A/N: And so it goes, the journey of healing for both Don and Gus, though it won't be easy because that wouldn't be fun...Spoilers for Season 6, of course. This is still around 608. Link to full text at end note. Won't be updated on here.

Title: To New York With Love


Take Me Back to New Orleans


Gus sat on the plane, driving her seatmate insane with her constant scratching out of lines and crumpling up paper. She had kept the flight attendants busy picking up her trash and bringing her drinks. She only had three hours to get all these letters written trying to explain her seemingly abrupt departure to everyone and ensure they knew how guilty she felt being such a horrible friend these past few months. Normally she had no problem with words, her emotions easy to put down on paper, but now it seemed like there was so much more on the line. Her awful parting with Don didn't help things either. She didn't know if he would ever forgive her for leaving again, if he could only see that it was the best thing for them both...

She shook her head, finishing her letter to Adam, sealing the envelope before she could change her mind. She added it to the pile with the ones for Danny, Stella and Sheldon. At least she didn't have to write one to Mac and Lindsay would probably be the first to forgive her and write back, assuming Lucy gave her the time. Gus wondered if she should write to Jimmy, not only because she wanted to keep her option of transferring to Special Victims on the table, but also because he was at the very least turning into a good friend, something she needed more now than ever. Her decision was made for her as the Captain put on the fasten seat belt sign for their final descent.

Gus peered out the window, once again struck by how different the landscaped looked below her, the city quickly giving way to the swamp, a stark contrast from the sprawl of New York. Time had both marched on and stopped in the city that care forgot, or so Gus thought as she spied blue tarps and new construction below her.

Billy was waiting for her, blocking the path of egress of people exiting the terminal. He still had enough of a SWAT stance that people didn't fight him, though he had left that life behind; opening a club in the French Quarter and a bar Uptown. He enveloped her in the kind of hugs they just didn't give up North, swinging her around. "Sugar you are lighter than a Tulane Tri-Delt, good Lord, are they starving you in New York?" he exclaimed as he set her down.

"I'm fine, Tibs, probably could have stood to lose a couple of pounds," Gus said with a laugh, struck by the humidity weighing down the air even inside the airport.

"That is more than a couple, but don't worry, Buela has cooked up a storm since I told her you were coming. She also cleaned out the magnolia room for you."

"T-B, I told you, this is an official temporary transfer, I will be staying at Detective Prioleaux's place and he will stay at mine, by the book, above-board."

He just laughed as he walked toward baggage claim, "you've been up in the Big Apple too long, darling, if you think anything is by the book and above-board here. You forget your last visit here? Besides, I drove past that lean-to Prioleaux stay at, and no friend of mine is staying in that hovel. I swear termites holding hands are the only thing keeping it upright. Not to mention it is in a rather unsavory part of town."

"You been away from SWAT for too long? I am a cop, remember, have gun, will shoot," Gus said, waiting on her bags to come around.

"Don't argue with me, missy, you'll see and you will be right back at Chez Brooks where you belong. And stop with that T-B nonsense, I am a grown man and a business owner at that. I go by my proper name now."

"Fine, whatever you say William Henri Brooks the Third. That better?" Gus teased, wiping sweat off her brow. It was hotter in November than she remembered.

He shot her a look, "Billy will do just fine, now hand me one of your bags, woman, we are gentlemen here, you know."

"Lord you sound like Jimmy Doyle," she quipped.

His eyebrows shot up, "you will be telling me all about this Doyle, as soon as we get you settled in."

Gus knew better than to argue, her friend was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to know something. "Fine, fine, T-Billy, but I just need to find a mailbox first."

"A mailbox, you do know this is 2009, right? Have these things called computers and the internet," Billy replied, wheeling her bag toward the exit.

"Hush your mouth, Billy Brooks, your mama raised you better than that," she replied, following him, the express envelopes already in her hand.

T-B, Billy, Gus forcibly corrected herself was right, Prioleaux's shotgun house had seen better days and the Central City location hadn't improved much since the hurricane. While she could stay there, and part of her even thought maybe she should, Gus finally admitted it might be better for her to stay on Audubon Park in the familiar comfort of the graceful Brooks home. Billy gave an inward sigh of relief at this, Augusta's uncle had made it very clear that she needed someone watching over her, even if the intimidating Marine turned cop was more than a little sparse on the details of why. Billy knew Gus would come out with the whole tale in her own time, with the help of a few mint julep.

Billy dropped her bags in the guest suite named for its magnolia patterned wallpaper. "Here you go, home sweet home for the next six months," he chipped, trying to get a smile out of his petulant looking friend. When that didn't work, he cleared his throat, "well I will let you get freshened up and changed for dinner."

"Seriously, Billy?" Gus replied, shocked at how her friend still clung to fine uptown traditions.

"Well Mother is coming for dinner and you know how Miss Loretta can get and she hasn't seen you in over a year and we can't have you looking like something the cat dragged in."

Gus absorbed this, nodding resignedly in agreement before she caught up with what Billy was saying. "What do you mean coming for dinner?"

"From Poydras House. Mother decided to go there full time with the stairs and all ever since her big fall with the stroke. She's been there since late May." Billy looked at her like she was crazy.

Gus dropped on the bed, faintly remembering his frantic phone call a couple of days after the diner and bar shootings. She had been out of it, hopped up on the sedatives they forced upon her in the ER, a prescription she vaguely remembered Jimmy Doyle dropping off for her after Jess' funeral. Guilt weighed down upon her, she had been a horrible friend to everyone in her life. She had been a zombie when she was in New Orleans last, something she apparently had carried back with her to New York. That all had to stop now. If she had any hope of healing herself and getting Don back, she had to start living again. "Sorry, Billy, I must be a bit jet lagged. You are correct, need to pretty up for Miss Loretta. I will be down before cocktails," she said, rising and giving her friend a hug. "Thank you for being there, T-B, you are a great friend."

"Anytime, sugar bug," he said, returning the squeeze.

Story will not be updated here, you can read the full text at tinyurl dot com /2NYWLuv