So I'm starting to get a handle on my semester, plus hearing from you guys always makes me want to write the next chapter right away.

To my Anon, I don't know who you are, but I would love to do a Superhero!Britt, but I am SuperBusy!Kelly right now, so I don't know if that's going to happen. hahaha But I haven't had an idea on a one-shot. Perhaps I could make that my next one-shot or two-shot without the playtime attached and just make it a superpowered shorty. Thanks for the suggestion and the compliments.

To other Anon, I totally feel ya on the apartment. I can't wait for Santana to see it too! I am also waiting for that moment. Haha

And we're back to…

Sirens

Chapter 11

"Shouldn't we check in with Puck?"

"Nah, all that red tape… It's much easier to just go to Allen directly."

"On first name basis with him, huh?"

"Not like that…well…not exactly like that." Brittany lightly laughed as Santana quirked her eyebrow at the rather vague answer. It felt good to clear the tension that had been pretty thick at Felicia's house. As hard as she tried to repress the jealousy and regret that welled within her, Brittany had been unable to deny that she felt an array of emotions when Felicia had so intimately asked if Santana was okay. At the time of the attacks, Britt had been far too engrossed to even register that someone could get close enough to her Santana. Foolishly, she had forgotten that relationships needed to be fostered no matter how in love they had been. Brittany had allowed Santana to slip away from her without even realizing it – until it was far too late.

Back then, Brittany had been able to brush off the kiss and Felicia. Santana had always been – and still was – incredibly attractive. So Felicia could be this bloody body on the ground in Brittany's mind; the opposite of threatening. The moment she had just witnessed between her ex-lover and Felicia; that had been real. Something very real and tangible. Facing the reality that there could have or there had been something between Santana and another person made her feel torn inside.

"Great." Santana responded. She was beginning to sense that Britt had developed a very unorthodox relationship with the police department in her absence. "Should I even ask what that means?"

"It's best to leave some things a mystery."

"I'm not so sure about that…" Santana replied teasingly. The brunette was also glad to leave Felicia's house. The whole interview had gone better than she thought it would, but it still didn't erase that strange pulling in her gut. There were so many things that happened and she never had the opportunity or want to address them.

They had been so in love.

And so stupid.

"Trust me, you'll enjoy Allen."

As they pulled Ronny back into the station, intact, Brittany glanced down at her cell phone. A grimace manifested before she could contain her reaction to the name on the screen.

"Look, I gotta take this. Why don't you give Puck that update, I'm sure he's biting his nails down to nothing worrying about us." Brittany looked back down at the phone with an annoyed expression as she exited the car and went a good distance away in the police car garage before picking up the phone. For brief moment, Santana could hear the blonde's voice sharply answering the call with an abrupt "what?" but Brittany continued to walk towards the stairs to the roof. Santana lost the conversation.

Clearly she didn't want Santana to be a party to whatever that phone call was about. Why else would she be practically running to the roof? Santana rolled her eyes.

Whatever.

Not her shit to deal with. Santana sighed. Whenever it seemed like they could smile or relax around each other, some ugly word, moment, or memory would starkly remind them they weren't okay.

And yet, Santana's eyes couldn't help but linger on Brittany's backside. Unconsciously, Santana noted the way Brittany held her shoulders at that taut and awkward angle and the way the tips of her boots dragged against the concrete like a sulking child. Brittany had never outgrown the habit. But there was more; the way she bent her head down while talking into the phone while her free hand dragged through her thick blonde hair meant she wasn't comfortable talking. Maybe the past few days together were starting to have an effect on the brunette.

Santana instinctively felt the pull to march out of the car and discover the source of Brittany's agitation.

"Not my place…" Santana repeated, but this time out loud to reinforce the statement. It was followed by a scornful after thought. "Why should I care?"

She reached into her pocket and began to hit Puck's name to dial, but her fingers hovered over the key.

The brunette remembered how quickly Brittany had rushed to her side last night and without saying a word. Britt had known exactly what Santana needed.

"Fuck…" It was so irresponsible for her to have feelings still wrapped up in tall, fucked up, emotionally wrecked, irresistibly attractive, and hyper obsessed Brittany S. Pierce. She had to leave New York when it had gotten so twisted and Santana had spent the past four years trying to bury the past. At the same time she pressed the button to call Puck, Santana opened the passenger side door and began to walk the same path Brittany had taken a few minutes ago.

"Lopez, what's up? You break Ronny yet? Or did you two set fire to the state of New York?" Puck answered through the phone.

"Nothing that drastic, but it's only late afternoon so that gives us plenty of time."

Puck's demeanor changed through the receiver. "Not funny, Tan. You know I've got to clean your shit up – well not your shit exactly."

"You mean, Brittany's shit?" She could hear him grinding his teeth. "We're fine. Don't worry about it, Puck. She did walk away to take a phone call. It seemed to upset her. Know anything about that?"

Again, Puck went on the defensive. He gave Santana a curt, "No."

His answer surprised her. She hadn't expected a real answer, but she also didn't expect him to completely blow her off. "Fine. You and Brittany can have your secrets. Whatever. I didn't mean anything by it. She just looked upset as she walked away."

"Tana, I didn't mean to be short, but…" He trailed off looking for the words. "She's got some shit that she has to take care of and it's not my place to talk about it. If you're so concerned, ask her yourself."

The conversation between them faltered. So Puck continued. "I didn't know that you cared to be in her life again."

"I-" It was Santana's turn to test the words in her head before spitting them out. "-I still care, Puck. It's Brittany. If you know the magic words to make me stop caring about her then tell me because I don't think anything will ever take that away."

Another lull.

Finally, "Why'd you call?"

"Nothing really. Brittany just wanted to distract me from following her while she talked to this mysterious person neither of you want me to know about."

"Tan…"

"We tracked down Felicia. We didn't learn that much. Same story. Nothing's changed and the killer hasn't contacted her and didn't four years ago so this is a whole new game with-" It was hard to admit she had been a victim of a crime. "-me. But we have a lead we want to follow. I'll make sure we don't get into too much trouble."

"Need anything from me or the department?"

Santana weighed the decision to trust Brittany and her contacts as opposed to asking Puck to acquire access for them into the evidence lockers.

But…

Her eyes glanced to the door right in front of her which read: Roof Access.

Trust. It was something Santana had lost four years ago. But when Brittany's arms had wrapped around her last night, something triggered inside her. Maybe it was time to let trust in again.

What was the worst that could happen?

She couldn't lose something, or rather, someone she had already lost.

"No. We've got it covered. Thanks anyway, Noah. We will keep you up to date. Good luck with the press today."

"Thanks, Pez. I will catch ya later."

Santana closed her phone already forgetting most of her conversation with Puck as she opened the door. Blonde hair eagerly caught the wind as Brittany stood a few feet away still talking on the phone.

"I'll be there. I said I would be there so I will be there." Brittany spoke emphatically into her own phone.

Santana didn't want to ease drop without permission. She placed a hand to her mouth and coughed lightly to gain Brittany's attention. The woman whipped around right away seeking the source of the intrusion. Bright, azure eyes relayed confusion, but also smiled at the interruption. She mouthed, "Hey" to Santana while still listening to the person of the other end. "I understand. Don't call me again. I will see you later. Good-bye."

With that, Brittany hit the end call button and shoved the phone back into her pocket.

"What are you doing out here?" Brittany asked, but unlike Puck's tone of voice, she sounded pleased to see the other woman. In fact, Britt spoke low as her eyes sparkled. Santana showing up had been a surprise. "Get bored waiting for me?"

"No, it's not that." Santana said as she took another step closer in the cold air. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Brittany's smile drooped for a moment, but only because she hadn't expected that answer. Slowly the sides of her mouth turned up into something more like a smirk. As much as it made her feel good to know Santana cared, Brittany couldn't allow her to get close again. "Yeah, I'm fine. What could be wrong?"

San shook her head. "Whatever, Britt, I understand that you've got stuff going on. I don't belong here. I know that, but I still know when you're not okay."

The blonde's feet shuffled at the small specks of gravel underneath her boots.

Santana continued. "I just wanted to be here for you if you needed it."

Brittany pushed back some of her loose strands of blonde hair. "It's nothing. Thanks anyway. Let's get into that evidence box. Did you talk to Puck?"

Santana shivered at the cold as she nodded. "Yeah, but I didn't tell him about your plan or your contact, Allen, so he's not going to come around and chaperone…that's what you're asking, right?"

Brittany's eyebrows rose in curiosity. She would have teased Santana since she had wanted to take it by the book from the start of this investigation. Brittany said nothing. Her facial expression said it all. So not only was Santana going to trust Brittany to handle the evidence locker, but she had misled Puck?

"Shut it, Britt." Santana responded playfully as she noticed the look in Brittany's eyes. "I just didn't want to put anything else on Puck's plate right now."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say, San."

"Yes, thank you. The department appreciates the media's continued cooperation as we investigate the murders of two young women." Macklin said roughly. "We have no need to cover up the rumors that the tabloids have been spreading. For the record, we do believe these murders are related."

"How many suspects do you have?"

"I heard the department has already made an arrest and is detaining a suspect!"

"How do you account for your department's lax approach to this investigation?"

And the last question that Macklin could hear above the ruckus was the most important.

"Are these murders in any way related to the Midnight Strangler?"

Macklin had been waiting for that one. This case would be the death of him. It surprised no one when his superior, Chief Garlow, stepped down four years ago. Stepped down or forced to retire – either way, this murderer was also a career killer. In the past week, he felt as if he had aged years.

"It is true that we brought in a suspect for questioning, but only as the individual had connections to a similar case. It was routine procedure and will not be part of our investigation from here on." He looked to Puck, who stood stoically at his side. He remembered when he had been a young man like Puck and ready to stop injustice. Maybe when he was young, he felt as if he accomplished that goal. Now, an old man, he knew evil resided everywhere. "As of right now, this investigation is on-going, and therefore I can only offer you limited answers."

"What about the Midnight Strangler?"

Macklin scratched at his upper lip. "The department has been unable to confirm that this is the Midnight Strangler as you are referencing since there have been a few years since he surfaced. The feds have been called in and will be arriving shortly to piece together a profile and determine if our current case is related to that one."

"Chief!"

"Chief! One more thing!"

"No, I'm sorry, but I am done for now. Thank you for your patience. As soon as we discover something pertinent to the safety of our community, we shall let the media know immediately." Macklin began to readjust the mic. "Now, I turn the mic over to the lead detective on the case, Detective Noah Puckerman. Please, direct your questions to him."

Puck shook the chief's hand as he walked by. The questions bombarded.

"Detective, how long have you worked this case?"

"How many times have you been the lead?"

"Are you going to let your personal involvement in the Strangler Case dictate your investigation?"

"What would you tell our television audience to do in order to avoid danger?"

Puck cleared his throat and showed his nerves for a second. His hand ran through his buzz cut. Stage life and natural confidence took over. "I would advise our citizens to travel in groups and be on the lookout for suspicious behavior. We have a hotline to take calls. We require the help of everyone to catch criminals and the more help we receive; perhaps the faster we can stop him. The attacker works at night. Avoid situations in which you are alone and vulnerable. If you have protection like mace or a taser, carry them with you at all times. And if you feel uncomfortable, call us. We are here to protect and serve."

"What about the two women called in from the Midnight Strangler case? Doesn't that confirm this is the same killer?" A voice spoke from the crowd. It was clear and to the point – a woman's voice.

Puck looked for the source and wasn't surprised to see the attractive reporter from the crime scene smirking at him from the corner. She had a knowing look on her face that spelled trouble. Puck decided that he needed to address the question since she had already incited curiosity with those few words. The crowd began to murmur and he saw a majority of the reporters pulling out phones to confirm the identity of the P.I.s on the scene. "The two women you are referring to are on the department's payroll as consultants and have been for a few years. They have worked cases with us at different times. Their involvement in this particular case is not extraordinary."

The rest of the group seemed to buy it, but Puck could tell that she did not. Yet, she only nodded and let him continue on with a knowing smile. The rest of the press meeting went surprisingly smooth and when Puck was satisfied, he also bid the group adieu. He walked through the side door and started to trek back to the department.

"Detective Puckerman-" The same woman's voice caught him down the hallway and held him in place. Puck was beginning to recognize the sound of her voice now. The stress on his title was a jab at his rather forceful insistence that he was a detective at the crime scene. "-I was hoping you could clarify a few questions for me."

He turned with an amused smile, but shook his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't offer you anything more than I already gave in there."

"I'm sure you could off a little more than that, but not on the murders. I was really just looking for you."

"And the reason why you keep asking such personal questions about those two women?"

"A curious girl needs to know her competition, Detective Puckerman." The words came accompanied by an effortless wink. She held out her perfectly manicured hand for Puck to shake. "I am Jocelyn Gage."

Puck hesitated before taking the offered hand. "I'm still Detective Puckerman."

"I like the title, detective." Jocelyn smiled. "Look, I know you probably think I am just trying to worm my way into some information, but I promise, if you take me up on my offer for beers, I won't mention work once. If I do, you can walk right out on me and we never speak of it again."

He felt like he was playing with fire, but Puck had never been able to stop himself before. Why should he start now? His body and insides were littered with scars from third degree burns from playing with women like Jocelyn his entire life. Anyway, she was an incredibly gorgeous woman and how could one date wouldn't harm anyone? The prospect of escaping the precinct, Macklin, the case, Santana, and definitely Brittany would be a welcomed change.

Yet, he remained silent.

Nothing seemed to bother the woman. She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card for him. "Here's my card. Give me a call if you change your mind."

Puck nodded as he took the card. He flipped it around in his fingers a few times before headed back to his desk.

Damn women.

He sighed as he started to type her name into the data base.

First, a background check.

Allen was Allen. He embodied the meaning of nondescript – the way his skin hung loosely around his skull unsure it belonged there. His body wasn't overweight and yet he seemed to wear it awkwardly as if it were naturally disproportioned. He looked up from behind the steel cage from a clipboard in his hand and smirked as he saw the blonde P.I. strutting towards him. "Pierce, you son of a bitch, da fuck you doing here? At least you finally brought me my payment. Took you fucking long enough."

His eyes scanned up and down Santana's body. They lingered quite obnoxiously on her chest. Allen must have believed in hidden powers. It seemed he thought if he stared long enough at the woman's body, her clothes would magically fall off. Santana scowled and instinctively raised her hands to cover her chest despite the fact that the shirt from Puck's apartment was definitely more modest than the outfits she had been wearing all week. At least she wasn't wearing a skirt today. Finally she snorted in disgust and gave the guy a warning. "Excuse me. Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Allen licked his upper lip. "She's a fiery one, Pierce. I like that. But I see that you only brought me one. Not what we agreed on."

"The fuck are you talking about? Watch your fucking eyes and where they are focused. My eyes are up here, pervert. This is your only fucking warning. I will fucking cut you. I don't care what kind of uniform you're wearing."

Britt snorted at Santana's snappy threat. Lima Heights Badass. Both sets of eyes darted to Brittany as they heard the noise. Santana glared while Allen looked at her suspiciously. Brittany realized they were waiting for her to clarify the confusion and hostilities between them. The blonde straightened up. Her right hand flipped to the brim of her hat and flicked it up and down a few times. At the same time, her other hand flicked behind her backside to send Santana a signal they used during high school. They had developed a sort of language with their hands and eyes back then. It happened naturally and it wasn't fancy. It just helped them communicate with each other when it would have been socially unacceptable.

The sharp motion of her fingers through the air meant to back off. She would take care of this. Santana recognized the subtle hand gesture and bristled at being told to ease off. This asshole was looking her up and down like a piece of meat. She wanted to give him something more concrete than a warning. She shifted angrily, but held her ground not taking a step towards the creep. When she had made the decision to not reveal their intentions to Puck on the phone, she had made the commitment to trust Brittany – at least for now.

Santana backed off.

Brittany tipped her hat in appreciation although she couldn't believe Santana would let her take care of Allen. Small miracles, she guessed.

Her attention turned back to the man still leering from behind the cage. Brittany gave him a matching smug smirk as she approached the steel mesh separating them.

"Allen, my main man. Glad to see that you're keeping it classy as always."

"Spare me your smart mouth, Pierce, and let me have a look-see at my present."

"Well with such a charming attitude, it's a total mystery as to why you set your price for favors the way you do."

"Fuck it. If this-" His eyes glanced back over to Santana beyond Brittany's hat. "-isn't for me. I've got nothing for ya."

"Hey!" Brittany said quickly, but softened her voice the second time. "Hey now, Al. We can work something out. We don't have to be completely rude to each other."

"Last time we worked something out, it didn't work out for me." Again, Allen narrowed his eyes, unwilling to fully trust the blonde P.I. Santana's lips continued to curve downwards at the exchange. What the hell were they talking about?

"Come here…" Brittany leaned in so her lips were right up against the crossing metal patterns of steel separating them. Santana continued to frown since she couldn't hear the conversation happening between Allen and her partner. Annoyed at herself and Brittany, Santana continued to silently remind herself that she was the one who decided to trust Brittany; this was her own fault.

"And you're sure this is going to happen?" Allen finally pulled back from their secret conference.

"Absolutely. I guarantee it. And if it doesn't, I will bring you something much better. I promise."

Allen took one more longing glance at Santana before he finally nodded. "Fine, you've got yourself a deal, Pierce, but you better deliver or I am bringing your shit up with Macklin."

"No need to do that." Brittany said with a wink and leaned back from the counter and nodded her head for Santana to approach.

"No taking anything this time, Pierce, or I will cuff you myself especially since this is an open case with top priority. Sign your names here." He pointed to the clip board. "And here. I will fill out the rest of the paperwork since you two don't have badge numbers. At least, you've got your P.I. license. I'll have to figure out what to do about you."

"I am a practicing lawyer." Santana mumbled as she signed her name. She still didn't like this guy. And her feelings were reaffirmed when she saw the way his eyes lit up at this new bit of information.

"Kinky." He said licking his lips again.

"No, you fucker, she's actually a lawyer." Brittany smacked her palm at the cage to get his attention. The loud noise startled him from leering at Santana. "Leave him a number to call your boss so he can get confirmation, San."

"Like I said, kinky."

Santana shot him a look that could kill, but refrained from attacking at Brittany's pacifying look. Fuck her, if that's what working in tandem would be like, she was about to blow. But she picked up the pen and sighed. This was the second time Brittany had called her by her familiar nickname. No one else said it like the blonde. In fact, when she moved away to California, Santana had made sure her coworkers only called her by her full name. It felt exhilarating to hear her name spoken with such familiarity again. She blinked and wrote down Terry's number.

"Here's the number of the row you need. No touching anything else." He slipped a piece of paper underneath the cage to Brittany.

"Not coming with us?"

"Nah, you guys can have fun back there. It's a mess towards the back where the cold cases are and the lights don't always work."

"Perfect." Brittany sighed.

"You're gonna wanna start heading to your left." He said with a satisfied smirk as he buzzed the door open for them.

They had been walking together down the rows and stacks of evidence boxes for a couple minutes. Santana refused to ask Brittany about Allen and his strange requests. If Brittany didn't want to divulge information freely, than Santana wasn't about to go fishing for answers. It grated on her to be so stubborn, but she couldn't change now. So they walked in silence down the stacks. Each woman caught up in their own thoughts.

"Are you sure you want to come with me?" Brittany whispered. It seemed so strange to be walking down rows and rows of evidence associated with different cases. Blue eyes pierced through the dim lights from the paper in her hand to the numbers on cabinets and shelves. "You've had a pretty rough day and last night wasn't exactly fun."

"I'm fine." Santana responded. She had been in shock last night and she dealt with that day just fine. But she knew why Britt decided to voice her trepidations at that moment. They were about to go through Rachel's belongings or at least some of them.

"I know. I just want to make sure…ya know, because of the stress of seeing the body and Felicia. I just don't want this to be too much."

"I won't be caught off guard. I know what I'm getting into here, Brittany. I'll be fine. And Felicia…" Santana trailed off unsure how to complete the sentence without bringing up the past. They were getting so good at avoiding. Why should she break the pattern now? "And Felicia – believe it or not, it was nice to see her again."

In the dim light, Santana couldn't see Brittany's face clearly, but she felt the tension run up and down her partner's body. They never really did talk about that incident four years ago. They had been separated for that entire time, so why did the pain of betrayal feel so acute after all that time? Brittany's mouth drew a taut line, but she kept her silence.

Uncomfortable at the strange air between them, Santana coughed before continuing her thought. "I mean, it was good to see her, not because of anything that happened between us, but because she looks like she's out of this mess. It looked like someone was living with her. And that's good. It means something good can come out of this whole thing even if it won't happen to me."

She trailed off, dropping her voice at the final admission and kept her eyes straight ahead. It was hard to admit when one's life hit rock bottom and never really straightened out. Sure, she could compare herself to Brittany and say she was doing better, and yet, Santana knew that if she dug deep, she was drowning just as badly as Brittany. She was just drowning with a law degree and a stable job. It didn't mean she was swimming to shore safely anytime sooner.

"I know what you mean…" Brittany finally responded after a long minute. The P.I. didn't want to push Santana to elaborate because Brittany really did understand the sentiment. At the same time, it was hard to hear Santana say those words. When she looked at Santana, Brittany wanted to see someone like the well-adjusted Felicia. When she left New York, Brittany could send all her anger towards California because Santana was supposed to be living a perfect life away from all this shit. That was what Brittany had seen only a few days ago when the brunette had been sitting and swinging her legs with that confident smile and easy laugh. All it took was a few days together and Brittany had begun to realize that they weren't very different. Brittany had wanted Santana to have everything, but in the end, they each had nothing. Letting Santana leave hadn't made either of their lives better.

It was that truth which hurt the most.

Silence descended on them. But Brittany could feel more emotions building. She had been so stupid to have let Santana slip away from her back then. "I saw the way she looked at you. She would do anything for you."

This time, Santana's body stiffened at the admission. It wasn't something she wanted to think about. It was better to repress these things. "It's only because of that night, B."

Brittany thought about the way she felt about Santana. Even after all these years and the distance – would she still do anything for her?

The answer sent a chill down her body with a resounding and definitive "yes".

"I just…" Brittany scratched at her scalp underneath the hat. "I just have never seen anyone else look at you like that."

Santana felt her heart beat faster and faster with every word out of Brittany's mouth. Why did she have to talk like this? It took her so long to inhibit all the emotions she tied to the blonde when she left New York. It had been the hardest part of starting a new life; erasing the old one and Santana had built her entire life around Brittany. Part of her resented Brittany for bringing up these emotions and concerns four years later. Where was this Brittany when she needed her?

"It's not like that." Santana said quieter. No, what Felicia felt could never compare to what she shared with Brittany. Nothing had before or since.

Brittany stopped in front of a stack and double checked the numbers to make sure they were accurate. Santana took a step forward, but Brittany blocked her from progressing down the hallway. Now they were facing each other. Her heart beat double time as she faced Santana without words prepared. She didn't know what she was doing. It had been a long time since she did something spontaneous without the direction of alcohol. This spontaneity came from a much deeper place inside. It had been a long time since she followed the whimsy of her heart, but here she was facing Santana in all earnestness. She closed her eyes to look for the right words, but they didn't form. Santana's brows creased and the blonde felt pressured. So she just opened her mouth and trusted the right thing would come out. "I didn't handle it right back then. I should have been there more to help you – help us. And I'm sorry. I thought we'd always be okay and so I just assumed it would all smooth out. I – should have been the one to talk to you after Rachel's death. I'm sorry. I never got to say that and that makes me sorry too."

Brittany finished talking unsure how she was able to piece together a sentence much less her feelings. It felt like something cracked inside of her. A small crack – an opening to some part of her that she had long buried away. It felt so good. It felt so frightening. Her heart pounded and her palms were sweaty as she waited for a response.

Captive, Santana stood rooted to the spot. While words seemed to flow freely from Brittany, they remained staunchly absent for the brunette. Foolishly, she had tricked herself into believing she could be the only one with feelings still caught up in the other. The fight she had waged upon herself for the past four years seemed petty and childish. This unabashed Brittany was the girl who voiced anything she thought out loud. That Brittany had been unconcerned about the world; she only cared about Santana's opinion. The woman who stood before her stared back with those same eyes. Words still failed her. "I didn't make it easy either…"

Perhaps that answer would have made any other person angry, but Brittany just smiled. "You never did."

The blonde nodded thoughtfully before she turned around and continued down the aisle. Something changed. Santana didn't know what, but something had shifted for better or for worse. Unable to comprehend, Santana chose to ignore the way Brittany had just made her feel. Without the penetrating gaze directly on her, it was easier to suppress those bubbling affections and memories.

"Here." Britt took one of the two boxes from the shelf labeled: Berry. The box seemed heavy, but Brittany felt as if it was a trick of her mind. Everything Rachel had been wearing the night of her murder had been stowed in this box. Sure, it was weighty. Santana approached with the same reverence unsure what to say or do next. "There's another box. You wanna grab that one?"

Santana followed Brittany's eyes back to the shelf. There were tons of boxes, but none of the others were marked with Rachel's last name. A few of them were dated from around the same time as her death and bore names to places where victims had been found and suspects, but these boxes were solely hers. Hushed, Santana nodded. "Sure."

Another sort of silence fell between the women. It wasn't awkward, but it was deep and resounding. On the cold cement floor and between the flickers of lights, they sat. Brittany opened her box first. Everything was sealed in bags with red tape.

Santana was pleased to see all the evidence was being kept within procedure and following protocol. "Don't open the bags." She finally said. Brittany looked up not annoyed, but like a child caught. A guilty smile passed her lips, but she nodded in agreement. If Santana could play nice, maybe she could try it too.

That silence descended again.

Brittany pulled out a list on the top and scanned down the contents of the box. It was the right one. She looked for the purse contents listed because it was easier to read about Rachel's final belongings than to actually dig through them. It seemed so wrong. "It should be in here…"

Santana nodded. She too understood the gravity of the moment.

The first bag she pulled up was tight sealed and air compressed to fit Rachel's peacoat folded neatly. Brittany handed that to Santana and the brunette touched it gently before she settled it on top of her own box. Next was a smaller bad containing a knitted hat. Santana shook her head with a smirk as she took that one from Brittany as well. "Kurt never did get her to stop wearing those ridiculous hats."

"Hats can be fun…" Brittany said as she looked up from the box. The silence between them and Rachel's memory began to alleviate. Santana rolled her eyes as she placed the bag on top of the coat. Her eyes already lingered on the box and waited for the next bag. She didn't want to spend too much time reminiscing down here. She didn't want to lose the fragile hold on her composure.

"This has to be it." Brittany pulled out a bag with loose items inside. The label read: Purse Contents. She was about to open it, but stopped herself. The matchbook could clearly be seen through the transparent plastic. It wasn't the only object floating in the bag. There was a lip gloss; Santana expressive remembered forbidding Rachel to use because it look like she was still sixteen whenever she applied it to her lips. A few tissues hung around the edges of things. Her wallet with her I.D. Everything looked discolored. Santana told herself it was from storage and not from dried blood.

"So…" Santana started to say, but paused. Her eyes lingered on a picture of the glee club from high school. It had been so long ago. They had been so young then. So alive.

Hopeful.

It was sickening to think they would never have that feeling again. The feeling that meant they would be safe and secure. They were going to get somewhere. Rachel, at least, died before her dreams crashed to the ground in a fiery blaze. Her dark eyes shifted from Rachel's face to the two figures in the background of the picture. She'd recognize herself and Brittany from just the way their bodies were positioned. Santana had thrown her legs over Britt's during the picture. They had been in their own little world at the time and had barely looked up to take the picture. Even if they didn't look like absolute geeks like the rest of the club, nothing could mask the happiness they shared just being there, together at glee club.

"San?" Brittany asked gently with concern.

Santana realized she had been staring and blinked to return to the present. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just…memories…"

"We have lots." Brittany glanced at the picture too as similar thoughts entered her own mind.

"Whatever…" Santana half-heartedly muttered as she wiped at the corner of her eye. "Do you see the matchbook?"

Blinking, Brittany's blue eyes scanned the bag again to locate the matchbook. It had the club's name written brazenly across the middle in bright purple: Reckloose. A small outline of pursed lips punctuated the logo and directions were written in incredibly small font at the bottom corner. "Yeah."

"Flip it over in the bag so we can see if anything is written on it."

Brittany juggled the evidence bag a bit until the matchbook maneuvered around. And there written on the back in pink ink was not only a name, but a number. Santana scooted her body across the cold floor so she could get a better look at the findings. Shaking her head, Santana whispered. "I can't believe you remembered this was in here."

"I looked at those photos for a long time." Brittany answered back quietly.

"And it's definitely not one of the ones I threw at her. It's even addressed to her." Santana pointed at the book from the other side of the plastic. The pink numbers came with a heart afterwards and a small note that read: Rachel, plz call me.

"Yeah, but who's it from? And when does Rachel go to a gay bar and not invite us?" The blonde asked bluntly. She pulled out her cell phone and began to dial the number.

"Good point. If that's how she wanted to swing, I would have taken her to a gay bar anytime just for the fun of it." Santana looked at Brittany's fingers quickly hitting buttons on her keypad. "What are you doing?"

"Calling this-" Brittany scrunched up the plastic a little more to move a tissue, but no name was on the matchbook except for Rachel. "-woman up to see if we can get some answers from her."

The phone beeped a few times before Brittany hung up with an exasperated sigh.

"The line's dead."

"It's a pretty distinct signature. Maybe someone will recognize it. Some of those women have these things already written up and ready to hand out like party favors at those places."

"Four years is a long time, Santana."

"If the matchbook doesn't work. You have that picture of Rachel…" Santana said softly. She had her own picture of their friend in her clutch, but it was deep down there. Since she moved from New York, it had stayed there and cemented itself to the lining. "Maybe they'll recognize her. Besides, what other leads do we have?"

Sheepishly, Britt smiled as Santana used her own line from earlier that day. Maybe they could work this partnership thing out and catch this asshole. Just maybe... they could have five minutes together without fighting or glaring. Her eyes glanced downwards to the rest of the box. "Do you want to go through the rest of Rachel's things?"

Santana shook her head without hesitation. "Maybe after we can finally put her to rest properly."

Brittany nodded in agreement. She pulled out her phone once more and shot a picture of the number and message so they could show it to people at the club. Reverently, Santana handed back the other bags which Brittany neatly packed away into the box. In silence, they placed the boxes back on the shelves where they had taken them. The moment Rachel Berry's name was placed back above them, the air finally cleared all the way and both women released a sigh.

"So are you ready for a bit of the New York nightlife again?" Brittany teased as they walked back down the stacks in the relatively dark archives of the police station.

Recognizing the tease, Santana smirked. "It hasn't been considered nightlife since I left the east coast."

"Cocky aren't you?" Brittany teased back. A little playful banter never hurt to release tension and anxiety. Being that close to Rachel's belongings had been stressful even if neither of them wanted to admit it.

"Speaking of cocky…" Santana spoke up. "So are we going to talk about what the fuck that was all about earlier?"

"What was about?" The blonde playfully responded as she kept her eyes straight ahead. She knew if she glanced to her left, she would be unable to contain the smile budding on her face.

"Brittany…"

"Allen? You're talking about Allen?" Fake innocence dripped from her words.

"Britt…" Santana said her name again in a lower key, but she wasn't losing her patience. It was nice to ask Brittany about anything not directly related to the case or their lives. It felt easier to joke when it was about some guy she didn't even know.

"It's nothing. I mean nothing really important…"

"B…" Santana said her nickname as they entered a darker section of the archives. She took this opportunity to move up parallel to the blonde. "I trusted you to come down here without going through Puck or Mack. Don't you think you can tell me about your special relationship with Allen?"

"I know." She sincerely did appreciate Santana's cooperation. "Trust me when I say you don't want to know what Allen thought you were there for."

Now Santana couldn't help but roll her eyes. Laughing, she asked. "Brittany Susan Pierce, are you side hustling as a pimp now? I can tell you've been wearing that ridiculous hat too much and its cut off the circulation to your brain."

Quick as lightening, Santana flicked her fingers up and flipped the brim. It bounced off Brittany's head and onto the floor. Indignant and unable to catch the hat before it fell, Brittany yelled. "Hey!"

Instead of reaching for the hat, the blonde turned around into Santana's body to retaliate. Light laughter escaped her lips and she gave Santana a playful push. A knowing smirk emerged on Santana's face as she too fell into a playful mood and pushed back.

It escalated.

For a moment, they both wrestled for dominance, playfully tossing against each other; pinching each other's arms and poking. But Brittany's height gave her the advantage as she shoved the smaller woman with more force. Santana let out a small grunt as she felt her back hit a filing cabinet behind her. Her plump lips parted into a sharp gasp as the back of her shirt rode up and her bare skin touched the ice-cold metal behind her body. The sensation caused her to arch up. Her hips lifted from the cabinet as the front of her slammed back into Brittany's already close and hovering presence. Their chests crashed together and they instantly froze.

Again, Santana was distinctly reminded of their height difference. She couldn't stop herself from panting against Brittany's exposed collarbone. Her dark eyes glued to the smooth expanse of Brittany's upper chest. For a moment, she didn't move – she feared the consequence.

Their bodies were flush.

Any movement would result in discovering just how close they had physically come. And without moving, Santana already knew Brittany's leg had somehow maneuvered into the space between her own. Just the thought…

Fuck.

Just the thought sent a hard, hot shudder down her body. From her head to her toes then back up her burning core. Fuck. This wasn't what she signed up for. This was not – this was – this –

She couldn't even form coherent thoughts and that was only her body and mind not functioning. The brunette was totally unprepared to look up, but she did so anyway unconsciously drawn to make that connection with the other woman. When those sincere, vibrant, cerulean eyes met her own, Santana knew her heart had stopped as well. Everything in that moment faded away.

Breathless, "Britt…"

Despite Santana's resolve to remain motionless, Brittany's body hummed at the contact. She wanted to dance her fingers up and down Santana's sides. She struggled and finally moved just an inch closer so she could place her open palm against the metal beside Santana's head. That small movement brought them a thousand miles closer. Her body instinctively reacted as her hips rolled forward.

Suddenly, Brittany realized this wasn't just any woman beneath her, but this was Santana.

The Santana.

Her Santana.

She didn't hear Santana's whispered plea so much as she felt it. Untamed, it rippled down her body – low and sensuous. She remembered the way Santana's eyes used to pool under her gaze. In those moments, there had never been any doubt they belonged to each other. Brittany lost the ability to tell times and worlds apart. They were eighteen and in love with each graduating from McKinley. They were 20 year olds moving into an apartment together and opening up a studio. They were 20-something year olds running an investigation business and going to law school.

And then nothing. She'd been free falling for four years with nothing to hold onto.

She blinked at the thought. Just like that, the magic between them retreated at an alarming rate. Brittany tried to grasp hold of it, but Santana was already ebbing away. The Latina's hands pushed back at Brittany's shoulders with a half-hearted smile meant to assuage her awkward attempt to put distance between them. Brittany knew it was lost; she felt both relief and agitation as she took two obligatory steps backwards. Her blue eyes glanced around at the floor and the wall, but not directly into Santana's face. That had been stupid.

Yet, she could still feel the residual humming through her body as if to starkly remind her there had been magic between them even if for the briefest of moments. But what did that mean?

At the same time, they turned to each other, but neither of them could speak. Santana recovered much faster. She pushed down at the material on her borrowed shirt and walked around Brittany's body. Brittany watched wordlessly as the brunette bent over with natural grace to pick up the hat from the floor. Her dark eyes remained on the material as her fingers grazed over the frayed lining and the worn spots where Brittany's frequent touches had reformed its natural shape to fit her head. In many respects, Santana felt like that hat before she had left New York. They had always been together and had molded to accommodate each other while still remaining themselves. When they were that close, everything would fade away. Why did she feel a thousand different emotions around Brittany? And why did most of them feel like guilt, while the other half made her feel a thousand different shades of anxious?

"Here." Santana finally raised her eyes from the dark hat and offered it towards Britt.

Brittany reached for the hat, but she wanted to see if the magic still existed between them. She needed to know if the spark was more than just her imagination. Her long fingers purposely grazed over the brunette's unsuspecting digits as she took the hat back. The simplest of touches electrified the air around them once again. Dark eyes instantly shot up in surprise and then held the gaze for a moment too long while the air sizzled between them. Britt's heart pounded as she realized whatever was still between them wasn't a fluke. She whispered. "Thanks."

Breathless, Santana whispered back. "Yeah…"

A voice shouted and filled the archives. "You bitches done back there? I swear to fucking god, if you got it on with that sweet piece of ass without letting me see, I'll kill you and they'll never find your body."

Santana rolled her eyes at Allen and looked back at Brittany with a much more comfortable smile – one that reminded Brittany of the way she used to give the blonde secret smirks during class in high school. "He's a real catch, B. No wonder you won't tell me anything about him. Want to keep him all to yourself, huh?"

A light blush blossomed in Britt's high cheekbones as she lightly laughed. "I have excellent taste in lovers."

"I think your standards might have dropped somewhat." Santana smirked and she couldn't help throwing a flirtatious wink in the blonde's direction before she started to walk back to Allen. Brittany stood there frozen. Her fingers danced along the edge of the hat where Santana had been holding it.

Everything was so confusing.

"Are you going to at least tell me what he did for you last time that he expects payment for?" Santana called back without looking.

Brittany shook her head as she shoved the hat back on. "That is definitely a secret."

Santana snorted and threw her hands up in the air in mock exasperation. "Whatever. You coming?"

Okay, I know I promised clubbing and there was no clubbing. I lied? I finished this section and realized it was over a week since the last time I posted, so I thought I could tease you all more and break my arc into two chapters. I like caesuras. So next chapter will be clubbing! How'd you feel about the tension? Do we feel it building? I do! I'm going nuts! I just want them to jump each other already! Hahaha

Welcome to all my new readers and a super big thank you to everyone who keeps reviewing! Your comments make my world! Like for real!

I hope you all enjoy the rest of the week and try not to cry a ridiculous amount during "The Break-Up" Episode this Thursday. I've listened to Mine about a million times. I'm considering skipping class so I can see it live-time, but ugggggh I know I won't. (SuperNerd=me) hahaha