Okay, so I heard this really amazing story today about a female firefighter on 9/11. Some of you may have heard it but basically, she had just worked 72 hours (just recently), and she was at the supermarket and a woman ran up to her and gave her a hug with tears in her eyes. The firefighter was confused and the woman said, "On 9/11 you carried me out of the World Trade Center." For some reason, that story just gave me all these Brittana feels that I had to write about! So in honor of everyone who was lost, who was affected, and who helped save lives, I hope you enjoy this! Tell me what you think!

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PART 1 of 2

September 11, 2001 – 8:00 a.m

"Hey Lopez! What are you doing here? I thought your shift ended last night!" A cocky, mowhawked Noah Puckerman inquired loudly as he skidded into the kitchen of the fire station.

"It did. But, Evans is sick, so I took his shift," the 18 year old Santana Lopez retorted with a hint of sarcasm, taking a long drink of coffee.

"What a good friend!" Puck teased. "Good thing calls are usually low in the mornings, maybe you can catch some sleep eh?"

"Yeah, I don't think so." She shook her head and laughed a little, watching Puck reach into the fridge and searched for something to eat. She was glad Puck was at the same station with her. She'd known him since middle school and he'd always been like a big brother to her. When he'd dropped out of high school to train as a fire fighter, she had been quick to do the same. Not the dropping out part, she'd just taken summer classes and graduated early to become a fire fighter. Now, here they were, working at FDNY 343.

Santana sat back in her chair and finished her coffee, giving a disgusted look to Puck who was devouring some cold pizza. "Ugh, you're so gross…" She got up and took her mug to the sink.

He grinned with a full mouth, "You love me!"

"Yeah yeah…whatever. I'm gonna go see if Karofsky wants to shoot hoops since you're too busy stuffing your face," she tossed cloth napkin at his face and started for the door. "Later Fuckerman."

"Fuck you Lezpez!"

"Love you too!"

Their relationship had always been that way. Teasing eachother and a lot of the times throwing pointless insults at one another, but at the end of the day, they were best friends. She walked down to the first floor and out to the back lot behind the station where a few of the guys were playing basketball. They all greeted Santana warmly as she took her hoodie off and joined them. She jumped into the game of 21, laughing as the larger men blocked her shots and she dribbled around them, the sounds of the city surrounding their little lot. Everything was perfectly in place.

It wasn't until about forty-five minutes later that things became unlike anything Santana had ever seen.

8:45 a.m

Santana was about to go up for a shot when there was a colossal noise that reverberated throughout Manhattan. All of the FDNY members stopped what they were doing as the sound dissipated. Something was not right.

"What the hell was that?" One of her fellow fire fighters, Finn Hudson asked, looking from person to person as everyone tried to process what they had just heard.

Just as someone was about to reply, the alarm in the station went off and the voice of Burt Hummel, their chief, rang through the speakers.

"All units respond to the World Trade Center! I repeat ALL units to the World Trade Center! We have a plane crash at the World Trade Center!"

And just like that everyone was sprinting into action, basketball long forgotten. Santana's heart raced as she ran over to her locker in the garage, pulling on her gear, piece by piece alongside Karofsky and Puck. As soon as the last of her heavy gear was on, she was climbing into the back seat of one of five fire trucks at their station. Puck slid in next to her and gave her a firm nod. Karofsky, who was in the passenger seat next to Finn, turned on their CB radio and listened as other fire departments were put into a frenzy.

"All units to the WTC, a plane was reported flying into the north tower. We got a lot of smoke coming from the WTC."

Sirens on, Finn pulled out of the fire station and onto the street. Then they saw it. Thick black smoke filled the air as they drove down 7th Avenue amongst other fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances. Finn blasted the horn as the truck worked through the traffic. The radio crackled again with the voice of the NYPD Chief's voice.

"Attention all units, be advised, we've ordered immediate evacuation of the North Tower of WTC. Search and rescue effective immediately upon arrival at the scene."

"What do you think happened?" Santana quietly asked Puck.

He looked solemn and shrugged, "God…I don't know San…but something tells me this wasn't an accident." He had called her San. She knew this was serious. The last time he called her San was when her father passed away two years before.

9:00 a.m

Finn pulled the truck to a halt in front of the World Trade Center. Santana and Puck were already hopping out and hurrying to help people evacuate. Santana went into a surreal haze as she watched the panic around her. The terror on people's faces as they hurried out of the North Tower and away to safety.

9:02 a.m

Puck ran up to Santana as she stood at the entrance of the North Tower, tapping her arm and calling to her through his mask, "Chief just radioed in! NYPD ordered an evac of the South Tower! Let's get going on getting those people out of there!" He pointed to the South Tower and she nodded, following him towards the building.

It wasn't until 9:03 a.m that the whole incident became real. There was the distinct sound of a jet engine. One that was too close to be at normal altitude. Santana looked up and gasped as she saw an American Airlines plane fly straight into the South Tower. The sound was deafening and the screams of bystanders around her only made the noise that much more overbearing.

"Fuck!" Puck shouted. "San come on! We gotta get in there now!" He grabbed her and she followed, her mind focused on getting as many people out as possible. She followed Puck to the stairs and groaned when she realized she'd have to climb all the way up to the upper levels. On the way in she remembered seeing posters for some dance festival that was supposed to start that day and at that moment she wished she was a dancer. That way she'd be able to climb the immense number of stairs ahead.

A group of fire fighters followed them as they started making their way up, crossing paths with dozens and dozens of office workers and people working on the dance festival. She told them to get out as fast as they could as she passed them. It took them about ten minutes to reach the 77th floor, where the real damage began. People crying out for help. Thick smoke filling every corner. Santana watched as the ten or so fire fighters behind her and Puck went off in all directions, trying to save anyone they could. Santana broke off to the left of the stairwell. She bashed open the first door she came to and found a man inside.

"Can you walk?" She asked loudly through her mask. He nodded, whimpering about something. "Good! Go to the stairs and get out as fast as possible." There was no time to take people down one by one. This floor could collapse any minute and she couldn't take any risks. She continued to the next room and bashed the door open, she was hit with a heavy wave of smoke and was that…an airplane seat? She called out and listened for a response. Deeming the room empty she continued her search.

That's when she heard the next cry for help. It was a feminine voice, and it was close. "Is anyone there?" The voice was desperate.

"Where are you?" Santana called out.

"I'm trapped under something! My leg is pinned down!" The voice called back from somewhere to Santana's right. She moved a piece of wall out of the way and saw a head of blonde hair looking around amongst the smoke and debris.

"Don't worry! I'm coming to get you!" Santana yelled across the mass of broken walls, ceilings, and furniture. Santana took a deep breath of fresh oxygen coming from her mask as she started climbing over the mess towards the young woman. Sweat soaked her body inside her gear as the fire inside the building burned on. Her legs burned from exertion and she could hardly see. But she breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the girl and kneeled down. "I'm going to get you out of here! Stay still!" Santana told her. She just saw two terrified blue eyes look back at her and nod obediently as fresh tears filled them.

"I think m-my ankle is b-broken," the girl whimpered as Santana lifted the heavy scrap of metal from on top of the girl's legs with a grunt.

"Don't be afraid," she heard herself reply. The girl looked up at her and nodded again as she coughed violently. Santana kneeled down again and took off her mask, handing it to the blonde. "Just breathe into this, okay? I'm going to pick you up, is that okay?" Again, the girl nodded and Santana returned it, squatting next to the taller girl, scooping her up and lifting her off the ground. "Let's get out of here," Santana grunted, moving back the way she came with caution. The girl nuzzled into her neck, hiding from the heat of the fires all over the floor. As soon as she reached the stairwell, she stopped and took a deep breath, not saying a word as she began the long decent to the bottom.

The girl in her arms was getting really heavy about half of the way down. Her forearms burned like hell, and her legs trembled under the weight of her gear and the lanky girl in her arms. She grunted as her steps became slower and more strained. "I-I can try going down on one f-foot…" The girl looked truly concerned through the oxygen mask as she spoke.

"N-no, I'm fine…" Santana kept moving.

"I insist…let me help you help me…I think…" The girl insisted.

"Fine…fine…" Santana gently placed the girl down on one foot and wrapped one arm around her waist, making sure to help her down every step.

"Better?" She asked. Santana wasn't going to admit it, but it was a million times better.

"A little yeah…thanks," Santana ended up nodding and keeping her eyes focused on the stairs they were descending.

At the bottom, the girl pulled the mask away and handed it back to Santana as the Latina helped her over to an ambulance. "Thank you," the girl barely got out.

"Take care of her!" Santana called to the EMT while pointing to the girl. One of them gave her a nod before looking at the girl one last time before disappearing back into the South Tower and up the stairs again.

That was eleven years ago.

….

September 9, 2012 – 10:38 a.m

The now 29 year-old Santana Lopez yawned again as she slid out of her car and shuffled into the supermarket near her apartment. If she didn't need groceries so bad, she'd definitely be at home, asleep right now. Shopping coming off a 72-hour shift wasn't something she particularly wanted to do, but Sunday was grocery day. Her phone buzzed and she picked up upon seeing the caller ID.

"Hey Puck…" She grabbed a cart with her free hand and started down one of the aisles.

"Hey San, are you still coming to my place on the 11th for dinner? Quinn and the kids really want to see you…" Her best friend had certainly grown up a lot, but she was still a little surprised that he got married before she did.

Santana smiled at the same thought though. Puck was married to one of her best friends and had two kids. She was proud of him. "Yeah, I'll be there. After the memorial service, right?"

"Yep. See you there," he confirmed.

"Okay. See you Tuesday, love you bro," she smiled a little.

"Tuesday," he repeated, adding, "Love you too. Bye."

She hung up and pushed her phone back in her pocket as she continued down the soup aisle. She stepped away from the cart to look at the different kinds and failed to notice that she was no longer alone in the aisle. She leaned on one hip and sighed, feeling indecisive. The other person in the aisle was standing next to her now and facing her. After a moment, she was suddenly wrapped up in the biggest hug she'd ever felt. Her body tensed up as blonde hair smothered her face.

"Um…can I help you?" She asked, confused and a little creeped out. The woman pulled back, blue eyes shining bright as they brimmed with happy tears and looked at Santana in awe.

"You don't remember me do you?" She asked.

Santana shook her head slowly, still cautious, "No…I'm afraid I don't…we didn't hook up at a club, did we?" She had to consider it a possibility, considering the amount of blonde women Santana had courted at various bars all over Manhattan over the years.

The blonde shook her head and took a deep breath as she looked at Santana admirably, "Um…on 9/11…you…you carried me out of the World Trade Center."

Santana's eyes widened as it all flooded back into her memories. For some reason she felt suddenly emotional and elated to see the leggy blonde. "Oh my god…that's..I d-did," Santana slowly repeated, nodding slowly. "Glad to see you're alright after all this time…um…sorry I forgot your name…"

"That's because you never got it!" She extended her pale hand, "I'm Brittany Pierce."

Santana smiled softly and took her hand, "Santana Lopez."