Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I hope you like it! This story has the same themes of the other one other than the fact that it is now G!P Quinn! This story isn't based on sex so it's not a huge deal.
I would like to give credit to midnightchaser on tumblr and my friend Haruka Chan-212. :)
Protect and Serve (Revised)
Chapter One – New Case
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"God damn it, Santana! Faster!" Quinn found herself gasping for air. Sweat slid down her neck and chest.
There was a bit of a pause before Santana's voice rang through the blonde's ear. "Damn, Q. I knew you liked it rough but… damn," She smirked, somewhat out of breath.
"Now's really not the time, Santana!"
The two breathed heavily in each other's ear from heavy strain.
"Well, I'm sorry that my fingers get more workout than my legs," The Latina stated.
"Not my fault you never get on the treadmill with me!"
Detective Quinn Fabray sprinted down the dark alleyway, attempting to apprehend a criminal wanted for dealing drugs to underage kids. Her partner, Santana, was nowhere to be found. As usual. The one person supposedly dedicated to help her, was absent. "Stop! I will shoot!" the blonde warned him.
The perpetrator knocked over a trashcan but Quinn was able to jump over it easily as she continued to pursue him. Thank God for track in school. As soon as he turned the corner, he was knocked over by a raging Latina. Quinn stopped and put her hands on her knees. "It's about time!" The commotion caused some bystanders to look on in curiosity as Santana composed herself, rolling the man over to cuff him.
"The fuck you mean 'it's about time'?! Do you realize how many cars almost hit my hot ass?! Stop moving around before I knee you in the nuts, asshole."
"You guys married or something?" The criminal asked with his face in the pavement.
"Shut up!" They both yelled. Though, they did kind of act like it. Santana had to practically sit down on him with all her weight to keep him from moving.
Quinn took a much needed breath and reached for her headset that had fallen to the ground. "This is Fabray. The suspect has been apprehended. We are ready for pick up. We're just outside of an alley on the corner of 32nd and 84th."
"This is Sergeant Rose responding. Good job, girls. We're on our way."
Santana handcuffed the criminal and sat on him to hold him down. "You know, you don't have to scream in my ear all the time." Quinn pulled her headset off and stared at the Latina.
"Well, you like to ignore me."
Santana laughed tiredly, "you do realize it's hard to ignore you when you're, you know, screaming in my ear."
They could hear sirens in the background. "You're ridiculous. I told you to get in the car to cut him off, not run after him like a track star."
"I was a cheerleader – YOU were the track star, remember? And my mind? Not there all the time, Fabray. Besides, you had the keys."
Quinn stared blankly at her before reaching into her pocket. Yeah, she forgot that she had the keys. But she shrugged it off. "Your mind's never there, Lopez." Quinn smirked at her own words, pleased with herself over the reaction she received from her partner.
"Oh, screw you." Santana spat back without a second thought.
"Are you guys sure you're not married or something?" The guy on the ground turned his head to look at the bickering pair.
"Shut up!" They yelled in unison again. Quinn then sighed and rubbed her temples. Why was she Santana's partner again? And thank god the case was over. All the stakeouts and dead ends had been worth it in the end. This guy won't be selling anymore.
XXXX
The two detectives walked into the office they shared with a few other detectives and collapsed in their chairs. Quinn glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only ten at night. They'd been out on the street for hours trying to find this guy and she needed a serious dose of caffeine.
"Fabray! Lopez! Good job on your last case, but unfortunately there's no time for you to take a break. We have a new case for you – it's high priority." Her chief's booming voice came from behind her. Quinn turned around in the chair and looked at him. Santana however…
"Really? Can we look at it tomorrow? We're kinda tired… Uh, sir." Santana added sheepishly.
"No. You can't." Chief Jacobs persisted, causing Santana to groan. "Look over it tonight. I don't care where or when but I expect you to be in my office tomorrow at 0800 hours sharp to explain how you're going to go about it," the Chief said, walking towards them.
"Don't mind her, sir," Quinn started, "She's just a little upset that she's getting slow in her old age."
Santana narrowed her eyes, "Oh, bite me, Fabray."
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Quinn chided.
Chief Jacobs cleared his throat. The two women hadn't stopped fighting since day one. "Why did I partner you two up again?"
"Because we get the job done, sir," Quinn answered a serious yet flat tone, tensing as Santana wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"And I wouldn't know what to do without my little Quinnie," Santana smirked, tightening her hold on the woman.
Quinn carefully wrapped her hand around Santana's wrist and extracted the woman's arm from her shoulder. "Get off of me, S."
"You two are probably the oddest people I've met in my life. Now get outta my sight and start on this case. Dismissed." The Chief walked back into his office and shook his head. As much as he thought the two were strange with their antics, they did get the job done. They had the most arrests in the district. And though the two were only 32 and the youngest in the department, they had the respect of their fellow officers. And that was good enough for him.
Quinn let out a sigh and looked at the classified manila envelope. "We barely finish one and he's shoving another in our faces. Can't we ever catch a break?"
"Guess not. Let's head home and work on it there," Santana said as she yawned, stretching before standing up.
"No way. Last time you said that we ended up going straight to sleep and having to wing it the next day. Do you really want a repeat of that?" When Santana sighed in exasperation, she continued. "We're going to Doc's."
"But…"
"No, San. Let's get the hell outta here. The sooner we work on this, the sooner we get done and can go home."
Santana groaned. "Why do you always have to be so professional and persistent and shit?"
Her partner scoffed, "Because this is what we get paid to do, Santana. Besides, you and I both know what's on the line here. No case should be overlooked. Now hurry up. I'm not carrying your lazy ass."
"Oh Shut it, Fabray. I'm coming. I'll let that slide this time, but only because all that running gave me an appetite."
"You always have an appetite." Quinn rolled her eyes as she unlocked the car for them. "Just get in the damn car already."
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"Here's your coffee, ladies," the young waitress smiled as she set the two cups down. "Enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else."
"Will do," Quinn said, looking over at Santana, who was eyeing the waitress up and down. She rolled her eyes and gave Santana a hard, yet subtle, kick to the shin. Santana clenched her jaw and smiled 'politely' as the waitress walked away.
"Fuck…" Santana reached down below the table and rubbed the throbbing spot Quinn had hit. "The fuck Fabray?" She whispered harshly.
Not looking up from her file, Quinn smirked and took a sip of her coffee. "You do have a girlfriend, Lopez… Or did you forget already?"
"I was looking, not touching. Big difference. Plus, my girlfriend and I aren't even official. We're more like…"
Quinn laughed in disbelief. Was her friend serious? "Not together? When we're not on a case or sleeping, you're talking about her constantly. What's her name again?"
"Brittany." Santana couldn't even say the girl's name without smiling.
Quinn glanced over the file at her partner, "see, that's what I mean. Now let's look at this case so we can go home." She was glad that Santana found someone to make her smile and laugh for once. No one in the past had been good for her. Plus, when she was all giddy and happy the woman was more pleasant to work with.
Santana sighed and grabbed her file. She picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip as she opened it. Once her eyes landed on the photo, she nearly spit out her mouthful of coffee. Wiping her chin with her napkin, the Latina forced herself to swallow. "I think I've seen her before."
Quinn lifted her eyes curiously to glance at her partner over the folder yet again. "What do you mean you think you've seen her before?"
"Through Brittany."
Santana's confession made her raise a brow in even more confusion. "Your girlfriend? How does she know her?" Quinn looked utterly confused. They lived in New York City, one of, if not the, most populated area in the country. There was no possible way that Santana could have a connection to the 'victim.' It was statistically improbable.
"Brittany choreographs the Broadway Show the… 'victim' is in."
"Hm…" Quinn ran her finger over the photo. There was something about this case that irked her…
There was a man stalking this woman. The letters were sweet at first, but then they started to get more threatening. To top it off, she received a letter at her own private residence with a picture of her in her bathrobe while inside her own bedroom from the other side of the street. That was a place they would definitely have to check out later. The image was low quality due to the zoom. The man had finally gone too far, and she was now fearful as to what he may do next.
Quinn must've been too silent for too long, because Santana scoffed and spoke, "Quinn, no matter how many times you read over that, you're not going to understand why he's doing it."
"Are these people really living that shitty of a life to feel like they need to stalk someone else's?"
"I don't know, Q. We'll have to talk to the forensic psychiatrist. He'll know more about it than we will."
Quinn laid the folder down on the table between them and motioned the waitress over to their table to refill their cups. "What are we going to do to help her? Chief said it's up to us. He's giving us complete control."
"And here I thought you were the smart one who came up with the ideas," Santana joked as she sipped her coffee. She kept her eyes on the wooden table as the young waitress came over to pour them more coffee. The last thing she needed was to explain to Brittany were the massive welt on her calf came from.
"Doesn't mean I have to come up with everything…"
"You have the brains, I'm the brawn." The two thought in silence as they continued to look through their files. Quinn pulled out one of the letters the stalker had sent the victim. It seemed so innocent.
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Dearest Rachel,
I should start this out by admitting to you that I didn't really want to see your show. I was forcibly dragged to it by my girlfriend. I sat in my seat and watched with boredom during the first few minutes. Then it happened. Then I saw you. I saw the reason why my girlfriend was so excited to see your show. You took my breath away. The combination of your voice and your amazing beauty should be illegal.
I'm very thankful now that I came to your show. I may have only seen it once, but that's all it took for me to fall head over heels for you. I've already purchased tickets for a show you have coming up next month. I'll be bringing my girlfriend, but I will be paying attention to nobody but you. I hope you won't disappoint. Though I doubt you ever could. I'll see you in a month.
Yours,
Raymond
PS: Write me back?
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Dearest Rachel,
It's been a couple of weeks since my last letter to you. I understand you're busy with your rehearsals and nightly shows. I get it. But shouldn't you make some time for your fans? I know you have a lot of them, and not just me, but maybe if you tried? We'd be a lot happier. I've seen every one of your shows this week Rachel. I wonder how you can get more breathtaking with each passing day? You never cease to amaze me.
I'll be outside the back stage entrance at your show this Saturday, I would love the opportunity to be able to talk to you.
Yours truly,
Raymond
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My dearest Rachel,
I've watched you from afar for too long, I can't handle it anymore. Why won't you respond to me? I've been to every one of your shows since I first saw you, every time you continue to ignore me. Why?
I followed you home after your show last week. I just wanted to know why you continued to ignore me. When I got up to your door, I just couldn't bring myself to knock on it. Instead, I just watched you. I watched you as you walked around in your house in this pretty little pink silk robe and a towel wrapped around your hair. These pictures I'll cherish. Hopefully I can see more and more of you each night.
I love you,
Raymond
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Quinn felt her throat tighten as she read over the last few words of the letter. "He's showing the signs, San…"
The Latina frowned, instantly knowing what her friend was referring to, "Are you sure? Let me see that," she grabbed the letter and started eyeing over the words carefully. She looked up and saw the look on Quinn's face. "Q… It won't go down like that. Not again, okay?"
Quinn just sat and drank her coffee as she got lost in her thoughts. She wanted to make sure this case didn't end the same way a similar one she had in the past did.
And she had an idea. A very risky idea…
XXXX
When Santana and Quinn got home, the two went to their separate rooms and slept. Or at least Santana did. Quinn couldn't stop thinking about the case. She was sitting on her bed, the files spread out all over her comforter as she tried to break them down – sentence by sentence, piece by piece. The dozen letters this 'Raymond' had sent the victim were causing her stomach to get twisted into knots. They sounded so much like Lucy Macready's case from three years ago. It was her first case.
Quinn sighed and ran her hands through her short blonde hair to try and clear her thoughts of the young woman. It still haunted her to this day. Had she not been so easily distracted, Lucy would still be alive and she wouldn't have to live every day with the guilt of her own mistake. She wouldn't make that mistake again. Ever.
Was her plan really going to work? It was hard telling. She did it once, only she wasn't undercover… If she ran it by the Chief, he probably would deny it based on what happened last time. Even if Jacobs agreed to it, he'd have to run it by the victim and her manager. Quinn's plan would have her at the victim's side, day and night. She'd be living with her, sleeping one room away or even on the couch. She'd be at every performance. She would never let the woman leave her sight. Ever.
She sighed for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head onto the pillow against her headboard. Before she knew it, she was in a not-so-peaceful sleep.