A/N: Anyone have theories on the ending?

Hello, Goodbye

Santana sat in her hotel room, bored to death. She wanted to go and pay Brittany a visit again, but she knew that the blonde needed some time and she was more than willing to wait. The time would probably go by a lot faster with some alcohol in her system, but she had sworn off drinking for the duration of the trip. Drinking usually got her into trouble and with Sam looking at her as a suspect in Finn's death, she was in plenty of that already. Honestly, what did she have to gain by killing him off? Alive or dead, his money would have been hers. Besides, she had loved Finn, not like she loved Brittany of course, but she had loved him.

She grimaced as she thought about the affair that she and Puck had carried on behind his back. Finn certainly didn't deserve that. She wasn't even really sure how the affair had started. Temptation was a terrible thing, she mused to herself. The ringing phone on her bedside table interrupted her thoughts then. Santana looked over her shoulder at the ringing device from where she was seated on the balcony and sighed. She doubted that the caller was Brittany, but still, she allowed herself to hope. She got up, albeit reluctantly, and walked over to answer the call.

"Brittany?" she murmured into the phone, her voice oddly optimistic.

Maybe the nurse she had asked to pass her number on to Brittany actually had. Santana would have to thank her later.

Never mind.

"So, how did things go with the blonde?" came the voice from the other end of the line.

"Hector," she greeted him back, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice, but failing miserably.

"Nice to hear your voice too, sis," he drawled out sarcastically. "I've had employees who greet me more enthusiastically."

Hector and her had gone to college together for a few months before he had had to drop out for financial reasons. He had been like a brother to her during that time. He still was.

"They're hardly employees when you pay them like twenty cents an hour," she shot back at him, never having been okay with him running a string of sweat shops.

There was a tense pause. Santana never discussed his work with him. It was an unwritten rule between them, one she had just broken without a second thought. Needless to say, he was pissed.

"Look, not all of us are rich bitches, okay?" he shot back defensively. "I do what I have to do to make a living. The man I work for pays me well."

"You know I can get you work at Chamberlain Industries, Hector," she reminded him, having made a similar offer to him before. "All you have to do is ask."

"I'm not using no connections," he reminded her in return. "So, I supervise a couple of sweat shops. No big deal. At least I'm not killing people like some of the other people who work for my boss do. Besides, the working conditions at each of my factories are more than decent, thank you very much."

"You better be careful," she warned him anyway, hating that he was so goddamn pigheaded. "Your beloved boss might send you to an early grave one day."

"Nah," Hector assured her, confidence in his voice. "The boss only kills traitors and I ain't no traitor. Alright, enough about me. So, how goes everything with the blonde?"

Santana shrugged, even though he would not see the motion.

"She hates me," she announced with a sigh, falling back onto the bed. "When do you think I should go back and try to talk to her again?"

"Bummer," he drawled, knowing how important Brittany was to her. "Give her a couple of days. You two haven't been in touch since graduation. You probably spooked her showing up here without warning. I almost had a heart attack when you called and told me you were coming to Mexico."

"Yeah, I guess," Santana muttered before an idea to cure her boredom came to mind. "Hey, you busy right now or can I drop by your office with lunch?"

"Nope, not busy at all," he answered, looking forward to seeing her again. "I'll make sure to let the boys know to let you through."

Santana ended the call and tossed her phone into her purse. Picking up deli sandwiches for them nearby, she headed straight to his office. As was expected, there were two buff guys guarding the entrance of the factory. Santana was sure they had guns too. They gave her a once over, both of their eyes lingering on her for long enough to give her the creeps, before letting her through. She tried to ignore the underpaid workers as she walked past them to get to his office, even though Hector had been right about the more than decent working conditions.

The first thing she said to him upon swinging open his office door was, "I was this close to clawing their eyes out, Hector."

She tossed one of the sandwiches to him before taking a seat in one of the chairs across from him, propping her legs up on his desk. Hector laughed as he unwrapped lunch. Same old Santana.

"Boys will be boys, San, and let's face it. You're smoking," he complimented her, Santana rolling her eyes at him in response.

She took a hungry bite out of her sandwich, but then Hector opened his mouth again and she pretty much lost her appetite.

"I just remembered," he started and Santana stopped chewing immediately, eyebrow raised in anticipation. "I never offered my condolences. Sorry your fiancé died on you."

She sat up immediately, every nerve standing on end.

"He didn't die on me, asshole," she spat, glaring at him. "He was murdered. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

He narrowed his eyes at her accusation. It was a huge one at that.

"Are you accusing me of murder, sis?" he questioned, except this time, the term of endearment was drenched in poison.

"If the shoe fits," she answered him with a shrug. "Come on, we both know you hated him. If I recall, you threatened to kill him the last time I was here."

His nostril's flared and Santana knew she had crossed the line. She had no idea what was going on with them today. She supposed they were both under a lot of stress and were simply taking out their frustrations on each other.

"That was before I found out that he wasn't the one who knocked Dana up," he reminded her, his tone cold and unforgiving. "I would never have actually killed him anyway. I'm not the type and you know it. I was just being overprotective of Dana like usual."

Santana sighed, the look in her eyes apologetic.

"Yeah, I know," she said, knowing how deep the bond between Dana and Hector was.

They had met one another through the foster care system.

"I'm sorry I even accused you of murder to begin with," she apologized formally. "Like you said, you're not the type. Plus, you wouldn't hurt me like that."

"Well, for what it's worth, you're not the type either," he echoed her apology, relaxing again. "I'm sorry that you're under investigation for Finn's murder."

"Hold up," Santana interjected, holding up a hand to stop him from talking. "How the hell do you know about that?"

"I keep tabs on the people I care about," he simply explained with a nonchalant shrug. "Obviously I don't give a damn when you go to the bathroom and stuff. My guy keeps me filled in on the more important things."

The Latina frowned in displeasure at his admission, although a tiny part of her was flattered that he cared enough to have someone watching over her at all times.

"By the way," he continued. "I keep tabs on Dana too. You need to tell your little actress friend to mind her own business. As much as I despise cops, she needs to leave murder investigations to the professionals. Whoever killed Finn's still out there. If she keeps sticking her nose where it don't belong, I guarantee the next funeral you'll be attending will be hers."

Even though she and Quinn were no longer as close as they had been back in high school, the thought of attending her funeral gave Santana the chills. Taking note of the somewhat threatening tone of his voice, she narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion, but said nothing. She was being ridiculous. Hector was a lot of things, but he wasn't a murderer.

"Wait," she said, another unrelated thought coming to her. "That means I have a legit alibi for that night! I was in the country when Finn was killed. You can get your guy to tell Sam that!"

"Are you crazy?" he asked her, even though he did want to help. "I can't get involved with the cops. Besides, one, I don't think they'd take my guy's word for it, not with the criminal record he has, and two, you could have easily hired someone to do the job for you." He raised his hands defensively and clarified before she could rip him a new one, "I'm not saying that you did, sis. I'm just saying that that's what the cops probably think."

Her anger fizzled when he explained himself. Well, he was right.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," she mumbled, her lips in a pout.

She was about to say something else, but her ringing cell phone interrupted her thoughts then. Brittany? She grinned and then, with shaky hands, took the call.

"B?" she questioned, unable to keep her voice steady. "No, I'm not busy…Okay, I'll be right there."

She hung up afterwards, a huge smile still on her face.

"Brittany wants to see me!" she announced excitedly, going over to the other side of the table to hug him. "Oh God, I'm so nervous right now! What do you think's going to happen?"

Hector laughed, hugging her back. He wished her the best.

"If I had a crystal ball, I'd have won the lottery by now, sis," he teased her, letting her go. "Good luck with the blonde. Come on. I'll walk you out."

Santana nodded, grabbing her purse. There was a skip in her step as she followed him out. A skip in her step. God, only for Brittany. She stopped in her tracks though when Hector did. Peering past him, she saw the two guards from earlier coming toward them, two people following close behind. She felt her heart drop when they flashed their badges for everyone to see. Were they here to arrest Hector? He had led her to believe that his boss covered up his many illegal operations extremely well.

"Mr. Juarez?" one of the cops spoke up. "We're with the NYPD. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Isn't Mexico a little out of your jurisdiction?" Hector shot back, not even the least bit fazed by their presence here in his factory.

"Not when a high-profile American was killed on Mexican soil," the cop answered, his face seemingly frozen.

Unable to connect the dots between "high-profile American" and Finn, Santana flitted her eyes between them, more confused than ever now.

"We'd also like to search the place, Mr. Juarez," the other cop added with the same unreadable face. "We're in the process of getting a search warrant anyway, so we suggest you cooperate with us."

Hector raised an eyebrow at them. After a moment of prolonged silence, he motioned for his guards to return to their posts. He had everything under control here.

"By all means officers," he assured them, gesturing around the establishment. "I've got nothing to hide."

The cops shared a look with each other and then, one went around to check the premises, while the other stayed behind, probably to do the questioning.

"We can talk in my office," Hector offered and when the cop gave him a curt nod in agreement, he started to lead the way. "I'll catch you later, Santana."

She was about to protest, wanting to be there for him, but he shot her a look that left no room for negotiation.

"Call me later," she simply asked of him before she left.

He gave her a noncommittal wave and then disappeared into his office, the cop closing the door behind them.

"Just trust me, okay?" Quinn pleaded with her best friend, having promised Dana that she would keep her secret. "Just please."

Amy stared at her for a moment, lips pursed in consideration before finally nodding her head in compliance.

"I trust you," she assured her, getting up to pour herself another cup of coffee.

When she returned to the couch with a steaming cup in her hands, Quinn was looking at an old high school photo of her and Finn. She had a sad smile on her face and Amy felt her heart go out to the blonde.

"Hey," she started, setting her mug on a coaster and pulling her into a side hug. "I know you're going to miss him terribly when he finally crosses over to the other side, but…"

"I know," Quinn interrupted her, her words a mere whisper. "We just…have to bring his killer to justice, Amy."

She nodded at her and assured her, "We will. I promise you, Quinn. All of our available resources are being used to find his killer."

The blonde sniffled, nodding her head in thanks, but then, she felt her best friend tense from beside her. She looked up at her, a questioning look in her glistening orbs.

"What's wrong?" she wondered, following Amy's gaze to the picture she held in her hands. "What do you see?"

Amy didn't answer her right away, watching as his image alternated between dead and alive.

She shook her head and enlightened her, "My radar's been off lately. Finn keeps alternating between dead and alive for me." She pursed her lips in confusion, a similar expression now on Quinn's face, and noted, "I mean, I've made mistakes before, but I've never seen someone's image do that. He moves from dead to alive so quickly, back and forth, back and forth, not all the time either."

"What? Okay, you're really confusing me, Amy," Quinn told her, but clamped her mouth shut after that, giving her time to explain things more clearly to her.

"Whenever I look at a picture," she responded, pausing for a moment to get her thoughts together. "I see the person as either dead or alive. Sometimes, I make a mistake and see the person as dead when he or she's alive and vice versa. I rarely make mistakes mind you, but it has happened once or twice. What I've never experienced, however, is someone's image oscillating between the two states. Mistake or not, I usually only ever see them as one or the other, not both. Does that make sense now?"

"Yeah, but what does that mean?" Quinn questioned, beyond curious now. "I mean, either there's a reasonable explanation or your radar has finally broken, God forbid."

Amy shrugged, still staring at the picture with a puzzled expression on her face.

"I cannot believe you knew about the affair and never thought to say a word to me!" Finn shouted as he appeared before Quinn.

The blonde jumped at the sound of his voice and even Amy felt an angry presence in the room. The latter quickly excused herself, taking the photo in her hands with her into Quinn's bedroom. She knew the blonde would holler if she needed her.

"What affair?" Quinn wondered at the same decibel, having been completely caught off guard. "I don't…Oh." She paused, just watching him fume for a moment before finally telling him, "Finn, I wanted to, but it wasn't my place to say anything."

"Wasn't your place?" he scoffed. "Are you fucking kidding me? Any decent person would have said something. I was going to marry her! I was going to spend the rest of my life with her and she was screwing my best friend behind my back!"

"Ever since graduation, I've wanted nothing to do with anyone from McKinley," Quinn explained herself, not even thinking that the truth might make matters worse. "I was trying to mind my own business, stay out of your lives!"

"Unbelievable!" Finn continued to yell at her, absolutely livid. "I mean, we sat there across the table from each other. You went to the bathroom, heard the two of them fucking and said nothing when you came back. Nothing! Not even with your eyes! When I was alive, I'll bet the three of you were thinking, Finn's such an idiot! He was in high school. He still is now! Hell, I'm sure you're all still laughing at my expense!"

"Stop!" Quinn yelled back at him, starting to get scared. "Stop yelling at me! I'm sorry, okay? I should've told you, but I didn't. I'm…sorry."

She collapsed onto the couch after that, feeling like crying now. Finn was right. Any decent person would have told him. She had been selfish, not wanting to get involved. She looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears. His features seemed to soften at the sight of her and then, he sighed, sitting down in a chair across from her. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"I can't even change my goddamn will now," he told Quinn, his eyes darkening again as he thought about Puck and Santana's betrayal. "I'm leaving her half of my fortune for God's sake! That's like a hundred and forty million dollars, Quinn!"

"I'm sorry," Quinn repeated herself, not knowing what else to say.

Whereas she had wanted him to find out about the affair before, she felt terrible now that he had had to learn the truth. Ideally, he could have crossed over without ever knowing the truth. Finn caught her eye.

He let the silence simmer around them for awhile before he finally breathed, "I forg-"

But then, he stopped and looked down at himself. When he looked up again, Quinn's mouth was wide open. He was fading. Slowly, but surely, he was fading.

"What's going on?" Finn questioned, looking to the blonde for an answer. "Why am I…? Am I crossing over?"

"No," Quinn told him firmly, even though she was considering the possibility herself inside her mind. "You can't be. Finn!"

He was now a foggy silhouette hovering over the couch.

"Quinn, I think I'm…"

And then, he was gone. Quinn stared at the empty space where he had been moments earlier, still in shock over what had happened.

"Amy!" she finally shouted. "Amy!"

Her best friend came running out, both because she heard her calling and because she had an announcement to make.

"Quinn! His image stopped oscillating!" she told her. "Guess my radar's not…"

She noticed the look of shock on Quinn's face and trailed off. Looking to where Quinn was staring at and then back at Finn's now two-dimensional image in her hands, Amy drew her own conclusions about what had happened. But he couldn't have…She went to sit next to Quinn on the couch, pulling her into her arms.

"He'll be back," she promised her, rocking the blonde back and forth, back and forth as she started to sob into her shoulder. "He'll be back, Quinn. He hasn't crossed over, okay? People don't cross over like that. He didn't see a light. He just…disappeared. He'll be back."

For some reason, the more Amy said those words, the less she believed them, but for her best friend's sake, she hoped she was right.