Brittana. Multi-Chapter. M. Mystery/Crime/Thriller/Angst/Friendship/Love/Roman ce/so many other things I can't possibly list them all!
M- I write M for sex, language, violence, adult themes, and etc. implied that you are mature readers.
This story takes place years after my series of fun mysteries during the high school years titled Lord Tubbington: Private Eye. You do not have to read my previous story in order to read Sirens as only a few minor characters will make cameos in this story. It stands by itself.
That being said, to all my readers from before, if you wish to keep images of Brittana from LT: P-Eye in your head as perfect, you can totally separate them. I completely understand since that was such a cute story and I invested so much love, fluff, and perfection between San, Britt, and LT!
Okay now that I have disclaimed the shit out of this story! Haha! I am very excited to present my much different, much darker, much more intense, and as always, smut filled story…
They drew in from all sides - calls too dreadful and yet too alluring to ignore. No one seemed able to heed their real meaning, which meant to stay away. Instead people milled about, huddling closer and closer to the yellow police caution tape. They pressed against the harsh words which explicitly stated "Do Not Cross." Had they been aboard a ship and told not to heed the sirens' call, they would have been inevitably crashed against the sharp rocks of the seas. Their bodies would have been strewn amidst the waves and cast into Neptune's depths. There they would have fed all manners of fish and creatures of the deep.
He flicked his cigarette to the street and ground it out with the heel of his boot.
Noah Puckerman had known sirens.
He had known many sirens his entire life – the kind that meant a car crash, the kind that pulled over a speeding car, the kind that signaled a need to slow down for children, the kind that blared over an intercom or announced a goal scored, or paraded down the street in celebration, or faded away to some distant tragedy across town, and yes, he had known the human kind of siren as well. Beautiful women able to capture the soul with a few simple notes, express his deepest fears and highest elations. Women who had been able to tear him apart with only a few words of lyrics sung in perfect pitch to which no man or woman could resist. He had known those sirens and at one point been graced enough to sing with them.
But no longer.
He lit another cigarette and ducked under the yellow tape toward the sirens. It seemed that no matter what kind – woman or tragedy – Puck had never been able to tear himself away from the soul-wrenching sound. He had never been able to steer himself clear towards safety; towards home. No, he had spent his life crashing again and again upon the rocks - only to wash away and hear another call beckon to splinter him once more. He had never turned away.
"What do we have here?" He asked one of the patrolmen.
The man glanced once at Puck then to the credentials in his hands. "Nothing that I can talk about, detective. In fact, they haven't let anyone near. Our orders are to stay here and make sure no pictures, no people, and definitely no press get through."
"Thanks. Want one?" He offered the patrolman a cigarette.
"Can't. Supervisor is watching. Thanks anyway, detective."
Puck shrugged and placed the pack back into his jacket. He pulled the jacket closer to his body. Fuck. New York had to be cold. His head remained uncovered although he wished he would have remembered to wear his baseball cap at least. His shaved head seemed naked against the cutting winds at night.
He took two more steps towards where all the commotion was. Already the coroner had arrived and the forensics team. A few people he recognized and had worked cases with before, but something seemed off, especially with the looks people were giving him. Homicides were always a serious business, but most of the time people would at least bother to give a head nod or a friendly welcome. Sometimes those small pleasantries were the only things that kept Puck sane in this harsh world.
"Noah." A voice sounded behind. Puck turned back. Only a few men would dare to call him by his first name. He had lots of nicknames, but Noah wasn't a common name thrown about.
"Chief, what's the situation here? This isn't my normal call."
His commander wore a jacket similar to Puck's serviceable, no bullshit type. At the age of forty-five Macklin was already balding except for his beard and he sported a large body that hadn't seen action on the street in quite a few years. For the most part they had a pretty decent relationship.
Chief Macklin pushed his hands through the thick patches of the hair on his face as he approached Puck. "I know this isn't your normal beat, but I wanted to be the first person to tell you. I just didn't think that you would show up. It's not a good place for you to be right now, Noah."
Again he used his first name. Puck should have realized the situation the first time, but now the second time jarred him. He grew suspicious. "Why? What would you need to tell me away from a crime scene?"
"Why don't you come with me and we can talk about it over a burger at the diner."
"Chief, don't fuck with me now." Puck felt anger now replacing his caution. Why would he try to take him away?
"I don't think it's one of your friends, but-"
"What! Did someone get hurt? Shit! Who is it?" Puck flew the few feet that separated them and grabbed his commander by the collar of his shirt and yanked at him. Despite the older man's weight, Puck was able to lift him an inch off the ground in his fury. A few bodies shifted towards them, but didn't touch the two.
The already tense atmosphere charged with tension. The younger man looked around and saw a few of the patrolmen inching towards them unsure how to react to the now very awkward situation. Puck realized what he was doing and slowly lowered his boss to the ground. Luckily, Macklin didn't retaliate, but pretended the incident had never happened as he smoothed down his collar.
"Like I said, I don't think it's one of your friends, Noah, but we can be sure of one thing. The Midnight Strangler is back." Macklin shook his head. Then looked off into the distance not wanting to meet Puck's eyes. Even saying the name after all these years sent shivers through the seasoned police chief. Shivers of anger, fear, and shame. He had always hated what the media had dubbed one of the most notorious and disgusting killers he had ever seen. The one that had gotten away.
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." Puck walked away from Macklin unable to release his frustration. The only solid object he could find was a parked cop car. He drove his fist into the side panel of the car and yelled. "Fuck!"
Macklin rushed over and pulled him away. "Keep it together, Noah. I can't have you causing a scene here with the media swarming. And I can't have them knowing that this asshole is back. At least, not until we can debrief the department and go over the body with the coroner and forensics team to confirm. And for all we know, this could be a copy cat since the killer hasn't surfaced in the past four years. I need you to keep your shit together, alright, son?"
His large hand pressed down on Puck's shoulder applying just enough pressure to comfort and yet subtly remind the younger man to keep himself in check. Panting hard and heavy, Puck eventually allowed himself to simmer back down. He could do it. He didn't have to freak out. It would be fine. "Got it, chief."
"Good." Macklin pulled his hand back and stroked his salt and pepper beard for a few moments. The sound of the sirens washed over them. The crowd still murmured. Both men's eyes turned towards the stretcher that held the body.
"You're sure it wasn't anyone I know?" Puck asked finally. His heart felt instantly heavier at the question. So many of his friends had made the trip to New York to live out their big dreams. Last time…
"I had the station run the name. But the girl wasn't from Lima, in fact, she wasn't even from Ohio so I doubt it was one of your friends."
"Thanks. I don't know if I can go through that again…" Puck said softly under his breath. He didn't want Macklin to hear his admission. All he could remember was the body.
Her body. She had been his friend. At one time, she had been something more.
All he could remember was her body and the cold sinking feeling that he would never be okay again – nothing would ever be okay again. That day had torn his whole world apart, but he tried not to think about it. He couldn't afford to think about how he had failed, how everyone had failed.
"Look, Noah, I know this is going to bring up some bad memories, but I need to you bring her into the station. You are one of her oldest friends so I don't want to send anyone else. Besides you know she's been a reckless cannon since the whole ordeal." Macklin said lighting up a cigarette for himself. He still couldn't look Puckerman in the eye.
"I thought you said she wasn't allowed in the station anymore."
"I know what I said and I had meant it at the time. If it wasn't for this mess she still wouldn't be allowed in the station. I would have had her investigator license revoked if I knew she wasn't capable, but the bitch somehow keeps finding work and until…" He trailed off looking for better words. "…that whole thing happened; she was one of the best. You've known her the longest and she's your friend so if you can rouse her from her drunken stupor and get her down to the station, I would be grateful. I don't want her finding out about this through the news. She'll be a mess as it is."
"Chief, you know what this case did to her the last time she worked it. I don't know if it's a good idea. I mean she still isn't herself and she's worse now that she's alone." Puck ventured carefully trying not to sound challenging. "Besides we have all the case notes from the last time these sprees started. Maybe it would be best not to bring in anyone else."
"No. We tried to play it cute last time and too many people died. This time I want no mistakes and no pussy footing around this shit. I want everyone who ever worked on the case back in my office going over statements, witness accounts, and victimology. I'm even thinking about calling the feds in right away this time. I don't want to give this asshole a chance to get going like last time." Macklin flicked the cigarette to the ground and finally turned to Puck. "This will not be a repeat of last time. Do you understand me, Puckerman?"
Despite his commander's harsh tone, Puck actually felt reassured at the sound of his last name spoken like a threat. It made him feel like for a half second that this would be a regular case and everything would be alright. Macklin nodded and shook Puck's hand before walking away. Puck repeated the last statement again and again in his head like a mantra.
This will not be a repeat of last time.
This will not be a repeat of last time.
This wouldn't be like last time.
This couldn't be like last time.
Yet the tight ball of feelings knotting in his core caused the man to give into dark thoughts as he slammed the door of his car. What if this would be like last time? What if they couldn't catch this guy again? What if another of his friends died? What if? What if?
"Fuck." The brunette moaned and grasped at strands of blonde hair between her spread legs. "Right there. Fuck. Shit. Your-your tongue is-"
The blonde didn't let up, but continued to run her tongue up and down dipping in and out of the girl's wet pussy. She glanced up once just to see the woman barely functioning from the intense amount of pleasure. Sharp pain reared in her left shoulder, but she didn't mind. In fact, she loved the power to make a woman cum so hard she had to dig her nails in just to keep from bucking too high.
"Oh God I'm gonna cum again. Shit." The woman's hips lifted from the white sheets on the bed as her thighs crashed around the blonde's head. Strong confident hands held the woman's hips to help maneuver her to where she could suck onto her cilt. And just when it seemed that the brunette could take no more, the blonde shifted a hand between her legs and pressed her back down to the bed. Fingers slipped into the woman's pussy and curled while a thumb continued to stimulate her cilt. The woman could take no more, she cried out riding her latest orgasm as she rocked into the body above her.
Satisfied with herself, the blonde smirked. She savored the look of absolute "I'm fucked" on the other girl's face as she slowly removed her dripping fingers. The shorter brown haired girl moaned softly on the bed and reached down to stroke her throbbing sex.
The blonde rolled from the bed, naked. Beautifully naked and suddenly unaware of the other body in the room. Long languid legs stretched out and bare feet padded noiseless against the wooden floor of her apartment. She walked into the kitchen. Her fingers nails scrapped along the walls in order to keep herself steady.
The refrigerator contained nothing but beer and old containers of Chinese food take-out. For a moment, she considered eating some. But after taking a quick whiff of the contents, she decided otherwise. It looked like she would finish the night the same way she had started the afternoon - a bottle of opened whiskey on the counter beckoned her. She grasped the handle and washed the taste of cum down. The alcohol barely burned or maybe it did, she just didn't notice anymore.
The clock read 2:47 a.m.
Another long night, maybe she'd be able to sleep tonight. Alcohol. Sex. Another successful case. What more could a girl want?
Her heart stopped and she tried desperately to ignore the tug to glance at the blank spaces on the walls where portrait frames used to hang.
No. She reminded herself. No portraits here. This was her new apartment. No one lived here except her. Only her.
Her bright blue eyes flashed in the dark catching light from a passing cop car's lights. The sound of sirens flooded the room for a split second before fading in the distance. But the moment allowed the woman just enough time to once again assess her living space. Besides the dirt and unwashed dishes next to empty liquor bottles was the table she had picked up from a dumpster. She had fashioned a fourth leg out of an old broom handle with duct tape. Only one chair stood there. The sink was filled with more empty food containers. The air unit didn't always work and the windows had a habit of sticking, but she called it home.
One more drink wouldn't kill her. She finished another gulp and stumbled her way back towards the bedroom. The girl left naked on the bed had drawn up the sheets and had curled into a ball on the mattress. With a sigh, the tall blonde gave the other woman a little push to make room for herself as she climbed in.
"Hey." The girl said groggily, now roused from her post-sex daze.
"Hmm." The golden haired beauty responded laconically with disinterest.
"What's your name?"
A pause, but no response.
"It's cool, never mind. You're just the most amazing lay I've had in a really long time." The girl murmured into the pillow.
Finally the blonde took a deep breath, one filled with the same amount of passion as the previous "Hmm" a moment ago. "Pierce."
"Pierce? I like that. My name's-"
"Forget it. Go to sleep." Brittany cut the girl off before she could complete her name. It was better not to give bodies names. When they woke up in the morning, they could go their separate ways and not have to ever speak again. It was less painful that way.
Puck buzzed Brittany's apartment, unsurprised when he got no answer, so he waited until someone walked up. He flashed his badge and they let him in. He tried not to think about how wretched this place was and how many times it had been involved in busts. Really Brittany couldn't have chosen a greater shit hole to move into. Memories of her old place flashed through his mind. Now that had been an apartment. The kind that had been perfect - pictures on the walls, frames holding everything and everyone she had loved, that stupid fat cat she had brought from back home, and so many other things.
Now he had to track her down and make a trek into Shit Town to bring her in. She was going to freak. Besides after Macklin had kicked her out of the station two months ago, Britt and Puck hadn't been talking. Apparently some of the blame had fallen on his shoulders in her mind. Not that Puck could argue. But when push came to shove, Brittany had been spiraling down for a pretty long time now. Maybe he shouldn't have been so fast to kick her out of his life too.
But it was too late for that now.
He walked up four flights of stairs, making sure not to touch the handrails. Once he reached her floor, Puck adjusted his jacket once again and ran his hand over his buzzed head. A quick glance to his phone said it was just after 6:00 a.m. which meant he was just in time to wake her ass up and drag her down to the station. If this was any other situation, Brittany would probably have been pissed at Puck, but eventually let it go after some breakfast. But for this call?
Puck felt anxious as he pounded on the door. After a few seconds and no response, Puck hit his fist against the door a little louder.
"Brittany, open up! We don't have time for this shit today."
He pulled out his phone and called her cell phone. It rang a few times then went to her voice mail. Still no response.
"Fuck." He tried the handle this time and to his surprise, the knob turned and the door didn't stop at a chain. In fact, it swung open with ease. Disbelief spread across his face. He murmured to himself. "You've got to be kidding. Not even locking your fucking door."
She was going to get herself killed with this reckless behavior. Puck shook his head and stepped out of the hallway and instantly stumbled over some clothes throw haphazardly onto the floor. "Shit, Pierce, you've really let yourself go."
The place was a mess. Empty bottles, discarded trash, and clothes were scattered all over the floor and hung from lights and over furniture – what little furniture there was.
A noise startled him from his disgust.
He reached behind his back and unbuckled the strap across his gun. Holding on, he took a few more steps into the utter darkness of her apartment. Brittany definitely wouldn't be safe if the Midnight Strangler, or whatever the media was calling the fucker now,was back and killing again. Everyone knew of her involvement in the case when the killing had started years ago. If Puck had to bet, Brittany would be on the killer's list of targets.
Another noise, but this one sounded more like a moan and then sheets rustling. Puck let go of a breath. Just a body on the bed. He took another step forward and flicked on the light. It sputtered for a moment before maintaining light. It revealed more clothes and less organization than the hallway. Puck could barely tell the bed apart from the mess on the rest of the floor. It looked like half of Brittany's clothes were now being used as covers.
"Disgusting." Puck muttered.
The sheets moved again as hands pulled on the covers and clothes to hide from the light. Now Puck realized that the bed contained more than just one body. Great.
"Pierce! Get the fuck up! Chief needs you down at the station. It's not good."
One body moved, but it wasn't the blonde. In fact, it was some tight petite brunette with a killer rack. Puck had to stop himself from giving Brittany a high five. No matter how shitty her life had gotten, the girl still knew how to pick 'em and bring 'em home. Puck didn't like to admit it, but Britt probably picked up more women than he did and he had that whole sexy, distant, cop thing going for him at the bars that chicks dug.
The girl groaned and blinked at the light then at Puck with confusion. "Hi."
"Hey, sweetheart. Don't worry about me. I'm just going to take my friend here down to the police station. So why don't you get dressed and I'll give you money for a cab."
"Oh." The woman said looking disappointed, but she got out of the bed, letting the covers spill from her body. Damn. Puck ducked his head to give her some privacy after a lingering gaze to her naked backside. After a few minutes she had successfully found most of her clothes and shuffled at the edge of the bed. Puck reached into his wallet and passed her a few bills. She looked at the bills, then at him. "I'm fine. Thanks anyway, but can you give her this?"
The woman slipped him a small piece of paper which Puck could only imagine was her phone number. Yeah, like Brittany would need that. But Puck smiled and nodded taking the paper. "Of course."
He waited till the door closed before he kicked the side of the bed dropping the phone number to the floor as he did so. "Britt, get the fuck up now. This is important. I can't wait for you to sober up like we usually do. You're gonna have to suck it up and get up now."
"Fuck off, Puckerman." A voice croaked from beneath the sheets and rolled away from him.
"Oh no, you're not doing this." Puck leaned over the bed and ripped the covers from her. Unfortunately, she was completely naked. He whipped around and faced the wall so fast. "Shit! Get some fucking clothes on. It's important…please…"
Perhaps it was the lack of protection and covers, or perhaps it was the drop in Puck's voice, but Brittany forced herself to sit up.
"What could be so important that you had to wake me up at this god awful hour?"
Puck looked around on the floor and found a discarded shirt. He picked it up and threw it at Brittany so she could at least have some covering on. The man had no problem ogling at his friend's slam piece for the night, but to look at Britt naked would be just wrong. Too much history.
"I'm dressed. Now tell me what's happened." Brittany said with those piercing blue eyes. Puck shuffled for a moment.
"There's been a murder." Puck said still trying to collect his thoughts.
"There's always a murder. Why does Macklin need me though? I thought he kicked me out of the station and told me to never come back."
"Yeah and he meant it after all that trouble you put the department through." Puck shot back fast. Perhaps too quickly by the look of dejection on Brittany's face. "But he needs you back. A young girl was murdered and left to be found all fucked up in the throat. You know like…"
Brittany's face instantly dropped. Even if she was still a little drunk, she knew exactly why Puck had trailed off. She didn't need him to say anything else.
"Fuck." Brittany buried her face in her hands.
"Britt, you gonna be able to handle this?" Puck took a step forward wanting to comfort her, but a hand pushed him back.
"Yeah. Fuck. I need a shower and to get dressed." Brittany stood up. "Are they sure, Noah? Please tell me it's not true."
Puck shook his head. "Macklin wouldn't let me near the body. That's how convinced he was that the killer is back. He didn't want to set me off."
Brittany nodded. "I don't have any food, but help yourself to a beer in the fridge. I won't be long."
The blonde walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Puck sat down in the kitchen and looked through the fridge. Brittany hadn't been kidding. He closed the door and looked around. Empty bottles were lined throughout here as well. Picking up the whiskey from the table, he took a whiff and raised it to his lips, but stopped before drinking. If he was going to be with Brittany, one of them had to be in control.
Twenty minutes later the blonde walked into the kitchen. Her hair was shorter than it had been in high school, but still stylishly cut. She wore her normal outfit – dark pants, fitted white button-down unbuttoned at the top, loosely fitted black tie, and that hat. Puck had been with Britt enough to know that when she turned it on, the whole room stopped – men and women. She shrugged into a leather jacket and nodded to the bottle on the counter.
"Britt, it's like seven in the morning."
"Pass it. I'm going to need it." Puck paused, but relented as he reluctantly handed over the bottle. He watched her finish the last of it in one long chug. Bringing Brittany onto the case had to be the worst idea. She was barely able to function without being reminded of the mother fucker who had turned her whole life to shit. No, the Strangler hadn't killed her, but because of that serial killer, Brittany's life had gone from perfect to shit in a matter of a year.
"Let's go before Macklin kicks me off the case before I even get to the station. He's gonna need me."
"I know, Britt, I know."
Puck held the door open to the police station for Brittany. The blonde walked in with her head held high despite the high volume of outright stares. Some didn't know who she was and just thought she had to be the hottest hooker Puck had ever brought in. Others who did know the blonde P.I. shook their heads in disbelief that she could even walk into the station without handcuffs.
"Puck, what are you doing?" Another officer grabbed at Puck's jacket. "Macklin's gonna kill you when he finds out who you brought back in here."
"She's fine, Rick. Back off." Puck shrugged out of the hold.
Brittany couldn't help but lift her head up in a mocking gesture towards Rick. "You weren't complaining the last time I came in here."
The man flushed a bit and muttered something dark under his breath before turning to leave in the opposite direction.
"You didn't have to say anything." Puck pushed the blonde forward through security. "It's bad enough you started the whole mess sleeping with half the department."
Brittany shrugged in response. Not her problem. "Doesn't matter. I'm here for the Strangler and nothing else. I want to catch this guy and make him suffer. If Macklin can't cut me in on the case then I am going to fuck your department over again except this time it will be public and not pleasurable since I will find and solve the murder by myself."
"Britt." Puck said slowly turning her around to look her in the eyes. "You know I won't let you do that. Splitting up and working the case separately was the reason so many things went wrong the last time."
For a moment those blue eyes softened as if remembering the past and Puck could almost see the old Brittany, the one who cared about other people more than she did about putting on clothes to step outside. The Brittany who had come to New York to start an amazing life with the girl she loved so much. That sweet innocent Brittany who knew that it didn't matter how difficult the case or problem presented, they would be able to solve it.
Soft blue turned ice cold in a second.
"We don't talk about that."
"Sure, Britt. I know…I just thought…"
"Let's not keep your boss waiting any longer." Brittany walked through the department turning heads everywhere. They all knew why she was here, but none looked too pleased to see the blonde. She didn't care or pretended not to notice. Upon seeing the coffee pot, Brittany worked her way over and poured herself a cup with generous helpings of sugar and cream. Despite the show she was putting on for the department and Puck, her head still spun from last night and a few swigs of whiskey this morning hadn't helped. God, she would need more before the end of the day.
"Debriefing in the conference room. Now." Macklin's voice boomed throughout the office. Everyone stepped quickly towards the meeting place. No one lingered in the common area except for Macklin in the doorframe and Brittany still sipping at her coffee. They made eye contact. For a moment, the temperature in the room seemed to rise, but Brittany was the first to incline her head in acknowledgement of Macklin's position and authority. The chief nodded back before walking away through the door.
"Behave yourself. You burned a lot of people last time you were here." Puck whispered from behind.
"I know." Brittany chugged the last of the coffee, not caring that she burnt her throat, then poured another. The two walked into the conference room together leaving behind the desk jockeys, the interns, and people not involved in the case. This was for the big boys.
"What we know is that this is either the Midnight Strangler killer or a copy cat. It's unmistakable if not a little shaky and sloppier than the last known kill from four years ago. This is why we cannot rule out the possibility of a copy cat killer. For those of you unfamiliar with the case, this was not the department's finest hour. We did not catch him and the killings stopped of their own accord with nothing to do with us. You'll find information with a brief history of the last time these murders started in your handouts."
Macklin clicked the slide to the body of the victim found last night. "Anna Robinson, age 19 was found last nightstrangled and then her vocal chords removed. The killer then places then in the victim's hands to pose them."
Brittany tensed at the sight. Puck felt for her hand next to his. Surprisingly, the blonde accepted the gesture. Their fingers interlocked.
"We know our killer likes to take his time and present the victim in a final pose holding her throat every time. I have already called the feds." The room groaned a little and looked around. "I know how many of you feel, but the last time this killer roamed, we were barely able to contain the panic much less pinpoint anything about him. I want the few of you who worked this case last time to go over your reports and give them to fresh eyes. We will have teams re-interviewing witnesses and suspects. We will be working with the feds to create a new profile since we still don't know if this is a copy cat killer."
"I have assignments posted up here and team leads have already been debriefed. I don't think I have to tell you, but I want to catch this guy before he can do any more damage. If this is the same killer, we know that he has already chosen his next victim." People started to move towards their assignments. "Puck. Pierce. My office now."
Their hands instantly disconnected as they stood. The moment would never be mentioned or thought of again. They followed Macklin into the office.
"Close the door and draw the shades, Puckerman." Macklin said no longer with the same considerate voice of compassion he had used last night at the crime scene. Puck immediately did as he was ordered before sitting down in front of his boss' desk next to Brittany.
"I know this is a very personal case for the both of you. I have already discussed Noah's involvement and I have decided that it is best if he works on the case under strict supervision. I do not want to see you becoming a loose cannon. We can't afford any reckless or passionate behavior." Macklin narrowed his eyes at the man. Puck hadn't expected this kind of trust and nodded, truly grateful. He wanted more than anything to be on this case.
Stopping this asshole before anyone else got killed? More important.
"I won't let you down, sir."
"Don't make promises so quickly, son." Macklin said and turned to Brittany. "After your behavior, I never wanted to see you again, but everything's changed because of last night. I don't want this to be a repeat of last time. I think we can all agree on that. I need you to help. Four years ago, you and your partner were able to get the closest to the killer. Unfortunately, a lot of communication breakdown destroyed any opportunity we had of using your information to catch him. I don't want to make that mistake again. We can work together, on the condition that you regularly check in at the station and make promises to not go after this guy on your own. I know the history you have with this case and why you would want to take care of him without the police involvement. Don't do anything stupid."
Brittany remained silent, but didn't look away from his intense stare. She knew what was at stake – maybe if they got this guy everything could go back to the way it had been. Before…
"Pierce! Are you listening? I am making Puck in charge of you. If you fuck up, it will hang on his head."
"What!" Puck shot up in his seat and leaned forward. "Chief! Are you serious?"
Brittany didn't respond.
"What, you don't trust your friend, Noah? I am not saying that you have to babysit her, but if she fucks up and doesn't report in then you are off the case as well."
"I understand." Brittany whispered softly.
"Do you, Brittany? Do you not remember how I found you this morning?" Puck now turned to the blonde.
She shot right back. "Everything's different now. I want this fucker more than anything. I'm not about to waste my opportunity. I will find him."
Puck fell back to his seat shaken with emotion and the look behind those blue eyes. He didn't know if the intensity comforted or scared him. Fuck. He was so fucked.
"Glad we could get that out of the way." Macklin stood up and opened the door to his office. "One last thing, Pierce, I don't want you fucking everyone in my department again. That didn't end well last time. And I almost locked you up. I won't hesitate next time to throw you into a detention cell."
Brittany walked past him, eyes still defiant to the end. "Can't promise they won't try to sleep with me. I doubt even half of them learned their lesson from last time."
Macklin's face drew tight with anger, but let the comment go. His hand shot to Puck's chest as the man tried to walk by. "Her shit's now your shit. So you better find a way to deal with her."
They spent the rest of the day in meetings and going over old reports. Someone had gone into the archives to try to retrieve the box of evidence from Brittany's old case files, but hadn't come up with anything. Brittany had told Puck not to worry about finding them. Something about the way she had said it made Puck think the blonde had something to do with their disappearance. He frowned, but didn't confront her about it. They had to maintain a good relationship now that "her shit was his shit" or whatever Macklin had been babbling about.
Brittany walked ahead of him out of the last meeting for the day. It was about five in the afternoon and she had told him that she needed a drink desperately or she would probably go off on someone. Puck had suggested they hit one of his favorite dives for a bite and a beer. Brittany knew why Puck had offered. He didn't want her to start drinking by herself, but god how she needed something. All day she had been assailed with memories and pictures from four years ago. All those victims, but one in particular still made her stomach turn and her hands shake.
"Nice to see your fine ass back in the station, Pierce." A voice called from one of the desks. Brittany politely flicked him off without another word. In the same motion, she suggestively winked to the girl next to him. Brittany had never seen her before. Puck saw the gesture and pushed his way up to her.
"Don't even think about it."
"You heard Macklin. No fucking everyone this time. Besides, I've been trying to talk to the new girl for the past two weeks. So I already called dibs on her."
Brittany opened her mouth to respond when she caught a familiar scent in the air like a physical blow. She stiffened at the smell, but even more at the sound that followed. A laugh so unabashed, so natural, so beautiful that it struck at all her chords. Her body tensed as she looked around frantically for the source of the sound.
She saw those legs first – bronze, toned, and provocatively swinging as they crossed each other underneath a black pencil skirt. The woman leaned forward gently pressing perfectly manicured fingernails against one cop's shirt in a confident, flirtatious manner. Her shirt was the perfect business sexy attire. It showed just enough cleavage to remind anyone who wasn't blind how incredibly attractive she was. It hugged all the right curves and accentuated her in a way that complemented her amazing body, but also drew the eyes upwards.
Again the woman laughed, but her eyes slid sideways. Dark almond eyes that caught the light and sparkled deep dark intentions towards Brittany. The blonde's heart stopped as she stood riveted to the spot.
She could tell that Santana also hadn't expected to see Brittany as her laughter caught off prematurely. Neither could pull their eyes away from the other. It seemed the entire station stopped moving as they were the only people there. Brittany felt Puck touch her arm. His voice seemed so distant. "What's wrong?"
But even he stopped as he caught sight of the Latina bombshell sitting so comfortably on one of his friend's desk.
"What's she doing here?" Brittany whispered unsure what she felt. Her stomach had tied into knots and it felt like someone had shoved something down her throat.
"I swear I didn't know."
Santana shifted to stand from the desk and made a step in Brittany's direction. Finally the flood of emotions that had been building suddenly burst inside her chest. Pain, dejection, and betrayal flashed across the blonde's face as she whipped around in the opposite direction. She flew through the department knocking over paperwork and pushing through unsuspecting bystanders. Puck followed muttering curses. He could have sworn he heard heels tapping after them as well.
Brittany flung the door open to Macklin's office unconcerned that he was on the phone and in the middle of probably an important call.
"Tell me why the fuck you called her in here without even asking me!" The blonde demanded pointing out into the direction of the common area.
"I take it that Miss Lopez has successfully arrived from the airport to report in. Good. Glad to see she could make the flight." Macklin said coolly as he placed the phone down and pretended to be unperturbed at the interruption. Only the first day and hot-head blonde P.I. had her panties in a twist. Macklin had a bet going that she wouldn't last another day on the case before he had to kick her off.
"What the fuck are you talking about and sitting there so calmly?"
Puck walked in just in time to hear Brittany rattle off another cuss at his boss. Shit. This wouldn't go well. He could hear the clicking of heels stop just behind him and Puck knew Santana was standing right there. "Britt, please just calm down."
"No, fuck that, Puck! Did you know that she would be coming and no one thought to tell me?"
"Pierce, enough of this." Macklin boomed now standing from his desk and placing his fists on the table. "I called her in last night before I talked to Noah. I thought that if we were going to put together the best team for solving these murders that it would be best to call her back in since she was the one who originally tried to help you solve the murders. Trust me…It wasn't easy to convince her to take the last flight to fly out here from California. She was just as reluctant to come back here as you are to work with her. But I won't tolerate this behavior. This will not be a repeat of last time!"
His voice echoed throughout the open door of his office. Their argument now had the attention of the entire department as they stopped and looked towards scene not daring to move or make another noise. Brittany fumed still unsure what her feelings were trying to communicate.
"Nice to see you too, Brittany." A low voice that felt like velvet and hurt like sandpaper, called from the opened door. Puck moved to the side so Brittany could see Santana leaning so casually against the doorframe.
For as fucked up as Brittany felt, Santana looked the opposite. Her hair hung in perfect waves down her face. She looked like the lawyer she had always wanted to be – had been studying to be when she had left New York for the west coast without Brittany.
Hearing Santana say her name after four years felt both so good and so painful. Brittany had tried every night to not think of her, to not murmur her name into the pillow and wish the body sleeping next to hers was Santana. Brittany wanted to scream and throw herself at the caramel skin beauty, but she didn't know what she would do afterwards. Hit her? Kiss her? Cry? So many emotions welled up.
Instead the blonde looked away from Santana to Puck to Macklin with such pain that Puck almost reached over to hold her. But Brittany never gave him the chance; she stormed out of the office. Her shoulder brushed against Santana's as she did so. The momentary contact forced a small noise from Brittany's lips. She didn't care if Santana heard it or not.
Air. She needed air. Out of the office, Brittany reached through her clothes looking for something to calm her nerves.
Anything that would make her forget how beautiful and stunning Santana looked.
Anything that would make her forget how betrayed, abandoned, and guilty Santana made her feel.
Please tell me what you think! I would love feedback! Are you guys interested?
Thank you and have a great week!