Blaine sat in the waiting room, clutching Kurt's hand.

They won Regionals. They won. But just now it didn't matter. Because on her way to Rachel and Finn's impromptu wedding, Quinn had been hit by a truck. Rachel and Finn waited an hour for her to show up, ultimately losing their spot. By the time the call came, none of them hesitated. They piled in their own cars and drove to Lima Memorial to wait for news.

Blaine felt numb. Though he'd never waited in a waiting room for news like this, it had always been his worst fear, especially since coming up on nine months since losing Coop. That anniversary was tomorrow and Blaine prayed that he wouldn't have to face losing someone else dear to him. Because they were all dear to him in glee club. They were all family.

Kurt looked unnaturally pale, while Rachel sat on his other side, crying quietly in her white almost-wedding dress. He fought a wave of nausea and light-headedness and instead took out his phone and sent a quick text to HSM:

Struggling. Please pray for me. Very, very difficult day. Hope you're okay. Love, CB

Sent on 2/21/12 at 6:31 p.m.

Santana couldn't see through her tears. They couldn't lose Quinn right now. God. Quinn was one of a few people she could trust. One of a few people who had always been there for her, even when she acted like an ass. Quinn didn't deserve this. Santana, who never prayed, bowed her head, and asked her mom for help. She didn't believe in God. Not now. Not after all the ways he had let her down. But she always would believe in her mom.

In her pocket, her phone beeped with the tone she'd designated for any incoming messages for CB from Hope & Healing. Collecting herself briefly, she forced herself to breathe and glanced at the screen, reading his message and typing one back:

Me, too. I'm asking my mom to intercede for us, because I don't believe in god. I trust her judgment more than his. I know she cares. I know she'll help us. Please, pray for me too. Please, CB. This is bad. HSM.

Sent on 2/21/12 at 6:37 p.m.

"Is God mean?" Brittany asked quietly from beside Santana. Tears ran silently down her cheeks. "I thought he was supposed to love everyone…but if that's true…then why let this happen? Why let Quinn get hit?"

"I don't know, Britt," Santana sighed, her voice thick with tears. She raised their joined hands and kissed Brittany's knuckles. "Sometimes bad things just happen," she managed, feeling the ghost of her mom's breath on the back of her neck, and shivering.

"I can't believe this is happening…" Rachel wept. "I can't believe I kept texting her. I should have known she'd look at her phone. I mean, we've all done it."

"Rachel," Finn reassured from her other side. "It's not your fault, okay? It's no one's fault. Life just…it sucks sometimes, you know? But I know Quinn and she wouldn't want you blaming yourself like this."

Blaine glanced down the line of joined hands. From his, to Kurt's, from Kurt's to Rachel's, from Rachel's to Finn's. They were an odd grouping but it hardly mattered. What mattered was that they were here. Blaine glanced around, seeing Joe, Sam and Mercedes all with their heads bowed. Strange, unfamiliar, but passionate syllables escaped Joe, Mercedes prayed quietly, as if speaking to a trusted friend, while Sam seemed permanently stuck in a frantic recitation of The Lord's Prayer. Puck was by himself, praying steadfastly in Hebrew. Not everyone prayed the same. Not everyone even prayed - but they were all thinking of Quinn, and that's what counted.

So Blaine bowed his head and prayed fast and fervently. He prayed to Saint Jude, the patron saint of hopeless situations. He recited by memory, taking comfort in the familiar string of words, and meaning them with every fiber of his being. He meant them for himself and for HSM, who seemed just as desperate as he did.

"Where's her family?" Blaine asked, his voice strained. "They should be here, right?"

Kurt's voice was soft, and more settled in his chest than usual as he said, "The hospital social worker probably took Quinn's mom to a private waiting room…that's what they did for me and my dad when…when my mom…"

"Oh," Blaine managed, his heart seizing in his chest as anxiety coursed through him.

This was a nightmare. This had to be a nightmare. Please. Please let him wake up.

Santana blinked as Coach Sue squatted in front of her and Brittany. "Ladies," she said, her confrontational tone gone. In its place was something soft - almost maternal. "I want a status report."

Unable to look her in the eye, Santana squeezed Brittany's hand. Brittany seemed to understand, and spoke for both of them:

"We don't want Quinn to die," she offered, her voice shaking.

"I don't want that either. Though it may seem otherwise with my relentless focus on winning and succeeding at all costs, you kids are most important. Now, Santana. Your job is to take care of Brittany. Brittany, likewise, your job is to take care of Santana. Understood? That means being honest with each other, it means not going off by yourselves. You're Cheerios. You know our motto: 'Never leave a gal behind.'"

Santana cocked her head, and forced a laugh. "I thought that was the military's motto…"

"Is cheerleading so different?" Coach Sue quipped gently. She stood and turned, probably to get status reports on the rest of the Sue's Kids, but at the last second, she addressed them again, with a lowered voice. "Just so you both know…I've officially forbade one Quinn Fabray from losing this battle. She's a Cheerio. It's in her contract."

"But I thought she couldn't be a Cheerio anymore because she was like a Jolly Rancher that fell in the ashtray…" Brittany pointed out.

"Just so happens, she recently asked for her uniform back. Wanted to finish the year on top. And you know what, girls? I think she will."

By seven o'clock, people were starting to get restless. Sugar offered to foot the bill for pizzas if someone else picked them up. Sam offered, since he'd taken a job last year as a delivery boy. Blaine couldn't eat if he wanted to, but he was pretty sure Ms. Sylvester would insist. She'd already been around, pairing them off most sensibly and making them responsible for each other. He was responsible for Kurt. Kurt for him. Rachel for Finn and Finn for her. And likewise, all over the room. Rory had gone home, as his sponsors insisted. So they were an even fourteen. All of them, Ms. Sylvester said, were to take care of their assigned person. Quinn was in the surgeons' capable hands. And, Ms. Sylvester finished, she, as Commander in Chief of Sue's Kids, was responsible for every one of them. If they needed anything, they were obligated to report to her immediately and tell her what the problem was.

It actually made things a little easier. To have Kurt and Ms. Sylvester responsible for looking after him, and to only be accountable for Kurt. It was far easier than carrying the burden of Coop's passing, or a sense of failing his parents. This, Blaine could do.

"So, do you need anything?" Blaine wondered, Ms. Sylvester's words echoing in his head.

("Sue's Kids is a unit.")

"No. You?" Kurt returned.

("Sue's Kids is a family.")

"No, thank you."

("We came as one, and we will leave as one.")

Santana felt numb. She couldn't describe it any other way. She was, like, frozen, with this dread permanently stuck in her chest. This, like, indescribable terror working its way higher and higher until it had her by the throat.

She couldn't deny this, but she couldn't really believe it either. She went through the motions, bringing Brittany pizza and trying to reject it herself, until Brittany insisted.

"It's my job to take care of you," she said, nibbling at her pizza. "You can't not eat."

But Santana found that she couldn't do it even if she wanted to. Her body had gone into some kind of weird survival mode. She couldn't think of anything. Couldn't really connect to anything. It just kept slamming into her again and again. This is happening.

Quinn got hit. She could die.

But no, she couldn't. Santana needed her. She was one of a few people Santana could trust. And then she felt selfish, because Quinn didn't just exist for Santana. She had value apart from her. She was Judy's daughter. Beth's biological mother. But most of all, Quinn was herself. She would leave a hole if she were gone.

Santana barely survived her mom dying.

She didn't know if she could live through this.

Blaine went home at around eleven o'clock. He and Kurt drove together, and once he was home, he climbed into bed, and hugged a pillow. He felt alone, until he remembered HSM, and wrote back to her, letting her know he was still thinking of her.

Difficult days are difficult for a reason, or so I've always been taught. There's a reason for everything. But, HSM, for the life of me, I can't imagine the reason for you and I struggling again so soon after I lost my brother, and you lost your mother. Not that we are above suffering. I don't believe that. Still, though. I have so many questions and so few answers. Why this? Why now? Why ever? I'm here if you need me. I'm praying for us tonight, HSM. Always keep your hope. Love, CB.

Sent on 2/21/12 at 11:28 p.m.

He felt numb. This couldn't be real. It was supposed to be a perfect day. How had things ended so badly? Anxiety paralyzed him, and for a minute, Blaine felt as if he couldn't really move. But then he thought of HSM praying to her mom for both of them, and he felt a little better. Her mom said HSM shouldn't blame herself for choices other people made. That let Blaine begin to let go of the false responsibility he held onto for so long regarding his brother.

Did he still feel guilt? Of course.

But he felt it a little less now. And that was something.

Everyone else had left, but Santana couldn't bring herself to go. Even Brittany. Santana didn't blame them. It was just that she didn't have anywhere else to be. Her dad wouldn't miss her, or so she told herself.

In a way, she was kind of holding her breath. Kind of hoping for Judy or Russell or Sue or anyone to come with some type of update. Or better, to let Santana know that Quinn was awake. Conscious. That she could have visitors and was asking to see people. The latest updates hadn't been reassuring in the least. With phrases like "touch and go" and "within a wisp of not being here."

It was devastating if Santana sat and thought on it for too long. So she tried to focus on something else. Something positive - even though there wasn't much positive in this miserable, stinking situation. Why did everything have to go so, irredeemably bad? Why couldn't she have one bit of luck?

…She really missed her mom.

Though Santana's eyes were going blurry from tears and exhaustion, she checked her phone one more time, but fell asleep in an uncomfortable waiting room chair while she waited for word.

There was none.

Not until hours later when an unfamiliar hand shook her awake. Santana squinted until she could make sense of Sue's face. Sad. Serious. But then, just a little, she smiled.

"She made it through the night," Coach Sue said, and then disappeared just as quickly as she had come.

And finally, Santana felt like she could breathe. Because it really had been that close, and Santana knew it in her heart. But now that she could breathe, maybe things would be okay. If Quinn was okay, even just for now, then not everything was hopeless…

She turned on her phone, and was surprised to see the message from CB there. She barely remembered retrieving it. Still, as she read his words, goosebumps rose on her arms. Because he said everything she felt in that moment.

"Always keep your hope," she whispered into the empty room.