Rachel looked tentatively up at Brittany. The tall blonde was focused on the task at hand and wasn't paying attention to anything else. At least Rachel didn't think so. With Brittany it was impossible to tell and a lot was riding on the next few moments.
Succeed or fail, everything was going to change.
A quick reassessment assured her that Brittany had no weapons; a nervous shuffle of her leg reminded her of the knife holstered in her boot and the more easily accessible one tucked in her pants. If she were very casual, she was sure she could get to it without being noticed, but again she had no idea how aware Brittany actually was of her surroundings.
Sweat began to form on her brow as the tall blonde began to finish her task on the console before her, a few more button presses and it would be done. The job would be finished and Brittany would have no reason to look elsewhere, and she knew there was no way in hell she could win if they were face to face. One deep, quiet breath later her hand was on the hilt of her knife and she waited, her eyes and ears sharp for her cue and when Brittany smiled and said, "That should do it," she struck.
Never in her life had Rachel moved as quickly as she did in that moment, the knife was out of its hiding spot and slicing through the air straight towards Brittany's jugular. Unfortunately it missed spectacularly.
Rachel leapt back instinctively knowing that retaliation was coming swiftly, though most of her speed was brought forth by the fact that she had suspected she was going to miss. She knew the attack was coming, even braced for it, but still she reeled backwards when a sharp kick caught her in the gut. Knowing better than to simply stagger backwards she jumped out of the way as if a moving car was coming and only the telltale sound of something whistling through the air told her it had been the right move. Unfortunately Brittany's long legs weren't just for show, they were deadly weapons and excellent gap closers.
Before Rachel could truly get her bearings Brittany had her on the ground, those blue eyes sharp and dangerous. This was the side of her that was frightening, the part that Santana never seemed to see, the part she wanted to save her friend from…
Desperate, she planted her feet and pulled herself under, then behind the other woman before her full weight could pin her down. Knowing this was her absolute last chance she scrambled to her feet and dove at Brittany's back, her knife aimed at the back of her neck. With the speed of a greased viper the blonde spun around caught Rachel's hands before she could even get close. However, her momentum overcame the block and she found herself pressed against Brittany's crossed forearms, the tip of her blade mere millimeters from piercing flesh.
For a moment there were no words, only heavy breaths as each woman struggled to overcome the other, neither willing to jockey for a better position lest they lose some of the ground they had. Brittany didn't plead, or ask why, she just stared straight into Rachel's eyes with that same murderous glare, a look that convinced Rachel all the more that she was doing the right thing.
Unfortunately for her, conviction didn't prepare her for Brittany suddenly letting her arms go. The weight she had been forcing onto the knife made her stab into the grated floor, knowing there was no way to get the knife free and also defend herself she spun around and grabbed the knife in her boot while her opponent went for the one she had discarded. Again the smaller woman moved with a deft speed she had never managed before, and again Brittany matched her.
Rachel barely brought up the knife in time to keep Brittany from cutting her throat.
Once again they just stared eye to eye, but this time the blonde's gaze softened.
"I don't want to kill you, it would make Santana sad," she said, her tone implying that though she didn't want to do it she would without any hesitation if Rachel pushed.
Knowing she had lost she released her grip on her knife just enough to let Brittany know it was over. Message receive the taller woman stood and threw the knife aside watching her assailant with cold eyes.
Rachel climbed clumsily to her feet and collected her weapons, knowing how useless they were in her hands versus Brittany. She wanted to keep fighting, even if she didn't win, maybe her death would open Santana's eyes to what Brittany was.
But Quinn…
The thought of her girlfriend made her stop being reckless; it was over, she knew now she couldn't win.
"You are the worst thing to ever happen to her you know."
Brittany didn't respond, she just stared hard at Rachel before she turned around and walked away.
"Really? You have nothing to say?"
Brittany turned and looked at her with sad eyes, "l love her and she loves me. The rest doesn't concern you."
Rachel felt her blood boil, "Except it does! When my best friend is throwing away her fucking humanity for someone who can't be bothered to care, it concerns me! You are a goddamn emotional vampire and she doesn't have anything left! I'd rather kill you and watch her mourn than let you keep on treating her this way."
Anger momentarily filled Brittany's soft features, "Are you going to be a problem for the rest of this mission or do I need to finish what you started?"
There was nothing quite as painful as swallowing pride for Rachel Berry, but she knew there was no chance to do what she had planned. When they got their guns back Brittany was going to be on the alert and, as painful as it was to admit it, she was much faster on the draw and far more accurate.
With a heavy sigh she waved ahead, "After you."
As much as she had intended for her comment to be facetious it still crushed her ego to watch the other woman confidently turn and walk away not at all caring that her back was completely open.
TWO MONTHS EARLIER
"To the two best damn detectives that the world has ever seen!" shouted Puck over the roar of the club's blaring music.
The toast was followed by cheers and applause from the crowd at and around the table. It was after hours and the majority of the 6th precinct were gathered at an upscale night club in order to congratulate Rachel and Santana for making Detective. For Rachel it was a momentous occasion meant for people of all walks of life to celebrate. For Santana it was free beer and an excuse for Brittany to pamper her.
Rachel sat next to Quinn who looked happy, but in the forced sort of way that told Santana that she'd never really gotten over not being consulted. For half a second she thought about sticking her nose in that hornets' nest and just as quickly dismissed the idea, instead she turned to her ecstatic girlfriend who just couldn't seem to stop smiling and gave her a kiss.
"You're a detective in the big city!" Brittany giggled, "How does it feel?"
Santana just smirked, "Just looking forward to the arrests I get to make later tonight-"
"Drink run!" Puck shouted lifting her bodily from her spot in the booth and onto the floor behind it, "Need drinks and need em now."
"We just did a toast!" Santana protested, "Everyone has full beers!"
"True, but they won't be in like ten seconds, mine's already gone 'cause a proper toast ends when you chug your drink, besides I want shots."
"I can't even drink like that tonight, Britt has an interview tomorrow and I have work in the morning, so do you for that matter. Which means you interrupted me making out with the hottest girl here to get you shots no one needs!" she snapped, her temper starting to flair.
"I'll return her for girl kisses in a second," he threw out quickly to the pouting blonde before turning them both away and walking her to the bar. "Come on Santana don't dry up on me now, you spent the past year running your ass off at work and home, tonight you party with us. You don't have to get wasted, just a few friendly beers, a couple of shots, some light dancing, and then home."
Straightening her clothes back out she frowned heavily, resigned to actually have to be social at this event, "Fine, but pick me up like that again Puckerman and I will actually castrate you."
"There is no one I would rather give the honor to," he said genuinely with a huge grin.
She eyed their destination warily, "Are you about to try and make me pay for drinks at my own party?"
"Hell no!" he exclaimed, looking scandalized, "Just need help carrying them back to the table, I mean, I wouldn't even ask you to do that, but if I left you with Brittany I'd come back to, Quinn pretending not to sulk and Rachel pretending not to notice Quinn pretending not to sulk."
"You saw that too?"
"I am more sensitive to the feelings of others than my reputation would lead you to believe."
It would have been easy to refute that comment and cut him down to size while at it, but as of late Santana had been working hard on being less aggressive towards friends, a track Emma had painstakingly put her on, so she instead kept the thought in her head and nodded.
"Okay, so I know you aren't exactly swimming in cash so who is funding this party train?"
As if by magic Puck reached out his arm and pulled Sam out of the crowd, "This guy would be glad to sponsor your first drink. Especially since he missed the toast."
His face immediately reddened, "I told you to wait till I got back from the bathroom!"
"So next round's on you right?"
"Yeah, uh, sure," he said, clearly torn between wanting to do something nice for Santana and standing up to Puck.
When he turned to flag down a bartender Santana laughed, "Give him a break, you know he's too nice to be able to deal with you."
She could see the cocky response all lined up, but all three of them were interrupted by the most awkward man they had ever seen walking up and pushing Santana and Puck out of the way before rudely intercepting the bartender Sam had just managed to get the attention of.
"Eight gin and tonics for the VIP room," the man said, a bit louder than necessary, as if announcing his drinks were for a VIP might get him out of being yelled at by the patrons he had inconvenienced. The man was short and stocky with brown skin and neat black hair, he wore a dress shirt and slacks that were obviously expensive at a glance, not to mention the watch that bedazzled his thick wrist. Unfortunately he also had a face that seemed to scream loser, like if Droopy Dog had a human counterpart.
"Hey buddy, I'm going to need you to wait your turn," Puck said in the jovial tone he took when he was trying to keep the mood light, but willing to be serious in a heartbeat.
The man was fiddling with his iPhone while pretending he couldn't hear Puck. Santana knew he was pretending because all he was doing was scrolling endlessly between three pages of apps on his phone. When he didn't answer, Puck took a menacing step forward, his chest out and his Cop Face on.
"Yo! Little Man! Imma need you to turn around and acknowledge that you heard me."
When the man merely turned his back to them even more, Santana stepped in and pushed her friend back before there was another lawsuit on his file. Even with Zi there was only so much she could do about his pending trials and he really and truly did not need this.
"It's not worth it," she said, "This dude is clearly trying to impress some doe eyed bimbo and even with a ton of money it can't be easy to get girls to come near that mug, let him get his drinks before she comes to her senses and runs off."
There had been no need to be that mean, but the man had pissed her off and she had been holding her tongue for weeks now, it felt good to let a little spite out every once in a while.
Her answer seemed to sate him so Puck tucked the attitude and backed off, soon enough the bartender returned with the man's drinks and he turned to scurry off but not before turning to them and saying, "Drinks aren't for me," under his breath.
The words had luckily come during a lull in the music or no one would have heard him, and she suspected by the way he ran off afterwards that was what he had planned on.
Watching the man run off Puck scowled, "What an ass."
Without further incident they were able to order their drinks and bring them back to the table where, as Puck had predicted, everyone had already finished their first round. Santana returned to her spot next to Brittany, where she worked hard to maintain a balance of casual conversation and quick make out sessions with the woman at her side, who seemed more than a little ready for the trip home.
As the night went on and drinks kept flowing everyone became more relaxed and talkative, inhibitions were dropped, Santana was sure she had even seen Mike making out with Mercedes at one point. She was taking care to pace herself with drinks but with Rachel downing them like water, it was hard to stay reserved and soon she drank just enough to convince herself that hangovers weren't as bad as she was remembering and drank some more. Overall she felt the evening was going quite well, except for Quinn, who, despite her girlfriend being shitfaced and grinding up on Matt on the dance floor, was sitting rigidly in the same spot she had been in all night.
Once again Santana resolved to mind her own business, she didn't need to know what had Fabray's panties in a knot and moreover she didn't care.
Then as if reading her thoughts Brittany's nose nuzzled behind her ear, "You should go talk to her."
"No, tonight isn't about Rachel, Quinn or their weird pasty relationship."
Brittany's lips replaced her nose and Santana quivered, "It is kinda about Rachel actually and it really turns me on to see you being nice to your friends."
"How-" but she stopped herself, she had discovered long ago that Brittany had a lengthy and bizarre list of turn-ons and there was no point in trying to discover the reasoning behind this one.
Before she could give a proper reply Sam appeared and sat next to the sullen Sergeant, with a sigh of relief Santana sat back in her seat, "Look, Sam's all over it. I'm not the only person she knows."
"That's too bad, and I was going to let you leave me in handcuffs all night," Brittany hummed whimsically.
That damn near made her leap up, push Sam out of the way, and listen to every grievance Quinn ever had. It had been a dream of hers to make it through one night of roleplay without Brittany somehow escaping her cuffs and maneuvering Santana into them using a technique the brunette could never seem to remember the morning after.
Unfortunately, before she could initiate her completely self-centered mission of good will, someone else broke up the quiet talk Sam and Quinn were having. It was a woman, a much older woman who looked like she was in her late thirties/early forties, wearing clothes and jewelry that belonged on a twenty year old… a slutty twenty year old. Her hair looked like it had been bleached one too many times and despite the frequency with which she obviously did it, her dark roots could still be seen. She seemed like she might have even been attractive, but all her tacky makeup made it hard to tell. The only thing more obvious than her desperation to be noticed was how drunk she was, she barely had a grip on the drink she had in her left hand while her right seemed to be attempting to stroke Sam's face, in reality it looked like she was trying to draw a puppy on his cheek with a finger.
"Hey cutie, wanna… wanna come home with me?"
Both Sam, Quinn, Santana and Brittany all sat in total surprise for a long time, the woman took their silence as the wrong kind of surprised and winked at Quinn, "Don wurry honee you'll get anoderone, but if you'd put on more makup you wouldn'ta lost this one. Thas free advice."
Santana had the mother of all internal fights because Quinn's face was turning red and it made her want to laugh SO bad, but this woman was being even more rude than the man had been and she really wanted to put her in her place. Then, again, before anyone could properly react, the strange, short man from the bar appeared looking apologetic as he led the drunk, staggering woman away while she protested uselessly.
The four all just stared at each other in silence before they all burst out in genuine heartfelt laughter, even Quinn.
Santana woke with a start, her eyes snapped open, she took a deep gulp of morning air and almost immediately regretted it. The light felt like a nail gun had been fired through her eyes and into the back of her head and the deep breath just meant she went into a coughing fit as she rode out the pain. The coughing made her realize, with a sad forlorn sigh, that she was cuffed to the bed.
"Every time," she muttered as she tested to see if she could slip her hands out, she could not, and furthermore they had made her right hand fall asleep and put red marks on both. Then she remembered she no longer had to report to her old desk, meaning she wouldn't have to wear long sleeves in the summer to hide them from Puck.
Finally, when her brain began to fire on all cylinders she recalled it was her first day to report into the North building as a full blown detective. And as much as she didn't really care where she worked or who she worked for, the effort she'd had to put in to get the position was unreal, mostly because Rachel wanted everything more perfect than the station did, and she would be damned if she fucked all that up by being late on her first day.
"Britt!" she called, praying her girlfriend hadn't left on one of her spontaneous shopping trips.
To her surprise a head shot up next to her from the floor, Brittany was naked, her hair completely disheveled, but she was there.
"Yeah?" she asked in alarm.
"What time is it? I have to go to work!" Santana asked, her head swiveling all around trying to find some device to tell her the time.
Brittany laughed and sat up, "Don't worry, I wouldn't let you be late on your first day, besides I have an interview today, so I was extra sure to set the alarm."
"Can you get me out of these?" she asked tugging on her restraints, "My hand is numb."
Those words turned her expression to apologetic, there had been many talks about handcuff etiquette and leaving the handcuffee hanging over night was on the no-no list. Then again there was also a rule about no restraints when they were drunk that neither of them had followed so Santana couldn't find it in her to try and throw blame around.
"Uh, I think I lost the key…" Brittany said as she looked around.
"Britt!"
"Don't worry, I can get you out," she said and did just that in almost an instant.
Santana rubbed her wrist while looking quizzically at the handcuffs dangling from her hand, "How did you-"
Evasive as always about her escape techniques, Brittany leaned forward and kissed her forehead, "Don't want to be late," she chirped before rushing off to the bathroom.
Santana stood slowly, still trying to get the feeling back in her fingers while peering at the world through squinted eyes, "You never did tell me what time it is."
Her head popped out of the bathroom with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, "Sebin firdy,"
With no small amount of effort, Santana hauled herself out of bed and to the bathroom trying her best to navigate through squinting eyes, "I should have never gone to that party."
"Aw come on it was fun!" Brittany said, leaving the other woman to wonder how she could be so happy.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Santana realized that no amount of concealer was going to hide the fact that she had partied hard the night before. Instead of worrying about it, she cleaned up, slapped on the basic amount of makeup needed to be presentable and made a bee line for her coffee maker.
Three frustrating minutes later she was glowering over a steaming mug of mud flavored fuel as she watched Brittany bound around the kitchen doing… something. She wasn't sure what exactly and the coffee hadn't given her the ability to ask without sounding surly yet, but there was food involved. That worried her.
Enough so that she dared to try and inquire, her plan was to throw in a term of endearment to offset the gruffness that was still in her voice and the frown she knew was etched deep into her brow, "Babe, what are you doing?"
"Making you lunch."
A rolling growl that was supposed to be a 'hmmm' came out, "You don't have to do that."
"I know, but I want to."
There wasn't enough caffeine in her system yet to try and come up with a plan to keep her from doing that without sounding like an asshole so she simply resolved to not eat whatever it was should it prove to be, as she suspected, completely inedible.
As she watched Brittany pack what could only be a drink cooler with the amount she was putting in it, she started to truly wake up and managed her first sentence without sounding like an angry chain smoker, "Where will you be applying today?"
"Some simple security work," Brittany replied airily.
Santana's natural morning frown hadn't gone away yet and this answer only made it deepen, every job she had taken prior had been dancing or fashion related, and there had been plenty. She hadn't been aware that Brittany was walking away from those pursuits entirely, though it wasn't exactly surprising. Though Zi had made it possible to give her a wide range of skills and fake diplomas from real colleges, it hadn't been able to change the fact that work was hard, Brittany liked to do things at her own pace and the professional world wanted its own way. She quit every one of her previous jobs due to burnout and as her girlfriend it had been hard to watch her get sick of things she loved. The change was needed but the specifics of it confused her, if she meant security as in a security guard then that was a terrible idea, she was so easily distracted and disliked staying in one spot for too long.
"Security? I mean I know you used to work for the government, but is that really what you want to do? Guard a building all day?"
"Oh I'm not doing anything like that," she laughed and Santana had a miniature heart attack.
"Please don't tell me you actually applied back at the CIA!"
A soft chuckle was the only reply that she got for a moment while her heart beat crazily in her chest, "No, I know I can't do that, I'm just doing some consulting work."
"Oh," she hid a sigh of relief, downed the rest of her coffee and got ready to leave, but not before getting a goodbye kiss and the now confirmed ice cooler lunch box that felt like it was full of canned goods.
On her way out to her car she eyed Brittany's Kawasaki parked adjacent to her spot, she considered for a moment being a badass and pulling up to the station on a sweet Kill Bill-yellow bike, but she thought better of it. Sure Brittany wouldn't mind, unfortunately if the bike was gone she would have to drive Santana's car and since the woman seemed to lose all motor control when a clutch was involved, she opted to just be a badass in a '67 Dodge.
A brief car ride later, she was standing at the door of her new home away from home, and somehow it made her nervous. She hadn't actually bothered to research anyone she would be working with or listen to Rachel when she started rambling about them. All she knew was where to report and that was all that mattered.
When she made it to her new desk she found it already tagged with an elegant nameplate that read Detective Lopez, and next to it the woman who she was sure had bought the thing. Rachel sat across from her laying face down on her own labeled desk, looking like someone ran her over with a truck.
A little surprised Ms. Mornings wasn't chattering away, she contemplated the pros and cons to trying to correct that when dealing with a person that carried such a title, but the decision was taken from her when Rachel turned around where Santana could tell she truly looked like death.
"What the hell happened to you?" she asked, too surprised to cushion the question.
Rachel yawned and sat back looking miserable, "Too much to drink last night."
"I, uh, saw you hitting the bottle a little hard," and once more there was a nagging need to ask what was wrong, but this time it was paired with an unusual curiosity about what could have robbed her partner of joy on what should have literally been the happiest moment of her life. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, regretting the question before she asked it, "Rachel what's wrong?"
"Nothing," she grumbled, offering the only response that could top her sullen mood in oddness.
"It is insanely obvious that is a lie, but if you don't want to talk about it that's your choice, I won't push."
Sitting up with great effort Rachel checked her watch and rubbed her eyes, "We need to report in to the DCO."
"The wha…"
With a sigh that was more commonly heard from Santana, Rachel said, "The Deputy Commissioner of Operations."
"Uh-huh you could just called him 'boss'."
There was another belabored sigh, "Yeah, well whatever lets go."
Santana decided that, despite her complaints, she liked peppy Rachel a lot better than sulky Rachel.
Together they walked the short distance to the door at the front of the room and knocked, a brisk 'Come in!' came back to them and they did just that. Inside Santana saw an office that looked more like a shrine than anything, it wasn't unusual for superiors at the precinct to have pictures of themselves, hell Sylvester had a painted portrait behind her desk and had recently had an entire mural of herself at various points in her career painted in her coat closet. This was something else entirely.
Maybe it was because all the awards, trophies and certificates that littered every surface were for things that had nothing to do with police work, or it could have been because none of them were dated past 1998, whatever it was, the entire room emanated the very essence of the term 'washed up'. In the simple chair placed at the center of the sad scenery was a man who looked every bit as washed up as his tribute to himself implied.
"Good Morning Deputy Schuester, Detectives Berry and Lopez reporting in for our first day."
"Really? No Deputy Commissioner of Operations Schuester?" Santana muttered under her breath, Rachel ignored her.
Yeah she definitely preferred the peppy Rachel, way more fun to tease.
"Good morning ladies," he replied.
Beside her Rachel tensed and she knew it was because she was expecting to be addressed in a more professional manner. As suspected she said nothing of the slight and waited patiently for him to continue but he didn't, as a matter of fact they both just stood there for a while in silence.
Carefully clearing her throat Rachel opened her mouth to say something, however at that moment Schuester spoke again, "Welcome to narcotics, I trust you are well read on the entry material?" Santana was not, but Rachel was too busy nodding overzealously for him to notice her slight shake of the head."Excellent, I will introduce you to the rest of this unit as they arrive, we have a major ongoing case I want you on and all pertinent information will be discussed when we are all together. I hope you enjoy your time here and please never hesitate to ask me for anything."
"I do have a question, what time is our briefing?" Rachel asked.
The Deputy looked at her with a level gaze, "I thought you said you read the entry material…"
She couldn't have looked more offended if he had accused her of having public sex with a wounded animal, "I most certainly did, but it did not detail a time to meet should co-workers be late to their posts." Her voice was terse while managing to also be polite; Santana was quietly impressed with her acrimonious reply.
He frowned a little as if he did not understand her point, then, after a moment of thought seemed to relax, "Well no problem, we meet at twelve."
With a nod that bordered on churlish Rachel turned to leave followed by her amused partner who didn't say a single word until they were back at their desks. Rachel plopped heavily in her chair and sat with her chin on her crossed arms like a fuming child and Santana couldn't suppress a chuckle any longer.
"You know I fully expected you to be a tight little bundle of nerves on the first day, but this isn't too bad. I mean I don't want you to be unhappy every day, however if you can find a way to keep the attitude with superiors and lose the frowns you'll be a pretty well rounded officer. Might even take you out for a drink one night," she laughed. In response she heard a mutter that she couldn't understand, leaning forward she asked, "What?"
"Fuck this whole day," Rachel repeated.
"That's the spirit!"
Her brow darkened and suddenly she sat up kicking her desk fiercely, startling Santana, "Fuck Quinn's cryptic bullshit and fuck her for making me feel this way!"
"Okay here is where you want to reign it in-"
"I have wanted this since I signed up to be a cop and all she can do is sulk and act like I'm the bad guy!"
"Yeah, that can happen with her, but-"
"And the worst part is that I thought we had worked through it all, but then I try to have a serious talk with her about our future and she gets colder than ever!"
Santana winced at the grating quality of her rising voice, "You are at an eleven and imma need you to bring it down to like a two."
"What's going on over here?"
The question came from behind Santana and she knew two things upon hearing it; the person was male and whoever it was she would not like him. Turning around confirmed both suspicions, the person was indeed male, a tall lanky redhead with more freckles than brain cells, if his askew goofy grin was anything to go by. Though he wasn't necessarily offensive to look at she disliked him on sight, something about his bearing, be it the grin or his crisp clothing, reminded her of Artie.
Despite all this she decided not to allow Rachel to actually ruin her first day by mouthing off to senior detectives so she answered first, "Nothing, just a friendly discussion," she said hoping that would be the end of it.
He entered their small cubicle space with a chuckle and she rolled her eyes at herself for ever thinking anything could ever be that easy.
Walking in between them he glanced at Rachel before looking at Santana, "Let me guess, that one's having lady troubles?"
The question was so jarringly rude it forced the response, "Who the fuck are you?"
His eyebrows went up, "Woof, not the only one I see. I'm Detective Nelson, you can feel free to call me that or by my nickname-"
"Which is Mr. Colossal Bonehead," came a much kinder voice from behind Nelson.
Both women glanced up to see a ridiculously handsome man walk up and pull the first from his spot between them.
"My apologies for my partner, he can be amazingly stupid sometimes and I just can't be everywhere at once to keep it from leaking out," he seemed genuinely embarrassed and apologetic for his partner.
Once more startled by this display, Santana found herself at a slight loss for words, "Lopez," she offered extending her hand, which he shook firmly. She then jerked her head towards the other woman who still seemed to be deciding whether or not to lay into the dejected looking redhead, "Berry."
"Brody Weston," he said, needlessly gesturing to himself, "You can call me Brody, most people here do, or Weston if that's too familiar," he laughed.
In the glow that was his bright smile, Santana had to admit that if she wasn't in a relationship and a lesbian she would have snatched him up, regardless of what his current romantic situation was. A quick glance at Rachel told her the brunette was thinking the same thing.
Santana had a true dilemma, she wanted, no, needed to be snarky to this entirely too happy co-worker for a number of reasons. She didn't need him thinking he had a snowballs chance in hell of dating her, enough time on the force taught her that rebuffs were seen as signals to come back later, furthermore she needed to establish her dominance. Nevermind her sexual orientation, her gender was what got her trashed the most coming up through the academy and even the nicest men were guilty of thinking that she was somehow less than them no matter the situation. Better to let him know where he stood now, rather than have him think she was going to call him Sir later in front of other officers or civilians.
But he had been really nice.
Deciding to split the difference she returned his smile, "Detective Brody it is, but that's a mouthful so how's Dib?" he gave a bemused grin but before he could reply she went on, rounding on Nelson, "I also think Detective Nelson is too long so I'll just shorten it to Asshat. And by the way if you ever speak to me about something that does not directly pertain to our case, I will slap those freckles off your face before you can finish making whatever moronic statement you're planning on."
Nelson frowned and looked like he wanted to challenge that threat, but when Brody made no move to back him up he just nodded meekly.
"Pleasantries out of the way would you ladies like to be briefed on our case?" Brody asked.
Finally Rachel came to life, "Isn't Deputy Schuester supposed to do that?"
His eyebrows went up, "I'm assuming you've already met him. That man isn't exactly on the ball and has a habit of forgetting things and blaming it on everyone else for 'not doing their job'."
Rachel nodded and stood right away, "Where shall we discuss this?"
He gave her one of those winning smiles and lead the way to a nearby office, that Santana could only assume was a briefing room. Nelson tagged along behind, seeming to already know his place in the hierarchy. In case he didn't Santana was sure to peg him with a hard, challenging glare as he walked in the door and closed it.
Once everyone was seated, Brody booted up the computer at the front of the room and pulled up a document that proved him a smooth professional. He explained the entirety of the current case with a level of detail she hadn't seen since the last time Rachel had tried to make an outline for her. And once again her partner seemed to be on the same page, for a moment she considered the possibility of Rachel wandering back to the path of the straight and narrow so to speak but shrugged it off; she still firmly believed in staying way out of whatever was going on between her and Quinn. Besides, the subjects Brody was touching on were very serious in their nature, it seemed that an American citizen had found unprecedented success in drug trafficking in the states. Santana hadn't been paying enough attention to catch her name, but as Brody clicked through images of the drug ring's lieutenants and known affiliates, who oddly all seemed to be boys between the ages of 14 and 19, there came an image she recognized and her mouth fell open.
On the screen was the only male that looked an actual adult, a dark skinned man with a squashed depressed looking face. Like Droopy Dog on downers…
Brody kept going, having not noticed the expression on her face, but next to her Rachel interrupted, "Hold on, that man? The one back a slide or two, why is he so much older than the others? Are we sure he isn't the target?"
Going back he looked up at the image, "This guy? No," he chuckled, "This is Howard Bamboo, known for petty crimes up until now, as a matter of fact he used to be an informant for our brothers over in homicide. A street running bum until about a year ago, he vanished and came back on the scene looking like he had a six digit salary. The activity of this group predates his disappearance and besides that he doesn't exactly have the brains to be the brains. As far as we know he's just the middle man between Del Monico and the other drug traffickers."
Santana frowned, "Who?"
She expected Rachel to answer in her familiar know it all huffy tone, but instead the answer came from the door when Schuester stood glaring at the image of the woman Brody had just flipped to, "Del Monico, Terri Del Monico." He walked in and turned to the group seated in the room, "I see you got started without me."
"Thought I'd give you less to cover," Brody offered as he stepped away from the computer and sat at the desk next to Nelson.
The deputy looked at the image of the smiling woman and sighed, while Santana did another double take. It was the drunk woman from the bar, that was definitely, without a doubt, the drunk woman from the bar. For the second time she tried to open her mouth to tell someone but once again something startled her out of it, this time it was Brittany strolling in the door.
"Ah well, Detective Weston if you would have waited you could have spared yourselves having to hear all this again because we have a guest that will be joining us for the duration of this investigation. This is Brittany Pierce."
Brittany stood forward and waved, being sure to send Santana a wink.
"Uh…" was Rachel's response.
"Security?" Santana asked lacking any other coherent response.
"The interview went well!" Brittany cheered.
Schuester nodded, "I should say it did, Ms. Peirce has a wealth of knowledge that will help us locate and apprehend this criminal and bring her whole organization to justice."
It did not feel good when she had to admit to herself that she didn't know if Brittany had lied to the man or not. She was skilled, but Santana wasn't aware of anything she could do that would be so helpful that she would be hired on the spot by narcotics officers with no confirmable background.
Then as if in answer to her internal question Schuester said, "Listen ladies," once again she felt Rachel cringe as her title was once again overlooked, "I'll be perfectly honest, this case is dead, all of your colleagues have been pulled onto other ones and it's only through a lot of begging, pleading and string pulling that I am allowed the four of you. Even then it's really only two since they decided it was my job to work with the new recruits. I need more people on this because as it is," he paused to point at the picture on the wall, "We have no idea where she even is."
Brittany laughed, "Santana and I saw her last night."
Everyone froze. For a long time the only sound Santana could hear was her ears ringing from all the blood rushing to her head.
"I'm sorry what? You saw her?" Brody asked.
She nodded, "Yeah, last night."
Rallying Santana figured full disclosure was the best option and decided to chime in, "That Bamboo guy too," she said through lips that were slowly becoming numb.
The various implications of Brittany being there, were making her more and more nervous and she couldn't even pinpoint why, because in her mind everything was being screamed at her at once. Schuester seemed thrilled, and Brittany clearly felt a sense of accomplishment, but the rest of the meeting Santana sat there plotting how to cover up whatever her girlfriend may have exposed in her eagerness to undertake a new profession. A task made easier when she understood the reason why Brody took the time to explain everything, since Schuester had a tendency to ramble and ask rhetorical questions about the subject he was covering, in a manner that made everyone wonder if he actually knew the answer.
When they finally got a break for lunch she had almost figured out how to get rid of Schuester without suspicion should he get too inquisitive about his new hire, but the finer details had to wait because between Brittany and Rachel, who walked at her sides, she couldn't think.
"Where's your lunch? We can eat together?" Brittany asked.
"-unbelievable! Every time we all group together we end up in the dead center of some fiasco- "
"I bet you were surprised, I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to be sad if I didn't get the job-"
"-can't even seem to manage to call me detective even once! Even by accident!"
"Alright!" Santana snapped, her frayed nerves at an end, "Rachel if it bothers you so much just tell him, from this moment on any offense taken is entirely your fault because you won't speak up for yourself. I am going to have lunch with my girlfriend, so if you'll excuse me."
With that she pulled Brittany after her towards the parking lot where her car, and subsequently her lunch waited. Understanding this to be the chosen spot to eat, Brittany quickly entered the passenger side and began to rifle through the cooler. On the other side, much more slowly Santana walked around and sat in the driver's seat. Almost immediately she was handed a sandwich and she was just mentally exhausted enough to accept it and take a bite without caring about the ingredients. Con, it was mayo, pickles, baked beans and cucumber slices; pro, it actually wasn't that bad.
After finishing her first somehow pleasant and confusing bite she turned to Brittany, "What did you tell him?" she asked.
"Who about what?" came the immediate, happy reply as she turned to face her while sitting Indian style.
"Schuester, what did you tell him to make him hire you?"
"Um," she took another bite while she thought, her eyes turning to the roof with the effort, "That I was good at lots of different tasks and that I do really well with infiltration and recon."
"Are you?"
She shrugged, "Eh, I'm better with combat and triage."
"You're a medic?" this she hadn't known in the slightest. To be fair the only time it would have come up was when she herself was the patient, but there had just been no evidence to even imply that.
"Medic? No, the opposite of that, like when you trash stuff."
"Espionage?"
"That's the one."
"That was your job originally," she said to convince herself more than anything.
"It was," she confirmed, taking another bite.
"Did he ask for any papers, anything that might give away who you were before?"
"No, I just brought the papers you gave me to show people and I made up a resume, all the reference numbers go to my cell anyway and I do voices really well."
That Santana knew about, her fake accents were actually pretty good except for the fact that she always confused her dialects and cultural slang, "I guess that's fine," she said, and for the first time felt her muscles relax slightly.
"What other talents did you have?" she asked, knowing how dangerous it was, because she still couldn't stand it. She still couldn't stand to hear his name.
"That was pretty much it. I mean I thought I was good at fashion but Kurt hated everything I put together, and nobody let me really try anything else."
Kurt's name had made her heart race because she feared what might come after, even though she wanted to ask more. As much as she wanted to know about the woman she loved, she had put herself in an impossible place, an observer on the outside who couldn't bear to look in. Not for the first time, she felt her heart ache and felt sorry for herself.
Brittany chewed more slowly, "What's wrong?"
Snapping out of her funk Santana shook her head and threw on a smile, "Nothing, just thinking about this case."
The blonde continued to stare at her until she finally finished her bite of sandwich, "It isn't nothing, you just don't want to tell me about it."
She seemed more hurt than upset and that made Santana focus, what was the point of putting herself through all this if she couldn't make Brittany happy?
Somehow willing her smile to be real she gave her girlfriend a reassuring kiss on the cheek and ran her fingers through blonde hair, "I am fine Britt, I promise."
That seemed to convince her more than the previous statement but Brittany looked worried nonetheless. Then she had a thought that made her feel like she might be going insane just for having it.
She needed to talk to Dr. Pillsbury.
It was with a detached fascination that Emma Pillsbury watched one of her most troublesome patients walk in and, for no good reason, berate the person currently sitting opposite her desk. The man was new to the force and was rather ironically seeing her because he found himself unable to assert himself to his fellow officers. She watched Santana say about three words to him that made his face turn red, but instead of complaining he gathered up his things and scurried out of the office.
As a doctor she had a few decisions to make.
Santana was way out of line, that was a given, and behavior such as that should never be rewarded; don't give the child having a tantrum the candy he's crying for. However, the idea of Santana Lopez purposefully setting foot into her office without being forced was such a tremendous breakthrough in their doctor patient relationship.
It was like being Anne Sullivan at the well and hearing Helen's first word to be 'cock'.
She would deal with the interruption later, that was something she was pretty sure she could correct. So instead of demanding she leave and apologize to her colleague, she allowed Santana to sit silently in front of her in a huff.
When three whole minutes passed and nothing was said between them Emma ventured to speak up, "Hello, Santana. I heard you recently made detective, congratulations." Upon receiving no response she added, "Is something on your mind?"
"No, I just like the look of your face," she snapped.
Emma sighed heavily, "We've talked about the insults, especially to people who are trying to help you."
"I know."
There was only one thing she knew of that could work Santana up into such a state.
The ever mysterious Brittany.
"How are things at home?"
Her eyes widened slightly, "What makes you think something's wrong?"
"What makes me think there is something wrong in your personal life when you come barging into my office when you aren't scheduled to see me for eight more weeks? Call it a hunch."
Truly she hated sarcasm, but Santana could bring it out in anyone.
"Things aren't going perfectly," she admitted and it obviously took some effort for her to do that.
"Alright, let's start with; why?"
Another silence followed, apparently it was hard for her to even talk about, "She's working here, at the precinct with me and I'm worried we might get sick of each other."
Emma would freely admit she wasn't the best in the world at her job, as a matter of fact when she first started, she almost had a panic attack in fear of being fired for being so bad at it. With time she had gotten better and at this moment she felt quite proud of herself because for the first time she was, with 100% certainty sure that Santana was full of shit.
"No, you're upset because you still haven't talked to her about your feelings concerning her ex. You know, that thing I've been telling you to do ever since you learned she had one."
Santana actually looked stunned by that and Emma felt her pride swell in her chest. For the first time ever she was going to look at her paycheck and really feel like she earned it.
"You know I can't," she grumbled, looking away.
"I don't know that. All I know is that you won't for reasons you refuse to explain."
"It's complicated," they both said at the same time, Emma already nodding her understanding.
Greedily wanting to make more progress Emma pressed on, "Let's get down to the basics here alright? You have a mystery reason that you won't talk to her about her ex or any time before you two met correct?" A slight nod made her continue, "So it simply comes down to this; is whatever is holding you back worth never truly loving her?"
The look Santana gave her made her want to grab her things and run out as fast as her last patient had.
"Don't. Don't you fucking dare imply I don't love that woman with all my heart."
Though she was sure she was risking death in doing so Emma shrugged, "How can you possibly say you love someone if you doggedly refuse to know who they are?"
Santana laughed, "This is so stupid! I know who she is!"
Another shrug, this one far more dramatic, but not so much so as to disturb the meticulously stacked papers on the edge of her desk, "Fine then tell me... where did she grow up?"
"What does that have to do with-"
"What are her parents names?" Santana fell silent and from the look on her face not only did she not know, but it hurt her badly that she didn't.
"Where did she go to college?"
A light appeared in her patient's eyes, as she leaned forward "She didn't go to college, she didn't even finish high school."
Then how did she get a job here? Emma thought suddenly, not letting her curiosity distract her she asked, "Why?"
Santana sat back again, "I don't know."
"You don't. And those are the basics. I'll go ahead and assume you don't know what her deepest fears are, or what memories are most precious to her. How can you claim to love her and want to protect her when you don't even know what she needs protecting from? Okay she didn't finish high school or go to college; does she wish she had? If so what would she major in?"
"Fashion or dancing I guess," she mumbled.
"But you don't know. And you should. So, again, is whatever keeps you from her worth it? If it is, I can't advise you any further without knowing the details."
Santana watched her with hard eyes before she sat up, the motion was so sudden Emma jumped a little, still fearing the other woman might lash out, "I can't stand the memory of him that lives in her, but I can't destroy it without hurting her."
The enigmatic, emotional answers were starting to grate on her nerves, "Of course there is. If she cares for you the way you care for her then he'll be pushed out of her mind entirely. Should you two stay together for the long term then at some point she will have been with you longer than him. So instead of wasting all this time sulking over his shadow create memories with the person you love. When she looks back on your time together she needs to see something worth remembering, not a distant, cold lover, but a close, warm life partner. Keep neglecting her in the ways that you are, you may one day wake up to find she's moved on to someone that can fulfill those needs."
Once more silence fell, but this time it was heavy and charged in a way that made Emma sit back and plant her feet in case she needed to run. She was pretty sure Santana wouldn't hurt her, but she didn't feel like taking any chances. Then without a word the newly appointed detective stood and stormed out of the room.
Hey all, been gone for a while. Hope to update this regularly, but life likes to fk me over. If you want to keep up with what's going on with updates just head over to my tumblr :)