She remained motionless on the couch, exactly where she'd been when Brittany had left this morning.
Brittany slid herself over the back of the couch, insinuated herself between Santana and the cushions, and wrapped her arms and legs around her.
"Honey? Hello in there?"
She didn't turn, didn't move. "I just miss her," she barely whispered.
"Yeah, me too."
"I miss you."
"I'm right here."
"How can you keep going? Our baby's gone. We may never get her back."
Silence. Brittany imagined she could hear their pulses synchronizing.
"Think about what this moment is for her. She's with us. She's always been with us in that moment, and she always will be."
There were a few more moments of silence. As always, Brittany waited. She listened with her whole body. She listened with her whole self.
At last Santana was able to take in a ragged breath. "I have always understood you, somehow. But I don't right now. Thing is, I live here, in this moment, and she's not, and I need you. Here. With me. Now."
Brittany pressed her lips into Santana's hair, a few more slashes of white visible these days. She held her firmly, but not too tight. She pressed her palm gently into her sternum until the breath came more smoothly.
"I can't think, I can't breathe, and there's no end in sight. I can't work, I can't sing, I can't-"
"You tried to sing?"
"It was awful."
"She's auditioning for Mr. Shue right now, and she's awful!"
Santana looked up, for the first time. Her eyes were swollen and awful.
"She is," she breathed. "She is awful."
They smiled, remembering her present.
Charlie slammed through the door at that very moment.
"Mom! Mama! I have an idea!"