Santana needed to think. She needed time. But time wasn't on your side when you regularly played chess with an angry element of nature. Murphy's Law was seriously kicking her ass, and she would've gone chop happy with her axe if she wasn't terrified one wrong move would bring this whole building down. She wasn't even supposed to be here, but three idiot kids with some matches had fucked things up for this entire office, and the whole Lima and Carmel Fire Departments.

"Lopez."

"Santana, we need you at the station!"

"The fuck, Murphy? I'm –"

"There's a fire at Crandon and Co," Murphy broke in. "I know you're supposed to be on leave, but we need everyone. All two blocks worth of building is in flames right now. We've already got 27 injured and three dead, and Carmel's guys aren't going to be here for another fifteen minutes."

Santana bit her lip and looked over at Rachel. "I'm on my way." She hung up and turned an apologetic eye towards her wife.

"Go on," Rachel said gently. She pointed to the TV. "It looks really bad. Please be careful."

"I'm taking my phone," Santana said, kissing her. "If anything happens, call me."

"I will."

Other things that shouldn't have happened – Rachel going into labor when she was already at the site of the fire, Scott getting trapped and sending out an SOS signal, her having to go in because everyone else was busy with either victims or trying to control the flames, getting lost in this labyrinth of an office building….

It was a sound every single one of them dreaded. That tone, that cadence…one of them was trapped somewhere in the building.

"It's coming from Building E," Conrad yelled.

"Who's not accounted for?" Murphy barked.

"It's Scott," Santana said, doing some quick mental math and an even quicker scan of the chaos. "Scott and Turner were evacuating that building. Turner came out though." She started pulling on her headgear.

"Have you lost your fucking mind, Lopez?" Murphy asked. "Your wife is about to pop and you're running into a burning building?"

"Look around, sir. Who else is going to do it? You need two men in there, and unless you're going in with Conrad, we're the only ones who don't have our hands literally full at the moment."

Murphy glared at her. The signal continued. "You two be fast, and you're not taking any chances. Understand? This is not a look the devil in the mouth sort of day. You come back out of there or I'll bring you back to life and kill you myself."

"It's not out of hand yet in this building," Conrad said, pulling on his own headgear.

Santana lead the way in once she was sure the younger man was right behind her. It was an easy formation, but when she got to the far side of the landing, she heard a crash. Instinct took over, and she dove ahead. When she looked back there was a five foot gap in the landing, separating her and Conrad.

He pointed forward, left, and down.

She gave a thumbs up and headed in that direction. But she didn't go down after turning. She could still hear the signal coming from a hall on the right…. Scott was there.

After trying a door that was sealed shut, she shouldered her way through a partially blocked door and found a path mostly clear of debris. Think! she screamed at herself. You need to think! She took the door to the right and there, hobbling toward her, was Scott. Even through the haze, she could tell that there was something seriously wrong with him. She ran to him and saw the shrapnel in the general region of his torso, and remembered the small bang they'd heard a few minutes before he'd signaled. She picked him up, a feat that had been a source of immense pride to her a week and a lifetime ago, and carried him back the way she came.

Left.

Right.

Straight.

Right.

Right.

There were the stairs. She was praying to God, Satan, Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and Harry Potter that they made it. Scott shifted subtly, and rested his hand on her shoulder. It calmed her, and she kept walking, quickly but carefully. Twenty steps down, and there was the door, and there were Carmel firefighters running up the path to help them.

Fifteen.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Fi –

There was a crash as the bottom stairs gave way, and she fell back, her back and head connecting with the steps above them. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her, was a pair of hands lifting Scott off of her….

Rachel stared down at the baby in her arms and sighed. She reached over for her phone and brought up the internet. The headline hadn't changed since the last time she checked.

Six dead, including two Lima Firemen.

It could be anyone. She repeated that two herself over and over. "It could be anyone."

"Rachel."

Blaine gently took the phone out of her hand. "Please…I know you're scared, but you have to relax. You just went through huge stress."

"Please try to call her again," Rachel said, not caring about the desperation in her voice. "She said she'd have her phone with her."

"Dave's out there calling her right now," Blaine assured her. "Give me your tiny guy."

With a small smile, Rachel passed the baby boy to Blaine.

"Sleep," he said. "I've got him. And we'll get Santana soon. You need to rest."

She didn't want to rest, but she was having a hard time staying awake. "Wake me up as soon as you hear anything."

"Promise."

It was bright. Really bright. There was something in her mouth, and her throat felt like someone had poured glue down it. She coughed.

"Jesus H. Christ, don't ever scare us like that again!"

Santana looked over to find Quinn standing close to her. She looked around, trying to get her bearings. She made a strangled sound, and Quinn shook her head.

"Relax. Don't try to talk. They got you out of that place. Scott's in critical condition still, but they think he'll make it, Rachel's perfectly fine, and you, you lucky bastard, are alive and have a son."

The nurse came in just as Santana started to cry softly.

"Oh dear, it's going to be okay," she said gently. "Could you take a few deep breaths for me so I can get this thing out of your throat?"

Santana managed to calm down and let the nurse remove the thin tube and begin checking her vitals. "Whe –" she started, but ended up coughing.

"Water," Quinn said. "Rachel is upstairs. They said they could wheel her and Little Quinn down here when you were up and ready."

Tired as she was, Santana still managed to give Quinn the stink eye. However, when she tried to sit up, she found she couldn't. "Quinn?" she croaked, cold dread washing over her. "Quinn, I can't move."

"You suffered some damage to your spine. Can you feel this?" the nurse asked, running the edge of a tongue depressor up and down Santana's left foot.

"No," Santana whispered.

"This?" the nurse asked, doing the same to the right foot.

"No."

"Now that you're awake, we can run some more tests and see exactly what's going on," she said.

Quinn squeezed her hand. "You're going to be okay."

Santana nodded, unable to say anything.

Dave ran in just then. "You're awake! I was just coming to check."

"How's Rachel?"

"Rachel and little David are doing just fine," Dave said, grinning. "And they'll be better knowing you are too."

"Dave –" Quinn started, but stopped when Santana squeezed her hand.

"Tell her I'll see them once the nurses are done poking and prodding me. And we're not naming the kid after you."

He nodded with a smirk and dashed back out.

"He's been running back and forth all night, hasn't he?"

"Yep."

They were quiet for a long moment.

"I can hold him," Santana said, moving her arms weakly. "I…may not be able to teach him to ride a bike, or drive or…chase after him, but I can hold him."

"S…."

"No, don't. I don't want to…I just want to see Rachel and my son. I don't want to think about the what ifs right now."

Quinn nodded.

"Will you go check on Scott?"

"Sure." Quinn bent and kissed Santana's forehead before leaving.

Santana managed to hold in her sobs until the blonde had left the room.