"For the umpteenth time ... No!"
Rachel was getting tired of answering the same questions over and over again. All she knew was that she was very tired, with a terrible headache, and in a place she wasn't sure where it was in the police department. She was handcuffed, sitting in a room that seemed very much to be part of the basement, judging by the set of stairs. There was an officer in a shabby suit asking questions, a black woman who also appeared to be a detective in one corner of the room, and two other armed police officers, ready to shoot if necessary.
"Who is the other vigilante? Is it Santana Lopez?"
"I'm not a vigilante... I only have those powers that I don't want..."
"Santana Lopez is the vigilante?"
"No." Even worse, Rachel still clung to a loyalty census with friends with superhuman powers. She knew they were the best chance she had.
"Why are you protecting Santana Lopez?"
"Santana is just my friend."
"Who is the vigilante?"
"I don't know."
"Santana Lopez is the leader of the vigilantes?"
"She is my friend."
"For who you work?"
"I work at the Corcoran Theater Company."
"Who do you work for?" The agent punched the table and yelled into Rachel's ear.
"Please..." The actress began to cry. "I just want to go home... I didn't kill Jenny. I swear! She kidnapped me and she was hysterical, with a gun pointed at me... Please... Jenny was crazy and I just wanted to be alone..."
"Who's the vigilante you help?" The officer continued to scream, raising the pressure.
"I don't know..."
"Santana Lopez is the vigilante?"
"No..."
"Are you the vigilante?"
"No..."
"You knocked that building over!"
"No... please..." Rachel continued to cry. "I'm not the vigilante, I'm not part of the team... I just want to go home... please, can I call my dads?"
"So the vigilantes are a team?"
"I don't know..."
"Who are they?"
"I don't know..."
"Is Santana Lopez the vigilante?"
"No..."
"Why do you protect Santana Lopez?"
"I'm not..."
"Why did you bring down that building?"
"I didn't drop..."
"What is your name?"
"I don't know..." Rachel cried even harder.
"Damn it, Berry! I swear you won't leave here until you give me something."
"Please..." Rachel cried compulsively. "I want to go home... I just want to go home... I swear I'll be quiet... please..."
"Berry!" The agent made mention of further increasing the pressure, but was restrained by the other agent. She saw Rachel's eyes change color and she thought it was time to change the strategy.
"James, you better stop for a while."
The man stepped back from the actress at the table. In the background, everyone there was afraid that that girl would use her powers again. Although they were literally in the basement of the police department, in the storage room, which was theoretically the most solid place in the building, they were afraid. Rachel was crying and wasn't paying attention to what the two detectives were talking about, but she was grateful when James withdrew from the room with the other two armed police officers, leaving her alone with the female detective. The woman sat down in front of Rachel and waited for the actress to calm down. Then she gently offered a glass of water, which Rachel gladly received.
"It's all right. James may exaggerate a bit, but he's not a bad person."
"It's not what it looks like."
"Keep calm. Breathe." The detective smiled at Rachel and was silent until the young woman's eyes returned to normal. Then, she opened a small smile and said softly. "You don't control it, do you?"
"What?" Rachel wiped away her tears.
"Your powers. You don't know how to control them."
"Not much. I try... I swear I try hard... but there are times when it's best to let the wave go."
"That's why you're not a vigilante," the detective said with conviction.
"Of course I'm not," she answered sloppily, then turned back to the conversation. "Then you know I'm not a vigilante!"
"I've been studing the vigilantes' performance for few months. They are coordinated, trained. Everything you don't seem to be." The detective allowed herself to laugh.
"No... I don't have that kind of coordination."
"Yes. But tell me, Rachel... can I call you Rachel? "
"Yes."
"Tell me, Rachel, why would Jennifer Briston attack you after trying to murder Santana Lopez? What did you do?"
"Nothing. I did nothing. I swear! I came back home because I needed to have some peace... things in the metropolis are difficult and I just wanted to be quiet in my little corner of the world. But the very first day I found Santana and Jenny, and everything that happened later was downhill."
"Have you and Santana Lopez been... intimate in any way?"
"Yes." Rachel confessed, letting herself be carried away by the friendly conversation and the soft voice of the detective. "We kissed a few times last year. I terminate a long relationship I had in part because of her. But that was in the past."
"Did Miss Briston know that you and Miss Lopez had an involvement?"
"Apparently yes."
"Rachel, have you ever been intimate with the vigilante at all?"
"I..." Rachel looked at the detective and choked.
James, the detective, entered the room, interrupting the friendlier conversation. He whispered at her colleague's ear before signaling to the entrance of two people in the makeshift interrogation room.
"Anne, these are..."
"Hadi, George Hadi. And this is my assistant, Miss Fabray. We're here as Miss Berry's lawyers."
"Okay, so you can follow the interrogation." Anne tested the waters.
"No more interrogations. My client will not say another word at all."
Rachel didn't know who this man of Indian descent was, but she knew Quinn Fabray very well, and her presence warmed Rachel's heart. The vigilantes didn't abandon her.
"Detective, if you'll excuse me, we have the right to talk to our client alone."
Anne was suspicious. She knew most of the city's lawyers, from the most expensive to the chain-linkers. She had never seen those two, not to mention that they seemed to be as young as Rachel Berry, so it seemed unlikely they'd had time to complete law school. Then she looked at Rachel, who seemed to have gained a new life by seeing them. Maybe it was for the good of all that she pretended to have believed that story.
"Okay. You have 15 minutes to talk to your... client."
As the detective withdrew, Quinn hugged Rachel briefly before sitting down in front of her friend.
"I don't know yet how we'll get you out of this, but know we're thinking of a way." Quinn assured her and looked at her friend. "Oh, and this is George. He's new in the team."
"Santana..."
"She's alive. Okay... I mean, Jenny really shot her. But San was rescued in time, operated and Brittany also came to town."
"My parents... they know I' here?"
"Everyone knows, Rach. It's on all the news. Let's deal with them as soon as possible. Now pay attention. Pay close attention to what I'm going to say. I know I'm not a lawyer, that I'm a distance-learning student to be a paralegal. So I don't know much yet, but I know enough about this kind of case. There are no specific laws for persons with powers, or to prosecute vigilantes. At least, not yet. They can not treat you differently from anyone else. They can not send you to a military complex, for example. But you were formally charged with murder, and you practically blew up a building with dozens of witnesses. You will have to answer judicially about all of this. You will have a hearing in two or three days that will determine bail and the possibility of you answer freely. We won't be able to represent you because nobody here has a license and we won't be able to fool the cops any longer. I'm sure your parents will want to pay a lawyer for their trust, which is more than okay, but we won't abandon you. We are already investigating what happened. And as soon as Santana recover, I know she'll do anything to get you out of here."
"Not if I really killed Jenny," Rachel lamented.
"Rachel, how it happened?"
"She was going to shoot me and I exploded… I think. Remember what happened to Kurt? It could have been the same with her: Jenny may have died of internal bleeding."
"Rachel, nothing has yet been released about Jenny's death report. Don't draw conclusions."
"But what if I..."
"It doesn't matter what you think. You won't say another word, you won't sign any documents without the presence of a lawyer, us or any other person. Understood?"
"Yes."
Quinn stood up and kissed Rachel on the forehead before leaving with the detective and George.
"Don't forget what I said. We'll get you out of this. Stay strong."
...
Santana was uncomfortable during Jenny's funeral. She felt immense sadness over her ex-girlfriend's death, and experiencing mourning wasn't an easy task. There, in the graveyard, accompanied by Mercedes and Artie, with Marley and Ryder further afield, it was extremely uncomfortable to face the glares that some of Jenny's relatives directed against her. The press had made some assumptions about the case. It was suppositions that Jenny went mad with her girlfriend's successive betrayals, which even had an affair with one of the vigilantes, Rachel Berry. Santana ended up being related as a villain in those narratives. The theory of Sue Sylvester went further: the journalist wrote a story that Santana Lopez was in fact the vigilante, and made quite credible comparisons based especially on the famous videos of the bridge accident. But the fact was that Santana was the person shot, she wasn't accused of anything, and she wasn't obliged to give testimony other than as a witness. However, she gave a single statement to reporters who gathered in the hospital door the day she left: "If I had special powers, I would have stopped Jenny before she shot me, I would have prevented her from confronting Rachel Berry. That's it".
When the coffin came down, the pain was even greater. Santana couldn't contain her tears, and Mercedes gently placed her hands on her friend's shoulders in comfort. Jenny was now six feet under. What a waste of talent and a bright future ahead. Jenny's obsessive madness of the last days of her life didn't say anything about how a smart person she was. Santana knew her ex-girlfriend was much more than a jealous woman: Jenny was humorous, sophisticated, beautiful, and could talk about anything with a sharp and unique perception. Even when Jenny was gratuitously mean and cruel, that didn't make her less interesting. And they had the sex. No matter how much they fought, they understood each other in bed. The chemistry was undeniable.
The trio decided to leave the place. As they walked through the green field and among some of the tombstones, a man reached the trio. It was a gray-haired man that Santana vaguely remembered seeing in the photos of Jenny's cell phone inside the family's archive.
"Miss Lopez?"
"Yes?"
"I'm John Bennet, Jenny's uncle."
"My condolences, Mr. Bennet." Santana greeted him.
"Thank you, Lopez. I think I should also extend my condolences to you, after all, you have had an important presence in our Jen's life these past few years."
"Yes. Jenny was a very important person to me. I loved her."
"The fact that you're here to pay your respect to Jen is proof of that. How's it going?" The man pointed at Santana's shoulder and at her arm resting on a type because of the shots that hit her on the left shoulder. Santana didn't need the device, but she had to give the impression that she was recovering as a normal person.
"That? It's over."
"I'm grateful. Miss Lopez, I'm here at the request of my sister. She'd like to talk to you in private. You'd mind going to my sister's house today?"
Santana looked quickly at Mercedes and at Artie. She was confused.
"I could, but..."
"This is not a trap, Miss Lopez. My sister would just like to talk to you away from the media circus that has become this tragedy."
"It's all right. I'll go."
"I'm happy with your understanding and sensitivity." He handed a card to Santana. "This is the adress. Come in at the appointed time."
"Could you accompany me?" Santana asked her friends.
"Sure," Mercedes said. The moment was to give the emotional support that Santana needed on a sad day.
...
The house Jenny used to live in was a small mansion in one of the most valued urban areas of her hometown. Santana had been in that house on two occasions, and had not had many positive memories.
"Jenny really had money!" Mercedes said impressed by the luxury. She, like Artie and Santana, from humble families, scholars, were not accustomed to places of high society.
Santana looked at the house as she stepped out of the taxi and sighed before ringing the intercom. She felt stupid enough to identify herself knowing that there was a security camera high above their heads.
"This is Santana Lopez." She answered the voice and, seconds later, she heard the sound of the gate being unlocked.
The house, as expected, was in a certain movement. Audrey, Jenny's mother, was the true matriarch of the family, while Robert, the father, was a bon vivant playboy. Jenny's older brother was a well-meaning fellow who tried to live without the help of his parents' money, but he wasn't very good at taking care of himself. The younger sister was getting ready to leave the house and go to college the following semester. Everyone was at home at that time, along with other people close to the family. They all cast hostile glances at Santana, Mercedes, and Artie.
"Santana!" John Bennet received the trio. "Audrey is waiting for you."
Mercedes gave a small smile to her friend and waved, seeking confidence. Santana could be the leader, the vigilante, but at that moment she was just a frail young woman receiving undesirable media attention and with many problems to solve. She followed Bennet to the office, which opened the door, revealing the family matriarch staring out the window with a glass of drink in one hand. She looked like a mafia.
"It's rude not to show your condolences and respect to the family." Audrey said with her back still facing Santana. She turned almost casually and sat down in the office chair.
"I didn't want to bother. I just wanted to say goodbye to Jenny."
"I wouldn't take away your right. After all, how long you and my daughter were together?"
"Almost four years, between comings and goings."
"Yes... almost four years." Audrey stared at Santana with blue glacial eyes. "Sit down, please."
Santana, still hesitant, sat down in the armchair in front of Audrey.
"Do you want a drink?" The woman asked.
"No, thank you. I can not mix alcoholic beverages with antibiotics." Santana pointed to her own arm.
"Of course." Audrey looked at Santana as if she wanted to see the woman's soul and pull it out with her eyes. "I haven't seen you in a long time. What was the last time?"
"It was about six months ago, at your husband's birthday party. I believe you referred to me as the half-breed of the ghetto that was luck enough to have a scholarship in a fine college."
"Hmm." Audrey drank some more, feeling no embarrassment in what she had said, because to the matriarch it was the truest truth. "My daughter took this relationship with you too seriously. She paid the most expensive price that can exist... I paid the most expensive price that can exist."
"Mrs. Briston, my relationship with Jenny wasn't good for a long time. When I broke up with her, she didn't accept it. I'm sorry for the outcome of this story. I regret bitterly for what I told her before Jenny shot me. I wonder if maybe I said I loved her, none of this would have happened. But Jenny died and the last thing I said to her was that I hated her." Santana wiped away the tears that were coming out. "I'm so sorry."
"I didn't ask you to come here at my house to hear your apologies," Audrey said in a icy tone.
Santana was shocked and muted for a few seconds. That woman had buried her own daughter a few hours ago, and she already looked like the personification of Don Vito Corleone.
"Then why else would you bother? You've never been the kind of person to do something for no good reason."
"Yes, I have a reason. I just don't know if it's good enough to have you here." The woman opened a drawer and placed a jewelry box on the table. It was obvious that it was a ring box. Santana looked at the object, but didn't dare to open or touch it. "Jenny bought this before went to your damn town in those days that preceded all this tragedy. She was talking about marriage."
"Mrs. Briston, as I said, my relationship with Jenny was bad for a long time. Honestly, such a commitment wouldn't fix anything. I don't know what she was thinking."
"Obviously she wasn't thinking at all. Marry you?"
"I would have said no."
"At least in one thing I would agree with you. My Jeniffer was in a position to find a better woman to her."
"If there is one thing I admire you and your family is the fact that you have accepted Jenny's sexuality well."
"This is a traditional family, Lopez. It's not the same as primitive." Mrs. Briston allowed herself a little relaxation in the armchair. "It wasn't a comfortable situation when my Jen introduced her first girlfriend, but she was what she was. I would never love her less."
"I'm glad to hear this."
"May I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"Was Jen so wrong because she felt threatened by this Rachel Berry? Do you love this Rachel girl?"
"Rachel Berry is my friend... and an one sided platonic love. I don't have and wouldn't stand a chance with her. Jenny tried to take revenge on an ideal, not on the real thing."
"So there's somebody else?"
"There was. But that's also over."
"Well... I hope you have taken some lessons from this tragedy, Miss Lopez. Could you take this piece of junk? I don't want anything that is yours or that remotely reminds you inside this house. Take it and do what you want with that thing."
Santana took the ring box and opened it. She frowned, arousing the curiosity of the lady in front of her.
"What is it?" The woman said irritably.
"There's nothing here." Santana showed the box.
"How not? Are you by chance blind too? It's the most vulgar and cheap ring I've ever seen."
Santana ran her finger inside the box and felt there was an object there. But she wasn't seeing the ring. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and the reason made a terrible shiver run down her spine.
"Mrs. Briston, do you have any idea where Jenny got this ring? Did she mention anything?"
"Not. Probably in some fifth-rate pawn shop."
"All right... thank you very much, Mrs. Briston. Once again, I regret that it all ended that way. Jenny was one of the most important people in my life, I really loved her, and I'm very sorry that things didn't work out between us and ended up in that tragic way. My condolences."
Santana grabbed the box and walked out of the office as fast as she could. She found Mercedes and Artie almost pinned down in one corner of the room. The vigilante pulled the two friends out of the house and, once in the street, already searching an uber, Mercedes finally took her friend and made her breathe.
"What's it? Did Jenny's mother threaten you in any way?"
"No." Santana took a deep breath and showed the open box of the ring to her friends.
"This is an empty ring box." Artie said what seemed obvious to him.
"It's not empty," Santana explained to her friend. "And that didn't come into our hands by chance. We'd better get ready for the storm that's coming."