Fic: It Was Leslie Knope, With the Candlestick, In the Snakehole Lounge
Title: It Was Leslie Knope, With the Candlestick, In the Snakehole Lounge
Pairings: Janet Snakehole/Burt Macklin, Ben/Leslie, Ann/Chris
Word Count: 5600
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Burt Macklin is about the crack the biggest case of his life.
A/n: My fic for the Leslie's Birthday Exchange! Saucydiva requested a Spy AU, and probably got more than she bargained for. This project is actually two parts: a Clue version of Parks and Rec, and a story to go along with it. The first section of this fic sets up the background, and then there are six alternate endings. I also put a picture of the game at the end of the fic. Thank you to shornt for letting me pick her brain. I also owe ashisfriendly my first born child for reading this over and letting me bounce ideas off of her. I hope you enjoy this!!
The story …
It was raining that night. A thunderstorm like the city hadn't seen in ages. Burt Macklin was soaked by the time he stepped through the front door of the Snakehole mansion, the water puddling at his feet as he stood in the foyer. He could hear the voices in the dining room, laughing and chatting as though none of them had a care in the world.
Of course they didn't. Yet. But then, they had no idea who was about to walk into that room. No idea that tonight, Burt Macklin was about to crack the biggest case of his career.
Shaking off the rest of the water, Burt strode toward the dining room, confident in the element of surprise. He caught Ms. Snakehole's eye first, greeting her sly smile with a nod of his head, and then surveyed the rest of the room, eyes lingering over each of his prime suspects in the Brendanawicz case.
They were all there.
Ann Perkins, Brendanawicz's girl. She'd claimed he'd been ready to propose, that they were in love and happy. Burt wasn't convinced. Not when it was well known around town that Ms. Perkins had been seen kissing Mr. Traeger just two days after Brendanawicz disappeared. They said grief made people do crazy things, but something in Ms. Perkins' eyes made Burt think she and Brendanawicz weren't quite on their way to wedded bliss. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised if she and Mr. Traeger had conspired to get Brendanawicz out of the way. His admiration of Ms. Perkins wasn't exactly a secret.
Donna Meagle and Ron Swanson. Both with seemingly no prior connections to Brendanawicz. Both seen arguing with him mere hours before he'd disappeared. He'd heard tell that Ms. Meagle had even been seen offering Brendanawicz money.
Then there was Ben Wyatt. Accused of killing some corporate bigwig when he was just eighteen. They'd never proved it, of course, but it hadn't stopped them from running him out of town. Not to mention he was the last person to see Brendanawicz. He might have gotten away with murder once, but now he was in Macklin's territory.
Finally, Leslie Knope. Do-gooder. Champion of the people. Known for having a grudge against Brendanawicz, the man she'd worked with for years. Even she admitted they'd had a falling out. And it hadn't escaped Burt's notice that since Brendanawicz's disappearance, she'd befriended every person connected to the case-she'd even taken Mr. Wyatt into her bed. Not typical behavior for someone who claimed to be innocent.
Now here they were. All six of them. Together in one room.
Burt stood, watching like an eagle-eyed tiger as every head at the table turned toward him. Their looks varied from curious to haughty to indifferent, but there was no fear. Not yet.
They didn't know that one of them would be leaving this party in handcuffs.
"Well, well, well," said Burt, rocking back on his heels and pulling off his sunglasses. "Look who came to dinner."
"Agent Macklin," said Ms. Knope. "This is a pleasant surprise."
"A surprise to you perhaps," said Burt, crossing the room to the empty chair across from Ms. Snakehole. He wrapped his hands around the back of the chair, but didn't sit down. "I guess someone forgot to mention that I'm the host."
Ms. Perkins laid her hand against her forehead, fingers rubbing her skin as though soothing away a headache. As always, she seemed less than thrilled to see him.
"This is unbelievable."
"What was that, Ms. Perkins?"
"I said, this is unbelievable," she repeated. "What the hell are you doing here, Mr. Macklin?"
"Agent Macklin," Burt corrected. "And that's a very good question, Ms. Perkins. Why am I here?"
Burt paused, taking a moment to look at each one of his suspects. Mr. Wyatt, squirming in his chair. Ms. Meagle, sipping wine as though nothing was wrong. Ms. Knope, eyes narrowed in suspicion. All of them, unyielding in their dislike.
"Why are you here, son?"
"Right," said Burt, nodding curtly at Mr. Swanson. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Ms. Perkins rolling her eyes.
"As each of you knows, I have been investigating the disappearance of Mark Brendanawicz for over a year now. What you may not know is that each of you is a prime suspect in his disappearance."
Several of the guests shifted awkwardly in their seats, glancing at one another now. Burt could see them sizing each other up; the tension in the air was palpable. One of these six people was a kidnapper and possibly a murderer, and now everyone in the room knew it.
"Well," said Mr. Traeger, his usually genial smile appearing somewhat forced, "I would commend you on such an original theme for a dinner party, but I suspect a party wasn't your intention when you gathered us here tonight."
"Give the idiot a prize," murmured Ms. Snakehole. She took a sip of her wine, peering at Burt over the rim of her glass, and he fought the urge to smile. She had been instrumental in planning this tonight, his constant and his champion for months now, but he couldn't show his hand so soon. Not when there was a criminal to catch.
"Why are we here, Macklin?"
"Agent Macklin," Burt snapped. He began to walk around the table, a move designed both to intimidate and disorient his suspects; the dizzier they were when the time came to arrest one, the better. "A year ago, when Mr. Brendanawicz disappeared, there was one witness. A man named Jerry Gergich."
A snort of laughter erupted from the opposite end of the table, and all eyes turned toward Ms. Knope, who had the good sense to look slightly abashed. "Sorry," she said. "It's just that I work with Jerry, and if he's your only witness … Let's just say that it's no wonder you haven't made an arrest."
Yet, Burt mentally amended. Haven't made an arrest yet. Not that Ms. Knope didn't have a point. Gergich was barely functional as a human, let alone as a witness to a crime. Months of interrogation, hypnosis, unbearable home visits: none of it had done the slightest to jog Mr. Gergich's memory. His information-a shadowy figure with a weapon and Brendanawicz being dragged to a black car-was hardly the smoking gun Burt had needed.
"I can't argue, Ms. Knope," said Burt. "Mr. Gergich was a terrible witness, but he was a witness, nonetheless."
There was a pause, a long moment where the only noises were a clap of thunder outside and Janet's nail tapping against her wine glass. Then Mr. Wyatt cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but what happened to Mr. Gergich?"
Burt slapped his hand down on the table, so hard that several people jumped, and leaned over Mr. Swanson to get in Mr. Wyatt's face. "What makes you think something happened to Mr. Gergich?"
Mr. Wyatt glanced over at Ms. Knope, as though seeking confirmation that this was happening, and then shrugged. "You said that he was a terrible witness. Past tense."
Damn. Wyatt was good. Under different circumstances, he might have made a damn good agent. Slowly, Burt straightened up to his full height again and crossed his arms. "Three nights ago, I received a call from Mr. Gergich. He'd remembered something. A key piece of information. In fact, he said he knew the culprit."
The rest of the table glanced at Ms. Knope, the only one who admitted to knowing Gergich, but she looked unperturbed, and the uninvited attention did not last long. It wasn't surprising. Given her stature and angelic looks, Ms. Knope couldn't have looked less like a person who could overpower a man well over six feet. It might have been enough to satisfy the rest of the room, but Burt knew for a fact that appearances could be deceiving.
"Mr. Gergich was about to crack my case," Burt continued. "He was about to be a valuable member of society for the first time in his life. Unfortunately, one of you knew that. One of you silenced Mr. Gergich."
"And you think whoever shut Gergich up also took care of Brendanawicz," said Ms. Meagle. She looked up at Burt, and he nodded curtly.
"I know it for a fact, Ms. Meagle."
"Is there a point to this, Mr. Macklin?"
Burt glared at the back of Ms. Perkins' head. It was the third time she'd degraded his title tonight, and the lack of respect was grating. Ms. Perkins had been a less than cooperative person of interest in this investigation, at one point going so far as to call him incompetent. Maybe it had been cruel to say that her grief over her boyfriend's disappearance was unconvincing and disingenuous, but sometimes he had to step over the line for the sake of justice.
"The point is this," said Burt, beginning another rotation around the table. "I know who did it. I know who abducted Mr. Gergich. I know how it was done, and I know where you're hiding him." Or his body, Burt amended mentally; he wasn't so sure the idiot wasn't dead.
Outside, lightning flashed, the chandelier above them flickering for a moment. For the first time all night, his guests looked nervous. As well they should be.
One of them was about to be caught.
BUT WHO? Choose the suspect:
Leslie Knope
Ben Wyatt
Ann Perkins
Chris Traeger
Donna Meagle
Ron Swanson
If the accused was … Leslie knope
"It was Ms. Knope."
Everyone at the table turned back toward Ms. Knope, clearly agog at the accusation, but her eyes were fixed firmly on Burt. She looked defiant, outraged even, but no defense fell from her lips.
"Leslie?" It was Mr. Wyatt who broke the silence, leaning toward his lover as though seeing her for the first time.
"Don't bother," said Burt. "It's true. I have men down there right now to find Mr. Gergich. And as incompetent as he is, I'm sure even he will remember what Ms. Knope did to him."
"It's not what you think," said Ms. Knope. She glanced at Mr. Wyatt for a second, but then her gaze returned to Burt. "I just needed information."
"From Mr. Gergich?" Burt laughed. "Good luck!"
"I needed the same information you did," she said. "And Jerry finally had it. But instead of coming to me like I told him to, he went straight to you. As usual, he couldn't follow even the simplest instructions."
"Huh?" For the first time, Burt felt his confidence in the situation weaken. "But you're the one-"
"I've been looking for Mark as long as you have, Agent Macklin. I had nothing to do with his disappearance."
Burt blinked and fell back into his seat, as though he'd received a direct blow to the skull. He felt as disconcerted as everyone else looked. For the first time, he realized he might have underestimated Ms. Knope as well.
She was not what she seemed. She wasn't even not what she seemed not to be.
"Who are you?"
"I work for a government organization," said Ms. Knope. "I'm not at liberty to say which one, but let's just say that you and I have more in common than you think, Agent Macklin."
Ms. Knope glanced at Mr. Wyatt again, a quick flicker of her eyes; the man looked even more shell-shocked than Burt felt. "Mark was my partner for six years. We worked together in various undercover operations; we unearthed secrets, made countless arrests. Then about two years ago, things started to go wrong. Information that was uncovered landed in the wrong hands. Tragedies we should have prevented happened anyway. It took me almost a year to realize that Mark was behind it all, and just as I was closing in on him, he disappeared.
"The only thing someone here is guilty of is keeping him hidden."
Burt frowned. "None of the evidence points to that. Mr. Gergich saw-"
"Mr. Gergich saw Mark get into a car with someone and drive off. Whatever else he told you was fueled by imagination and absolute incompetence. Mark was responsible for his own disappearance."
Ms. Snakehole's foot brushed his under the table, and Burt glanced at her, happy to be reminded of one constant even as everything he thought he knew fell apart around him.
Apparently, he wasn't the only one who felt that way.
"I don't-" sputtered Mr. Wyatt, looking from Ms. Knope to the rest of the table and back. When he spoke again, his voice lowered. "Is that why…"
"It's why you befriended each of us, isn't it?" asked Ms. Perkins. "To find out who was hiding him?"
"I know it wasn't any of you," said Ms. Knope, her even tone broken for the first time. She looked imploringly at the various faces around the table, lingering on both Ms. Perkins and Mr. Wyatt. "I couldn't reveal who I was. Not then. Not until I found Mark and brought him to justice."
"But you haven't found him," said Ms. Perkins.
"Yes she has," said Mr. Wyatt quietly, eyes shifting from Ms. Perkins back to Ms. Knope. "You wouldn't have told us if you hadn't."
The two shared a small smile, barely an acknowledgement and indecipherable to Burt, a moment that broke a second later when Ms. Knope stood. "Ms. Snakehole," she said, her business-like voice back in full force. "I know he's here."
It took a second for it to sink in, for the words to connect and form any kind of sense in Burt's mind. And by then, it was too late.
Ms. Snakehole had a gun to his head, her other arm wrapped firmly around his neck.
"Don't move," she said. She sounded bored, as though whatever amusement this party held had gone the way of the dinosaurs. "Agent Macklin and I are going to take a walk, and the rest of you are going to wait here. If any of you moves, you'll find him with a bullet in his brain."
It might have been a logistical problem for anyone else, but as Burt stood, Ms. Snakehole leeched onto his back like a particularly dangerous parasite. He could feel the barrel of the gun, still pressed to his temple, but the situation was so absurd, it was almost hard not to laugh.
"Back out of the room, slowly," she ordered, and Burt did what she said, trying not to bump into any walls as he went.
"Ms. Knope is telling the truth, isn't she?" he asked as they backed through the living room into the foyer. "You lied to me."
"I told you I had a terrible secret." She pulled the gun away from his temple. "Stop here."
Burt halted as Janet slid off his back, and then he slowly turned to face her, hands in the air. "Where is he, Janet? I've been here every night for months, and I've never seen a sign of him."
"You've been in my bedroom every night," said Ms. Snakehole. "Maybe it's time to search the rest of the house." She smirked, that delicious hint of a smile that made Burt fall in love with her in the first place. Then she pushed up on her toes, wrapping one hand around his neck and pulling him down into a passionate kiss.
"Catch me if you can, Agent Macklin," she whispered against his lips, and then Burt could only watch as she disappeared out the door.
If the accused was … Ben wyatt
"It was Mr. Wyatt."
Mr. Wyatt shook his head, an action more self-deprecating than it was a denial. "Of course," he said. He looked around the table, a bit wild-eyed, and ran his hands through his hair. "What is it about me," he asked, "that everyone always wants to accuse me of crimes I didn't commit?"
"Well you have been squirming through this whole dinner," said Ms. Meagle.
Mr. Swanson gave a curt nod of agreement. "You look both guilty and nervous."
"That's just his face!" shouted Ms. Knope. She turned toward Burt, reaching out and taking Mr. Wyatt's hand as she did so. "It's not what you think," she implored. "Ben didn't do anything wrong. In fact, he saved Jerry's life."
"Ah ha! You did do it! I knew it!"
"I was with Jerry," said Mr. Wyatt, with all the patience of someone explaining something to a small child. "I encouraged him to call you. And while he was doing so, we were attacked by two thugs."
Mr. Swanson raised an eyebrow. "Thugs?"
"They were-You know what, never mind. The point is, we were attacked, and if Leslie hadn't come in, we probably would have been killed. As it was, the three of us barely managed to fight them off."
"Three of us?" snorted Ms. Knope. "Jerry was useless. We practically had to drag him out of there to get him someplace safe."
Burt scowled, leaning forward and poking Mr. Wyatt in the chest with his finger. "If this is true, why didn't you call me?"
Mr. Wyatt shoved Burt's hand out of the way. "We were going to," he said. "Then we realized you were sleeping with the person Jerry was about to accuse."
"Janet?"
Every head at the table seemed to turn toward Ms. Snakehole at once. She sat calmly, studying her nails as though she had no interest in the events unfolding in her dining room. Burt blinked, straightening back to his full height; the sudden head rush that resulted did nothing to lessen his confusion. "Is that true?"
"Maybe."
"You abducted Brendanawicz?"
Ms. Snakehole lifted her head, eyes boring into Burt with familiar intensity. "They made me do it, Burt! I’m being threatened by powerful people. They wanted Brendanawicz gone. They want him-" She pointed an accusing finger in Mr. Wyatt's direction. "-behind bars! They're the same people who killed my husband!"
"I thought your husband was killed in a ballooning accident."
Ms. Snakehole shrieked, throwing her wine glass across the room. It shattered against the wall, red wine dripping down the wallpaper like blood. "You have no idea what I've been through!"
"I'm sorry," Mr. Wyatt interrupted, sardonic as usual, "but do you actually expect anyone to believe a word that comes out of your mouth?"
"Says the man accused of murdering one man and abducting two others!"
"I didn't do anything!"
Ms. Snakehole shrieked again, standing and swiping at the table, dishes crashing to the floor and food flying in every direction. A roll hit Mr. Swanson in the forehead, the mashed potatoes landed in Ms. Perkins' lap, Mr. Traeger yelped as the hot gravy scalded his hand, and everyone else just managed to leap out of the way of the onslaught.
"No offense, Mr. Macklin," said Ms. Perkins, swiping a glob of potatoes off her lap onto the floor, "but your girlfriend is deranged!"
Burt shook his head, still more bewildered than anything, and glanced around the room. He needed to talk to Ms. Snakehole alone.
Except Ms. Snakehole was no longer there.
Burt ran out of the room, dancing around the shattered China and slipping on the spilled food as he went, but he managed to make it to the foyer just as Ms. Snakehole opened the door. Shaking, he pulled out his gun. "Freeze!"
Ms. Snakehole turned slowly, hands raised in the air, her face masked in indifference. "Nothing is what it seems, Agent Macklin," she said calmly. "Especially not me."
"Did you kill Brendanawicz?"
"He's somewhere safe. Somewhere no one will ever find him. Not even you."
"Why?"
"People want him dead, Agent Macklin. The same people who want me dead and Ben Wyatt, and probably you too."
"Janet-"
There was another shout from the dining room-Ms. Perkins demanding that someone calm down-and the momentary distraction was enough to throw Burt off his game. When he glanced back at Ms. Snakehole, she was headed out the door. He took a hesitant step forward, opened his mouth to shout, but for some reason, he couldn't make any other move to stop her.
"Watch your back, Burt," she said as she disappeared out the door.
If the accused was … ann perkins
"It was Ms. Perkins."
The color seemed to drain from Ms. Perkins' face, but she remained perfectly still as the accusation rang through the room. After a year of denials, haughtiness, and accusations, Ms. Perkins finally seemed speechless in the matter of her own defense.
Ms. Knope did not seem so inclined.
"You're crazy!" she snapped at Burt, standing up and pointing a finger in his face. "Ann is too sweet and beautiful to harm even a spider. She didn't do anything!"
"Leslie-"
"I'll have your badge for this, Macklin! In fact, I want the name of your superior officer."
"Leslie-"
"If you think you're going to get away with-"
"Leslie!" Ms. Perkins' voice cut through Ms. Knope's protests, silencing the room. "It's true," she said. "I abducted Mr. Gergich."
"Ah ha!" shouted Burt. "I knew it!"
"He's fine," she continued, as though to reassure the now flabbergasted Ms. Knope. "I was supposed to kill him, but I couldn’t. So I just made sure he couldn't talk."
"We'll see about that," said Burt. "I have men down there right now. We'll know everything Mr. Gergich knows in a matter of minutes."
"Good," said Ms. Perkins. She stood, slightly unsteady, but when she looked at Burt, he could see the anger in her eyes. "I should have told the truth a year ago."
"Brendanawicz," murmured Burt. "It was you."
"No. It was your girlfriend, Mr. Macklin. She abducted Mark. Killed him. God only knows."
Burt's eyes darted to Ms. Snakehole, who looked unperturbed at the accusation, and then back to Ms. Perkins. "You're lying."
"I'm not. She's been blackmailing me for over a year now. Threatening to give you false evidence that implicated me in Mark's disappearance if I didn't do what she said. She's the one who told me to get rid of Mr. Gergich. She knew he would be able to provide evidence against her."
"It doesn't make any sense," said Burt. "Why would Janet care about Brendanawicz. She didn't even know him."
"Mark knew too much. He witnessed something. Saw her doing something illegal. She's a criminal, Burt. A spy. Probably a murderer."
"Janet?"
Ms. Snakehole took another sip of her wine, glaring at Ms. Perkins the entire time. "I hate you."
The next few minutes were a blur. Arresting Ms. Snakehole, clasping the handcuffs around her wrists (not for the first time, but definitely in much less pleasurable circumstances), trying not to tremble when she leaned up and kissed him one more time.
"This isn't over, Agent Macklin," she said as he led her toward the door. "Not by a long shot."
If the accused was … Chris traeger
"It was Mr. Traeger."
Mr. Traeger blinked twice, as though startled, and then a huge smile spread over his face. "Excellent work, Agent Macklin! I didn't think you had it in you."
Burt frowned. It sounded like both a compliment and an insult. Typical Traeger evasiveness. "So you admit it?"
"Why of course. I felt bad about having to manhandle Mr. Gergich, of course. He was quite stubborn when I approached him. He wouldn't listen to a word of reason or even let me show him my badge."
"Your badge?"
Mr. Traeger reached into his jacket and slowly pulled out a badge and identification. Burt's mouth fell open in surprise. "You're with the FBI?"
"Undercover," said Mr. Traeger. "Originally, I was sent to find proof of Ms. Snakehole's criminal activities, but when I learned that you were sleeping with her, I also had to assess you, Agent Macklin. The FBI feared that you were knowingly conspiring with Ms. Snakehole. Fortunately after months of observation, it's clear to me that you have absolutely no knowledge that you're sleeping with a known criminal."
"What?"
"Ms. Snakehole." He nodded toward her, apparently indifferent to Janet's icy scowl. "Known spy and felon. She's responsible for Mark Brendanawicz's disappearance."
"Seriously?"
"That's why I'm so impressed that you were able to figure out that I was involved in Mr. Gergich's disappearance. Great work, buddy!"
Burt looked around the table; aside from Ms. Snakehole, everyone looked as baffled as he felt.
"So you're an FBI agent too?" asked Ms. Perkins.
"Yes."
"But Mr. Macklin didn't know that?"
"Agent Macklin."
"No, he did not. Very few people were briefed on this operation. Allowing Agent Macklin to continue to work on Brendanawicz's disappearance was the perfect distraction while I continued to investigate Ms. Snakehole. I apologize for not divulging this information on any of the occasions when we slept together."
Ms. Perkins blushed.
"Anyway," said Mr. Traeger cheerfully, "I have more than enough evidence to arrest Ms. Snakehole, including Mr. Gergich's testimony. I'm afraid you will be going to jail for quite a long time."
Ms. Snakehole smirked. "You assume I'm going quietly."
"I know you are. Agent Macklin, would you like to do the honors?"
Burt looked down at Ms. Snakehole, trying not to remember the way her lips felt against his or the way her hair felt like silk when she lay her head on his chest. How could she possibly be what Mr. Traeger claimed she was?
"You're a good man, Agent Macklin," she said quietly. "But I'm not sorry."
Before Burt could move, she drew a gun from under the table, raising it and shooting the chain on the chandelier. Someone screamed, the lights flickered again and then went out as the chandelier crashed onto the table.
The screaming grew louder and more frantic in the resulting chaos. In the dark, Burt couldn't see more than an inch in front of his face, but he heard footsteps, the crunch of glass and broken China underfoot, and Ms. Perkins' voice shouting Mr. Traeger's name.
Burt didn't have to see, though, to know that Ms. Snakehole was already gone.
If the accused was … donna meagle
"It was Ms. Meagle."
Ms. Meagle continued to sip her wine, almost as though she hadn't heard Burt or wasn't aware of the seven sets of eyes not focused on her. When the glass was gone, she looked as Ms. Snakehole and nodded once.
"Sorry, Agent Macklin," said Ms. Snakehole.
Before Burt knew what was happening, both women had produced guns, aiming at one another from opposite ends of the table. The other guests scrambled out of the way, backing against the walls and toward the corners of the room, as though that would protect them from a shootout. Instinctively, Burt pulled out his own gun, fixing it on Ms. Meagle.
"Drop your weapon," he ordered. "Now."
"You don't know what you've gotten into," said Ms. Meagle calmly. "I suggest you point that at your girl instead."
"You abducted Gergich. Probably Brendanawicz too. Give it up, Ms. Meagle. You're not getting out of this room a free woman."
"Brendanawicz was a fool who got involved with the wrong people, namely Ms. Snakehole. Gergich is a bigger fool, but I managed to find him before your girl did. He's alive because of me."
"Don't listen to her!"
"Think about it, Macklin. Why do you think she has a gun pointed at my head right now?"
Burt blinked, but kept his gun aimed at Ms. Meagle. "Why do you have a gun, babe?"
"She's trying to kill me! I had to protect myself."
"I'm trying to kill her because she's a known criminal and a killer and she blew up my Mercedes with a damn car bomb! You don't blow up a woman's Mercedes. That's when it goes from a job to vengeance."
"A job?"
"Someone hired me to take her out, Macklin. And rightly so. She's a sociopath."
Burt glanced at Ms. Snakehole out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it.
Although it would explain that time he caught her burning down a building.
"Dammit, Janet. Why did I have to fall in love with you?"
Ms. Snakehole's eyes flashed, and in an instant, Burt knew what was about to happen. Without thinking, he turned, aimed, and shot.
Ms. Snakehole stumbled backward when the bullet pierced her shoulder, hitting the wall and then sliding to the floor. She lifted the gun, aim still fixed on Ms. Meagle, and Burt's eyes widened. In a second, he crossed the room to stand in front of Ms. Snakehole and, without a worry for his own safety, turned to face Ms. Meagle.
"Move, Macklin. It's time to end this."
Burt shook his head. "She's going to jail. It's over."
"I have orders-"
"Then you'll have to go through me first."
For a second, it seemed that Ms. Meagle would do exactly that. Her finger steadied against the trigger, her eyes narrowed, but then she slowly began to back out of the room.
"This isn't over, Snakehole!"
It wasn't until they heard the front door shut that anyone seemed to be able to breathe. Burt heard someone call for an ambulance as he dropped to the floor, gently pulling Ms. Snakehole's gun out of her hand and smoothing her hair back from her forehead.
Ms. Meagle was right. It wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
If the accused was … ron swanson
"It was Mr. Swanson."
Mr. Swanson, who had not paused in his consumption of his steak since Burt had entered the room, polished off the last bite at Burt's proclamation. The pause was considerably uncomfortable and lacked the fanfare Burt had imagined for well over a year now. Where was the outrage? The denials? The attempt to flee the scene? Watching Mr. Swanson swig what was left of his whiskey and then calmly say, "You haven't properly assessed the situation, son," was not what Burt had in mind.
"I think I have," Burt said scornfully. "You're not getting out of here a free man, Swanson. There are men down there right now looking for Mr. Gergich. Once they find him-"
"They won't find more than a rotting corpse," said Mr. Swanson, pushing back his chair and standing. Burt's hand twitched, eager to go for his gun, but he forced himself to stand his ground. "Much like you, Mr. Gergich had no idea what he was doing."
Mr. Swanson leaned back on his heels and tucked his hands into the waistband of his pants, looking more like an austere Civil War general than a murderer. "Do you have any idea what it means to hand over your soul to the devil for a pleasure so great it becomes an out-of-body experience?"
There was a collective groan around the table, one that Burt had to fight not to echo himself.
"The promise of that kind of pleasure will make you do terrible things, Agent Macklin. You find yourself doing things you never thought you would just to get one more sweet taste-"
"Oh god. Please," said Ms. Perkins, face contorted in disgust. "I beg you not to finish that sentence."
"Is there a point to this, Swanson?"
"I am a guilty man," said Mr. Swanson, "but everything I did was a direct order, obeyed under the duress of a sexual demon named Tammy."
Burt blinked. "Huh?"
"He was under orders," supplied Ms. Knope.
"So you have an accomplice!"
"Indeed. She gutted Mr. Gergich like a suckling pig when I brought him to her."
"And Brendanawicz?"
Mr. Swanson shrugged, barely a lift of his shoulders, as though the information was hardly worth the effort. "I would ask your girlfriend."
"Janet?"
Instinct drove him, eyes turning toward Ms. Snakehole before he thought it through; it was all the opportunity Mr. Swanson needed. There was a crash of China, a loud scream, and someone hit Burt with the force of a bull, knocking him to the ground. Burt wheezed as the wind rushed from his lungs, blinking up at the slightly blurry figure above him, but it was the knife that caught his eye, glinting in the soft light from the chandelier.
"I'm sorry to have to do this, son, but you've given me no choice."
Burt groaned, unable to move or breathe or do anything more than offer a silent prayer that being gutted like a suckling pig wasn't quite as horrible as it sounded. He watched as Mr. Swanson brought the knife down in a forward motion, body tense in the anticipation of the pain, when a shot rang out through the room. Almost in slow motion, Mr. Swanson tipped forward, his weight landing solidly on Burt's chest and the knife clattering to the floor.
He would have sighed in relief if he didn't have the weight of a grown man on top of him.
Immediately, Ms. Snakehole fell to her knees beside him, two fingers going to Mr. Swanson's neck, a gun held loosely in her other hand. Burt gaped at her, still not fully comprehending what had happened.
Ms. Snakehole was involved in Brendanawicz's disappearance.
Ms. Snakehole had saved his life.
They seemed to be mutually exclusive statements.
"He's dead," she said, forcibly pushing Mr. Swanson off of Burt's body. He winced, certain that half of his body was bruised; he could already feel a lump forming on the back of his head.
"You-"
"I couldn't let you die, Agent Macklin," she said, words detached but eyes tender.
"But Brendanawicz…"
"I had my orders too. But I couldn't ... Not this time. Not to you."
It was a comfort he didn't want; a comfort that made it impossible to hate her; a comfort that drove the knife of betrayal further into his chest. "Dammit, Janet," he coughed, grimacing at the pain in his side. "Why did I have to fall for you?"
The sweet press of her lips against his and then the sound of her heels walking away was her only response.
Game picture!!
