A/N: Thank you guys for your consistent support! You're awesome.

Just a small message.

I know some people have been telling me that they'd like to see Santana having more of an attraction towards Brittany; trust me, it will happen soon. But, this story is pretty slow moving, but I won't tease you guys too much.

But, if you read the last chapter carefully, and read through their interaction at the beginning of it, you will notice that the attraction from Santana's side has actually already begun. So don't worry.

I can assure you, when the attraction is returned fully, it will have been worth the wait.

Thanks for reading.

CHAPTER FOUR

In all honesty, when you opened the closet doors with a smug, yet concentrated grin on your face, you were only expecting to see some sort of clue that would eventually lead you to Emma's whereabouts, if she's alive.

But, you seriously weren't expecting to see the young girl sitting there, worn out and tired looking, slumped on the floor, a rope tied around her wrists and ankles, and a piece of rubber stuffed in her mouth. She immediately looks up, eyes shimmering with hope when she sees the light and her face looks pained, as she makes frantic muffled noises with her mouth, trying to scramble to her feet but failing.

"Shit," you gasp, dropping to one knee straight away and fumbling to un-do the knot in the ropes. You snap your head around. "Quick, get me a whole jug of water," you say to Evans urgently. You then turn your attention to Fabray. "Get this little creep down to the station." You motion towards Leo, who looks so caught you almost laugh. He's standing there, playing with his hands. He also looks like he's about to get sick.

When Evans and Fabray rush down the stairs with Leo, you manage to get the ropes untied, and the moment you do, Emma pulls the rubber out of her mouth and throws her body into your side, sobbing loudly and wrapping her arms around your shoulders. She starts shaking and buries her head in your neck. "I r-really thought I was g-gonna die in there," she cries, squeezing you tighter. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."

You hold the young girl, feeling rather emotional yourself, and you stroke her hair slowly, letting her sit there, half across your lap. "It's okay," you whisper. "You'll be okay."

Leo's mother rushes in, and immediately lets out a cry, covering her mouth with her hand as tears rush to her eyes. She kneels down beside the two of you and tries to get Emma to look at her. "I'm so sorry," she sobs, though you're not sure if she's speaking to you or Emma. "I had no idea, I'm so sorry."

Evans enters with a pitcher full of water and a glass with some ice in it. He pours some and hands it to Emma, who takes it with shaky hands. "Here you go, sweetie."

Your heart breaks as you watch Emma drain the whole glass in about two seconds, gasping for breath straight afterwards, taking a break from her crying. Then she reaches for the jug and begins to down it in one go. The poor thing must have been so dehydrated.

She still continues to cry after she finishes the water, and you continue to hold her, shushing her softly as she sobs desperately into your neck.

This is definitely the most emotional you've felt about a case ever. Not many of them have much to do with kids, and now here you are, with a kid in your lap, sniffling and holding you tightly, after spending time in a confined space without food and drink for god knows how long.

Once police officers and FBI begin to arrive, Emma is escorted out with a blanket over her shoulders. When her father arrives as she's getting into the police car, he bursts into tears, clutching Emma to his chest and not letting go for dear life.

It truly is a heart-warming sight for you to see. Adam finally gets his daughter back. Emma is finally back to safety.

Not only do you feel accomplished, but you can't describe your relief that there was a happy ending for Emma and her family.

Pierce is pretty badly shaken up about the whole thing, so you just let her go home early. You can't help but feel awful that her first case was such a heavy one, but you honestly had no idea it was going to turn out like that.

Jones offers you and Fabray a lift home, as Evans made his own way back to his house. Silence consumes the car as you sit in the passenger seat, your eyes half open and a billion thoughts buzzing around in your head like bees.

"Well done today, boss," Jones smiles, giving you a gentle pat on the arm. "It couldn't have ended better."

You nod, smiling weakly. "I agree. I just feel bad for Pierce; she seemed so disturbed after we found Emma in the closet."

"Pierce could have seen her in a worse state in the closet," she says, waving you off. "She'll be fine."

"I just have to go down to the station later and question that little psycho and find out why he did this."

Jones shakes her head violently, not taking her eyes off of the road in front of her. "Nuh uh, Santana. You're relaxing for the rest of the day. You did good, girl. Reward yourself and just do it tomorrow."

You hesitate, before caving. "Fine. But if I have a mental break down due to lack of work later in the evening, this is all on you, Mercedes."

"Okay, I'll take it," she laughs.

Once you're out of work environment, it's more common for you to call each other by your first names. But, you still insist on calling Fabray her last name just to piss her off.

Fabray leans forward, getting your attention. "Want to come over to mine later, girls? We'll order Thai food and try clear our minds of work." She glances at you and smirks, grabbing your shoulder. "Although, it might be a little hard for this one to do that."

"Shut up," you laugh, though that case is still on your mind. "I'll be there."

"I can't," Jones says, smiling sadly. "The Cedes has a date."

Your eyes snap towards her. "What?" you squeal.

"With who?" Fabray shouts, grinning like a mad woman.

Jones is the clubbing type of girl. You know that because she always invites you and Fabray out to the clubs with her and her out of work friends, so you reckon she met this guy at one of the clubs she goes to. She's not one for one night stands, so she hasn't gotten some action in ages. The possibility of her having a boyfriend makes you happy for her.

Jones looks out the window, smiling a bit. "Some guy I met in a club about a month ago."

"A month?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow. "Taking it steady and not dating until you know the guy properly? Didn't know you were so boring, Cedes."

Jones giggles. "No, this is my fourth date with him."

"What?" Fabray laughs, throwing her head back. "Why didn't you tell us about him?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "I guess I didn't want to jinx it."

You smile lazily at her. "Good for you, Mercedes. What's his name?"

"Jack. He's gorgeous and really sweet."

"I want to meet him," you declare. "He has to get the Lopez and Fabray approval for his rite of passage."

Jones bursts out laughing. "Which is?"

"Letting him hold your hand. I trust you haven't gone further than that with him. You know it's not right to kiss before marriage."

Fabray nudges you, smirking. "That's correct."

"You two are insufferable," Jones chuckles, shaking her head. "Why did I allow myself to become friends with you?"

You shrug, crossing your legs. "You have good taste in companions. Don't even try and deny it."

"I won't," she says with a raised eyebrow. She pulls into your apartment block and parks beside the main doors.

"I'll see you later, Santana," Fabray shouts, just as you're stepping out of the car. "Seven thirty at mine later, okay?"

You nod and wave at them as they drive off. You watch the car until it's out of view, and once it is you let your shoulders slump and you let out a long sigh. You've never been so exhausted after a few hours of work before; it is only early afternoon.

You stagger up the stairs to your apartment, as the elevator is broken for like the fifth time this month, and you stumble through your front door, drag yourself to your bedroom and collapse on your bed.

Being a genius is hard work.

When you finally wake up it's almost seven and you let out a loud groan, before hauling yourself up and shuffling to the en-suite bathroom, taking a long look at yourself in the mirror above the marble sink.

In a word, you look exhausted.

There's purple bags under your eyes, which you can barely open at this point. There are wrinkles by them too, which signal even further lack of sleep.

You're not so good at seeing if people are tired, because tiredness isn't an emotion. But, you're sure great at being able to tell if you are.

You manage to brush your teeth and hair without too much trouble, and dress yourself in an oversized men's sweater you got at a baseball game, and sweatpants, before locking the door behind you, jogging down the flights of stairs, exiting your building and flinging your arm out to the side of the road for a taxi.

You sit in the backseat, watching cars whiz past you. You look out of the corner of your eye and see the driver perv on you, looking at you from the mirror. You scowl and he quickly diverts his eyes. There's nothing to perv on; you're not exactly dressed in your best attire and you're wearing your glasses, for Christ's sake. Which are indeed far too big for your face.

You shouldn't have let that teenage hipster advise you on what ones to choose at the opticians.

When finally arrive at Fabray's apartment, she greets you by opening the door and holding a bottle of red wine in one hand and a bottle of white in the other.

"Tonight's a red sort of night," you say, answering the unasked question and walking past her through the door, into her living room and sprawling yourself out on the couch.

Fabray chuckles and follows close behind you, shaking her head and placing the white wine on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "Brittany is joining us tonight, by the way," she tells you casually.

You're a little startled. "Oh, okay. Cool."

There's a short silence, before Fabray breaks it. "I'm sorry. You know, about earlier."

"Don't worry about it," you smile. You had a feeling she was going to bring it up, so you were prepared for it.

She's not finished though. "It was extremely unprofessional of me, and I won't let it happen again. Plus, I shouldn't have turned it on you and got mad. That was totally uncalled for."

"As I said, it's all water under the bridge now."

There's another silence, before Fabray speaks again. "What was with the surprise?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" you question, utterly confused.

"When I told you Brittany was coming over tonight. You showed a micro-expression of surprise, and also fear."

You let out a breathy laugh, throwing your hands up in the air. "You know, sometimes I wish you were bad at your job."

Fabray hands you a glass of your favourite red wine and plonks herself down the couch beside you. She curls her legs underneath herself so she's sitting on them. "Talk to me."

"I don't know," you shrug, trying to act nonchalant as you take a sip of your wine. "I guess I'm just surprised you're inviting her over because you're not so great with new people."

It's probably the most dangerous lie you've ever told; not only is Quinn Fabray brilliant with people, but she's also trained to spot lies almost as well as you are.

After giving you a look that says I know you're lying but I'm going to drop it, Fabray smiles softly and pours herself a glass. "I think it would be nice for her to get to know us and become part of the little girlfriend group we have in work; you, me, Jones, Zizes, Rachel and now her. She'd be a great new addition."

"You don't know that," you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. "You don't even know her."

"Neither do you." Fabray takes a sip of her wine. "Give her a chance."

You shrug your shoulders. "What do you mean? I am giving her a chance. Just because I don't invite her for sleepovers every night and braid her hair for her while I'm interrogating people doesn't mean I've crossed her off as a potential friend."

"Okay good." Fabray swirls her wine around a little in the glass, studying it as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. "I've talked to her for a bit. She's really sweet. I think you'll like her."

You feel like what she's saying has a double meaning and the pitch of her voice when she said it and the expression on her face is confirming it.

You put your glass of wine down and cross your arms over your chest. "What exactly are you implying here, Fabray?"

Fabray smirks. "Defensive, Santana."

You glare at her and she laughs, continuing what she was saying. "I think our new employee has a tiny little crush on her boss," she teases.

You decide to play it dumb and try and deny it, in hope that the conversation will change. "There's no chance of that being true. Absolutely not."

"Are you serious?" Fabray asks incredulously. "How can you, Santana Lopez, genius in the field of micro-expressions, not be able to tell when a girl, who doesn't seem to understand the concept of subtly, by the way, has the hots for you?"

You shrug, not giving in. "I wasn't looking out for it."

"I can spot lies too, ya know," she teases. "I know you know that I'm not exactly wrong. Just give it up, and let's gossip about it."

You shake your head insistently. "No. No, no way in hell. Fabray, you don't even know if this woman is attracted to girls. Just leave it. Stop making assumptions about people just because you might be talented in reading their faces."

"She clearly is into girls," she replies shortly, shrugging slightly. "I saw her checking you out earlier on today, and I saw it yesterday, too. That girl is not one for subtly. I wasn't going to mention it yet but since she came up in our conversation, I did."

"Since you brought it up in our conversation," you snap, glaring at her playfully.

Fabray chuckles lightly, shaking her head and sipping her drink. "Give it up, Santana. I need to talk about this with you and I can't if you're being difficult."

"I'm not being difficult," you say stubbornly, but Fabray gives you another look, and you just decide to give in. "Okay, fine. Yes, I did notice it. But I honestly was too busy to even give it much thought."

"I think this calls for the second bottle of wine to be opened," Fabray squeals.

You have no problem with that. "I'll need it for this conversation."

Fabray settles back down on the couch. "Okay. Tell me everything."

So you do. You tell her about the amount of times that you've caught her staring not so innocently at you. You also may mention that you may have actually called Pierce out on her attraction towards you.

Fabray nearly chokes on her wine. "You did what?"

"It was during her interview," you shrug.

"That's even worse," Fabray giggles, knocking back some more of her wine.

You laugh along with her. "Shut up. She was doubting my skills and wanted me to prove them, so I did. I pointed out that she was attracted to me and explained how I knew. Case closed." You bring your hands together to let Fabray know you mean it, and that you don't want to discuss this further.

"Well, I'm definitely asking her about it tonight. Maybe I could make this actually happen."

"Quinn," you gasp, shaking your head wildly. "She's my employee. Do you realise how inappropriate it would be for people in the work place to even be talking about me and a colleague going at it, let alone actually doing it?"

Fabray laughs. "Relax, Santana. I won't try and set you up with her. I'll just simply ask her, when she's relatively intoxicated, if she would tap you."

"Not while I'm here you won't," you growl.

"No, I'll only bring it up when you leave to go to the bathroom or something."

You realise that even if you say no again, she'll still disobey you and do it, so you just grunt. "Fine. But ask her nothing else about me, clear?"

"Sure, boss," Fabray winks.

The doorbell rings, causing Fabray to jump up with an evil smirk, and causing your stomach to tangle itself up in knots.

"Don't do anything that could embarrass the poor girl," you warn her as she skips towards the front door.

Fabray laughs, her hand resting on the handle. "I should be saying the same thing to you." She flings the door open and there stands Pierce, in pyjama bottoms, a pair of Uggs, an NYU hoodie and a bottle of wine in her hands.

"Hi," she smiles, hugging Fabray quickly. "I just brought some wine. I don't know if you guys drink white, but if you don't you can keep it for when you have guests over anyway."

You hear Fabray laugh sweetly and you scoff. She really tries too hard with new people. "I'm sure Santana will enjoy the white," she replies, walking back into the living room with Pierce following her. "And by enjoy, I mean have it downed in twenty minutes."

"Fuck you, Fabray," you snap. You turn to your new employee, forcing a smile. "Hey, Brittany."

Pierce beams at you. "Hi, Lopez." She bounds over to the couch you're sitting on and hugs you briefly, giving you a quick smell of her perfume, which you find oddly intoxicating.

Pierce sits on the sofa, bringing her legs up so she's cross-legged.

"We're not in work, you know," you chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "You can call me Santana. I did forbid Fabray from doing so, but she still insists on it." You turn to see Fabray frown at you, and you give her a smug look back in return.

Pierce's face turns a light shade of pink, as she refuses to look at you. "Right. Sorry."

You hear a weird, strangled sound coming from your right and you look over to see Fabray giving you an amused look, and you frantically wave her away, mouthing for her to stop and mind her own damned business.

Fabray ignores you and takes a seat in the armchair right in front of you. "Don't worry, Brittany. Santana's going to try and not use her expression reading skills tonight, isn't that right Santana?"

"That's right," you confirm, taking a gulp of your wine. You're really going to need it. "Although, as you know, it's harder than you'd think to switch them off."

"It must be so cool to be talented like that," Pierce adds in awe. "I haven't picked up on much since I started here."

You turn to look at her. "You have probably learned more than you think you have. Give it time, Brittany. I'm sure after a while you'll be even better than Fabray, and I'm not joking."

Pierce gives you a genuine smile as Fabray rolls her eyes. "I'm gonna order the food," she mutters, getting up out of her chair and searching for the house phone. "You like Thai, right Brittany?" she yells from the kitchen.

"I love it," she replies. "Thanks, Quinn."

There's an odd silence, before you speak. "How did you find your first day today? It must have been rough for you."

Pierce's face pales a little bit, but she forces a small smile. "Yeah. I mean, I thought everything that you guys did today was so badass and cool and professional, but seeing that poor girl cry like that in the closet really got to me."

"That's understandable," you cringe. You hold up the already opened bottle of red and jiggle it a bit around in your hand. "Wine?"

"Please," she nods, licking her lips and grabbing an empty wine glass from the coffee table.

"You have to get used to it, I guess," you continue, pouring the drink slowly into her glass. "When I was working on my first case like that, I was even worse than you. The woman who went missing was fine, there were no problems there. Although, I may have thrown up right on the scene." You place the bottle back on the table, and pick up your own glass.

Pierce covers her mouth, a short yet loud laugh escaping her lips. "You're not serious."

"Completely serious. I felt so ashamed. I may have cracked a giant case, and I was pretty damned pleased with myself, but I'll never think back to that and not cringe on the inside."

"Yeah, well I didn't throw up," Pierce smirks. "It may have shaken me a little bit, but I'm all good now."

As you raise the glass to your mouth, you give her a sad smile, feeling rather guilty about it. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"It's fine," she says, waving you off and grinning widely, taking a gulp of her wine as well. "At least I know now that I'm braver than you were when you first started off." She giggles and nudges you in a very flirty way.

You gulp and force a smile. This woman is confusing the hell out of you. She switches back and forth from being shy and nervous, to being forward and flirty as hell with you.

You're usually able to get a good idea of someone's personality from one short conversation with them. You are so good at reading people, that they almost become transparent to you.

But not Pierce.

It's scaring you, if you're honest.

Fabray storms back into the room. "We have to wait an hour before our food is here," she huffs, plonking herself down on her chair. "A whole hour. I was better off ordering from that take out two blocks away."

You groan, and Pierce giggles at how childlike you're being. "But I'm starving and that place around there is disgusting," you wail, screwing your face up in disgust. "I'm pretty sure I saw fried donkey's leg on one of the menus that came through our mailbox."

Pierce continues to laugh, as Fabray just looks fed up, throwing her hands in the air and then bringing them down roughly onto her lap. "Well, Santana, there's nothing else to do but wait and drink a shit load of wine."

"Cheers to that," you say loudly, holding up your glass and smiling widely at the other two ladies.

You all click glasses, bring them up to your lips and knock them back, downing the rest of your wine.

About two hours later, you have around five spring rolls, a large serving of yellow curry and rice, along with four whole glasses of wine, all in your system.

Pierce has been extremely flirty with you all night, and you try your hardest not to flirt back, but it's sort of difficult not to when you find her so damn cute.

It may just be the alcohol talking, and allowing you to admit this to yourself, but you find her hot. You'll admit it.

It's been two hours of eating, drinking and goofing around, sharing secrets and telling stories. You learn the hard way that Pierce strips when she's drunk; the hoodie and t shirt thrown in the corner of the room is enough evidence of that.

You're already drunk enough, but with Pierce sitting beside you in nothing but sweats and a tank top, you're finding it rather hard to concentrate on anything.

You get to your feet, wobbling a bit as you haven't gotten off the couch since you started feeling tipsy. "I'm getting some water to sober up a little," you announce. "Anyone want anything from the kitchen?"

"Do you have Dots?" Pierce wonders loudly, looking at you.

You shrug, shaking the wine glass above your mouth so you get the last few drops. "I wouldn't know, Britt, this is Quinn's place. Ask her."

Pierce nods a little before glancing over at Fabray. "Do you have Dots?"

You giggle at her cuteness as Fabray nods. "Third press from the right," she tells you.

You nod and walk right into the kitchen, getting a glass and filling it to the very top with water. You gulp it all down, trying to flush the alcohol out of your system. You fill it up again, and begin your search for the Dots, before Fabray strolls in.

"How's it going?" she asks you, flinging a press open and grabbing a box of Dots from the back. "Do you think she's drunk enough for me to question her?"

You nod. "Definitely."

"Right now?" Fabray seems puzzled by your lack of resistance.

"Yeah, seriously. Go for it. I'm kinda intrigued to hear her response, actually."

Fabray grins evilly and you watch her as she skips out of the kitchen, and back into the living room.

You press your ear to the kitchen door, trying to listen in on what's happening in the room next door.

"So," you hear Fabray start. "There's been something I want to ask you."

There's a hiccup from Pierce, and you hear her ripping her packet of Dots open wildly, like a kid opening their presents on Christmas morning. Cute. "Yeah?"

"What do you think about Santana?" You roll your eyes. Way to start off slowly, Fabray.

You hear a pause, and then another hiccup. "Um, she's pretty awesome. She's so badass at work and stuff. She's so cool and stuff. Sorry, I've been saying stuff a lot."

"I mean," Fabray says. "Do you find her attractive?"

There's another long pause. "Why? Did she put you up to this?"

You nearly burst through those doors, pounce on Fabray and strangle her before you hear her response. "No, absolutely not. I was just wondering, because, you know, I've noticed things. I'm almost as good as Santana at that facial expression stuff, so I pick up on things quickly."

"Well, I mean…" Pierce seems to be having trouble finding her words. There's a brief pause. "Promise not to tell her this?"

There is utter excitement in Fabray's voice. "Okay, I promise. Now tell me."

"If I could describe Santana in one word, it would probably be 'dreamy'."

"Dreamy?" You're just as taken aback as Fabray.

Nobody has ever called you dreamy before.

"Yeah." You can almost hear the shy smile in the taller blonde's voice. "I mean, she's really good looking, and she's sort of mysterious, she's nice to me and seems to want to do what's best for me, like when she let me go home early today because I wasn't feeling great. I think she genuinely felt bad for bringing me with you guys today, because I was kind of freaked out by it. Plus I find her skill fascinating and she's super hot when in action and when she's concentrating on a case. She's dreamy."

"I knew it!" Fabray shrieks.

"She looks so adorable in those little hipster glasses, as well."

Fabray giggles. "She'd kill you for saying that. She hates them." She lets out a long sigh, before continuing. "I so knew you have a thing for her. It's so obvious, Brittany. Really, it is."

"Well, I know she knows, so I don't really care about other people knowing, either."

You hear Fabray swallow her wine before replying. "Well, it's not every day that you get a huge crush on your new boss on your first day."

"It's not really a big crush," Pierce replies, and you can tell that she's shrugging. "I mean, it definitely is a small one, I guess, and there could be a possibility that feelings could eventually develop, but right now I'm just comfortable working with her."

"That's good. Because, I wouldn't want you to get hurt. I'm not saying you're not good enough to go out with San, but let's just say she's very picky."

"Wait," Pierce stops her. "Is she…?" The question is implied.

You hear Fabray chuckle a little bit. "Yeah, she is. But, she's just come out of a long term thing, only a few months ago. She was absolutely heartbroken about it. She still won't talk about it, or about the girl she was with."

"Really? What happened?"

Just as Fabray takes a deep breath to start her story, you figure it's a good time to burst back into the room, plastering a big, drunk smile back on your face. "Boy, was I thirsty," you say, sitting back down beside Pierce. You look up at her and she gives you a slightly baffled look.

"Brittany and I were just discussing work," Fabray tells you, trying to get you to play along.

You let out a fake laugh. "We're not talking about work tonight, come on. This is our night off. We can talk about work any other time we want, alright?"

"Santana's right," Fabray grins. "How about we watch a movie?"

Pierce claps excitedly and bounces a little in her seat as Fabray sets up the DVD player.

You just sit back in the couch, letting your body get absorbed by the giant cushion behind you. You're pretty used to people being attracted to you. You're never surprised when you hear that someone likes you, or wants to date you.

But there's something about the way Pierce described you to Fabray that made you feel so warm inside. She almost made you sound like a good person. Which you're not.

One half of you hopes she'll get over her little crush on you so you can work with her as normal, and the other half is enjoying the attention, especially since it's coming from her.

And as Fabray takes her seat and the starting credits roll on the screen, you feel Pierce gradually move towards you a little bit, until her thigh is resting against yours and your arms are brushing.

You sigh and look down, staring at your touching arms and legs, and as you're doing that you only have one thought in your mind.

You are truly screwed.