Chapter 15: Burned

Time slipped along and Gus found herself feeling even more connected to the team than she ever thought possible. She and Lindsay had had several discussions about it, both of them trying to get over being the 'new kids'. Of course spending so many hours together a week lent itself to rapid familiarity. Gus was actually starting to feel like she might belong, until a ghost came to haunt all of them.

On what would have otherwise been a gorgeous spring day, Gus found herself at the scene of a burned out car trying to not hurl.

"Ah, so this must be your first crispy critter," Flack said to her. "Actually not," she replied, trying to do deep breathing, recalling the burnt body floating in the storm waters.

"Hey guys, I think this body is female, I don't think it is the owner of the car," Lindsay spoke up from the passenger side of the car.

"I don't care what it is, it's horrific," Gus said, turning greener as the smell reminded her of memories she wanted desperately to forget. The ground moved and she stumbled. Flack caught her by the elbow but she shoved him aside as waves of nausea and blackness washed over her. She leaned over the side of a dumpster and hurled.

Stella held her hair back. "You alright?"

Gus tried to nod, shaking, she couldn't breathe. "I. Think. I'm...having...a..." she heaved, "panic attack." "Okay, you are okay, calm down breathe deep," Stella soothed her.

Gus glanced over at Lindsay and Flack, praying they were not laughing at her. She was relieved to see they both looked concerned, but were also busy with the scene. "Why don't you call Mac and see if he needs help at his scene?" Stella suggested gently.

Gus nodded, "thanks Stel."

The day deteriorated from there. The body from the car ended up being Aiden Burn, the CSI who had been there before Lindsay. The team each took it in their own way, but they all were hit hard. Except her and Lindsay who had never even met Aiden. Lindsay and Gus kept away from everyone, as they were all grieving, and doing a great job of making the "new girls" feel unwelcome.

"I know analytically that it is normal for them to all grieve and think we don't understand," Gus started.

"But it still effects us, we are like family," Lindsay finished, "I feel bad for them, I do, I also feel like crap because I 'replaced' Aiden."

"Oh, hon, don't do that to yourself," Gus laid a hand on her friends arm. "They will need us to get through this, they just have to be jerks for a while, we just have to be patient."

"If you say so."

"Just be a listener."

Hawkes was working with the ME on the body and was frustrated, blaming Sid for not finding anything. Gus hightailed it out of the room before she called him on it. Stella was obsessed with figuring out the case and was over at Aiden's place. Danny had taken over Mac's case, having Flack do all the questioning.

Mac was in a horrible mood, as to be expected, but he lashed into her when she went in late that evening to give her condolences. "Remember what I warned you about before, Gus, this is what I mean. She did not need to get herself killed, no case is worth that," he looked pointedly at her, "no cause is worth that."

"I haven't hitched my wagon to a cause in over eight months, Uncle Mac."

"Keep it that way!"

"It's not like I try to get myself into trouble."

"You don't generally do a good job hiding from it though. Plus, now you are out in the field and not in an office and I worry that I did the wrong thing bringing you up here."

Gus was wounded, "well maybe I shouldn't have come. I can go back you know, if you want me to." "I wasn't saying that Augusta, I was- just don't get yourself killed, okay?"

"Fine, I wasn't planning on it!"

She was in a miserable mood by the time she got to the roof, everyone else had scattered, even Lindsay refused bonding time.

Feeling the most alone she had been since she had been here, she tucked herself in a corner of the terrace with a flask and a pack of cigarettes. "Screw them, I don't have to be here, if no one wants us part of the team, Lindsay can suck it up and be all Pollyanna all she wants, but I'm not taking it," she growled into the night.

"Gus?" She heard a voice.

"Crap! I didn't know anyone was up here."

"I needed to think," Flack walked out from the shadows.

"Seems to be going around."
"Yeah well," he leaned over the side and then pointed to her cigarette, "thought you quit."

"Me too," she stubbed it out.

"Um, you probably don't know this, but Aiden is...Aiden was..." Flack trailed off. Gus had the urge to say she had heard enough about Aiden, but she also knew that Flack needed to talk, seriously for once, no cop act, no sarcasm, just talk. She also knew she may hate whatever she was about to hear.

She tugged off her overcoat, pulled on Flack's hand, "sit down, something tells me we both need a drink." They sat, Gus handing him her flask as Flack told her about Aiden.

"She was like...an anchor. I don't mean how Mac is an anchor. He's, you know, the leader, but she was so intense she pulled you down, she just made you get down into every case, to every person behind every case. Lots a people thought she was a bitch, but really cared about every vic."

Gus let Flack talk himself out for a long while, just listening. He finally paused and then said, "she would have made a great street cop, but she liked the lab, said it was like her home. When she..." he stopped and looked at Gus "what do you know about her leaving?"

"A little, I know how Mac was torn about firing her and I know she did what she thought was right."

"She crossed a line, but for someone to kill her, I think I could cross that line. If they don't find who did this to her, I will. Danny would help me kill the guy, I know he would."

"You can't come back from that Don, you don't ever get to come back from that," Gus blurted out. She drew her knees up to her chest, shivering.

"I know that!" he snapped.

"Do you, do you really, because I know you get to catch bad guys all day, but do you really know?" Gus said her voice dripping with anger.

"Don't shrink me," Flack said getting riled up back at Gus.

"I'm not." She dropped her head for a second, looking back up eyes full of pain, "you have to be sure, Don, real sure you are right to be able to handle that kind of revenge."

"Why do I get the feeling we ain't talking about me here?"

She stood up, leaning over the side, flipping back over she stared up at the sky, debating if she could open up to him, to anyone. No one knew the whole story, luckily not that many questions were asked, but still she was tired of running from it. She slid back down the wall, took a long drink, and hugged herself again. "The day I qualified was the first day I fired a gun in a long while. I had grown up with them though, my dad had been military, then a cop and we lived in New Orleans and it wasn't the safest place to raise a family, not to mention Louisiana ain't called Sportsman's Paradise for the Saints record. I knew how to shoot accurately in the dark by the time I was 7."

"So, you shoot a burglar or something like that?"

"I wish it were that simple". He took a drink, and looked at her expectantly. "My parents were murdered right before I turned 13. Everyone thought I had it all together, wouldn't cry, wouldn't rage. Everyone kept telling me what to feel, how to feel, when to feel, but I felt nothing."

"Christ, I'm sorry Gus."

"That even the half of it, blue eyes, there's a moral in here for you, but I thought you needed a little background." She took another drink and continued, "call it abandonment issues or depression or whatever, but I just stopped feeling things. I made it worse by getting into shit I shouldn't have. Drinking, pot, prescriptions. Never a lot, never out of control, just whenever I felt- anything really, I shut it off. Some of the other girls couldn't control themselves as well, so the nuns helped me graduate early so I was out of their hair. I started undergrad at 16 up the river at Loyola and stayed there through my doctorate. While there, I had a chance to work with a team that went to study PTSD in children in Africa." Gus took a deep breath, pausing for a moment before continuing.

"There was this professor there, everyone knew he was a lech, and the girls knew to steer clear of him. Except my roommate, Gwen, and I didn't get the memo. One night the dear professor got a little handsy with Gwen. She fought him off, knocked him out. He didn't want to have to explain his black eyes to anyone, like his wife, so he told the program administrators she was unstable. I didn't want to see her name dragged through the mud, so I set myself up as bait…" she stopped, her whole body shaking. Flack put his coat over her, and put an arm around her. She looked blankly into the night, trapped in the memory. She shrugged out from under his arm.

The memories flooding her, the story spilling out with them. "But when he found out I was setting him up and recording him he broke into mine and Gwen's room later that night. I thought he just wanted the tape, but-" she broke off, taking a long breath. "He tied us both up. He beat and raped Gwen first and was coming for me, but I had a gun, a gun I definitely should not have had on an academic mission in a foreign country, but he was coming for me, and I thought he had killed Gwen and so I shot him. They covered it up, the university didn't want the press, they blamed some militia and put me on the next plane home. I landed back on American soil on September 10th, 2001, the day before my aunt died." She curled into a ball, sobbing silently.

"Jesus, Gus," was all Flack said, pulling her into his arms. She froze, tightening up like a caged animal.

She wrested out of his hug and shot up. "My point was that you can't get that kind of blood of your hands, Don. Even if you know a person killed someone close to you, you don't forget it just by killing them in return!" She shouted at him, over him as he was still sitting.

"Hey, calm down," he said, standing putting his hands up, "I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry, you're right."

"I don't want to be right. I want this to have not happened to y'all! It sucks, because it doesn't take long to learn to not let people in, not let them close... it hurts...less that way, when they die."

"Does it really?" He looked down at her, wanting more than anything to put her in a bubble, to protect her from all that she had seen and would see in this job. Protect her like he hadn't Aiden. He looked into her deep green eyes, he could get lost in them...

Suddenly he was close, too close, stroking her cheek, lifting her hair to rest his hand on the back of her neck and then he was kissing her. Hot and probing and hard.

She kissed back, hungry for something like safety, something like belonging. He pulled her impossibly close to him, holding her tight, practically lifting her off the ground, she ran her hands up and down his muscular back, falling into his lips, his tongue, wanting to curl up into his very being, heat racing through both of them at a scorching pace...

And then like a switched flipped, he stopped, practically jumping back from her. "Shit, Gus," he said running his hand through his dark hair. "I'm sorry, that was a mistake, I shouldn't have."

"Why because I'm not Aiden?" she questioned him angrily.

"Yes, no, I don't know, but I shouldn't..."

He looked so wounded, she tried to back peddle, "Of course you shouldn't have, no one should, I'm bad luck, touch me and you die," she snapped.

"I didn't mean..."

"Of course you didn't mean. Just never mind, pretend it didn't happen, I going to."

"Gus, come on!"

"Forget it, we each got our own stuff to deal with, just screw off, Flack!" With that she turned and walked away.

By the time Gus got herself home, she had worked herself into a full rage. "How could he be such a jerk, though why I am so surprised, he is hot New York cop after all, probably has kissed a million girls and blown them off. Screw him and his pretty blue eyes, I don't need this shit." She calmed down enough to wish she had a Valium. Figuring bourbon would do, she felt herself slipping into a very dark place, one she knew she might not be able to get out of on her own.

Feeling lost and drowning, she reached out for her cell phone, knowing it was too late to call anyone. "Taylor," a gruff sleepy voice in the background.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle Mac," she said between sobs.

"Gus, what's going on?" He knew something was gravely wrong, Gus wasn't one to cry. "I just can't make it out there."

"Is this about Aiden's crime scene today? Stella told me you had a panic attack. I should have checked to see it you were okay. I'm sorry, Gussie."

"That's not just it. Something happened in Zalinge, that is why I called you the day before Ti Claire...something bad happened." For the first time, she told someone the whole truth of what had happened and by the time she finished, she was physically and emotionally empty.

Mac remained silent. "Why don't you take tomorrow off, rest up." "I'll be fine."
"It wasn't a question, it was an order."
"I have paperwork to do."

"It will wait."

Chapter 16: Amends

Gus really did attempt to sleep, but found herself gripped in nightmares and soaked in sweat throughout the restless night.

She was perched on a ladder the next morning, finally getting around to painting her office when her phone buzzed. She looked down at the screen and let it go to voicemail. Two minutes later it buzzed again. Same caller. No message. This continued for an hour until finally she snapped it up. "Don't you have a bad guy to catch, Detective?" she snarled into the phone.

"Whoa, oh, I was just checking in to make sure you were okay, since you didn't come in today." Flack sounded both defensive and wounded, but neither did anything to soothe Gus' tone.

"Mac wouldn't let me."

"Oh, he didn't say that."

"Yeah well, I'm just peachy. You can go back to your life now," Gus huffed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Flack's brow furrowed as he replayed the conversation from the previous night.

"I think you made things clear last night," Gus all but hissed.

Flack's patience was rapidly running out. "Come on, that's not fair."

"What do you know about fair?"

"Dammit, Gus, I can't figure you out!"

"So stop trying to. No one said you had to."

Flack's reply was soft, "I know."

"Listen, I am betting you are hardly hurting for companionship, so why don't you just screw off and leave me alone?" Gus heaved a sigh of frustration.

"Because we work together."

"That isn't turning out so well, I'm thinking about leaving." She tried to keep her tone flippant, belying how laden she was with emotion.

"You always run away, sunshine?" Flack almost sounded bemused, something that irked Gus to replying crossly.

"I'm good at it."

"You know I hate runners."

"Fine by me, Flack, you hate me, I hate you, works out great for everyone!" She hung up the phone and threw it to the ground from the ladder, not feeling the satisfaction she had hoped for when it cracked.

Late that afternoon, her house phone rang. She had been enjoying the quietness of her day, retreating into herself. She picked it up resignedly.

"Hey, what's up?" Came Stella's worried question.

"Hi Stel."

"I've been calling your phone all day, it keeps freaking out though."

"It um, fell off a ladder." Gus felt awash with guilt, she was behaving like a brat and she knew it, she just was so unnerved by Don Flack.

"Isn't that your 4th phone since you moved here?"

"Yeah," Gus admitted quietly.

"Listen, Gus," Stella started in a serious tone.

"ohgawd," Gus groaned, "am I being fired, because I would rather just quit, though why Mac didn't call to tell m-"

"No, no, just listen," Stella cut her off. "I'm saying this as your friend, and if that doesn't work, then as your superior. I don't know what the hell happened between you and Don, but you two better work it out because we can't have weak links on the team. So if you need a new partner, go talk to Lieutenant Daddino or something, or tell Mac, but work it out."

"Partners, I don't have a partner, I'm barely a cop, I do ride alongs and profiles."

"Honey, I don't know how to tell you this, but you and Flack, you're partners. You only ride along with him, you are the only other person who works with both the precinct and CSI other than him, you have the same bosses, maybe it's not official, but you are."

"Shit."

"What?"

"Oh nothing, just I sort of told him to screw off and that I hated him."

Stella laughed, "do you know how many times I have told Mac that?"

"And you're still around?"

"Just make peace with him, or at least a truce and then figure out what you want to do, but do it quick, because a pissed off Flack is not fun to have or be around."

She patched her phone back together enough and listened to her voicemails, as she seemed to have gotten a couple from everyone checking in on her. The last one was from Flack, sounding dejected. "Broussard, it's Flack. I know you think I'm an asshole, but I'm not. Just, well, as you like to say, it's complicated. And if you want to leave, it's your choice. And if you don't want to work with me, I get that too, just be careful, okay?"

Gus slid down the wall and dialed Lindsay. "Monroe," Lindsay answered, still managing to sound perky.

"Linds, I'm a hot mess," Gus whimpered.

"Well, yes, generally known, but what's going on now?"

"It's this damn case, everyone's just-"

"Tell me about it. But listen, I think the case is over. Aiden left a bunch of information in her apartment on the rape cases. So maybe things will get back to normal. At least I hope so. Mac had been pacing in his office all day, with him and Stella pouring over information, Sheldon is ready to go back to the morgue, Danny and Flack got in this huge argument, because Flack was being an asshole all day, it's just not cool. Be glad you didn't come in."

"That may have been my fault."

"What, no, it's this case, Aiden was entwined or something with all of them."

"Linds, don't take this the wrong way but I don't want to hear any more about Aiden right now. But tell Danny I'm sorry Flack was an asshole. I kinda pissed him off last night. And then earlier today. I told him I hated him."

"Oh!" Lindsay exclaimed, unable to even guess what could have possibly happened.

"Yeah." Gus' voice sounded completely dejected.

Lindsay was at a loss, kicking herself when she could only come up with, "wow!"

"Yeah, and Stella told me I had to fix it, quickly. But I don't know how."

"Just talk to him, isn't that what you are best at?" Lindsay suggested, desperately wanting to be helpful, realizing how far removed she was from adult female friendships.

"Listening, Linds, not talking, I suck at talking."

Lindsay sighed and tried again, she really liked Gus and felt for her. Not to mention she could empathize with the complicated relationship happening between the two detectives. "No you don't. Look, he just left and said he was going home, just call him and talk, it will be fine. You don't hate him do you?"

"No, of course not-" Gus stopped herself short from revealing anything else, not wanting to put her true feelings out into the universe.

"So what did he do to provoke you?"

"I wish I knew, Linds, I think I told him too much stuff about my past and we just kinda got into a fight."

"Well, just talk to him..." Lindsay trailed off and Gus heard a voice in the background before cutting the conversation with "listen, um, I'm going to go catch a bite with Danny, I think he could use some listening himself."

"Have fun or something," Gus said, replied.

"Yeah, you too. See you tomorrow?"

"I hope so, we on for Friday?"

"You better believe it."

"Bye, girlie," Gus said, hanging up.

Which is how Gus found herself on the porch of a duplex in Queens, praying she had the right address from where it had smeared on her hand and that a door wasn't about to be slammed in her face. She hit the buzzer again and heard "I'm coming, hold your horses," and was relieved to recognize Flack's voice, even if it was agitated. He opened the door and stared at her through the screen. He was still in charcoal pinstriped pants, though his jacket and tie were off, and his burgundy sleeves were rolled up with a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. He just stared, almost through her, his jaw tight.

Gus' heart skipped a beat. "Hey," she said, shuffling her feet, sticking her hands in the pocket of her hoodie.

Flack stared down at her debating on if he should let her in, on a myriad of levels. She looked like hell, like she hadn't slept for a week. Still gorgeous, but like hell. Her hair pulled into a messy ponytail, wearing an over sized hooded sweatshirt, jeans that were too long, battered converse sneakers, and glasses. "How did you find my place?" he asked through the screen.

"I have access to personnel files remember?" Gus said, chewing on her lip nervously.

"Oh." Flack's tone was flat, his face blank.

"And Stella told me," Gus tacked on.

Raised eyebrows and an "ah, and you didn't get lost?"

"Nope. Shocker I know, but I triple checked the map and made a sketch and..." she realized she was babbling heaved a sigh. "Look, I can go, but I just wanted to say I was stupid and I'm sorry and I brought you a peace- offering," she held up a paper bag.

He swung the screen door out toward her and she had to jump out of the way. She stared. "You coming in or not?" he snapped.

"Ye-yes," she stammered, following him in.

The place was not what she expected for Flack, she had figured some sleek bachelor loft in the city, but this was a very homey duplex in sunny colors and mismatched everything as if it all had come from a variety of parents' basements. "I'm making dinner, you eat yet?" Gus shook her head. "okay then," he took the bag from her and walked through a swinging door into a kitchen.

He pulled out the bottle of wine but didn't say anything. "I swear it's a good vintage," she squeaked. "I know," he said turning to the stove.

"Look Don, I don't want to bother you but Stella called and then I called Lindsay, and I just wanted to apologiz-"

He whirled around and stared her down, her blood ran cold. "Whadid ya tell 'em, everything?"

She was confused for a second and then caught his meaning, "God, no! I just told them I had been a bitch and that I had told you off."

"That was it?" Flack narrowed his ice blue eyes.

Gus put her palms out, "yes, that was it."

"Good." He turned back around.

Gus felt like a fool, just standing there, before her manners kicked in and she asked on autopilot, "can I help you with anything?"

He tightened his shoulders for a second and Gus was sure he was going to tell her to see herself out. She let out a gust of air she didn't even know she had been holding when he finally replied with, "you can make a salad," pointing at the battered fridge.

She took things out and started chopping, trying desperately to make conversation. "I didn't know you could cook."

"You don't know a lot of things, Gus."

"Well, I guess we are even then," she said bristling. Before he could respond she jumped in knowing being ornery wasn't going to fix anything, "I'm sorry, I just...argh!" She gave a frustrated cry. "Crap, I'm bad at this. Stella told me I had to fix it and she has this ridiculous notion that we are partners and I don't do the partner thing and I just, I'm sorry I said I hate you, I don't, I just am frustrated and confused and...lost." She stabbed the knife into a tomato and didn't quite clear her finger out in time. "Crap!" she yowled before shoving her bleeding finger into her mouth.

"What now? Let me see," Flack said exasperated. He led her across the room to the sink, running water over her finger.

She took a sharp intake of breath. "I'm okay, it's only a flesh wound."

Flack broke into a smile. "Did you just quote Monty Python at me, sunshine?"

"Yeah," she whimpered, feeling like an idiot.

"Nerd," he said wrapping a band-aid around her finger.

"Well who knew was it was, geek?"

"Hows about you just sit down in the living room, don't move and try to not injure me or yourself?" "M'Kay."

She wandered back to the living room, studying photographs on the wall. "How long have you lived here?" she called into the kitchen.

"Since I made detective. It was my great aunt and uncle's house, they moved to Florida but didn't want to sell. Seems one of us kids are always living here. Tons of my cousins have been in and out. Bobby is bugging to move back in since he broke up with his girlfriend, but I don't know if I can live with him again though, I might have to move out, he's a bathroom hog," Flack joked from the kitchen.

Gus was snickering at a photograph of about 15 kids in Christmas finery, one of whom was obviously a gangly teenage Flack, when she felt something furry twine around her legs. She looked down at a very fluffy, very fat cat. "Didn't see you as a cat person," she muttered down at the cat. As she bent down to pat the fluff ball, she caught a paw with claws out to the face. "Damn it!" she exclaimed, jumping and coming down on the cats tail. It screeched and ran off.

Flack poked his head out, "I see you met Izzy."

"Satan is more like it," she said holding her cheek, "didn't see you as a cat kind of guy."

Flack made a face. "I'm not, it's Sam's, she can't have it at her place. I'm actually allergic to the damn thing."

"So you do bring home strays," Gus said with a small smile.

He shrugged, "my sister knows I can't say no to her."

"Softie!" Gus teased.

"So?" he looked at Gus holding her face. "Got you, huh? Thought I told you to not injure yourself."

"I didn't hurt myself, thank you very much," Gus replied, indignantly.

He studied her intently, "dinner's ready, if you want to stay." She nodded, rubbing her cheek, following him back to the kitchen.

They sat in silence, both playing with their food. Flack spoke first, "are you just here because Stella told you to come?"

Gus snorted, "get straight to the point why don't you? I'm here because I was a bitch and you didn't deserve it. Stella just made me see that a little quicker than I would have on my own."

"Me too," Flack replied.

"See that I'm a bitch?" Gus replied with a cocked eyebrow.

"Nah, she came to talk to me too today, I was being an asshole to Messer and she called me on it and we talked and she figured out that something had happened with you and she told me I better get over it."

Gus took a breath. "So can you?"

"Not if you really hate me, no, I can't."

Gus rested her forehead in her hand, massaging it, "I don't hate you, I just freaked out. I haven't told anybody about everything and suddenly it was like you knew too much about me. And I had already heard more than I could take about how I am too much like Aiden from Mac and those things collided and...I was a bitch, and I do apologize." She slumped back in her chair.

He looked at her with such intensity, she wanted to crawl under the table and hide. He didn't speak for a long time before finally coming out with, "do you trust me, wait don't answer that. Can you trust me?"

She looked back at him, swallowing hard. "I can try."

He shook his head, "I don't get it, you have everybody's secrets locked up in you, everyone trusts you, but you can't trust anyone."

"Not can't, don't. I have lost everyone close to me, ever Don! And on top of that I don't know how I even got here. A year ago I was a psychologist working two jobs so I could get enough hours for my license and settle down with a fluffy desk job. Now, I'm apparently living in New York as a cop with a partner. I haven't quite caught up to myself yet." She paused with a half-smile, "and I don't know everyone's secrets, Flack, your fellow detective boys just like to come talk to me so they can try to look down my shirt."

He cracked up, "well, I can't argue with that. Now would you just eat."

So they ate, and talked, and then drank the wine she brought in the living room, an uneasy truce between the cat and Gus. They spoke to each other about growing up, and while Gus wasn't completely open, she was honest. Flack told her about his father and grandfather and uncles who had been cops, his other family members in NYFD and the perils of growing up with siblings and a little about his parents' divorce. Gus was sure there was more to the story, but she didn't press him.

They talked for a long time, the night growing darker and quieter when suddenly Flack leaned over to the other end of the couch that Gus was curled up. 'Please don't kiss me again,' she prayed, tensing, though there may have been the smallest part of her that would have liked him to.

"Somethings been buggin' me all night, sunshine."

"What?" she asked, leaning back.

He gestured to her sweatshirt, "what the hell are the Louisiana Ice Dogs?"

"Oh. They are, were, until the storm, a hockey team in Lafayette. Stuck around longer than the Brass, ECHL."

He leaned back and took a drink, "hockey, huh, you are full of surprises." He cast a sidelong glance at her, "you thought I was going to bring up last night again, huh?"

"No," she replied unconvincingly.

"Should I?" he asked.

"I would really like it if you wouldn't," Gus swallowed.

Flack narrowed his eyes again. "Of course you would."

"Please don't get annoyed again," Gus pleaded.

"I'm not, I'm- I'm just as confused as you are, okay?"

"There's nothing to be confused about. It was just..." Gus trailed off.

"Just what?" Flack asked, pressing her.

"Anger, sadness, grief and liquor and it wasn't about you or me at all," Gus explained, sounding ernest.

"Really?" Flack continued to stare at her intently.

"We can just forget about it and move on. I will promise to try to trust you and stop running away if you promise to not kiss me again, because I don't think I can process it, all right?"

"Do I gotta choice?" he smirked.

"Nope."

"Okay then," he paused and then stuck out his hand, "podnahs?" doing a very poor John Wayne.

"Partners," Gus replied going to shake his hand, and as soon as his hand closed around hers, a huge crash of thunder sounded and the house went pitch black.

They both jumped, knocking heads. "Ow!" she yowled.

"Don't move," Flack warned. Fumbling and then a flashlight beam, Flack moved to the window. "Neighborhood's out." Gus joined him, looking out the front window, blackness stretched for miles, inky and crushing. Gus wavered. "You alright?" Flack asked.

She nodded, "yeah, just reminded me of New Orleans after...you know." He nodded slowly."Hey, is it snowing?"

"Yep."

"But it's April!"

"Welcome to the north, sunshine."

"I gotta go, I can't get snowed in, I didn't even bring a coat!" She made for the door handle, but Flack put his palm down on the door over her head.

"Sunshine, you aren't going anywhere." She stared at him, here eyes wide and terrified. "Calm down, I'm not going to jump you." 'Though I'd like to', he thought. "Power's out, means no trains. It's late anyway, they probably won't run any more tonight. We'll give it a little bit and then I'll drive you, I just hate driving when the signals are out, no one pays attention to my blue light."

"So what now, then?" Gus asked.

Flack shrugged, "I didn't really have plans for tonight. I've got some laundry to fold."

"Ha, I'm not really in the mood to find out if you're a boxers or briefs kinds of guy."

"Both, not at the same time though. Cards?"

"As long as you don't say strip poker."

"Fine."

They played rummy, and Gus was winning by a long shot, and the snow was coming down fast and blinding. After winning yet another hand, Flack looked at Gus incredulously.

Then suddenly, "you know, my sister-in-law thinks you should date Danny."

"God no, Lindsay would kill me!" It flew out of her mouth before it went through her head. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Really?" Flack couldn't hide his grin, his suspicions confirmed. "I didn't say nothing," Gus backpedaled.

"See, you do know everyone's secrets, sunshine," Flack teased. Gus turned crimson, "no, I don't."

"So what about Stella and Mac, is there anything going on there?"

She made a zipping motion to her lips. "I know not."

"You know I had a crush on her when I first joined the team. She flicked me off like a bug though."

"I have a hard time picturing you having a crush on anyone, Flack."

"You know part of the tough guy thing is an act, right?"

"I'm just saying," Gus shrugged.

"So what about Mac, has he ever been with someone since 9/11?"

"Mac is my uncle. I was all grown up when Claire died, I don't really have birds and bees talks with him, okay? Does Mac really seem the type to talk about such things."

"No, I guess not." He walked back over to the window. "Hope you find that couch comfy," he remarked.

"Why?"

He pulled back the curtain, gesturing to the blizzard, "because you aren't going anywhere."

"Ah, so I get the couch, I would have figured your grandmother raised you to be more of a gentleman than that," she teased.

"Oh she did, but it didn't take. Second bedroom is full of junk and no bed and I don't give my bed up to anyone, and you made it clear we aren't sharing it."

"I deserved that," Gus replied with an eyeroll.

"Yep, you did," he said as he walked past, yanking her ponytail.

"Hey!" she yelped. The cat hissed at her. "It's going to be a long night," she muttered to herself.

Flack came down holding a stack of linens, a pillow and a pair of flannel pajamas. Gus took them, snickering. "Don't say a word!"

"I wasn't."

"My grandmother buys me a pair every Christmas, she won't accept that I'm not seven anymore."

"At least she doesn't buy you under-roos, or does she?" Gus asked, tapping her forefinger on her chin.

"Goodnight, Gus." He turned and went back upstairs, shaking his head.

"Sleep tight, blue eyes," she called after him, trying to ignore the fact that she wanted desperately to follow him up the stairs and share his bed.

Flack sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He was so damn confused at what was going on. He certainly did not sign on for a partner, in fact that is why he went over to working joint homicide/forensics anyway, so he wouldn't have to be stuck with the same person on every case. He certainly didn't sign on for someone who was a complete klutz one second and fiercely intense the next. Or one that he couldn't keep fighting his attraction to. He flopped back on his bed, crossing his arms behind his head, lord give him strength.

Gus made the couch up, and slipped into the flannel pajamas, still snickering. It was endearing, but hilarious. She wandered over to the window, watching the snow still coming down, lost in her own thoughts. She looked toward the staircase wondering if Flack was still awake, and if he was, what was he thinking about. She hadn't meant to...well a lot of things. Come to New York, become a cop, earn a partner, kiss said partner, want to kiss him more. She laid down on the couch, crossing her arms behind her head, "Lord give me strength," she muttered.

He must have fallen asleep, because Flack was wakened by a the sound of...something. "Damn cat," he snarled, throwing on jeans, hoping the cat didn't wake Gus. On the way out of his bedroom, he tripped over said cat, asleep in the hall. Still hearing thrashing, he grabbed his gun from his night stand. "Picked the wrong house to break into during a blackout, asshole," he muttered, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. As he crept down the stairs, he realized it was Gus, apparently having a nightmare. He froze, not knowing if he should wake her, or was that sleep walkers? He finally walked over to the couch, catching her flailing wrist before she clocked him.

Gus bolted up, realizing her wrist was bound. She shook herself from the fog, and found herself looking into concerned blue eyes. "Don, crap did I wake you?" Obviously she had woken him, he was rumpled, in an undershirt with jeans not completely buttoned, Gus noticed, gulping at the sight.

He just nodded, placing his gun on the coffee table. "I'll live, you want to talk about it?" he said.

"I get nightmares. A lot of nightmares. They stopped for a while, but after the storm they came back. I have these stupid pills, but they don't help, just make me foggy."

He nodded. "Can I get you anything?" He sounded concerned and apprehensive at the same time.

"I'm good, just go back to bed, I'll see you in a couple hours. I'm so sorry." Gus seemed overly concerned with his well-being, triggering a flight response in him.

"You sure?" he said, looking ready to bolt.

"Yep, I'm fine."

"Try to get some sleep yourself," he said already heading back up the stairs.

"Stupid, stupid," they both muttered to themselves before falling back to sleep for a couple of short restless hours.

Gus woke up the second time opening one eye, sunlight starting to spill into the living room, the cat at her head leering at her, ready to pounce. "Good kitty," she whispered. The cat hissed in return. She heard Flack in the kitchen, at least she hoped it was him.

She sat slowly up "Hey Flack, your demon cat is about to attack me."

"It's not my damn cat I don't even like cats," he said, coming in with two cups of coffee. He shooed the cat off the table, and handed her a mug. "2 creams 1/2 sugar, right?"

"How do you know how I take my coffee?"

"Because you drink about 500 cups a day, no wonder you don't sleep."

"Yeah, sorry about that again." She noticed he was still slightly damp from the shower, his button down open over his undershirt, all untucked. She suppressed a shiver. "What time is it?"

"Quarter after six. I didn't know if you wanted to go home first."

"Yeah, I would but I can take the train."

"You couldn't but you aren't, I'll drive you."

His tone was firm, Gus knew better than to argue. "Let me just thrown on my clothes then."

"Okay, just leave everything there, I'll get it tonight or whenever," he gestured.

She looked at him, serious, "thanks. For everything, Don, really."

"It's what friends do, right?" he replied with a shrug, fighting to keep his expression blank.

"Yeah. I guess so," Gus answered, feeling a truce settling over them.