Our new house was significantly larger than the last one. It had two floors and three bedrooms. The backyard was small but private, fenced in so we could entertain our friends without the prying eyes of our neighbors, as long as it wasn't that time of year when snow was falling from the sky. The new house was located in a neighborhood close to the hospital. Quinn and I only needed to cycle 10 minutes to get to work. For Rachel, it was only 5 minutes until her new job. It was a new stage for three young women. Quinn and I were both 26 years old, and Rachel was getting there in just a few days. Rachel was readjusting to civilian life after serving five years in the military. She was referred to a job as a recreationist in the elementary school and, in the meantime, she took pedagogy classes to qualify as a teacher.

Remember when I said that military service lasted five years, and anyone who stayed on for another five was retired after that and entitled to many benefits? Well, Rachel refused every one of them. She couldn't wait to say goodbye to the army, and when her discharge came, the three of us got drunk and decided to get a new house, paid for with our credit. As Rachel's greatest talent was singing and theatre, as well as being the best sniper in her squad, the bureaucrats thought she would make a good recreationist and a teacher. Rachel took the job.

"Who have you called besides Mike and Tina?" I asked, whispering to Quinn as she finished tidying up my new room.

"Marcy, Gail, Jon, Rachel's friends… that surprise element."

"Marcy?" I grumbled. "Is this serious, Fabray?"

"I'm helping you. As you once said, it's hard to find lesbians around here. You should have learned from me by now that getting involved with straight women is synonymous with relationships that are doomed to failure."

"I hate you."

Marcy was a computer engineer who lived in our old neighborhood in a house with three other women. Ever since Quinn found out that Marcy was a lesbian, she started playing matchmaker at my expense. Honestly, my problem with Marcy wasn't her lack of physical attractiveness. She was a bit chubby and had a very ordinary face, but that wasn't the main problem for me. The problem was that Marcy was very, very boring!

"My back is broken from carrying boxes." Rachel walked over and we dropped the subject of the party. "I had forgotten that moving is synonymous of a nightmare."

"Especially when Quinn decided to borrow every book in the library this time." I complained.

"I'm out of time to read at the hospital, and I need to gather information about that Sjogren's case."

"Have you still not get a response from the American Union?"

"You get nothing from the American Union!"

The North American Union was the new country that formed from the islands of New Scotia. It's where probably Joey and Pacey and our neighbors migrated to, and it's where we should have gone in the first place, if Mike hadn't gone the wrong way. The North American Union was a democratic country, unlike Edward-Brunswick, but they also had more difficulties in organizing themselves, even with a smaller population than ours, which made a huge difference in the post-apocalyptic world. Some of the great surviving American researchers went there, and settled in the town of Glace Bay, which became their capital. But as their organization was still incipient, getting copies of studies and research was almost impossible. It was easier to send a letter and ask these big brains for directions or opinions in writing. But it was also a process that took a few weeks, because those exchanges were made by the military forces on both sides. For someone who lived in the internet age and had to go back to some analogue procedures, that was a monumental exercise in patience.

In time, the Edward-Brunswick government contacted some of the largest city-states and countries that emerged from the old Canada so that citizens, especially immigrant-citizens, as was my case, could find living relatives. I signed up for the programme and put my uncle Carlos' name down. The answer took almost a year, but I discovered that he and his family had managed to survive, and they were now living in the country called St Pierre & Miquelon, which was also on the east coast of the old Canada, but further north. I sent him a message and it took almost two months for him to reply. At least there was someone of my family's blood who was alive. Rachel, Tina and Mike found no news of surviving relatives in these new countries or city-states, but Quinn learnt that her sister Frannie had survived and was in Calgary.

"Have you already chosen which week you will be on duty?" I asked Quinn.

"The same as you. The one in January." Although we had the right to take a week off at the holidays, the hospital couldn't stop completely, and being on call on holidays meant working part-time with a staff reduced by a third. That gave us a lot of extra credit, and we were saving up to get a permanent home registration. "That Mr. Loreto's surgery is really confirmed for tomorrow?"

"Yep. I am already scheduled to perform the procedure."

"Remember to check the pancreas, like I told you."

"It's already noted, Fabray."

"Oh, I can't stand this doctor talk." Rachel rolled her eyes, and Quinn and I started laughing at her. We also didn't like to talk about work at home. It was a rule. Gossip from co-workers? All good. Arguing about work? Not at all! But we did it from time to time just to annoy Rachel.

"Well, I heard on the radio news that the government is considering putting 9 pm curfew in the island and allowing drinking-controlled bars to open." I commented. "If that happens, there's a good chance my love life will take off."

"Do you want to pick up a woman in a bar?" Quinn rolled her eyes. "It never works out."

"And Marcy will work out? That annoying weasel-faced nerd?"

"She's a lesbian, and she works in a job that gets a lot of credits."

"I don't care!"

"Think ahead, Lopez. Besides, we need a computer at home. If you date her for a couple of months, if you make her happy, she might be able to get us one without the long wait. And I know by experience you're very talented in bed. Two times, and she will do this favor to us."

"I hate you, Fabray."

"I don't believe you two." Rachel fumed and walked away from us.

All we did was laugh. It had been a long time since anyone had seen Rachel Berry act like that, like a glimpse of the old Rachel Berry.

...

Parties in Charlottetown invariably took place on the weekends. Usually on Sundays, because although most adults worked five days a week (three years ago were six days of work), many people still worked on Saturdays. In particular, employees on duty and citizens authorized to have their own businesses (which were generally small services and handicraft businesses). I myself, after my fifth year and my graduation, I was on duty at the hospital on Saturdays every other week. On Sunday everyone stopped to rest, except the security forces, because of their differentiated work system. I myself only went to the hospital on Sundays in case of very urgent surgeries, those cases of life and death. Otherwise: the patient was stabilized and the surgery took place on Monday. Parties also used to be lunches because of the eight pm curfew (in the early years it was seven pm). Quinn and I were on the permanent hospital team in Charlottetown, but I still traveled at least one week a month to reinforce the surgical team in some walled town in mainland's Edward-Brunswick, because there was still such a shortage of doctors and medical staff.

Organizational details aside, Quinn and I were having trouble decorating the house for lunch. Reason: little Greta would steal the decorations saying they were her toys, and she wanted to draw on all the paper pennants. Mike took Rachel out of the house, despite the cold outside. We would have a white Christmas because everything was already white anyway! It was a good thing I didn't do orthopedic surgery, because those were the cases that showed up the most at the hospital at that time of year.

"Greta!" Tina drew attention. "Soit vous aidez bien les tantes, soit vous ne rejoignez pas la fête!"

"Mais j'aide, maman!"

"Greta!" Tina reinforced the warning.

Greta was very cute. She was five years old on the fourth of May, which was interesting as it was the same day as Joe's birthday. She had a very round face, plump cheeks, and an adorable bowl cut with bangs. I just didn't understand why Tina was prioritizing her education in French. Edward-Brunswick was a bilingual country and English was the most widely spoken language on the island. The French language was more widely spoken in the mainland's walled cities. Quinn said it was because Mike and Tina lived in the French quarter of the city, called Rivière Nord, but I thought that was very silly of them.

"The fish cakes are ready." Tina warned us. "It's good to fry them only at party time. But the food is ready to serve: the potato salad, the rice, the carrots sautéed with onions, garlic and pepper."

"Wonderful!" Quinn cheered. "Now go take a shower, because Mike is going to handle the frying. You have to present yourself to the guests like a beautiful, fragrant and wonderful hot woman you are!"

Quinn placed a kiss on Tina's cheek. We had a few bottles of beer in the fridge (returnable glass bottle), the pennants with Greta's additional drawings were decorating the living room, the furniture was out of the way, lunch was prepared in the kitchen and we already had music. Let's just say that the phonograph industry stagnated in those years. No computers or mobile phones were available. With no satellite internet (there was a dial-up intranet on the island), the surviving music was stored on LPs, CDs and K7s. A resident of the island who was a collector (and later a buyer as well) set up a rental shop for this material, as well as films and series on DVD. We had a CD player and we managed to rent Rent's soundtrack, the movie version with Rosario Dawson. It wasn't Rachel's favorite, but hey, it was a find. I finished cleaning the house and we got ready quickly.

Our guests arrived. They cleaned their boots full of snow and hung their respective coats on the clothes rack that we made available on our veranda. The CD that was playing was Madonna's Ray of Light, which was a classic. There were, in addition to family, people we'd made friends with over these years like Gail and Jon, who worked with us at the hospital, Lana and Giselle who became Rachel's friends in the military and, to my dismay, Marcy, who Quinn invited just because she thinks I should be with her because Quinn wants a computer at home.

Rachel arrived with Mike. She was happy to see her friends and family there at a surprise party to her. People were missing, but not for long. As she hugged everyone, the doorbell rang and Rachel went to answer it.

"Blaine! Sam! My God! How?" She jumped into the arms of those missing.

"Santana and Quinn called us and we manage the get a license to visit the capital for your birthday." Blaine explained, bringing with him, in addition to his husband, a guitar.

"The same here." Sam hugged Rachel tight, like he didn't want to let her get away.

Blaine and Sam were very different. They were better looking with more mature faces and regained muscle mass. Blaine had his hair cut short and his beard was sparse. Sam had the big hair look this time, like Brad Pitt's Legends of the Fall. In fact, we were all looking much better after our body was restored with acceptable nutrition and exercises. Quinn used to say that we even look younger compared to the physical condition we arrived in, like those rescued dogs that recover their fur after a few months.

The boys came in and we did the introductions. Mike fried the fish cakes while Blaine and Jason played with Greta. Sam told funny stories about the places on the island where he lived. His current job was a fisherman, and played for the town's amateur baseball team. Since that wasn't fishing season, Sam was helping out on a cattle ranch in the area.

"In the end, you became a fisherman!" Mike patted his friend on the back who we rarely saw or heard from.

"They offered me a job at the factories in Monston, which would get me double the credits, but I preferred the sea." Sam cracked a smile. "There is no money in the world that pays for the satisfaction of being on the open sea."

"Who would say!" I commented. "A guy from the American Midwest who found himself at sea."

"It's a little romantic." Quinn smiled and winked at Sam.

Rachel's friends simply sighed over him, and it was funny to see because Sam seemed to have his eye on Quinn, as if he wanted to revive that spark between them. If Barbie and Ken got together again, I would puke.

After lunch, Blaine picked up his guitar and sang a song, and we all applauded. I even overheard one of Rachel's friends lamenting that Blaine was gay.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to invite the extraordinary Rachel Berry to the stage!" Blaine announced.

"Oh no!" Rachel complained. "I'm untrained. I haven't sung in...my god, the last time I sang in public was at the choir competition on the day of the apocalypse."

"We used to sing in the bunker." Sam frowned. "Just a little bit, but we sang from time to time."

"Time to unlock your talent, Berry." I pushed her to Blaine's side. "Relax, singing is like riding a bike. You can't forget. It's your first nature."

Blaine whispered something in her ear. Rachel opened her mouth, as a way of stretching her jaw muscles, she hummed a melody and started a cappella. Very hesitant at first, a little out of tune.

"I've been cheated by you since I don't know when/ so I made up my mind, it must come to an end…"

Rachel Berry paused, crossed the room, and pointed at me.

"Look at me now, will I ever learn I don't know how, but I suddenly lose control/ there's a fire within my soul and I can hear a bell ring (one more look) and I forget everything, whoa"

As Rachel Berry sang, her voice grew, and she seemed to blossom. Rachel Berry was reborn. The apocalypse was silent as a matter of necessity, of survival. The apocalypse almost completely silenced us. And then, even with a safe place, with a society organizing itself the way it thought best, despite the contradictions and problems, the intense work silenced us. Work out of necessity, obligation, not necessarily for pleasure and achievement.

But all that was being overcome. Rachel Berry returned to singing at the age of 26, after eight years of silent contentment. Open singing, still a little flawed, but showing that the genuine talent, the powerful voice was still there. Yes, it was like riding a bicycle. Mamma mia, here we go again. My, my, how can I resist you? She finished singing and cried. An emotional cry. Rachel Berry sang again. I got up and hugged her tight. I felt the others were joining us both. Quinn, Blaine, Sam, Mike and Tina. Even little Greta. Family! Finally!

...

Our friends and family left to their homes around 5 p.m. Blaine, Jason and Sam would spend the week in the capital and stayed at our house as our special guests. At the after-party, which wasn't even eight p.m, the boys helped us clean up the house, wash dishes, cutlery and glasses (in that new world, we no longer had disposables). We sat in the living room and lit the fireplace. The Fleetwood Mac Rumors CD played softly on our stereo. We weren't hungry, but I made apple peel tea with a little cinnamon and honey. There was a huge apple orchard in Charlottetown, and apple trees were plentiful in the capital, to the point where each resident was entitled to a few apples.

"I fell into the high seas." Sam was in the middle of one of his stories. "Suddenly, no joke at all, a whale appeared swimming beside me. She came up for air and splashed. I swear to god she let me touch her. Then two more appeared, and they swam to the bottom. It was the most amazing date I've ever had. I'll never forget the stillness, I didn't hear my teammates yelling at me. It was just me and the whale. They said it was no more than three minutes, but for me it was like forever."

"Are you sure you didn't steal this from Hemingway or Melville?" I teased Sam. Because, let's face it, these stories of impressive encounters with whales on the high seas were nothing new.

"From who?"

I rolled my eyes. It was too much to hope that Sam Evans read Hemingway or any classic books.

"What about the girls?" Rachel teased. "Are they giving you too much trouble?"

"Is there a girl waiting for you at the port, Evans?" Quinn was sitting on the arm of the chair, practically in his lap.

"You know I'm a relationship guy, and I don't have a girl waiting for me at any port. Even because the girls I loved the most are here."

I threw a pillow at him. But what a braggart! Although it was true that Sam Evans had had sex with every woman in that room. Even though this had happened years ago, in very different situations, it was still a fact.

"What about you all?" Sam asked. "Many suitors in a row?"

"If Quinn keeps sliding, maybe."

"Santana!" Quinn threw back the pillow.

"What? I didn't understand." Blaine frowned.

"Remember that hurricane day?" I started the story and Quinn scowled at me.

"Technically it wasn't a hurricane." Rachel tried to correct me.

"Anyway... remember that day with the hurricane? Well then, we were on duty at the hospital. The emergency was empty, it had only three patients, but the water invaded and created a puddle in the middle of the ER. Quinn had just been named chief resident, and she was looking forward to being the badass of the place. She was yelling at the newbies to mop the floor. The newbies fumbled and dropped lube gel... Quinn when she stepped over it, she did the most spectacular slide I've ever seen in my life... she slipped away halfway down the hall before landing on her ass. Then a patient felt sorry for her and tried to help and also slipped, falling on top of her. But it wasn't just any place on top of Quinn. It was that spot right on top of her face!"

"Oh! It must always be a pleasure to be treated at this hospital!" Blaine cracked the infamous joke and everyone burst out laughing.

"That's why Quinn became known as Dr. BlowRay."

"Bitch!" Quinn narrowed her eyes in defiance. "And the tantrum you threw when you found out Isabelle cheated on you with the lab concierge?"

"My tantrum because an ex-girlfriend cheated on me was nowhere near your tantrum because of a little water accumulated on the floor!"

"That's why you should get Marcy. She earns well and she is ugly. Marcy will hardly cheat on you."

"Tell another one… BlowRay!"

I was happy to see that Blaine and Jason's marriage was apparently solid. Blaine looked happy as a farmer and his life in the country. I was also very happy to hear that Sam found himself at sea. It's been a while since we've been so comfortable, so relaxed. Blaine's (and his husband's) and Sam's visit wasn't just for Rachel: it was good for all of us.

That night, Rachel conceded her room to Blaine and Jason, while Quinn, instead of setting the couch for Sam, invited him to spend the night with her. Go BlowRay! Soon, Rachel came to sleep in my room. While she set the bed for both of us, I watched the weather through my bedroom window. It was the only window without a grid in the house, because I had them removed, even though I knew we could be fined. It was in my head, the memories of the times we escaped death by jumping out of a second-story window. Even with all the control and security, even without cases of contamination appearing on the island for years, I never stopped thinking about escape and survival mechanisms.

"It's going to be a hard winter." Rachel said.

"As long as the heaters don't break... and people don't try so hard to shovel the snow that they get a hernia." I closed the curtain and climbed into bed with Rachel.

"Your room is cold." Rachel complained and pulled the blanket up to her neck.

"My heater sucks. But if you want, you can claim your room back, or you can sleep with Quinn and Sam."

"Ew, no thanks. I would much rather stay here with you in your cold room."

"That's right. Enjoy that I'm hot." I said as I snuggled Rachel into my arms.

"Sometimes I think about the bunker. What would it be like if we had stayed?"

"We would be like a cave family by then. That is if we had survived all those winters."

"Probably." Rachel smiled at the idea.

"I hate to admit it, but Mike ended up making the right choice. As much as I lost Brittany, as much as you and Blaine were hurt along the way."

"Not to mention that if Tina had given birth in the bunker, she and Greta would probably have died."

That was a sad truth. Greta was in transverse position and Tina had to have a C-section. I didn't attend the birth because not only was I not allowed into the OR at that time, it would have been unethical, because Tina is considered part of my family by Edward-Brunswick records, on a new criterion that was created to deal with cases like ours: there was biological families, and the fraternal families. Tina, Mike, Greta, Blaine, Sam, Quinn, Rachel and I were registered as members of the same fraternal family.

"I don't think I would have been singing again. Now that I sang, San, I don't want to stop anymore." Rachel was being honest.

"You don't have to stop singing anymore. You can sing here at home as loud as you like, you can sing at school with your students. You could do a musical theater project and put it up as a weekend recreation activity. The capital's administration would hardly object to that."

"Yes… I can sing with the kids. I can do a community theater project."

"See? It's all about timing, Rach. Things always happen at the right time."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I am sure."

"What about us? Has our time come?"

"Wait… after all these years, do you still… have feelings?"

"I tried not to." Rachel looked at me. "Do you love me?"

"I do love you, Rach. But I don't know in what way exactly."

"Do you want to find out?"

"Do you?"

Looking back, it was really unbelievable. I was only 26 years old, and I had already lived many lives. I was a confused and silly teenager, I found and lost the great love of my life, I found and lost myself, I was forced to mature and evolve as a person because it was a matter of life and death. I lost one family, I found another. I went through horrible situations, I killed, I protected, I cultivated, I healed, I completely lost hope for the next moment to find it again. It's impressive the amount of fresh starts we have in a single life. It's unbelievable the number of cycles we go through. Santana Lopez at 26 is very different from Santana Lopez at 18. I didn't know how many more lives I would live; how many more versions of Santana Lopez would emerge. But I was open to find out, until the moment I fulfilled the promise I made to my mother and Brittany to leave this life in old age in a warm bed.

THE END!