Takes place about 2 or 3 months into the 6 months Jake are Captain Holt are in Coral Palms, Florida. Warnings: Drinking and mild depression, also some mild cursing. Thanks for reading, enjoy!

I down the whisky, letting it burn and my throat and distract me from my thoughts.

One part of me wants to stay at Shaw's getting drunk enough to black out. The other part of me kind of wants to call it a night, and go home.

I miss Jake. I even miss Holt. I don't like telling people about my feelings, but the squad knows I miss them. They know because they miss them too.

I am startled from my thoughts by at tap on the arm. Gina is standing next to me.

"What's up?" I ask. She steals the shot in front of me and downs it.

"I'm heading home." She announces. I raise an eyebrow.

"Any your telling me this because...?"

"Because the lives of the squad rides on my shoulders-"

"They really don't." She ignores my interruption.

"-and I am passing this responsibility onto you. Btw Amy's on like, drink 11, so watch out. The Sarge is drunk and crazy, and I'm pretty sure Charles is crying in a corner. Peace out."

I blink and she's gone. Sighing, I sip on another drink. I guess I'm staying.

A few minutes later, Amy stumbles over, looking terrible. She asks the Bartender for another drink. He hands her an entire bottle of beer.

"Amy, how many drinks have you had?" I ask. She turns uneasily to face me.

"I don't know and I don't care." She slurs. That's new. As much as I hate to admit it, Amy of indeterminate drinks was making me worried. I snatch the beer from her hands. "Hey!" She yells, looking ready to kill. It's a surprisingly scary shade on her.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" I ask.

"Yeah. I've had enough of you." Amy snaps. She pulls the drink from my hand and chugs it. I sigh.

"You should really stop."

"Oh baby, I'm just get started."

"That's enough!" I yell. She looks up at me, startled. Other people turn to stare. Once again, I pull the drink from her hands, then lead her over to a booth and push her into a seat. I don't exactly know why I'm doing this. Why I care. I think Gina got to me with her responsibility crap.

"What they hell do you want, Diaz?" She asks, glaring.

"I want you to tell me what's wrong." I demand. I know what's wrong, but maybe talking will distract her from trying to alcohol poising. She stares at me, or rather, glares at me in a drunk fashion. Surprisingly, she answers.

"Everything is garbage. Jake is gone, Holt is gone, the new captain should go die, and we are never going to catch Figgs. We will probably never see Jake and Holt again. Hell, they could be dead and we might not know. Might never know." Amy's voice is harsh but her eyes on the verge of tears. I can feel my own gut twist. She just said a lot of things I have worried about in the past couple weeks. I watch silently as Amy begins to sob, nursing a drink that I have know idea how or when she got. What should I do? I could just walk away, leave her to her thoughts, but for some reason I don't. Maybe I welcome the distraction. Maybe I just want to help a friend. Maybe... there are lots of maybes.

"Hey, don't think like that. We have the best detectives in New York," Scully chooses that moment to sit s table, causing it to break and him to fall. Amy lets out a drunken laugh. "We WILL catch Figgs. I promise."

"How can you promise that?"

"Because I miss Jake. And Holt." I admit, "and you miss them too. You love them. Just don't give up. I've seen what can happen when you set your mind to something, Santiago. We're gonna catch the bad guys."

"And what happens if we don't?" The question is slurred drunkenly, but somehow rings clearly through the air. I don't have an answer. I hate that I don't have an answer. I stay silent. "That's what I thought." She says, then leans over and pukes all over the floor. Tears once again roll down her cheeks. She looks ready to pass out. She attempts to grab the beer in my hands but I pull it out of her reach.

"No. No more for you. It's time for you to go home." I tell her. I expect her to complain or fight with me, but she just sort of sags in her seat, looking defeated. I take her by the hand lead her outside to my car.

"Aren't you drunk?" She asks.

"No. You kind of interrupted me before I could get that far."

"Oh." She says. I guide her to the passenger seat.

"Get in. I'm taking you home. And if you puke in my car I will kill you." I tell her. She nods weakly. I slide into my own seat. I'm going to regret this, aren't I?

15 minutes later we are nearing her home. I look over at super drunk Amy, who is simultaneously crying, muttering curses under her breath, and falling asleep. Would it be rude to just drop her off at her house? She could take care of herself, she was a full grown adult. Then again, this was Amy, and she was very drunk. And upset. Who knows what she might do. I let out all the air in my lungs, already regretting my next decision. I guess Amy Santiago is coming back to my place.

We arrive at my apartment sometime later. Amy is drunk enough to not realize where we are yet. I take her hand and lead her up several flights of stairs. She tumbles through my door and finally looks around.

"Where are we?"

"My apartment."

"Awwww, Rosa Diaz is taking care of me. You care about me." She coos.

"No I don't."

"Than why are you doing this?"

"Because Jake wouldn't want you to do this to yourself. Or by yourself." She bristles. I struck a nerve. "I'm doing this for Jake. And because you won't remember this tomorrow." It's only a half lie.

"Whatever you have to tell yourself Diaz." She retorts. I roll my eyes and lead her to my bed.

"Lay down." I push her gently onto the bed. I carefully pull off her shoes. She lets me. I place a small trash can next to her bedside, then pull the covers over her. "Que duermas bien." I mutter to her in Spanish. I turn off the lights and make to leave the room.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Amy's voice sound small and drunk and sacred.

"To sleep on the couch." I tell her. I hear her whimper and start crying and suddenly I'm terrified because I don't know why she's upset and I don't know what to do. I approach her and sit down on the bed next to her. "What's wrong?" I whisper. She clings to me and babbles through her tears. I can't exactly make out what she's saying, something about how she's so sorry, and she misses Jake, and she's being a baby, and how I shouldn't have to take care of her. I just hold her, stroking my fingers through her hair, letting her cry to me. I really hope she doesn't remember this tomorrow.

We must have fallen asleep at some point, because I wake up the next morning with Amy curled into my side, snoring softly. I hate that the sight makes me smile. I lay there for a few more minutes, soaking in her warmth. I check my phone. 7:54. Crap, we should be arriving at work right now. This is going to be a rough day. I slide out of bed and get dressed and ready. I then grab a couple aspirins and glass of water for Amy. I takes a few shoves to get her awake, but when she does, she lets out a moan of pain.

"Ooooowwwwww... everything hurts..." she mutters holding her head. "Why does everything hurt so bad?"

"Because you are super hungover." I smirk. She squints up at me.

"Diaz?"

"Yep. Sit up." I tell her. She groans in pain and discomfort but does what I tell her too. I hand her the aspirin and water, which she immediately takes.

"Thanks." She groans. She squints around the room. "Why am I in your house? At least I thinks this is your house."

"You we super drunk last night. Like, waaayyy past Six Drink Amy. And you were pretty upset. I couldn't leave you like that." I admit. Through her pain she smiles at me.

"Thank you. That's surprisingly kind, especially from you." She says. I give a rare smile.

"Whatever. You should really hurry it up. We were supposed to be at work a while ago." That gets her attention. She stumbles out of bed. I hand her a button down shirt and a pair of trousers.

"Why do you own these? I've never seen you wear them." She asks.

"Just in case I have to dress up like you for Halloween." I lie. She rolls her eyes and puts them on. We she's done rushing to get ready we head for the door. I hand her a pair of sunglasses. "You're gonna want these." I tell her. She nods.

"Yeah. Thank you." She puts them on as we exit the building. Before we get in my car she stops me.

"What?"

"Thank you. For everything. I was upset and irresponsible last night and you sacrificed your evening to help me. You were really great. Thanks you." To my surprise she wraps her arms around me in hug. I stiffen at first but then relax and hug her back. We break apart.

"Hey, what are friends for?" I say. Her face lights up.

"We're friends?" She asks hopefully. I punch her arm.

"Of course we're friends, dummy."