In the early hours of Christmas morning, with only one flashlight lit, they try to settle in. The batteries are older than the pancake batter, and they only have five left to last them an unknown amount of time.

It's only been ten minutes since the floor collapsed, and there isn't a plan established. Galilee might be able to put an agenda together using the blank pages of one of her notebooks, but the first thing on their agenda would be to rest. The building might be unstable. Certainly, no one is in any position to check, and they aren't going to be able to move out either.

Tempest and Jerry take stalk of those who seem sick. There are more of them that are soaked than aren't. As of now, only Jerry and Tempest avoided getting too soaked. Callie only briefly ran through cold water, and so she watches the others with a quilt wrapped around her while Jerry and Tempest search through the rooms. Maverick and Darlington are much bigger than Jerry and they need clothes. Elodie returned Marcellus's t-shirt to him and offered him some of her pants until his can dry. Benedict is shorter than Jerry and since Jerry wears big and baggy clothes, they fit Benedict. His pants are too short for Maverick by quite a bit.

It feels less wrong this time for Tempest to go through the rooms. With Jerry to keep her company, they smell clothes and blankets before touching them, in case students didn't clean them. Blankets seem more uncleaned than the clothes hanging in closets. Tempest hopes they don't get so desperate that they are willing to use dirty sheets. Stuff like that shouldn't matter anymore. It's not the filth that turns her away, but the thought that their situation could get direr than it currently is. She holds onto what hope they have as tightly as possible by not holding onto the sheets at all.

Jerry is the one who runs around since Tempest did all the running already. Whenever he finds clothes, he chucks them into a pile for the others to peruse when they are ready. Between every three rooms, he shines the light over at Callie. She has given him a thumbs-up each time, and at least that is something.

Although, she isn't sure what she is looking for. Callie is unfamiliar with hypothermia, and she just paces the hallway watching people. It's dark. There are no lights in the hallway, and they are trying to conserve their flashlights. In theory, she could use Ro's phone, but Ro put it in a special power-saving mode that should last them three days. Callie couldn't imagine it being that long. Waiting three days would be as practical as suggesting they all wait for six more years.

Half of the crew did manage to gather up supplies. Those who can have changed into dry clothes. Still, some are fairing better than others.

Like in the tunnel, Moonie is okay. They are certainly better than Maverick, who has stopped shivering but whose lips are blue. They still cuddle up against him, their back resting against his bare chests. Skin-on-skin contact is supposed to be good for people who are cold. Moonie doesn't mind. Three of the RAs ran up to them in nothing but their boxers, and Moonie's sports bra is hidden by a blanket. It's only strange because Moonie has not been this close to Maverick before.

Maverick ran over the symptoms of hypothermia with Jerry when they arrived. Everyone else would have learned it in First Aid, but Maverick doesn't know what they remember and doesn't know what he will remember soon. He also discussed treatment with Jerry. Cold water can accelerate symptoms of hypothermia. Everyone is dry, everyone is wearing layers upon layers, and no one who got wet is allowed to move Jerry confirms they have no other symptoms. It was a good idea to tell Jerry. After all, Maverick knows he's confused. He keeps trying to take his pulse and keeps forgetting. It might be Maverick, but it might be something else altogether.

Jerry's rules, caused by Maverick, have not been pleasant for Benedict. After all, Jerry has forced Benedict into close proximity to Ro and Darlington. Ro seems okay too, having only been in the water for a short bit of time. She's mumbling to herself, and it's hard to tell if the water has altered her mind or any number of other insane circumstances she's been through in the past five days. He doesn't blame her. He'd be crazy too.

Mumbling the total cost of her flight is, surprisingly, cathartic. She's counting up to it, every dollar, and she's only at one hundred and sixty-two, but they've only just settled in. The number didn't feel as big as it used to seem. Now, the number distracts Ro from thinking about every other number. Eleven RAs, nine of whom got wet in a flood. Forty-four rooms left out of two-hundred and forty rooms. Five floors and a basement soaking wet. One box of food. Five flashlights that work. Five buildings on campus connected through one walkie. No batteries. One building uncontacted. Two RAs missing. One Maverick alive.

Elodie leans on Marcellus because it's out of the bag. Whatever it is, anyway. She was wearing his clothes, after all. It's a terrible Christmas. It's not productive behaviour, and Elodie knows it, but she cannot help rank the three worst Christmases in her head. Worst of all is the one where her father went to jail. There is no doubt in Elodie's mind. It might too early to decide, but the one where her mother died feels worse. No one is dead. If she were Maverick, maybe, she would decide it there. Elodie cannot stop but think of the things that are worst to come.

He hates to admit it, but this is the best Christmas Marcellus has had in years. He did a good thing for Elodie, and even when he was alone, he knew she was with him. If he had to go back and prevent the blizzard, he wouldn't. It is a terrible selfish decision, and Marcellus knows it. Here, he is cold and so is Elodie, but she's in his arms. This Christmas, he knows he is with people who would consider him. Marcellus is painfully aware that like him, Elodie doesn't enjoy Christmas. She would be much happier at home with her family. If he loved her right, if he put her first, he'd have to stop the blizzard from happening. Loving someone is supposed to mean you put their interests before your own. Marcellus' parents showed him that by putting his ill sister before him, year after year, and telling him it is what he should do. What do you do when your interests are opposite those of someone you love, but you finally love yourself too?

Now, finally, in the wreckage, Darlington has the walkie curled in his hand.

"Damien, this is Darlington," Darlington says.

The static meets him. It's still early in the morning.

"Darlington?" he hears the response. "This is Hadley. Are you looking for Damon?"

The boy nods. He asked for Damon after all. From Greer.

"Listen, Hadley, you've got to get you and your team out of the tunnels," Darlington talks back into the walkie. "Our building flooded. We're all up here, but things aren't looking good."

The static crackles at him. Darlington feels so damn tired.

"I'll talk to them in the morning. I'm currently holed up in the Food Services Unit. They have batteries. Looks like I'll be stuck then until we get help."

Darlington sighs, "us too, buddy. We'll get a hold of you later."

No one asks Darlington any questions. All the words have sunk in their rooms below. Only Galilee had nothing to abandon.

The air is sombre. Galilee can feel it. She grabs one of the flashlights off the ground, the tiny one from Benedict, and ducks into her room. Callie watches her slip away, resolving to check on her in a minute. In her room, Galilee goes to her desk. Next to her printer, she grabs the gift she made for everyone. She had queued it up on her printer before going down to see Callie, and when the power was out last night, she had sorted through them all and put the stickies the Unit gives them so student posters don't damage the wall.

Galilee puts them all in a box, just as she had planned. She moves into the hallway and starts to place them on the wall. Callie sees her and joins her, grabbing a photo and sticking it next. The sticking tack is so weak that the photos don't have any difficulty peeling off the other. They doubt they will stay up.

All of Callie's art washed away. It wasn't supposed to be forever. A moment and then gone. Galilee manages to capture so much.

Moonie grabs a flashlight from the middle and returns to Maverick. They flash the light at the wall, "they're so cute Galilee!"

Darlington, Benedict, and Ro are along the wall where the photos are being placed. Ro stands up. Benedict, hands on his knees, pulls himself into a standing position. Begrudgingly, Ro offers Darlington a hand. He takes it. The three of them pile onto the other side of the wall, squishing in between the two couples on the opposite side.

The photos are hard to see in the dim light. There's a photo of Benedict walking outside, his head turned to look at Galilee, his big headphones over his ears. There's a photo of Ro with the widest grin imaginable, building a snowman. Another shows Moonie, up to their ribs in snow and covered in flakes on what's left of them, looking just past the camera with the early beginnings of a smile. In one photo, Jerry lies on the floor outside of the staff lounge, drooling on his wide open mouth as he sleeps. There's one of Elodie where she's curled up on a chair, a mug in her hand and the light on her face is only the ambient light coming from the projector playing a movie she wasn't interested in. A blurry photo of Maverick shows him swinging around someone who is just out of frame. Taken problem moments later, there's a photo of Marcellus playing the guitar with a smile he's clearly trying to bite back. A different photo shows a sweaty and stumbling Darlington, after just pounding back a drink he doesn't remember taking. Tempest is in a different photo, in a moment that Callie wasn't aware of happening, where Tempest is eating a pancake and making the most terrible of faces.

And there are hundreds of more pictures. Callie painting, and drinking hot chocolate, and in the snow, and smiling, and alive.

None of the photos are from their first evening in the building when they still thought they might head home. Callie remembers that Galilee had a polaroid camera that day. She remembers Galilee, hair in milk braids, fingers on a camera, in khakis and a white blouse. She did look like a photographer at a wedding that day. Someone designed not to be photographed.

There aren't any photos of Galilee.

"You got a photo of Polly's head filled with booze?" Ro chuckles.

Maverick groans, not from the pain but from the headache he is going to get from letting Polly drown.

Hearing them talking in the hall, Tempest and Jerry return from the rooms. Jerry peeks over and laughs at a photo where Benedict is being pelted with snowballs. He points it out and Benedict glares at him.

"This is wonderful, Gally," Tempest says. She leans forward, tentatively patting a hand on Galilee's shoulder.

"It'd be more wonderful if there were half as many photos of me drunk off my ass," Darlington sighs, smiling.

"That's what makes them nice," Marcellus shakes his head, leaning over and pushing Darlington. He knocks Darlington into Ro who gives Marcellus the middle finger.

Elodie nods, "we should've saved the liquor. We need a new toast since half of ours didn't come true."

"You're welcome to swim down and grab some," Ro laughs.

On Jerry's list, they aren't allowed to drink. He jogs down the hallway, Tempest just staring after him.

"Do you think he's grabbing liquor?" she looks around.

Marcellus shrugs. He could never predict Jerry's actions, even with a thousand years to observe and create some sort of formula or algorithm to do it for him.

Jerry comes running back, with a dozen solo cups stacked in one hand, and the other balancing it. No liquor, or any drink at all. He passes one out to everyone.

"Starting from six east," Jerry says, looking to Galilee.

She shrugs, "to more photos to come!"

By this point, they all know the drill. Descending, from east to west, they go.

"To having a slumber party," Jerry cheers.

Elodie yawns, "to a cozy Christmas morning."

"To paying respects to the Wi-Fi," Benedict smiles.

Moonie pinches Maverick and he looks up, "to being in good company."

"To the batteries in the closet lasting long enough for this toast," Tempest grins so wide.

"To us lasting long enough for this toast," Darlington builds, only grinning enough to be there with Tempest.

"To the soapy laundry water cleaning the master keys," Marcellus nearly snorts and Elodie actually laughs.

"To the pancake griddle drowning," Callie joins Marcellus with a giggle.

"To a Christmas with people who aren't technically family but are close enough that it works," Moonie laughs.

Ro stands up, leaning against the wall. With the red solo cup in her hand, she points it at the ceiling. Her voice is almost a screech, "to going fucking home!"

"Here here!" they chime in together, voices verging on madness. They drink their imaginary beverages, delirium a more powerful intoxicant than any alcohol they could consume anyway.

~~~~~

I've been inspired by -venusvintage, who is publishing her story rapidly since it's quite pre-written (you definitely should check it out). Since every word in this book has been written, I thought it might be nice to share it with you all. I hope you enjoy it!

Also, to submitting the last paper of my undergrad. What's your toast today?