for it, Oh look Detective Monroe is here to join the party." He shot her a look. They guys figured it was for the Marine comment, she knew better. It was the 'I'm not keeping this charade up much longer' look.
Flack started laughing at her, as Lindsay made her way to the table. "Shut up," she said, punching him in the arm.
"Ow, I din't say nothin'!"
Mac took the stage with his guitar a few minutes later, and while she didn't have the pleasure of seeing Danny taken down a notch, Flack looked more than a little shocked ."Well then," he said.
They stayed well into the night, drinks flowing, laughing, talking, Mac joined them after his last set, and bought the next couple of rounds.
"To less skeletons in the closet," someone toasted, causing Gus to down her drink in one gulp. By the time the evening was winding down, Danny was teasing Lindsay profusely and Flack was getting more withdrawn, kept playing with his phone.
Mac leaned over to her. "You can't keep secrets from my team Gus, they are all too talented of investigators." "I know, I..." Gus shook her head, feeling cobwebby.
"Are you drunk?", Mac asked suddenly concerned.
"Maybe," she peeped, looking up from under her sheet of blond hair at him, "getting there," she sighed.
He shook his head. He was happy that she seemed to have quit smoking, but he still worried about her drinking. She had been through so much though, and she didn't appear to be out of control. Yet. "Don," Mac gestured him closer.
Flack leaned over Gus, "What's up Mac?"
"See she gets home safe, OK?"
"Sure thing, Mac."
"I'm fine, and I'm also right here you know," Gus bristled.
"You have trouble with your own two feet when you are stone cold sober, Gus. It's 3am and we have been out for a long time," Flack said hauling her to her feet."Come on, sunshine, let's get you home, say goodnight."
Gus cocked an eyebrow at Mac and he nodded at her. "Fine," she said huffily. "Goodnight y'all." A chorus of "night, you guys," followed them into the darkness.
Gus stuck her hands deep into her coat pockets, practically running down the street. Her breath plumed white into the cold night.
"Wait up!" Flack called behind her, "Mac said to make sure I saw you home safe, requires you staying in eyesight"he caught up, "besides I already had one runner today. And I hate runners." She said nothing."You warm enough?"
"Fine," Gus clipped, afraid to talk.
"You look cold."
"I'm fine."
"Are you OK?" Flack didn't know why he kept pressing, other than this woman just didn't make sense to him. "Yeah, it's just...complicated."
He shook his head, "what isn't complicated with you?" There was that dimple again.
She climbed the steps to her building. "Well, thanks. Home safe, all in one piece. Your duty is now done," she exaggerated a bow. And stood up too fast, wavering.
"Whoa there. Let's get you all the way in first, before you start bragging," he steadied her. "Thanks," she said.
"No problem." He stayed close behind her, leading her by the elbow into the elevator, down the hallway to her door.
She swung her door open, and flipped on a light. "I'd invite you in, but it's kind of a wreck, my contractor went missing again."
He whistled, "that's an understatement. I know a guy, you want me to have him call you?"
Gus nodded, woozier by the second and wanting Flack out of her apartment, and to figure out how her heat manage to get set on the approximately 200 degrees it currently was in her apartment. She shrugged out of her coat, stuffing her hat and gloves into its pockets. How could she smell him when he was still by the front door? Must be a trick of the heat. She looked down, no, it was his damn shirt. She started to undo the buttons on the shirt, but her fingers fumbled over them.
"Hey-ah, whaddaya doin'?" Flack suddenly felt in over his head. "Just figured you want your shirt back."
He closed the distance between them and redid the shirt buttons, "why don't you just keep it for tonight?" he said backing back toward the door.
She nodded, afraid to open her mouth not knowing what stupidity would pour out.
"You going to be able to make it to bed alright, assuming you even have a bedroom in this place?" She nodded again. She clenched her jaw to prevent anything from popping out. "Alright then, I'm just gonna let myself out. Sweet dreams, sunshine."
She whimpered and bit her lip as he closed the door behind him. 'Don't date cops," she said slumping from the chair to the floor.
A scant four and a half hours later she bounded into the precinct, balancing a tray of coffee and a sack of breakfast biscuits. She managed to traverse to the crime lab without spilling much.
"Morning, boys," she chirped to Danny and Flack, both slumped miserably in the canteen. They shot her daggers.
"How are you not hung over?" Danny groaned
"Why are you even here, I didn't think you had to work weekends and how are you so damn sunny?" Flack moaned.
"Fine, I'll take my peace-offering elsewhere!" They perked up at the rustling at the bag. "No, no, don't do that," Danny protested.
"Bacon, sausage, or ham your choice." Gus opened the bag. She smacked Danny's hand out-of-the-way. "Ow!" "Not you, Flack was nice enough to make sure I got home without being kidnapped."
Danny snorted, "they'd send you back."
She stupidly made eye contact with Flack, he mouthed "thanks" and dimpled. She felt that stupid heat again. "I, er, um dropped your shirt off at my cleaners, hope I didn't screw it up, I didn't know if you were an extra starch kinda guy..." she trailed, rambling.
"It's fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, it's no big deal."
"You probably have a closet full."
"Something like that," he replied, arching an eyebrow at her.
"I just wanted to make sure, as I said with the starch and all..."
"Hey, who's on first?" Danny sneered, "would you two like to take your routine somewhere else, I'm dying here."
"Sorry, gotta go, I have some charts to do." She left in a wake, following the coffee trail back up the hallway. "She's a wreck!" Danny said shaking his head.
"You tellin' me," Flack replied, trying to hide a smile in his food.
Chapter 9: Discovery
Monday was a crap day, she was swamped in charts again, too many people to see, and she was being punished for being in the field by McNair taking off to Disney World.
"I swear to God, Uncle Mac, I hope he catches rabies from Pluto. No, no, he was the one who couldn't talk. Yeah, Goofy never made sense to me either..." she trailed off as she turned around in her desk chair to see Sheldon Hawkes in the doorway.
"Hawkes," she squawked, falling nearly out of her chair.
"Was that, did I hear...?" Sheldon couldn't figure out if he had heard correctly.
"Uh oh, um, want to go grab a coffee?" Gus couldn't believe she had been so stupid, in the office she never ever called Mac 'uncle' and she rarely ever talked to him during work unless it was about work. She was just stressed and overwhelmed and needed to vent. Mac Taylor said so little that he made an excellent listener. She was tired of being the one who always did the listening. Hawkes just stood in the doorway staring at her while she shifted papers on her desk. "Mac is your-"
"Yes," she cut him off. "Just don't say another word." Damage control, she had to do some damage control. She hauled him over to the lab building and into the canteen, which was luckily empty. Two cups of bad coffee on the table later she finally spoke.
Moving close as possible to him so no one would over hear. "Yes. My mother and his wife were sisters. My mom was a lot older than her. Claire started dating him when I was 14, my parents were already dead. I spent school breaks with them. We kind of stopped talking after 9/11. I just..." she stopped, "listen, I don't want any favors, I don't want to go on anyone else's name or credentials. I just don't want the whole world to know, OK?"
"Yeah, sure, no problem." Sheldon still looked shocked.
"Listen, Sheldon, I know you don't gossip like the rest of the team, I admire that, so I am asking you to please keep this between you and me. It's bad enough being pitied for the damn hurricane, I just-" she found herself shaking, not really knowing why.
Sheldon covered her hands with his own. "I won't, you can trust me. Are you going to be OK?" She nodded, "I think so."
He brotherly tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I'm going to get you a water, I don't think you need any more caffeine."
"Whatever, Doc," Gus broke out a shaky got up, squeezing her shoulder on the way.
Danny Messer skidded to a stop outside the windows of the canteen. Watching Gus talking softly, calmly and not very Gus like to Sheldon. "Hmm. I see the ban is being lifted."
"You talking to yourself again, Messer?" Flack asked, "Why you just standing there?" He followed Danny's gaze, seeing Hawkes brush hair off Gus' face and squeeze her shoulder. "I guess it's just plebeian cops she won't date."
"Pretty big word for you, Flack."
"Screw you, Danny!" Flack said turning back around towards the main building, wondering why he was suddenly so angry.
Tuesday morning, Gus was at her desk puzzling over a case file, it just wasn't making sense to her. She rested her head on it for a second.
"Sunshine, you have some sort of delayed hangover of something?" came a sarcastic voice from her doorway.
She looked up to Flack in the doorway looking, was that annoyed, angry even? "What? No, just no coffee."
"You forget how to answer pages when you don't have coffee then?"
Yep, definitely pissed. She looked at her desk phone, still clicked to in-session and not letting it ring. "Damn it!"
"Well there's a call, scene's been cleared but Mac wants you to take a look at the apartment, thinks something is off."
"Oh, me?"
"Yeah, you, come on," he said turning out the door.
Of course once in the car she had trouble with her seat belt. "Help," she yelped from the tangles.
"I can't handle this today, Broussard."
"Yeah, I caught that." They drove to the scene in stony silence.
Up the stairs to the apartment, Flack inquired about her cell phone. "So what happened to it, drop it down the toilet?"
"Sort of," Gus said looking down ashamed.
"I was kidding," Flack smirked.
"I was trying to answer my cell and I was pouring coffee, and then my cell went off and then the old lady next door wanted to borrow creamer and well...it kind of ended up in the coffee pot somehow and I put it back on the burner and ergo no coffee, no cell."
He shook his head, still annoyed, but amused nonetheless. He opened the crime scene taped covered door. He flipped open his notebook and ran down the details of the crime. "2 vics both found dead at the scene. First vic, Quentin Robinson, male in his late 20 to early 30's found dead in the hallway. Apparent cause of death, stab wounds. Not very deep, so probably not a big knife, but a lot of them, counted 23 at the scene. Several knives are missing from the block in the kitchen. Second vic, Fredrick Washington, preadolescence 11-12 found dead in living room. Bruising on neck indicates strangulation as the cause of death. Frederick was Mr. Robinson's step-son. Super identified them on scene. The mother is still missing, ant it is not known if she was taken or fled from the scene. As you can tell the apartment is a little torn up. Neighbors report constant sounds of fighting from this apartment but never bad enough to call the police. Don't think they trust us very much around here. Time of death is probably sometime last night and a few minutes apart."
Gus looked around the small apartment."Do you have the crime scene photos?"
"Right here," he said giving her the file.
"What's your take on it?" Gus asked him, genuinely wanting to know.
"Maybe drugs, maybe mom snapped couldn't take it anymore, who knows?" "What about the team?"
"Dunno, they had 4 calls back to back."
"So why are you here?"
"I was told to bring you to the scene, so I brought you to the scene."
No wonder he was annoyed, he was having to babysit her. "Sorry," she mumbled "Whatever," Flack began playing with his phone, probably texting.
She flipped through the photos, studying them and the apartment carefully. She noticed 2 cases flanking either side of the TV, one spilling over with DVD's the other one empty in chunks here and there. "Hey, I think there are some videos missing," Gus said gesturing to the shelving unit. "I mean why would you have one case overfull but the other one half empty?"
"Good point," he said barely looking up.
"This just doesn't make sense," Gus said looking between the apartment and the crime scene photos. "You have two pretty damn different ways to kill someone, and while they were related, why two MO's?"
Flack gave minimal response, he wasn't paid to babysit.
"Maybe they were killed at the same time but by two different killers. If I was betting, this has something to do with sexual assault on the kid and something going really wrong. I would bet kid died first by 'accident' and then mom killed step-dad in retaliation or protection," Gus paused, "I'm going to look around."
"Whatever," Flack replied, intent on his phone.
"Probably his little black book," Gus muttered, storming off down the hallway.
She was searching the master bedroom, and had just opened the closet door and marveled at the mess and mound of clothing. Turning to flip on the light switch, she felt a searing pain in her left thigh right about the kneecap. "Ow, " she yelped, trying to not throw up. Instinctively she shot down with her left elbow and connected with cartilage. The mound of clothing had contained a woman now unconscious on the floor, and Gus' thigh now had a small paring knife sticking out of it.
"Hey Flack?" Gus called weakly.
"What?" he yelled annoyed from the living room.
"Was one of the missing knives a small paring knife, 2-3" long?"
"Probably, why?" Flack wondered if this woman fancied herself a psychic or some other crap like that.
"I think I found it." Flack wandered back slowly, finding Gus with her foot planted on the center of the chest of the woman on the floor.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Flack exclaimed when he came up behind her.
"Should we take it out?" she asked him.
"I don't know, you're the doctor!"
"PsyD remember? Okay, okay, I'm taking it out," Gus said, pulling the knife out.
"Yeesh," he said, paling and turning his head away. "Why didn't you cuff her?" he said pointing to the woman on the floor who was now stirring. Gus went to respond, but Flack was on the radio. "I need a bus to..."
"I don't need a bus, it's just a scratch!"
He looked at her, she gestured to the woman, "cancel, I need a patrol car to transport a suspect to the 12th precinct," he finished with dispatch. "Do you not know how to cuff someone Broussard?"
"I don't have cuffs," Gus meekly stated.
He cuffed the woman, "stay put" he said to suspect, throwing her on the bed. Suddenly, he lifted up Gus' suit jacket, and whirled her around, tugging on her belt loops. "Where is your badge? Or your gun? You can't tell me you forgot them. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"I don't have those things, I'm not a cop!"
"Obviously," he clenched his jaw so tight, a vein popped out in his head. "I'm going to have to report this to Mac and to the Captain, I can't cover for you, sunshine."
"I'm not asking you to, Detective," she said.
"Um, we are here to transport a suspect, is everything OK?" spoke up a young uniform behind them.
"Fine!" both Flack and Gus snapped at the same time.
"Book her and put her in a holding cell" Flack rattled off, gesturing to the woman on the bed, "we have something to take care of first."
Gus felt her stomach drop. "Crap," she whispered, rubbing her hands over her face. "Come on, sunshine," Flack ordered. She fought the urge to tell him where to go.
Halfway back, Gus was fighting the urge to hurl and trying to ignore the pain in her thigh. She reached down to put pressure on her thigh, grimacing at her hand covered in blood. "Um, Flack?"
"What?" he snipped.
"How attached are you to that tie?"
"Why?" 'Tell me she is not also going to start picking on my ties', Flack thought.
She held up her hand. "I think it's worse than I thought."
He slammed on the brakes. "That's it, I am taking you to St. Mark's."
"No!" she screamed. He looked at her. "I mean, no, I'm okay, I'll have Sid look at it."
"Sid stitches up dead bodies, have you seen his work?" Flack could not believe how much trouble Gus was turning out to be.
"Well, than I'll have Sheldon look at it," Gus retorted.
"Right, have your boyfriend check it out," Flack sneered.
"What are you talking about?" Gus was horribly confused and woozy.
"Nothing," he said, his eye twitching as he handed his tie to her.
She wrapped it around her thigh, biting her cheek in pain. Once back at the precinct, Flack turned to her, eyes almost gun-metal gray. "Go get that looked at, I'm going to talk to Mac."
She gulped. "Fine," she said, resignedly limping off.
Chapter 10: Qualified
"I don't know what is going on with her, she is all over the map. Bad enough she is a shrink, but then she plays cop without a gun, without a badge, without even handcuffs, Mac. She is going to get someone killed.
Or worse, herself. Captain said to take her out, so I did, but I didn't know, and I can't ignore this Mac. I won't have incompetents working with me!" Flack raged to Mac, his head feeling like it was going to explode.
"I hardly think incompetent in the right word, Flack." Mac was having trouble figuring out what was troubling the younger detective.
"I call it as I see it Mac," Flack wasn't going to back down.
"I'll handle this, Don!" Mac just had to figure out how to handle it.
Gus stood in the hallway overhearing every word, her heart sinking. "Why are you such a screw up, Broussard?" she said to herself.
Flack came out of Mac's office, eyes flashing, not even a hint of a dimple or smile. "You OK?" he asked gruffly.
"I'll live," Gus sighed.
"Good," he clipped.
"Broussard," she heard Mac call, strained. She shuffled in like a teenager late for curfew. She slumped in the chair facing Mac's desk just waiting to hear him say, 'what do you have to say for yourself'. He didn't. He just stared at her. Silence. She curled up into the scrubs Hawkes had given her to wear after stitching up her wound.
"Are you trying to self-destruct, Gus?" Mac finally asked, even as could be.
"No, sir," she squeaked.
He cleared his throat. "I know you have been through a lot, too much but I know you are smarter than this."
"How do you know?" she said petulantly.
He stared her down. "You know better, I know you know better. You passed all written exams and the physical nearly a month ago, Gus!"
She looked up at the ceiling, fighting back everything that had crushed down on her the past 6 months. She got up and turned her back to him, "I don't know which end is up anymore, Mac...I don't know who I am supposed to be or what I am supposed to be doing!"
"Fine, but don't put my team or yourself in jeopardy while you are trying to figure that out!"
She snapped, "so, what I am not part of your team? What the hell am I supposed to do, everybody wants me to be something different. Shrink, nerd, cop, refugee... I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" she hurled at him.
"So don't." He remained matter of fact.
"What?"
"Be whatever you want, but you better figure it out now or take some time off to figure it out, Gus. Flack is pretty sure you are ready to crack up." She snorted. "And just try to be honest for once, with yourself first."
"Honest, you want honesty?" Gus yelled.
"It might be a nice change of pace." Mac stared her down. "Fine here's your damn honesty!" Gus yelled, storming out.
The team tried to not stare at the scene unfolding in Mac's office. "I've never seen Mac this angry before," Lindsay said.
"Well I've never seen anyone yell at him, Montana," Danny retorted.
"Did she just stomp her feet?" Stella asked.
"I think it's safer in the lab," Adam retorted.
"What is going on with them?" Stella asked.
"Maybe it's her stab wound," Hawkes said.
"Only if she got stabbed in the head!" Flack retorted.
"Aaaaarrrgh!" Gus growled, storming out. She paused at the group in the hallway. "Yes, I am a klutz, yes, I want to be a cop and yes, Mac is my Uncle!" she said and stormed off toward her office.
"Klutz?" Lindsay said.
"Cop?" Adam and Hawkes replied
"Uncle?" said Stella, Danny and Flack.
"Flack!" Mac roared. The team all jumped, Mac didn't roar.
"Yeah, Mac?"
"Get her down to the shooting range and get her qualified. Now!" "You got it," Flack said starting after Gus.
"Why didn't you tell me Mac?" Stella asked.
"Wasn't my place."
"Not the best way to build trust on a team."
"Hey, wait up, slow down!" Flack hustled after Gus, shocked she was moving that fast.
"What you want to yell at me some more? I got it, I am a failure, got the stab wound to prove it, you don't want me working with you because you think I am a screw up!" Gus said through clenched teeth.
"Just stop it." Flack had heard enough.
"Stop what?"
"Don't be self depreciating, Gus." "Fine. What do you want then?"
"Mac said to take you down to the range."
"And I am sure you are overjoyed with having to babysit me again," Gus said shaking her head.
"I'm just wondering if I should get a vest first," Flack cracked a small wry smile.
"Har har har." They stared down each other.
"So, uncle huh?" Flack half-teased.
"Yep." Gus wasn't giving anything up.
"And..." Pushing her on.
"And what?" She refused to budge.
"Any more to the story than that?" How could she be so stubborn, Flack wondered.
"Plenty."
"So?"
"Some other time."
"What about all that damn honesty," Flack quoted cracking up.
"Did everyone hear everything?" Gus flushed.
"Pretty much."
They kept walking, Gus swallowed and said, "do you really think I am ready to crack up?"
"Maybe."
"I'm not."
"Whatever you say. So what's going on with you an Sheldon?"
"Not a damn thing." Where the hell was he getting his information from, some detective.
"Really?"
"I don't really have the damn energy to lie about much right now, Don," Gus's eyes flashed.
"Alright then, here we are. Let me get some weapons and possibly a helmet". She rolled her eyes. "Put these on," he said handing her goggles and ear covers. "So I'm thinking a Sig-Sauer P250 for you, seems to be favored by lots of women on the force, including Lindsay. Stella uses a Heckler & Koch MP5 but she is scary as hell with firearms. I use a standard Glock. Frankly I think it might be safer to just give you a taser gun though," Flack talked while lying out the weapons.
He pulled his Glock from his holster, lying on the counter. He went through loading and unloading and safety on and safety off and while Gus wanting nothing more than to tell him to screw off, she just nodded, running out of fight for the day.
"I'm going to go move the target up, seeing as it is your first time out." He walked over to the panel of switches by the door.
Ticked off now, as soon as he turned, Gus picked up his Glock, aimed and fired a tight circle directly at the target in front of her.
Flack rushed back looking incredulous. "Damn!" he whistled
"You forget about CIA-prep, Flack."
"Guess I did, but Gus..."
"What?!"
"Don't ever tough a man's gun without asking first," Flack teased at her.
She cocked a hand on her hip, eyebrow raised "you saying I can't touch your gun, Don?" He just swallowed as she walked out.
Chapter 11: You're a Cop
The next morning, Mac was at her door first thing. "Heard about you and the shooting range." She didn't say anything. "Gus, I don't know how to quiet tell you this..."
"But?"
He laid the shield and gun down on her desk, "you're a cop. Don't tell your father though, he'd have my hide." Mac smiled, sliding the shield toward her.
"Great," she said, dropping her head down on her desk.
She was still like that when Flack came by late in the day. "Don't tell me you shot yourself already."
"Gunghher," she said muffled.
"What?"
"I wish," she said looking up. "I'm a cop," she wailed.
"I personally like to think there are worse things, sunshine."
"Maybe for you."
"What is your deal anyway with cops?"
"Long story."
He leaned back on her couch, propping his long legs on her desk, "I'm good, do tell."
"Maybe another time."
"OK then-" he paused, "so I guess I gotta take you back to Sully's now as a cop."
"Whatever."
"Whaddya mean whatever, you turning down a drink, and don't give me that cop, no dating coworkers crap, doesn't fly now, you being one of us now and all."
"Fine, fine, I need a drink anyhow."
"Good, but Gus?"
"Yeah?"
"Could you put those scrubs back on, because if those guys see you in an outfit like last time and see that you are carrying, it may be more than they can handle." She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
Later after a few pints Flack tried to bring up her past again, "so you going to tell me about your thing with cops yet or about you and Mac?"
"I want to..." she trailed off, playing with her coaster. "So tell."
"I can't."
"You ever trust anyone, Gus?"
"Hasn't worked out so far, Don."
"Maybe you haven't tried the right guy yet."
Gus snorted beer out of her nose, "nice try, you have smooth lines for all the ladies?"
"Yeah, maybe I do. Usually they work though," he said with a dimpled smile.
"With what, badge bunnies?"
"Do I look like the type to chase after badge bunnies?" he retorted.
"I don't see you doing much chasing," Gus shot back.
"Well I do hate runners."
Their easy exchange ground to a halt with silence. Gus stared up at him, feeling herself grow warmer. She went to fan herself and sent her beer spilling across the bar. "Crap, I'm sorry," she said, mopping the mess and turning scarlet.
"Hey wasn't my beer," Flack dimpled down at her, marveling how she managed to not severely injure herself on a daily basis.
"Yeah, well," Gus felt the urge to curl under a bar stool and die. "Um, well, thanks for the beer, but I, um, I gotta go." She mentally kicked herself for turning once again into a stuttering idiot around him.
"Of course you do, Broussard," he said to her retreating figure, "of course you do."
Flack didn't get it, Gus seemed defied everything he knew about women. Sexy and smart as hell, but it was amazing she could put one foot in front of the other. Plus the whole secret history thing and the fact that should could shoot possibly better than he could. He didn't get it. Not to mention his pride was more than a little wounded that she didn't seem to want anything to do with his other gun. It just wasn't natural. What unnerved him the most was the anger he felt when he saw Sheldon touching her, the lack of interest he had in touching anyone else, despite more than a few great offers, and the joy he felt when she had said there was nothing going on between her and the handsome doctor. "She's trouble, Junior," he said to himself in the rear view mirror.
Gus didn't get it either. She was torn in so many directions these days it seemed. Or really always. She always had this urge to save the world at the same time believing the world was only ever going to let her down. More times that she cared to think about she saw pain and suffering and destruction that did not have to exist. She was jaded, she knew that, but she still remained optimistic. That was the reason she had gone into psychology in the first place. But now, here, with a badge and a gun and the ability to be a cop. She just didn't know if she would ever be a good one. Flack was right, she was a mess, how would she survive without shooting herself in the foot?
She also didn't know if this was something that would make her father proud or something that would cause him to roll over in his grave. And then there was the problem with Flack. She didn't know what was going on there. She wasn't sure if he was attracted to her or embarrassed of her. He must have a harem of women waiting for his calls, and how could she ever compete with that? New York women were different. That was part of the reason she hadn't even attempted to go out on a date here. Plus, there was all that repressed anger at Gage. He had done a pretty good job of convincing her that unless she changed BIG TIME, there was no way a guy would ever want to be with her long term.
Add to that the complications of the whole team now knowing Mac was her uncle and figuring out that is the only way her buffoonish self had not been fired yet. Not to mention she still couldn't sleep without nightmares. It had been like this before, after Claire died. Her doctor finally gave her those stupid blue pills, ones that were supposed to help her sleep, but they didn't, they just made the nightmares harder to wake up from. Sometimes she wished she could run away from herself, just like Gage had done.
Gus wasn't given the chance to run away. She was thrown directly into the fire from the frying pan to consult on any cases that warranted it. Her main duties were with homicides and working with the crime lab on profiling, something the CSI's often did but were not as formally trained in. The department realized that they could use her as a profiler without ever have to pay the Feds a consultation fee. Gus had to give up most of her case load, though she was still responsible for evaluations for officers returning to work, and thus she got to keep her office.
Her first week in her new position involved a stolen liver, a woman luring men by anonymous phone sex who ended up dead in an alley, and a delusional schizophrenic who thought he was superman. While everyone else felt like they were walking on eggshells while working on the superman case, it was the one she felt most competent with.
She was able to talk to the witness and get a complete story out of him in no time, though Flack and Stella spent about 8 hours with him to no avail. His damn doctor should have been shot, though, and Gus very well may have done so if she hadn't kept forgetting she had a gun. Once again, Gus had to fight the butterflies when Flack about assaulted that asshole in the interrogation room when the 'doctor' admitted he didn't like "those retards." Something in the soft spots Flack kept showing for the underdog, in his unyielding position on good versus evil struck a chord with her. The case with the woman in the alley shook her though. First, she wasn't good with rape cases, hadn't been, not since that night when she was attacked.
And also there seemed to be way more to the case and its suspect and something involving a CSI that had been there before Lindsay. Someone that Stella, Mac, Danny, and Flack all seemed to have been very close to. Mac finally revealed to her that he had had to fire this CSI, Aiden, because she had tried to transplant evidence.
"You have to let the science lead you," he told her seemingly out of the blue, "you can't rely on your gut."
"Sorry, Mac," she said, "we won't ever agree there, a large percentage of theories are based on gut instinct."
"I'll give you that, but you need science to prove them, right?"
"How about I just come up with the theories and you prove them?"
"Deal, but Gus...I tell you this as a cautionary tale."
"Ah the famous Mac Taylor cautionary tales."
"I do sincerely respect and take stock in profiling, but you won't always be right and sometimes the evidence won't match your theory. You can be amazing at what you do, and still be wrong."
"You are aware that psychology has been used in police tactics since Roman times right? And that your fancy science is new?"
"My fancy science is much more seal tight to attorneys though, but that's not what I meant."
"What are you really saying, Mac?
"Aiden always reminded me a lot of you."
"Insomuch as?"
"Stubborn, independent, always willing to think outside the box, stubborn, stubborn and couldn't ask for help. I hated having to let her go, but I couldn't have her ruin this lab's integrity."
"I'm not touching your lab, Mac."
"Keep it that way."
Later she tried to delicately bring up the subject with Stella. "Mac told me about Aiden." Stella didn't answer. "I'm not going to analyze you Stel, but Mac said these cases might be related. I am also thinking there might be a lot of unresolved stuff with her leaving." Stella gave an imperceptible nod. "Like she was an integral part of the team and no one really was able to process her leaving or what she had almost done to the lab?"
"That pretty much sums it up."
"I am betting it doesn't even begin to."
Stella sighed. "Aiden was, well sort of like you, intense, stubborn, intelligent, fierce."
"But probably not a klutz," Gus replied with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
"Nope, not so much," Stella smiled. "But the whole dynamic was different when she was here, not at all like with Lindsay."
"What is she doing now?"
"I think she is a PI."
"Who was closest to her?"
"You practicing your interrogation skills, Gus?"
"No, I'm just curious."
"I dunno, we all were close to her in different ways. I think she went out with Messer and Flack a lot though."
"Out out or just out?"
Stella shrugged, "don't know". The she took a deep breath, "Aiden tried to do what she thought was right, it was a bad call."
Gus studied her for a moment before speaking, "she did something that all of you are afraid you might one day do yourselves, at a weak moment, something every good CSI knows they shouldn't. She gave into temptation between wanting to punish evil now and letting the evidence do it later and if she could do it, every one of you is afraid you could fall down the same rabbit hole."
"I thought you weren't analyzing." Stella looked stunned.
"I'm not, just a theory." Gus tried to not obsess about Aiden, tried to not be jealous about a woman on the team that may or may not have gotten close to Flack. Tried to ignore her sudden urge to try to get close to him herself, all while thinking maybe that wasn't even possible because she was thinking he had some walls similar to her own or at the very least was more about all play and no work when it came to 'relationships'. Not to mention his dance card probably never had an empty spot on it for a klutz like her. But of course Gus found herself thinking about a certain blue eyed detective a lot more than she ever would have admitted to anyone, maybe even herself.