Santana did not move from the water's edge for an entire day. Even when the tide crept up at her ankles she stayed, staring out at the ocean. If Brittany was gone, she wanted to be gone too. How could someone as wonderful as her be taken by something so nasty?

Not hunger nor fatigue nor fear could get her to leave her spot. Everyone had tried to get her to move, but she just kept her gaze on the water.

Blaine approached her slowly, as if she was a lioness.

For the first time since she heard the news of Brittany dying, she spoke. It was a harsh mutter.

"I swear to God, if one more person asks me if I want to talk about my feelings, I'm going to rip their head off."

"Artie told me to give you this," Blaine said softly. He passed her a piece of folded up piece of paper and disappeared back to the fire to sit with Quinn and Kurt.

Santana was hesitant, but unfolded the paper. It was a wrinkly display of a stick figure Santana and Brittany siting at a place that was obviously meant to be Breadsticks, their hands tangled together There were tiny hearts surrounding the original drawing. The bottom of the page said, in Brittany's handwriting, "With my favorite person at our favorite place XoXo"

For a brief second, Santana wanted to burst into tears. Instead, she neatly folded the piece of paper and tucked it into her bra for safe keeping. She slowly stood up bringing the camp to a complete silence. She had expected to storm over to Artie in a rage, but her demeanor was calm as she approached him.

"What do you think you're doing?" She asked.

Artie raised an eyebrow, "She made it yesterday. I thought you'd like it."

"You thought wrong," She said through gritted teeth.

As she walked away Artie called out,

"You aren't the only one who loved her, you know."

Santana whipped back around with an accusing finger, "I don't want to hear it, Wheels. Just let me have this moment."

"No," Artie argued.

"What did you say?" Santana was stunned at his disobedience.

"No."

Mike quickly cut in, "Come on, guys. It's a hard time for all of us. Just drop it."

"I'm not dropping it, Mike. You may have gotten over Tina in two seconds-"

"Don't you dare," Mike warned, his face quivering.

"Doesn't mean the rest of us can't grieve-"

"I said, don't go there!" Mike snapped.

"When one of our-"

"ENOUGH!" Mike bellowed.

He raised his hand with all the intent of slapping the girl. She had no place to tell him he wasn't grieving. Tina was on his mind every second of every minute. It was only through her strength that he was surviving on the god forsaken island. Even in the afterlife, Tina was his rock. She was his everything.

Inches away from her face, he brought himself to a stop. His arm dropped. Santana wore a shocked mask, as did everyone else on the camp. Frustrated not only with himself, but the people around him, Mike stormed off into the jungle.

There was a brief moment of silence as the rest of the group processed what had just happened. Their unofficial leader was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Blaine was the first to speak. He'd been sitting in the sand, silently watching the entire ordeal go down as he nibbled on a remaining piece of meat. For some reason, he took the entire event personally. He stood quickly, enraged.

"This is horse shit!" He snapped, throwing the piece of meat on the ground.

He stormed off in the opposite direction Mike went.

"It's actually boar meat," Puck muttered, mostly to himself.

"Hey! You just tossed out a perfectly good piece of food!" Finn yelled after Blaine.

Kurt was hot on Blaine's heels, shouting a remark back at his step-brother.

"Oh, just lay off, will you?"

Blaine was already a good way down the beach, but Kurt managed to catch up to him. He grabbed him by the arm to slow him.

"Blaine, wait," He panted. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm just tired of this, Kurt," Blaine sighed, turning to face his boyfriend.

"Me too. That doesn't mean I'm going to freak out."

"Maybe you just handle things better than I do. Maybe you're just stronger than I am."

Kurt gingerly touched Blaine's face, "That is not true. Blaine, you are one of the most kind hearted and sweetest people I've ever met."

"But not strongest," Blaine ticked. "You may be able to do this, but I can't. I can't."

"Just a few more days," Kurt begged. "Please, Blaine. I know someone will find us soon. They're looking. I just feel it."

Blaine let out a long sigh. The exhaustion seeped through his voice, soaking up the air around them. He was so incredibly tired. His bones were sore. His mind was sore. He was just sore. And it broke Kurt's heart to see the love of his life in such pain.

"I can't do this without you," Kurt said softly.

Blaine kissed Kurt. It was a silent agreement that he would try his best to keep going.

Back at the camp, everyone was still in shock over what had just happened. They were worn and tired, too. If help did not come soon, they were all going to lose it.

Rachel approached Finn with a frown. She walked into his open arms, taking comfort in his grip.

"They're not coming," She cried. "They're not coming. We're all going to die here hating each other."

"That isn't true," Finn consoled.

Rachel lifted her head back, "You know I'm right."

Of course the thought was in his head, but he didn't want to let Rachel know that. An idea sparked in his mind. If he could only keep her morale up for a while longer, everything would be fine.

"What?" Rachel asked, noticing the smile in her boyfriend's eyes.

"Wait here a second," He said.

He left her, jogging back one of the huts. He'd found something of Rachel's in the plane before they set it up in flames. It was a silk blouse he'd bought her for their anniversary. She loved the shirt.

As he was walking back to Rachel, the wind began to blow. It took him off guard. He didn't have a tight grip on the shirt, and the aggressive wind stole it from his grasp. Rachel's happiness was flying away from him, and he wasn't going to let that happen.

He chased after the garment that danced in their air.

Finn was so busy focusing on grabbing the blouse that he didn't notice the misplaced piece of shrapnel hidden in the sand. He didn't notice the discarded log. And he defiantly didn't notice they were both in his way.

He tripped on the log and went soaring through the air. He landed, impaled on the jagged piece of rock. His head instantly fogged as he looked down at the grey piece of plane sticking out of his stomach. It was soaked in blood- his blood.

Rachel was screaming in the background. He was in so much pain, he almost didn't hear her.

When Rachel reached his body, he was gone.