As promised, a second chapter. I'm sure y'all will agree that Taylor probably needs to see a professional... Well I'm sending her to see Gus. A lot of you will probably recognise her from Madison Bellows' stories, and if not, go check them out!

But the thanks for this chapter not only go to sparky for the beta, but also to Maddy for lending me Gus AND being a HUGE help with this chapter - thanks girls!!

What The Eyes Can't See

Chapter 195: Do you take the non-believers?

Outside, the late November weather was lashing against the large window that took up almost the entirety of a wall. The view, despite the weather, was impressive. Taylor was slightly impressed – clearly the shrink was successful – one would have to be to afford that view. Although it did lend to the idea that it was also a part-time private practice. Either that, or she had a bit of money in her back pocket.

'Departmental shrink,' Taylor muttered to herself as she sat in the waiting room. 'I'm not even a cop.'

'Taylor,' Flack muttered in a low tone.

'I'm still here, aren't I?'

Flack shrugged. 'For now. Although I'm trying to work out how long it's going to be before you throw yourself out of the window.'

'Detective Turner?'

Taylor looked up at the blonde woman who was looking straight at her. 'I'm not a cop,' Taylor told her.

'Oh, I see,' the blonde said slowly, a familiar sounding drawl to voice.

'So, I guess if that's a problem?' Taylor said, gathering her things and rising.

'Taylor,' Flack muttered again, grabbing at her hand.

'Not at all,' the blonde told her. 'I'll take all types. And you'd be surprised how many spouses make their way to my couch.' The blonde took a step back and held the door open, whilst throwing a warm smile at Flack.

Taylor stood there, weighing the woman up. It was clear what she was doing, but the shrink didn't back down. That made somewhat of a positive impression because Taylor sighed and followed her into the room, Flack at her heels.

That was as far as it went. Taylor walked in and sat down on the edge of the seat, arms folded tightly as she continued to stare at the blonde. 'Stop being so defensive,' Flack hissed at her. 'It's rude.'

'She's a shrink, Don. How many other loonies do you think have crossed her couch?'

'Broussard.'

'Huh?' Taylor blinked.

'Dr. Broussard,' the blonde continued. 'You can call me Gus,' she added, before sitting down and promptly knocking a pile of papers off the table next to her and all over the floor, causing her to curse loudly.

Taylor watched as Gus busied herself with picking the papers up and settling them back on the side in a somewhat haphazard fashion. 'Hand-eye coordination was never my strong point,' Gus shrugged, settling back into the chair.

'So what song are you going to make me sing?' Taylor asked her.

'Song?' Gus questioned, slightly puzzled.

'Yeah, an icebreaker or whatever?' Taylor offered shrugging indifferently.

'Taylor!' Flack hissed.

'I'm sorry?' asked Gus, still slightly puzzled.

Taylor shook her head. 'Never mind.'

'Sorry,' Flack mouthed at her.

Gus ran her tongue over her lip. 'Well, Taylor, what brings you in today?'

Taylor shrugged. 'Him?' she offered, pointing at Flack. 'Condition of marriage?'

'Interesting condition,' Gus responded in a tone that indicated she was far from mocking. 'Is that a New York form of dowry? I guess it's hard to keep goats and chickens in the city,' she added thoughtfully.

'My fiancé thinks I need to talk to a shrink,' she told her as she sent a somewhat sarcastic smile in Flack's direction.

'And why does he think that?'

'Yeah,' Flack nodded. 'Why do I think that?'

Taylor glared at Flack. 'Other than the fact I'm marrying you?'

'She can be a bit of a smart mouth when she wants to be,' Flack informed Gus.

'Hi pot, I'm kettle,' Taylor snapped back at him, holding her hand out.

Gus cleared her throat. 'Is this couple's counseling? Because I was under the impression you were having a difficulty dealing with something. Other than marriage.'

'I'm sorry,' Taylor sighed. 'It's not him.'

'She's a little defensive,' Flack added.

Taylor stared at the therapist. 'I see dead people.'

Gus nodded. 'A lot of officers deal with death. Sadly, it's something that comes with the territory.'

'Yeah,' Taylor agreed. 'But I'm not a cop. And the dead people – they're not quite so dead. They're ghosts. And they haunt me, pestering me with some inane clue until I can help the CSIs solve their murder.' Taylor stared at the blonde, almost daring her to make some comment about loonies and mental asylums.

'A bit more complicated than just seeing a DB at a scene then, huh?' Gus replied, taking a long swig of coffee.

Taylor studied the woman for a long beat, trying to figure out if she was being made fun of. 'You could say that,' she answered finally.

Gus let silence sit between them for a moment, and then realizing continued. 'I take it they interfere with your daily functioning then, the ghosts?'

'Don't sit there and just humor me. Go ahead, call the people with the straitjackets or whatever you have to do, but I am not going to just let you sit there and make fun of me!' Taylor started to rise out of her seat and gather up her things.

Gus held up her palms in surrender. 'I'm not humoring you,' she told the journalist before Flack could tell her to sit back down and stop being rude. 'I swear. I'm not here to judge you or your problems; lord knows that would be the pot calling the kettle black. And the last thing I will ever do to any of my clients is make fun of them. Day I start that you can rip up my license and throw it in the East River'.

Taylor sat back down, not sure what to make of the whole situation. 'You don't think I'm crazy?'

Gus burst out in hearty laughter, 'Sugar, it would take a whole lot more than a couple of ghosts for me to call anyone crazy. Besides, I don't have the right credentials to be calling anyone officially crazy. I am a psychologist not a psychiatrist. If I wanted to be a pill pusher, I sure as hell wouldn't have come to the city were my uncle is head of the crime lab to be a dealer. Much better money back home in New Orleans for that, less cops too'.

Taylor bit her lip. 'So you don't think I need to be locked up with the key thrown away?' she asked in a small voice.

'I can't make a full assessment on anything right this second, but not for seeing ghosts, no. Why don't you tell me a little bit more about how long you have been seeing them and how they have turned you into a hot mess?' Gus leaned back in her chair, her posture and demeanor relaxed.

Taylor eyed the woman for several minutes, receiving only a patient smile in return. 'Nearly two years,' she sighed, sitting heavily back into the chair as the realization hit her. 'Twenty two months. Nearly twenty three,' she added as an afterthought, watching Gus' pen twitch across the pad she was writing on. 'Her name was Rebecca Landry, a kid. And the woman who killed her thought she was sleeping with the same teacher she thought she was.' She glanced down at her hands, almost too scared to look up and meet Gus' eyes.

'I take it there's a little more to it than that?'

'They come to me how they died,' Taylor admitted. 'And only a handful of them have ever looked like they died peacefully in their sleep. And the sight of them used to make me throw up all the time, but now… it's like I'm becoming immune to it – it's only if they're really messed up that it can turn my stomach. And that scares me,' she finished quietly as Flack slipped his hand around hers and gave it a small squeeze.

Gus, who had been chewing thoughtfully on her Biro, cocked her head at her. 'Why?'

Flack glanced down at Taylor and sighed inwardly. He looked down at her and gave her a reassuring smile and rose to his feet. 'I'll wait for you outside,' he told her, placing a kiss on her forehead and walking out.

Taylor watched him go before averting her attention to the various certificates on Gus' walls. 'It bothers him,' she muttered.

'The ghosts?' Gus asked.

Taylor slowly shook her head. 'That I don't share with him. That I keep holding back.'

Gus frowned thoughtfully. 'What is it you hold back from him?' she asked as she settled herself into a more comfortable position.

'The details, I guess,' Taylor responded after a moment's thought. 'He gets enough that it will help with the case, but I don't tell him anything else. Like, I will tell him what I see, and what they tell me, but I just can't tell him…'

'What?' Gus pressed gently.

Taylor raked a hand through her hair and slumped back against the couch back. 'How I feel, I guess.'

Gus looked at the woman who was now nervously wringing her hands in her lap. 'And how do you feel?'

'Confused,' Taylor shrugged. 'Worried. Scared… Guilty,' she muttered. 'I'll be doing fine, and then They do something to disrupt the rhythm I've fallen into.'

'They?'

'The Powers That Be,' Taylor told her with a wry smile. 'Apparently it's like a corporate system. Whatever that means? They can't ever explain things to me. I don't even know why they picked me. I'm sure they'd have an easier time of it if They had chosen a CSI or a detective – someone who is actually allowed to wander around a crime lab.'

'I sense that hasn't stopped you?'

Taylor shook her head. 'Not really. I worked out pretty quickly which of the CSIs believed me, and others, no matter how hard I try and prove to them, they can't get past the science. And I do get that,' she added quickly, raising her eyes to meet Gus' green ones. 'I really do. Hell, I wouldn't believe any of this if it wasn't for the fact they can hurt me. Well, some of them can. I think it's to do with how they die. Like, they have anger in them that needs to be released somewhere,' she rambled. 'And unfortunately, it gets aimed at me more often than not. Or worse, they weren't particularly nice people when they died. They tend to be not so nice in death. Which is why I have Aiden.'

'Aiden?' Gus asked, reluctant to break Taylor's flow.

Taylor nodded. 'I don't know if you remember in the news about a year ago – an ex-CSI being murdered. Burnt. By DJ Pratt.' At Gus' nod of agreement, Taylor continued. 'I suppose she's a poltergeist, really. She can move things even now – Maddy, she's been dead longer and she can't move things anymore, but then again, it's not part of her job description. She looks after the dead. Aiden looks after me. But neither of them should be...,' she trailed off.

'Should be what?' Gus asked.

'Dead,' Taylor told her sadly. 'If I had only paid attention, then maybe they wouldn't be. Sometimes I think it's my punishment. Like karma. They died because of me, but because of that, I'm haunted by them all the time. But it's not like they're haunting me metaphorically,' she added quickly, throwing Gus a desperate look. 'They really are there. And Don can see them.'

'Taylor,' Gus started gently. 'What makes you say they died because of you?'

Taylor looked away, not wanting Gus to see the tears that were already back in the corners of her eyes. 'Because I didn't pay any attention,' she repeated, trying to keep her voice even. 'I was so wrapped up in anything but Maddy, I didn't even see that her boyfriend was a jerk until it was too late, and even then, when I knew what was happening, I still didn't do anything. It's the same with Aiden. I didn't even know until she dead, when she came to me to help, she... they found some pictures. Pratt was in my building. She... I should have seen it.'

'So in addition to seeing ghosts you feel you should also be psychic?' Gus replied tapping her pen against her pad before setting the whole file on the table beside her and leaning toward Taylor with her elbows on her knees. 'I know you don't want to hear this, but some things are out of your control and feeling guilty isn't going to change anything. Have you ever thought you have been given a gift instead of a punishment?'

Taylor let out a dry laugh. 'Me and Don went to Vegas. Well, we went to see my brother in San Diego and made a detour to Vegas. But the point is, the ghosts followed me there. Not Maddy and Aiden, although they were there – a different ghost – Holly her name was.' Taylor softly shook her head. 'Anyway, the ghosts followed me there, and I had to start all over, getting the CSIs in Vegas to believe me. One of them did, straight off. Greg. Bless him, he's a little out there. We email each other regularly – he keeps me entertained with some of the cases they have out there. But he keeps calling me a psychic. He doesn't mean it like I can see the future though. He sent me a definition once; "a person apparently sensitive to things beyond the natural range of perception". I guess he's right.'

Gus nodded her agreement. 'Maybe so, but I mean seeing the future.'

'I know you do,' Taylor sighed. 'And for the most part I do see it as a gift. Sometimes I wonder how much I actually help – you know, do I actually make sure the cases get solved, thanks to the ghosts, or even just speed up the process. Then I look at the team and think they could do it fine without me. It's just when they throw a curveball. Like demons. Or whatever the hell that was the other day.'

'How does Flack feel about this?' Gus asked as she nodded her head in the direction of the door and the detective who was waiting on the other side.

'I wouldn't date Don to start with,' Taylor sighed, her eyes flicking back to the qualifications. 'He didn't believe me about the ghosts and I wasn't about to start a relationship with anyone unless there was trust. Then he got caught up in an explosion and the next thing I know, I'm fighting to save his life with those higher powers. But after all of that, he can see Maddy and Aiden now, and he helps me as much as he can.' Taylor exhaled softly. 'I don't know what I'd do without him, sometimes,' she added. 'Especially recently.' She looked back at the blonde. 'I got framed for killing his best friend's brother.' Taylor frowned. 'Then before that, I was framed for supplying drugs when they were discovered in the walls of my apartment when that was burnt down.'

Gus cocked her head at her, her pen never stopping moving. 'You've been through a lot recently then?'

'We can add becoming an overnight mother, my car being driven into the river, and my roommate being accused of murder,' Taylor added, before frowning thoughtfully. 'Actually, that would probably make for an interesting story.' Taylor quickly shook her head. 'The hardest part, the hardest consistent part,' she corrected herself, 'has been trying to get people to believe me. Or come up with decent excuses,' Taylor mused as an afterthought. 'The amount of people who have caught me talking to "myself",' she said, using her fingers as quotation marks. 'Half the time I wonder if telling the truth would make me seem more or less crazy. Usually more. And I usually lie. Which I hate. But when I do tell the truth, it's a constant battle. Especially with Mac and Lindsay.'

Gus' pen paused in the note taking. 'Mac?'

'Mac Taylor,' Taylor expanded. 'And Lindsay Monroe. They're the two that know that don't believe me. Lindsay's actually, probably, the best friend I have that's still alive, but she just doesn't believe. Neither does Mac. I think it's because they're too scientifically minded. He's very by-the-book. Which I suppose works if you're in charge and trying to find the bad guys, but when I'm trying to help, it's harder when I'm constantly trying to prove myself, and I do, even though I'm not a CSI.' Taylor took a breath. 'Danny says he always feels like he's trying to prove himself, so I guess Mac is like that. Although he has loosened up a little, which is probably due to Peyton. But Mac's personal life doesn't really have a bearing on mine,' she added, misreading Gus' expression. 'Trying to stop him murdering someone does, I guess.'

Gus licked her lips. 'Murdering someone?' she asked, keeping her voice level.

Taylor nodded. 'Me and Mac don't always see eye-to-eye. And frankly, sometimes I want to throttle him – trust me, if I die, I'm coming back and haunting his ass – just to prove a point. But,' Taylor frowned. 'I had two Thanksgivings this year. On the first one, I managed to make a decent Thanksgiving meal for all my friends, and on the second one, I spent the day tactlessly telling Mac not to repeat his mistakes and kill someone.'

'I beg your pardon?' Gus asked, somewhat alarmed.

'It's weird,' Taylor continued, still misreading Gus' reactions. 'It's like I repeated the day. On the first one, Mac shot a cuffed suspect. And on the second, it looked like he pushed the same suspect off the top of a roof. It's in the papers now.'

'Mac wouldn't kill an unarmed person,' Gus said snappishly.

Taylor gave her a puzzled look. 'No, he didn't. But the only witness is my dead best friend. And, whilst I don't want to see Mac lose his job or anything, there's something slightly satisfying at seeing him under scrutiny with people questioning his integrity…' Taylor trailed off as she eyed Gus; whilst her face had remained completely impassive, there was something that had flickered briefly across her emerald-like eyes. And it wasn't something that was particularly good.

And then something flickered in the back of Taylor's memory, switching on the proverbial light bulb. 'Your uncle. The one that's the head of the crime lab...'

Gus gently nodded her head.

'Well that completely figures,' Taylor fumed gathering up her belongings and marching out of the door.

'How did it-?' Flack trailed off as Taylor stormed past him. Confused, he turned and found Gus staring accusingly at him. 'What have I done?'

'Flack, at any point, did you point out to Taylor that Mac's my uncle?' Gus asked him.

'Aw, crap,' Flack muttered before shooting Gus an apologetic look. 'I'm sorry for whatever she said. They just don't really see eye to eye.'

Gus nodded. 'I gathered,' she drawled. 'You might want to go after her, you know,' she pointed out before somehow managing to trip herself up.

'How is someone so clumsy, so smart?' Flack asked in amazement as he helped her right herself.

Gus shrugged. 'Hey, I got the looks and the brains. Something had to go to balance it out.'

Flack grinned at her. 'You're right about that.'

'Hey Flack?'

'Yeah?'

'You still hate running after suspects?'

Flack nodded, pulling a face. 'And they still make me.'

'Yeah,' Gus shrugged. 'How do you feel about running after your fiancé?'

'Crap,' he muttered, turning and dashing out of the door. Thankfully, for Flack's legs, he spotted Taylor as soon as he dashed out of the door. She was sitting in the small garden across the street, watching a couple of robins in the bird bath as the wind whipped her hair out around her. Mentally preparing himself, he took a breath and walked over, sitting down beside her.

Taylor just looked up at him, one eyebrow cocked questioningly.

'So Gus is Claire's sister's daughter, who was brought up in New Orleans and relocated here about a year ago – after Katrina.'

'Really?' Taylor asked dryly. 'And you didn't think that, considering the relationship me and Mac have, that maybe, maybe, it might have been somewhat beneficial to have that piece of information before I went in there insulting her uncle?'

'And would you have still gone?'

'Yes,' Taylor told him.

This time it was Flack's turn to arch the eyebrow.

'Probably.'

Flack continued to stare.

'Fine,' Taylor sulked. 'I wouldn't have gone.'

'Hence why I didn't say anything,' Flack sighed. 'And do you feel any better?'

'I don't know. Maybe,' Taylor sighed.

Flack wrapped his arm around her shoulder, drawing her to him. 'It won't happen overnight. It took me a few weeks with Gus before I could deal with being blown up and dying.'

Taylor looked up at him curiously. 'You said you were seeing the department shrink because it was a requirement for you to return to work.'

'It was,' Flack agreed. 'But it wasn't until the third or fourth session that I realized I needed to be there. And I didn't tell you for the same reason you won't talk to me; I didn't want you to worry.'

'Don, I'm always going to worry. But that doesn't mean that I don't want to know. I'd want to help.'

Flack gave her a sad smile. 'Exactly.'

Taylor sighed, leaning back into him. 'Fine,' she muttered. 'I'll see her a few more times.' Taylor frowned, watching the leaves dance in the wind in front of her. 'If she'll have me back after I told her I wasn't exactly sorry Mac was getting it in the neck with the Dobson thing.'

Flack winced. 'Please tell me you didn't?'

'Well not in so many words,' Taylor admitted. 'But the sentiment was there.'

'Gus is a professional. She's probably been called a few names in the past herself, and I bet she hasn't turned her clients away. You'll be fine. Just tone the insults down.'

'Can we go get the fish now?' Taylor asked.

Flack glanced down at his watch and nodded. 'Come on. Let's go get Cordelia.'