Hi everyone! Really excited since this is the last chapter of IIAC (followed by epilogue)! Super quick warning. There is violence in this chapter. Be warned.
Is it a Crime?
3.3 Criminal
Santana didn't sleep. She spent most of the night tossing and turning. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, she dragged herself out of bed and padded down the hallway. Mercedes' door was always closed, but when Santana tried the handle, it popped without protest.
"Took you long enough." Mercedes groaned and rolled over. She pulled her covers with her to create space next to her in the bed.
"You knew?" Santana questioned. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep.
"Tan, you cooked all afternoon, ate none of what you cooked, and then watched Spanish soap operas."
"So?" Santana sullenly asked even if she knew the answer.
"Get the fuck in already." Mercedes huffed exasperated. "Ain't nobody got time to coddle your ass. Get in and tell me all about it."
It was only in the darkest part of the night when Santana would even entertain the possibilities of letting her walls down. It didn't happen often. It rarely occurred at all. But Mercedes always made it easy for Santana to unload. They both carried a lot of weight and they had learned to shoulder it by themselves for a long time. It made asking for help harder.
Santana slid into the covers and pulled them up. As she shut her eyes, her body finally started to relax. Exhausted, she melted into Mercedes' incredibly soft mattress. "What's wrong, girl?" Mercedes asked, but didn't turn in Santana's direction. For which the brunette was grateful. No response. Mercedes groaned aloud. Santana was so fucking stubborn sometimes. It was like pulling teeth. Thank God Mercedes already had a pretty good understanding of her best and only friend. Even if they weren't friends, they were in the same position.
They made a deal with the same devil.
"Nothing. My bed was just fucked up and I need some sleep before we have to go on stage."
Mercedes smirked at the response and offered her one word opinion on Santana's excuse. "Lame."
"Shut up, Cedes. You know my mattress is shit."
"No. I don't go near that bed cause I've heard the reasons your mattress is shit."
"Whatever."
"Santana." Mercedes knew tonight was going to be one of those nights when her friend was harder to open up than usual. "What happened at the precinct today? Was it Puckerman?"
Santana shook her head and fluffed the pillow harder. No answer.
Mercedes sighed and turned back to face her friend. One look into Santana's eyes and Mercedes puffed hot air from her nose. "All this over Puckerman?" Santana said nothing. Mercedes knew it couldn't be the real reason for her agitation and sleepless night. "No? So it's got to be fake cop." This time it wasn't a question because Mercedes had known blonde legs was the real source of Santana's problem from the moment her friend returned from the police station.
"She's a real cop." Santana mumbled into the pillow with another exaggerated groan. Little did she consciously realize, she was mimicking Brittany's own words from the other night in the dressing room.
"How real?" Mercedes dreaded the answer. Her heart rate picked up as she thought about al the ways Santana's dalliance could lead to Puck's downfall and what that would mean for the woman providing him with alibis. She tried to keep her voice as even as possible. "Did she blow your cover? What happened, Tan? Did Puckerman find out about her?"
"No. No. Nothing happened." Santana kept saying into the pillow. "And she's the real fucking deal, Cedes. Badge-" Pierce. The name flashed through Santana's mind. "Cuffs. Gun. And, Jesus, the uniform."
"Don't you dare get all turned on in my bed." Mercedes smacked Santana's exposed shoulder. For the first time that day, Santana cracked a smile. "That's nasty."
"Shut up, Mercedes. It's not like that."
"Oh it definitely was like that." Mercedes emphasized as she remembered walking in on the two of them multiple times every time the blonde was around.
"Not anymore." Santana shut her eyes even harder.
And they finally got to the kernel of Santana's problem. "What happened with her? Did you guys break up?" She paused and rethought her question. "Can you break up if you were only fucking on the dance floor? What kind of break up is that? A booty break up? Cause it shouldn't be affecting you this badly."
"A booty break up?" Another smile cracked her face.
"Well you're not giving me anything to work with, Tana."
"It's fine and it wasn't a break up. You're right. She didn't mean anything."
Mercedes allowed Santana about two seconds to believe that lie before she challenged her friend. "Didn't mean anything would definitely look a lot different than this. In fact, didn't mean anything would mean another girl in your bed right now."
"Whatever."
"If you're going to give me 'tude, you can skip on over to your own bed." Mercedes offered without compassion. "What did she do to you? Cause you know I'll kick her sweet ass all the way back to the police station she came from, hun."
"Not what she did to me…" Santana muttered.
"Oh, Tan…" Mercedes reached out to brush her friend's hair. "What did you do?"
It was rhetorical. No answer was needed. Mercedes pulled Santana into her body and Santana didn't have to say another word. In the morning, they would pretend their conversation never happened. And they would openly agree that whatever Santana did was for the best. But this private confession, this moment of intimacy and self doubt, would forever remain unspoken. Both of them would remember it, but never speak of it again. There was a price for everything and in the light of day, they convinced themselves that they would sacrifice anything for the payout.
"He's not in a good mood."
"He's never in a good mood."
"No." Rachel was checking the monitors from the security booth. "He's always happy when he evades the cops."
"Maybe he's just having a bad day." Mercedes hated it when Rachel kept pushing – which was all the time. The head of security at the Ark never stopped pushing. Maybe that was why she provided such good security for a business front like the one Noah was running. Little details never escaped a woman as pushy and noisy as Rachel Berry. "Let it go."
"No. There's definitely something different today." Rachel insisted. "How did the interview go yesterday with Santana?"
"It was fine."
"How about the security footage?"
"I didn't see it, but I assume that the cops checked it out and couldn't find anything amiss."
Mercedes shrugged. When did she get caught up in Puckerman's shit? She had wanted a career and she got one. Puck was convinced because of her weight, that she would never be a big hit. But he kept her on. And a month later, he brought Santana in. Mercedes saw the way Puckerman seemed enthralled by the woman and how much time he was spending with her. What started out as a friendship of convenience to get more track time, ended up actually gaining a friend. Now after last night's breakdown, the first one in a very long time, Mercedes was genuinely concerned about Santana. She wanted to make sure her friend had been careful the night before – just as a precaution.
"Of course they wouldn't!" Rachel sighed and dramatically threw her hands in the air. "Do you know how hard it was to edit the security feed? You should have seen the feed though." Rachel started fanning herself. "They were quite handsy with each other. Really they could have practically been-" She paused to think of way to frame her words without sounding vulgar. "-doing the dirty in the middle of the Cage with all those people around. They were that close to each other."
"Doing the dirty?" Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Come on, Berry, you're a grown woman and for your information, if you thought they were close enough to be fucking, then I guarantee one of them had their hands up the other's skirt."
"Eww!" Rachel squealed. "That's so unsanitary!"
"Seriously…how are all the guards up in here afraid of your white ass?"
"I won't stoop so low as to answer that Ms. Jones, but I'll have you know that I could toss your bottom out of here with the snap of my fingers!"
"Just like that?" Mercedes teased her by snapping her fingers at the head of security.
Rachel smiled and looked back at the footage. "I had to do so much work with Zizes to make sure the quality of the inserted Puck didn't drop. It's hard making Puck the one making out with Santana all the time. But at least this girl was tall so it was a little more believable."
"So it's all good?" Mercedes wanted confirmation.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Rachel was confident in what she had produced with Lauren. "Wait. Is this why Puck is in a bad mood? I knew it! I knew he was in a bad mood! Lauren!" She was shouting into the side room attached to the security booth. "Lauren! I was right! Puck's in a bad mood!"
"I didn't say that!"
"I could feel his sexual frustration through the screen this morning!" Lauren called back with a Mhmm attached.
"Lauren, catching him with his pants down and a magazine doesn't count as real sexual frustration. He was relieving himself in a constructive, if somewhat disgusting manner."
Mercedes made a face followed by a noise of absolute disgust. "Okay, those are details this girl did not need to know."
"Still the sexual tension between the two of us is palpable."
"Excuse my esteemed colleague, she thinks she is having some sort of an affair with Puckerman."
"Ignore the addle brained canary while I confirm that Puckerman and I are getting it in on the regular, Mercedes. I know you feel me on that." Zizes gave them both a satisfied smirk.
"No, no I do not feel you on that. More information that I didn't need to know…" Mercedes shook her head trying to rid it of the nasty images in her mind. "Definitely didn't need to know…"
"Anything else you need?"
"Rachel…remember when we talked about pulling the trigger on that one plan we jokingly talked about?" Mercedes asked in a hushed tone. She liked Zizes, but she wasn't entirely sure she could trust a woman fantasizing about having an affair with Puckerman.
It didn't matter.
Rachel made a noise that sounded like a cat getting strangled. Her eyes got wide and she was smiling like the Cheshire cat on crack. "Oh. My. God. Mercedes! I thought when we talked about that plan it was mostly the alcohol talking, but I've been making plans ever since that night on the off chance that you actually wanted to go through with it. I have a whole ten step plan outlined in a small booklet I made. Hold on while I go get-"
A cracking noise stopped Rachel in her tracks.
"Berry." An intercom interrupted all the information sharing taking place between the women.
"Yes, boss?" Rachel's face instantly morphed. Her attitude was all business now. Mercedes took a step back. Had Puckerman been listening to their conversation? Did he know about their plan? If he did, Rachel was amazingly calm.
"I need you to send me the original video from last night's Cage with Santana's performance."
Rachel gave Mercedes a look that said don't worry, but she had a hard time believing the head of security. Puckerman wasn't a man to fuck around with. "Anything else, boss?"
"Yes." The intercom paused before buzzing again. "Send Santana to my office. We have some business to discuss."
The intercom clicked off. Mercedes still didn't feel comfortable. She knew that Santana's terms for her contract were ending. According to her deal, she should be off the hook as Puck's girl and start really recording her music in a studio outside of the Ark. "So everything's good, Rach?"
"I still think he's in a bad mood." Rachel had forgotten about her reasons to be ecstatic.
"Yeah, but you said that you cleared the tapes for the cops and that it was good. So why would he want them?"
"It is strange." Rachel was thinking out loud to herself. Zizes had already sent the video footage to Puck's computer. "Do you mind telling Santana about Puckerman's request?"
"I've got her." Mercedes quickly said, but added for reassurance. "It's got to be about her contract. She's fulfilled all the stipulations. So it's got to be a good thing, right?"
Rachel said nothing.
"Right, Rachel?"
"Oh! Yes! Of course. It's definitely has to be good!" Rachel gave her a big smile. "I'll see you soon, Mercedes!"
Her answer had been the opposite of comforting.
Santana knocked on Puck's door. For some reason, she didn't feel quite right about tonight's meeting. She wasn't on the schedule to sing, but she always had to make an appearance in the VIP lounge just for the public eye. She had shown up at the Ark early with Mercedes to do make-up, but she ended up washing some dishes with the bug-eyed woman Brittany had been talking to the first night they met. Santana never did chores around the Ark, but she needed to do something to keep her mind occupied.
She was just putting the finishing touches on her make-up when Mercedes popped into the dressing room with a message from Puckerman. Cold and feeling insecure about her recent decisions, Santana hadn't even noticed when she grabbed the cop's jacket from the closet. Now she played with the zipper and waited for a response.
"Come in."
She entered the office. It overlooked the Ark dance floor, but the glass windows were tinted so no one could see into his office. The entire décor reeked of modern essentialism aesthesis – just bad taste. Puck sat at his desk and smirked as he watched his pet singer enter the room. His eyes didn't bother to mask the way he leered at her tight fitting dress or how they lingered on her cleavage. Santana remembered the way Brittany's eyes would rove over her body. Those blue orbs made her feel beautiful and alluring; they begged to know more about her and stuck fast to her own eyes without making Santana feel like a piece of meat.
Puck's eyes made her sick.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Well." Puck smacked his lips. "I wanted to talk to you, but damn, you know I love looking at you too."
Normally, Santana would have bit back with a response about fucking off, but she wasn't feeling it tonight. "Talk about what? My contract?"
"My my you are all business tonight." Puck moved around his desk and circled around Santana's body. It took all of her will power not to move away from his predatory stalk. His hands slid around the jacket covering her torso. He slipped his hands underneath the material and took his time sliding it down from her shoulders. Santana's body froze and her teeth clenched at his invasive touch. He tossed Brittany's jacket on his own over his desk chair. "Why don't you relax, Santana? We can get down to business after a little pleasure."
Wary, Santana didn't trust Puck's tone or his attitude since she entered the room. He normally was jovial following another successful alibi. He sould be throwing a party and celebrating with whatever money had had scored that week on arms deals or drugs. This was neither. She took a seat on the sofa.
He plopped onto the single lounge chair across from her with a wicked grin on his face. The alcohol he poured for her remained on the table. Santana didn't feel much like drinking. Puck noticed, but said nothing. He knocked his drink back completely before reaching across the table between them. He took her drink in his hand and started to sip on the contents.
Santana cocked an eyebrow at him. "So what did you want to talk about?"
"Lots of things, my little songbird, but first…" Puck picked up a remote and clicked on a button. The big screen in the office turned on. "Let's talk about last night? How'd it go?"
"Good." Santana felt uncomfortable. "Don't you remember? We were together the entire time."
He laughed, but Santana could tell he didn't find her joke amusing. "That's a good one, Santana. That's a good one. But really. How was your night? Anything exciting?"
"No. Nothing."
"Weird." Puck pressed a button on the remote and footage of the Cage started to roll. "I see you made a friend the other night."
Santana's body froze. Puck was never really that interested in who she slept with, as long as she obeyed the rules and made him a tight alibi when he would get called in for questioning. Her mind flipped to images of Brittany's naked body all over the suite. What could he want to know?
"What do you mean?" She asked cautious and weary that Puck could be genuinely curious about the police officer she had bedded last night.
Her dark eyes glanced to the screen. It was fast forwarding to her performance. He paused the video right on Brittany's face. "I pulled the footage from the Cage." Puck shrugged. "The edited version was decent in the precinct, but I prefer this version."
The camera focused on Brittany when she started to dance to Oops. In the heat of the moment, Santana had been unable to take her hungry eyes away from Brittany's body. Now she purposely averted her eyes so Puck couldn't read anything from her about the cop. She tried to deflect.
"What about it? That's what always happens. You've never really cared what girl I've gotten with before." Santana instinctively tried to protect the only person she had ever felt a connection to besides Mercedes and, she would never admit it, Rachel.
Puck smirked. "She was hot."
"Who? The girl?" Santana dismissed the screen with the wave of her hand. Maybe she should have taken the drink.
"Who?" Puck laughed derisively. "That sweet piece of ass you were dry humping on the floor. Or…" He trailed off with a smirk. "…maybe we should call it wet humping because, baby, I've never seen you turned on like that before."
Santana felt a deep red flood her cheeks as she looked away from her employer, boss, owner, manager, whatever he was – he controlled what she was and what she did. Puckerman could do that to her, but she hated the way he talked about Brittany like she was just another woman he could buy or own. It felt wrong that he had seen her with the officer. "Shut it." She tried to brush him away.
"Shut it?" Puck's tone shifted. "I'd shut it, but you see when I was reviewing the footage, I realized that I'd seen that sweet piece of ass before."
Santana's heart jumped to her throat. "What?"
"Don't fuck with me." Puck stood up from his chair. "You stupid fucking slut."
"Noah…I don't know what-"
Puck's hand connected with her face. Santana staggered back. Shocked, she tentatively touched her cheek where he had so violently hit her.
"Don't ever fucking lie to me!" Puck was advancing on her. He overpowered her attempts to keep him at bay. His right hand wrapped around her throat and he lifted her from the floor. Santana gasped and struggled against his grip. "It was that fucking blonde cop! You fucking bitch! What did you tell the cops?"
"Nothing!" Santana squeezed out the word. Her eyes were watering. He kept his grip and Santana could feel herself losing consciousness.
"If I go down, you're going down with me! You think this is bad? It's only going to get worse. You made a big fucking mistake Santana Lopez and you're going to spend the rest of your life making it right." Puck threw her back. Santana struggled and crawled to his desk to find something to help pull herself up.
He wasn't finished. "That was dumb, Santana. So fucking dumb. You can consider our negations for your contract finished. You're mine until you make this right and I know where the fuck your loyalties lie. Understood? I pulled you out of the pit you were living in and made you a fucking star. You owe everything to me!" He was sitting on the sofa now watching her struggle to get up. Santana took her time. Her hands were trembling as she found the arms of his desk chair and lifted herself up. "You're lucky I don't punish you further. Now…thank me for my generosity."
Santana gritted her teeth and clenched the arms of the chair harder. Her eyes were boring holes into the fabric of Brittany's jacket next to Puck's suit coat on the chair. "Thank you." She mustered with the last of her pride.
"I'm so happy we could clear this up, my little Songbird, but I think there is one more thing you could do for me…"
What more could he possibly want? Santana was already sure that he would kill her before the end of the night. Sweetly, she asked. "What's that?"
"I want you to sing a song tonight, mi Tanita, as a sign of good faith."
She hated when he would attempt to bastardize her name like she was his pet. It just reminded her of how he owned her. "It's not my night to sing."
"Consider this a special request since we are practically renewing our vows together." Puck's fingers danced along the arm of the couch and reminded Santana of how he had just choked her.
"What can I sing for you, sir?" Santana distinctively felt the possessive threat in his wandering digits.
"Sing a song about how you fucked up, my little Songbird. Because you stole my trust and squandered it. You could have had it all, but now you've thrown it all away for a one night stand with a cop! A fucking cop!" Puck's fingers tightened on the arm rest with anger, but he snorted through his nose to release some of his fury. "You're going to go on stage and you're going to tell me how you've been a bad, bad girl." His eyes were dangerous and scary.
Santana nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Get out of here. I want to see you on the stage in fifteen minutes." Quickly, she gathered the bundle of jackets in her hands and pulled them close to her chest. "And Tanita…" He was cutting a cigar from the box on the table. "Clean yourself up. You look terrible."
Santana felt sick. Her brow was sticky and her hands were clammy. She had done something very bad – very wrong. There were chills going up and down her body and the hands on her shoulders made her flinch internally. She clutched the bundle in her arms tighter. The hands on her grew bolder as they steered her through the back section of the Ark. They weren't going to let her go anywhere. Puckerman wanted a special song dedication and Puckerman always got what he wanted.
"Just let me drop my jacket in the dressing room." Santana pleaded with Puck's thugs. These men were not with Rachel or they would have the munchkin's wrath from their ear pieces at their rough handling.
"Hurry up. You're on stage in five."
"Whatever."
"Don't push it."
Santana didn't want to push it. Puck's office had been pushing it enough. She didn't want to push anything. Not like that. She moved to close the door to the dressing room she shared with Mercedes, but a thick hand prevented the door from shutting all the way. "Door open."
"Just looking for a little privacy."
"Not gonna happen."
Santana rolled her eyes and pulled at the jackets in her arms tighter. She walked over to the closet. Carefully, she tucked the jackets in the closet so no one would notice that she had one more than what she started with. She took a deep breath. This was stupid. This was going to get her killed. But it was too late to back out now. Her "escort" was still waiting for her.
"All done?"
This wasn't like a regular performance. Normally, Santana would take the stage and own it because she was in her element. The Ark was a safe haven, even when Puck was watching her performance, because she knew the guards watched over her, Beiste was never too far, and she was the most marketable product Puckerman was selling with his legitimate business front.
Tonight, she didn't feel the same security.
This was bad.
She spared a thought to the jackets in the closet of her dressing room. One word flashed through her mind – safety.
All she had to do was perform well enough to keep Puck content in his position of power. One song. Just one fucking song and if no one came for her in the night then she would survive. She wouldn't end up like Sunshine at the crack house. God. She couldn't end up like Sunshine. Just one fucking song.
Santana waited for the house DJ to start her introduction. He was calling out the animals and getting the Ark rocking like he always did, but this time, Santana wanted him to introduce someone else. Anyone else.
"The lovely, the talented, the beautiful, and the sexiest woman to ever grace the mic, Santanaaaaa Looooooooooopezzzzzz!"
The crowd cheered and Santana puffed out her cheeks as she attempted to calm herself down.
One fucking song.
The song he wanted her to sing.
He wanted power and he wanted to remind her that he owned her.
The velvet of the curtains touched her senses as she remembered how comfortable the leather of the cop's jacket felt. And it went straight back to the one woman she couldn't get past. She just couldn't forget her and she wasn't moving on. It all went back to Brittany.
She stepped out onto the stage. The crowd was waiting. From the piano on the stage and the lowered lights, they knew it wasn't going to be a club thumper or even a dance song. But they never knew what to expect when they came to the Ark because Santana Lopez performed when Puckerman wanted and sang what made him happy.
The piano came in dark and moody. The lights dimmed even further and purple under hues lit up the staging from beneath. It felt like the Cage, but without the endgame. Then she had been practically dying inside to take the stage. She had dragged Mercedes onto the dropping platform with her. There had been no compromise; she was going to descend into the madness with one purpose – Brittany.
This time she lacked a focus.
Her dark eyes scanned the crowd. But she knew the cop wouldn't be in the crowd. Santana didn't want to see her there. The look in Brittany's eyes when the officer had dropped her off at her apartment had been terrible and final. Only a fool would come back to the Ark after the way Santana had dropped Brittany.
The darkness of the crowd against the purple lights on the bars in the distance drew her eyes up to where she first sang to Brittany. It was a bad idea, but it was the only option she was willing to take. She didn't want to live like this anymore.
The piano started. The lights realigned on Santana and her eyes looked up to the tinted windows of Puck's office. He would want to watch her act of contrition.
I've been a bad bad girl
She could feel his hands around her throat. Santana hated it – she hated everything about him, his deal, and what she had become.
Her dark eyes set upon the stool where Anita had been.
Fuck it.
I've been careless
With a wonderful woman
She changed the words and decidedly refused to look to Puckerman's office anymore. She had made a mistake, but it wasn't the one he wanted her to apologize for.
And it's a sad sad world
When a girl will break a girl
Just because she can
Santana gripped the base of the microphone and pulled the stand closer. Her lips pressed against the mesh as her lungs expanded.
Don't you tell me to deny it
She glanced to the side staging area where Mercedes silently watched her performance. Santana knew her best friend was worried for her.
I've done wrong and I want to suffer for my sins
I've come to you
Cause I need guidance to be true
And I just don't know
Where I can begin
Her eyes turned away from the empty stool and back to the crowd. They were swaying and dancing. It didn't matter that her song wasn't like her usual set list. They were intoxicated and the house DJ had a way of spinning back tracks so anything was danceable.
What I need is a good defense
Quinn was out of the picture.
Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal
The word criminal stuck in her throat as Santana remembered the disappointment in Brittany's clear blue eyes.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because she's all I ever knew of love
The song continued on and Santana faced the crowd. Her eyes and words stayed as far away from Puck's darkening gaze as possible. She prayed that he would be too occupied thinking about how he had just put her into place to notice the subtle changes to the song.
The end of the song was coming. Her voice rose in volume and sincerity.
Oh help me but
Don't tell me to deny it
I've got to cleanse myself
Of all these lies till
I'm good enough for her
Santana thought about Brittany in the crowd and belted out the verse for her alone.
I've got a lot to lose
And I'm betting high
So I'm begging you
Before it ends
Just tell me where to begin
She kicked into the refrain before the final verse
Let me know the way
Before there's hell to pay
Give me room to lay the law
And let me go
I've gotta make a play
To make my lover stay
Her voice took incredible power and control as she the final words and pushed them through the Ark.
So what would an Angel say?
The Devil wants to know
Santana finished the song and looked over the crowd. The DJ took over the music blending the final elements of Fiona Apple's "Criminal" with house music and pieces of dub. Santana allowed the lights to dim before she looked over to Mercedes. The look in her friend's eyes confirmed her deepest anxieties.
She was going to do something stupid, but at least Cedes had her back.
Something very stupid if Puckerman let her survive through the night.
"Pierce?" One of the floor runners came barreling down between the desks of the precinct.
Brittany turned. She was confused. Normally, she would come in, get her assignments from the lieutenant and then go out for the rest of the day. Sam and her were so low on the totem pole, that most of the department didn't even know their names. Traffic cops didn't get a lot of attention and after their mess-up, both of them tried to keep their heads down as much as possible.
"Yes?" Britt answered, very confused. "You need me?"
"Yeah. At least I think…" He was younger than Sam or Britt and kept losing his place as he fumbled through his cart of mail. "I've been trying to find your desk, but then someone told me that you don't have one."
Britt blushed, just a little bit embarrassed at her lack of authority in the force. They were definitely at the bottom. "I don't have one yet."
"It's cool. Not a problem since this is the only thing I've ever seen with your name." He finally found the box and pulled it out. "Here it is! Addressed to Officer Pierce."
"Why are you getting packages? Why doesn't anyone ever send me anything?" Sam was moaning next to her.
"Your mom sent you some socks last week!" Brittany reminded him. Sam instantly stopped talking and turned bright red. "Who would send me something?"
"Could be an admirer of your artwork on their parking ticket…" Sam mused next to her, but he was incredibly curious about the box as well. He couldn't wait any longer. "Open it already, Britt!"
She moved over to an unoccupied desk and carefully pulled the brown wrappings off the box. As she slit the tape holding the flaps together, Britt realized she recognized the handwriting on the address. Her hands stilled.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked and then his eyes grew wide. "Oh my Sue! Is it a bomb? This is just like the movies! Don't move! I'll get the bomb squad in here!"
"Sam! No! It's not a bomb." She said the word in a hushed voice. "It's from…her."
"Oh. So like a metaphorical bomb?" Sam sat at the other chair at the desk.
"Stop saying bomb!"
"Stop stalling and open it!"
Ignoring Sam, Brittany flipped the flaps of the box open. She never thought she would hear from Santana again. Her brush off had been a definite ring of finality. There was a card bearing the small songbird in the corner.
To My Anita
"Anita?" Sam asked. "Like your undercover name? I thought she knew your name."
Brittany barely heard Sam's prattling. Her hands moved of their own accord as she flipped the card over.
You were right. I want something different.
A lump caught in the police officer's throat as she remembered their last exchange. Underneath the card was her dark leather jacket from the first night they had met. Brittany lifted the jacket up, but realized that it wasn't the only thing in the box.
"What?" Brittany dug deeper and felt something hard and cold. "Oh shit."
"What?" Sam asked excitedly. "When did you give her a suit jacket? Were you wearing one? Cause I thought we went with a dress/Cher wig combo the second time?"
"It's not mine." Britt whispered, but she was preoccupied to explain any further. "Holy shit." She looked up at Sam with a huge grin on her face. "You wanted the dramatic reveal like the movies?" Sam nodded enthusiastically. "You're about to get it. Holy shit. I need to find the captain right now."
"What is it? What's in the box? Is it like Seven? Cause you shouldn't touch her head! Is it her head!?" He was yelling and running after his partner. "Oh my Sue! This is so exciting, but what's in the box?"
One
Two
Three
Brittany kicked in the door just like she learned at the academy. She entered with authority and her gun raised. Sam was on the other side of her followed by four other cops. Schuester was taking his time discussing how they would proceed with the case to Mike. The gun that had been rolled up in Puckerman's suit coat wasn't enough for a conviction and probably would be tossed out of evidence, but it did give the judge enough to sign off on a search warrant for Puck's residence and any building he owned. It had been connected with several murders – bullets matched and everything. Police were already tearing through his suite and found all sorts of evidence and records about his various dealings.
The door splintered and cracked. A voice raged from inside the office.
"What the fuck are you doing in here?" Puck was roaring from behind his desk. "Where the fuck are my guards? Berry!" He was yelling through his intercom, but no one responded.
Brittany walked into the room. "Noah Puckerman, you are under arrest." She started his Miranda Rights. The cuffs in her hand dangled as she approached. Puck didn't look too thrilled. Brittany went to slap the cuffs on, but he pulled back and made an attempt at her. She dodged his attack with ease slipping out of his stranglehold and quickly cuffed him before he even knew what was happening.
"What the fuck! Get off of me! What is happening? Where is Berry? I want my lawyer! You can't just come in here and arrest me! On what evidence!?"
After she read him his rights and started to drag him out of the office, Brittany asked the one question she was dying to know. "Where is Santana Lopez?"
"How the fuck should I know?" Puck snapped and then it all clicked. "That bitch! She sold me out! That fucking cun-"
A swift kick to his midsection prevented him from completing his word. Brittany shook him and pulled him to his feet. "You will not talk about her like that again. Now, stand up."
"You'll pay for this. You and that slut."
Brittany shoved him into a wall and pulled him back. His nose was bleeding. "Oops. Looks like my hands slipped."
"God damnit! Where is my lawyer!? Call her! Call her right now!"
Britt wanted to find Santana. She needed to know if she was okay. Puck was a violent asshole and she had seen how quickly his goons had kidnapped and beat the shit out of Sam. Maybe this was the only way to find her.
"If I call your lawyer, will you tell me where Santana is?"
"Yes! Fuck! I will tell you where the little-" Britt's eye brow raised as a challenge and Puck revised his next words. "-I will tell you where she is. Just call my lawyer."
"Give me her number." Britt pulled out her phone and dialed the numbers he dictated out loud. She waited and put it on speaker phone.
You've reached the voicemail of Quinn Fabray, legal advisor and counsel for Berry Record Labels and representative for Two-Toned Trouble, the duo of Santana Lopez and Mercedes Jones. If you are calling in regards to the impending world tour of Two-Toned Trouble, please leave a message. All other calls should be directed to my office.
Beeeeeeeeeeep
Puck's face said it all. He had no idea. Brittany couldn't believe it either. Two-Toned Trouble? A big smile spread across her face. Santana made a break for it and when she sent Brittany Puck's gun, it had been the first step.
Brittany clicked the phone off with pride.
Good for her.
Puck was moaning with his eyes closed. He knew he was fucked. Brittany almost felt sorry for him. His entire empire was crumbling in only a matter of minutes and with all the evidence they would find, he would spend the rest of his life remembering this moment from behind bars.
And it was all because of Santana.
Britt couldn't contain her smile as she led the crime lord through the Ark for the last time.
After all the paperwork and evidence bags, Brittany was spent. She couldn't feel her feet and her mind was numb, but there was something she still wanted to do.
Santana.
She couldn't stop thinking about the singer. During the course of the day, Brittany had taken breaks from evidence collecting to search the dressing room, talk to Emma, and to search the back areas of the Ark. But there were no signs of Santana. Now that she was finally off the clock, Brittany pulled her number from the police data base and wanted to call her. She didn't know why she was nervous as she punched in the number and hit the call button.
But just like Quinn's number, it went straight to voicemail.
This is Santana Lopez. I'm starting my world tour for my album with my girl Mercedes- There was screaming and shouts of excitement in the background. It sounded like a party. –and I have no idea when I'll be back! She was no longer talking into the phone, but she hadn't cut the voice message off yet. We did it! We did it! The background voices were screaming and then the voicemail clicked.
Beeeeeeeeeep
Brittany nodded her head with a soft smile. Santana did it. She was going to have her different life and that was good. Yet the phone felt especially heavy when she slipped it into her pocket.
"Hey! Britt!" Sam was coming out of the precinct. "You finally going home too?"
"Nah." She turned back to the door he had just exited. "I've got so much paperwork to do on this case and it's only the first day."
"Whoa! You're nuts! We've been here all day!" Sam shook his head. "But I get it, you've got to look good in there."
"What?"
"You've got to look good." Sam repeated. "I overheard the captain talking about moving you to the fast track. You did it, Britt! You're definitely getting out of traffic duty after this."
"You're just saying that!" Britt didn't feel like she did anything. It had all been Santana.
"And you're being ridiculous if you don't think so. Mark my words Officer Pierce, you'll be making Detective in no time!"
"Sure. Sure. I've got work to do first." Britt didn't believe a word he said. Besides, she was thinking about something – someone – else as she reentered the building.
Thus ends IIAC!
Nah! Just kidding. We've got an epilogue which is just another way of me saying chapter! :D