Staring into the bottom of a shot glass, Santana Lopez tried to numb herself. The funeral was harder than she thought it would be and though her friends were there for her she still felt completely lost and alone. She felt a million other things as well and she didn't even know where to begin to sort them out. She didn't even know if she wanted to sort them out.

There had been a gravside service and it had rained, it was like a scene straight out of a movie. The pastor had shouted to be heard above the storm that came out of nowhere on June 28th, 2022, the day Brittany S. Pierce was committed to the earth. Santana shuddered and felt her stomach twisting violently as she rememberd the dull thud as shovel after shovel of dirt fell atop the elm coffin below. She had watched as the greatest thing to ever happen to her was buried from view and hidden for the rest of time.

Then she had had to stand around as people walked past her and Brittany's family offering condolences when all she wanted to do was be alone and far away from it all. People she hadn't seen in years embraced her tighter than they ever had before and she had to smile back weakly at each and every one of them. Old teachers, friends, family and colleagues filed past her and they all were wondering the same thing: would Santana Lopez ever bounce back? They hated themselves for thinking it but they knew that it was a very real possibility that she wouldn't. Anyone who knew anything about her knew that Brittany was her everything. As Sue Sylvester once said, Brittany was that person she was tethered to. Now there was nothing on the other end of that tether and Santana was floating through space without an anchor.

Despite their own immeasurable grief, even Brittany's parents and younger sister worried about Santana. Her whole life had been Brittany, she had thrown everything else away for Brittany. She had dropped out of school, burned through all of her money, and now she had nothing. She especially didn't have the will to go out and get something. Santana's own parents had told her she was always welcome back home in Lima but she had refused, she couldn't go back to where it all began.

To put it simply, Santana had absolutely no idea what to do with herself. So she decided that for now, she'd drink away her sorrows free of charge at the bar below Blaine and Kurt's apartment that they had bought as a side project. The two men had closed shop for the public that day and had offered an open invitation to all funeral goers who were more than happy to accept.

But most people had gone home by now. Only Santana, Quinn, Rachel, Cameron, Blaine and Kurt remained. Sitting around the bar the five friends all couldn't help but dwell on the fact that there group was one person short. Everything had been silent for at least twenty minutes, minues the clinking or glasses demanding refills, when Rachel's phone buzzed. She looked at it through blurred vision and opened the email she'd just recieved.

"It's Finn," she mumbled. "He's sorry he couldn't make it but he couldn't take leave, he'll visit next month."

Finn had been stationed overseas for going on two and a half years now. No one had told him Brittany was sick because they didn't want to make his being away from home harder than it already was. But then again, everyone had thought that she would get better. But when she didn't and ended up dying Finn had been completely blind-sided by the news. He was angry at first, he could've come home and helped. But he quickly learned that being angry wouldn't change anything nor would it help anyone.

"Good," Kurt leaned his head against Blaine's shoulder as they stood behind the bar. "I miss him."

"We all do," Rachel sighed.

"I just don't think I could handle another, you know, if something happened over there," Kurt muttered quietly, voicing what everyone was thinking. No one was ready to see another one of their friends die and they all knew that that was a very real possibility for Finn.

"I honestly thought we'd be like this for him," Rachel admitted. "I thought he was the one who wouldn't come back..."

"He'll be back, don't worry right now," Cameron put his hand on Rachel's thigh and squeezed lightly. He knew that Finn and Rachel had a history but he also knew that they had both moved on while still remaining good friends. He respected their friendship and had even grown to like Finn himself on the few occassions they'd met.

"I wanna go home," Rachel slurred as she stood up on wobbly feet. Cameron nodded and stood, putting a steadying arm around his wife's waist. They caught everyone's eye but Santana's for a silent goodbye. Rachel pulled out of Cameron's grip briefly and went over to where the latina kept staring into her glass. She offered a quick peck on the cheek before returning to Cameron and walking out with him.

"And then there were four," Blaine mused drunkenly as he downed yet another shot.

"That's enough Blaine," Kurt insisted as he grabbed away the glass. "For both of us."

"I'm tired," Blaine yawned. "Can we go upstairs?"

Kurt nodded before turning to Quinn.

"Can you lock up when you two leave and umm... moderate the alcohol consumption?" his eyes flickered over to Santana who was helping herself to another shot.

"Sure, we won't be long," Quinn tried to smile at her friend but couldn't.

"Thanks, we'll see you later then."

Kurt draped Blaine's arm around his shoulder and practically carried him out of the bar. The door closed behind them with a thud that made Santana flinch in her seat. Quinn noticed and scooted over until she was at the bar stool next to Santana.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"How do you think I'm doing?" Santana had intended to be snap but it just came out sounding painfully sad.

"It'll be okay, it'll take a while but it'll be okay," Quinn offered her friend.

"It hasn't been okay for two years," Santana sighed and turned to face Quinn. "I'd give anything to trade places with her, you know that?"

"I've known that for a long time, we all have."

"The last night, do you know what she asked me?" tears were beginning to flow down Santana's cheeks. She didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "She asked me if I thought she'd be a good mom. She asked me if we would've had a family together and I told her yes. She said we'd have had three kids, two girls and a boy and then we'd get a fat cat and a big dog and we'd be happy. She just kept on talking and talking and it killed me because I could hear it in her voice how sad she was that she'd never have it. Quinn, why couldn't she have it?" Santana's voice was desperate.

"I don't know," was all Quinn could say.

"She never got the things she wanted most," Santana muttered. "She never got to dance because of her injury and she never will get a family because she was sick."

"But she got you and you know that she wanted you more than any of those other things."

The two women fell silent and let their shaky fingers run up and down the sides of their shot glasses. A few moments later Santana laughed weakly and Quinn shot her a confused glance.

"You know Q, my name should be on that tombstone next to hers."

"What do you mean?" Quinn tilted her head as she asked.

"I died right along with her."