A/N- I had hoped to post over the weekend but the real world got in the real world got in the way. I do have everything written through Chapter 7 so as soon as I finish reviewing I'll post another, probably tomorrow. Thanks as always!

Chapter 4

Santana spent another long night tossing and turning. She finally realized that sleep simply would not come so she got up and went back to work looking back through Jackson's file. His father had contacted the department and made his disgust with Brittany Pierce clear. William Vicks seemed convinced his son had been murdered for his money and of course to further hinder his own chances at a career in politics.

William Vicks was scheduled to come into the station for an interview in a few days time to see if he had any relevant information regarding the case. Santana felt certain he would not. He had covered for Jackson his entire life and was likely to continue now.

When Santana entered the station that morning she knew from the look on Puck's face that there was bad news. The steaming coffee Puck brought for her further solidified her hunch.

"What is it Puckerman?" she asked as she stepped closer to her desk where Puck was leaning, arms crossed.

"Well," he started. "Bad news I'm afraid. The lab results came back on the gun. Her prints are all over it. And with the positive traces of gun powder on her hand, there's no denying that Brittany shot that gun San."

Santana expected those results but deep down she was hoping they would be different. She exhaled slowly. Brittany shot the gun that killed her boyfriend in her apartment. She was the only person present when the police showed up minutes later. The evidence was piling up against the blonde but it still didn't settle right with Santana.

"Wait, you said traces of gunpowder?" Santana asked. "If she shot the gun six times, wouldn't she have more than just a trace of gunpowder on her hand? How often have you seen that happen? Check with the lab."

"Ok, I'll check." Puck said softly. "But San, you have got to come to grips with the fact that Brittany might have actually done this. She might have killed a guy."

"If she did it, she was forced into it." Santana said firmly. "We know what kind of a guy Jackson Vicks was just based on his record. And we know Brittany, there's more to this and I'm going to sort it out."

"Santana you're taking this too personally."

The brunette clenched her fists. "Puck, I know what I'm doing. I know how to do my damn job. If someone fired six shots from a gun there should be more than just a trace of gunpowder on their hand. That's not me just looking for an out for Brittany. That's me doing my fucking job."

"Easy San, I'm just worried about you, that's all." Puck replied raising his hands defensively. "I know how torn up you were when Brittany left. Seeing her possibly get sent away for life…that will kill you. And it'll kill me seeing you go through that. I just want you to be careful Santana, that's all I'm saying."

"And I appreciate that." Santana returned almost coldly. "But I can do my job. How about you just do yours ok? Where are we on those medical records? And have the records on the gun itself turned up yet?"

Puck knew Santana was lashing out in frustration and fear. He couldn't imagine how difficult the situation must be for the brunette. He was torn up himself seeing Brittany again in this situation and he didn't have anywhere near the strong feelings that Santana did.

"The medical records should be here in a few days. The warrants got held up for some reason but they'll get here. The gun info should be here by the end of the day Rico said."

Santana nodded, willing herself to calm. "Ok. I want to see those records as soon as they come in. Brittany is due in court this afternoon for her arraignment. Maybe I should convince her to ask for an attorney. I mean, she needs someone who's out to get her out of this mess right? But if she gets an attorney I can't talk to her about the case any more. Which means I can't talk to her in general because everything comes back to this shit mess she's gotten us into."

"You're rambling Santana." Puck said with a quiet chuckle. "Just talk to her. If she wants an attorney, she'll ask for one. Just breathe. And don't forget, you're not out to get her out of this mess; you're out to figure out the truth about what happened. Just don't forget that."

Santana nodded sadly. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm good though, don't worry about me."

Puck shook his head. "Not gonna happen Lopez. But seriously, we'll figure this out."

Puck gently squeezed her shoulder before heading back to his desk

xxxx

Brittany was due in court that afternoon for her arraignment. Santana slipped into the courtroom quietly and sat in the front row, waiting for Brittany to be brought in. Quinn hadn't yet seen their old friend and was fidgeting nervously at the table, also waiting for Brittany to arrive.

The judge was on the bench and the clerk called the case. Quinn and Santana both froze as they waited for Brittany to be brought out. Finally, the door to the holding cell opened and Brittany shuffled out, cuffed and once again in the orange jumpsuit.

Santana saw Quinn pale slightly and cringe at her first sight of their long lost friend. Quinn quickly composed herself in front of the judge but when Brittany met her eye the first time, she couldn't help but smile sadly at her friend.

"Ms. Pierce," the judge began flatly. "We're here today for your arraignment on the charge of first degree murder. I understand you have not asked for an attorney yet. Are you asking for one now?"

Brittany glanced first to Santana and then Quinn before looking up to the judge. "Um…no ma'am…your highness…um, I mean your honor. Sorry. No, I don't want an attorney."

The judge narrowed her eyes at Brittany thoughtfully. "You're not asking for an attorney when you've been charged with first degree murder? Do you intend to represent yourself?"

"Represent myself?" Brittany asked, confusion evident. "Can't I just plead guilty now and be done with it? I mean, I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure there's a ton of evidence against me."

The judge did not look impressed. "Ms. Fabray, do you intend to request a mental evaluation to discern the sanity and competency of the accused?"

"Wait," Brittany called before Quinn could answer. "Mental? Are you calling me crazy?"

Santana cringed at the pained look on Brittany's face. Her mental capacity had always been a touchy subject. Quinn noticed as well as she turned to Brittany and eyed her cautiously.

Brittany's shoulders slumped and she dropped her gaze. "I'm pretty dumb sometimes…but I'm not crazy." She said softly.

"Ms. Fabray, are you or are you not asking for a mental health evaluation?" The judge barked.

Brittany raised her eyes to meet Quinn's. Quinn felt her reserved heart crack just slightly at the look on Brittany's face. It was almost as if Brittany was begging her to validate her mental health as she gazed at Quinn hopefully.

Quinn was certain she would regret her next words in some way. "No Your Honor, we're not asking for a mental health evaluation at this time."

The smile on Brittany's face made Quinn's heart shatter even more. She had just closed off a significant defense possibility for her blonde friend but she was aware that suggesting that Brittany wasn't completely of sound mind or mentally stable would only hurt the blonde further and most likely cause her to shut down completely.

The judge sighed as if in deep thought. "Very well." She replied. "We'll forgo the mental evaluation at this time. And since you're not requesting an attorney at this time Ms. Pierce, we'll set trial for one month from today. Until that time, you'll continue to be held without bail and are remanded to the jail. That will be all for today."

The judge was off the bench before Santana could fully comprehend all that had just taken place. Brittany still didn't have an attorney and Quinn had denied her one avenue of defense that seemed obvious at the moment.

Brittany was once again ushered out of the courtroom quickly. Santana could only watch as she shuffled out, the shackles on her ankles clattering. As soon as she and Quinn were left alone in the room, she strode over to the woman.

"Quinn, why didn't you get a doctor involved? That might have helped her!" Santana exclaimed.

Quinn ran a hand across her eyes tiredly. "You know how Brittany is Santana. She looked like she was about to cry. If I had asked for a mental health evaluation it would have been even worse than that time that Artie called her stupid in Glee Club. She cried for two weeks after that Santana. I just couldn't do that to her."

"I guess you're right." Santana replied softly. "What a fucking mess. Are you sure you want to prosecute this case? Isn't there some brand new intern you could hand this off to?"

Quinn chuckled. "Trust me Santana, you want me on this case. Do you really want one of the new guys eager to make a name for themselves on this one? Or my boss, who is only all about the numbers and will do whatever it takes to get a conviction? Trust me Santana, you want me on this."

Santana frowned and looked longingly toward the door through which Brittany had exited. "I guess you're right. You at least have some sympathy for her. Right? You do, don't you?"

Quinn reached and placed a hand on Santana's shoulder at her almost frantic expression. "Of course I do San. I want to know what went wrong in her life just as much as you do. And I promise, I'll be fair. But you have to understand that I have a job to do here as well."

"Your job is justice and to get to the truth of what happened." Santana immediately snapped. "Just don't forget that."

"That's your job too San." Quinn replied softly. "No matter who the accused is."

Santana was almost out the door before Quinn's words registered. Instead of lashing out in anger, Santana simply nodded.

xxxx

Santana was once again working almost feverishly at her desk when she heard Rico calling her name across the room. She looked up and saw him ambling toward her.

"Hey Lopez," he called. "I got the paperwork back on the gun. Ran the serial number and it looks like the gun was bought from a gun shop just outside the city about three weeks ago. Seems like a legit place. It was even registered there. The buyer is listed as Brittany S. Pierce. That's our girl right?"

Santana felt the world spin slightly. Brittany seemed to be getting buried deeper and deeper. She could only nod as she tried to keep her breathing steady.

Rico was oblivious to her discomfort and dropped the paperwork on her desk. "I called the owner and he said there's a surveillance video so he's going to round that up for us. Should have it to us in a few days."

Rico was gone as quickly as he came and Santana was left with her thoughts and the new addition to her growing stack of paperwork on her desk. She slumped down into her desk chair and simply stared at Brittany's name on the gun registration form.

Santana growled lowly before jumping up and grabbing her coat. Puck watched her rush out warily before shaking his head and reaching for his phone.

xxxx

Quinn woke to the sound of incessant banging on her front door. She blearily wiped at her eyes as she tried to focus on the clock by her bed. Groaning, Quinn realized it was 3:17am. Had she not recognized the voice sounding from outside her door she might have been worried.

Quinn stumbled to the front door and looked through the peephole for good measure before pulling the door open to find a rumpled brunette clutching the doorframe.

"Santana." She said evenly. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

The Latina swayed slightly and grumbled something under her breath. Quinn stepped back to allow Santana room to enter the apartment but it soon became obvious she would need assistance. The brunette careened within range and Quinn grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her quickly into the apartment before shutting the door behind her.

"Hey Quinnie." Santana mumbled as she threw an arm around the blonde's shoulders. "You got any of that good scotch left? You know, the one that burns real good going down?"

Quinn cringed at the odor of alcohol wafting from Santana's breath in their close proximity. She steered Santana toward the couch with a soft chuckle.

"San, I think more alcohol is the last thing you need right now. Come on, let's get you settled."

She practically dropped Santana down onto the couch and stepped back, pushing her hair from her own face. Santana sat looking forlornly at the floor in front of her. Quinn's expression softened slightly.

"What happened?"

"I thought she'd have come back by now." Santana muttered miserably. "Where is she Quinn? Where'd she go?"

Quinn sank down onto the couch next to Santana. After a long exhaled breath, Quinn reached and took the brunette's hand in her own. When tears began to stream from Santana's eyes, Quinn pretended not to notice and when she finally passed out, Quinn covered her with a blanket and left Advil and a bottle of water on the coffee table.

Before retreating to her own bedroom, Quinn brushed Santana's hair away from her flushed cheeks and dropped a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Sleep well Santana."

xxxx

Quinn wandered further into Moe's scanning the crowd. Her eyes stopped at the booth in the far corner and she squared her shoulders before heading in that direction.

Santana was slumped over slightly and staring at her bottle of beer intently.

"I thought I might find you here." Quinn said, sliding into the booth across from her.

Santana glanced up but didn't seem surprised to see her friend there. "Did Puck call you?"

"Yeah, he did." Quinn said with a chuckle. "Well, how far behind am I? I need to know if I should go straight for the hard stuff to catch up or can I start off slowly on a beer?"

Santana smiled softly and remembered again why Quinn Fabray was her best friend. She could match her drink for drink and was always happy to keep Santana company if the need to drown her sorrows ever arose.

"I'm not drunk Quinn. Not yet anyway so you're safe with a beer."

Quinn nodded and waived down the waiter. Within a few minutes, the two were silently sipping their drinks. A few minutes later, Puck joined them and the three continued to sit in companionable silence.

"Did you go see her today after court?" Quinn finally asked, breaking the quiet at their table.

Santana shook her head. "I couldn't. After getting the gun registration papers back today, I just had to get away for a while. I'll go tomorrow."

"I've got a free day. Would mind if I came with you?" Quinn asked quietly. At Santana's nod of approval, Quinn continued. "Did the gun come back registered to Brittany?"

Santana raised her eyes to meet Quinn's and again nodded slightly. "The guy who owns the shop is pretty reputable. She came in with two forms of ID and everything. She bought it about three weeks ago which as I'm sure you know, could easily be argued to prove premeditation. The judge will think she planned this for weeks."

"I talked to the lab guys about the gun powder residue." Puck interjected. "Said it wasn't unheard of to only show a trace after firing the gun six times but that normally there would be a more substantial amount of powder left on the hand. If she had an attorney, they could maybe twist that into something good."

"Maybe when we talk to her tomorrow we can convince her to agree to be represented." Quinn said. "It definitely couldn't hurt. If money is an issue I could probably pull a few strings and find someone good who's willing to help us out, work pro bono maybe."

Santana nodded. "Tomorrow, we are going to get information out of her. I've had enough of this; it's time to get this shit sorted out already. Tomorrow, we are going to grill the hell out of her."