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Erin goes first. Everyone thought that Holtz would go first, she did too. Holtz who was never careful, and viewed lab safety as a suggestion, who ran headfirst into danger and lived off of pringles. It should've been her. But instead it was Erin, and Holtz can only think about how backwards it is. Erin did everything right, she lived by the motto of safety first, she ate vegetables, and brushed her teeth three times a day and she should be the one alive right now.
It had all started with a routine check up. Then something looked strange and so they sent her to a specialist, then another, then another, until she was finally given the prognosis. And Holtz held Erin while she cried; once when the doctor told her, and then again that same day when they told their daughter. Their sweet Rebecca with bouncing blonde curls and who deserves to have both parents. Who didn't understand then, and still doesn't really understand now. That when she wakes up nearly every night crying for her mother, that her mother isn't coming back. And Holtz just holds her and tries not to cry at the unfairness of it all.
In the beginning the prognosis was good. There was chemo and radiation and it would be okay. And then suddenly it wasn't working and the cancer was spreading more and more, too fast for any medicine to really work. It was in her lungs and bones and liver; consuming her entire being. And people are telling her to start making preparations and to prepare for the worst, and it feels like her life went from being perfect to being in ruins in the span of one year. One minute they were busting ghosts together and then suddenly their not. And Abby and Patty take Rebecca because Holtz refuses to leave Erin's side. Even when Erin is no longer conscious, Holtz curls around her, talking endlessly, sometimes reading, in the hopes that maybe her voice will be enough to bring Erin back. But that only happens in fairytales, not the nightmare that has become their reality. So instead Erin slips away a few days later, the rise and fall of her chest become slower and more labored, then stopping altogether.
And nurses come and record the time of death and take out her IVs and through it all Holtz remains laying next to her. And at some point someone must have called Patty because she appears, taking Holtz into her arms and carrying her out of the hospital. She comes back to herself sometime before returning to her apartment but she doesn't do anything. Just let's Patty bustle around while she sits on the couch, staring at the wall, trying to feel anything other than emptiness. Eventually Patty leaves, placing and sandwich in front of Holtz and telling her to eat. But it is forgotten, as she spends the night watching the clock tick, not asleep, but not awake either; merely existing as some shell of who she was.
She hasn't slept since it happened either. She lies on the couch every night and just stares numbly at the ceiling, waiting. Waiting for Erin to appear. Even if all Erin does is ecto-project on her and then disappear, she will wait for it. But Erin never shows and she know that should make her happy because that means Erin's not caught here, but it just hurts so much that she's moved on. She wants Erin to have unfinished business here dammit, but she doesn't and Holtz is alone and it hurts.
Holtzmann holds Rebecca through the entire funeral. Even when her arms begin to shake and burn and Abby offers to take the girl, she just holds Rebecca tighter. Because her daughter is the only thing keeping her from completely shattering; and it should be their daughter, but now Erin is gone and Rebecca is just her daughter now. And the thought of it makes Holtzmann want to vomit, but she chokes her new reality down, letting it burn her throat the whole time.
Patty and Abby both speak at the service. They each say great things about what a wonderful wife and mother and friend and Ghostbuster Erin was. Others speak too, and Holtz knows she should go say something but she can't. She even goes so far as to stand in front of the entire congregation, but she can't do it. She wants to tell everyone how much she loved Erin, how she still loves her. But the words all get caught in her throat and in the end all that comes out is a choked back sob. And so she turns and goes back to her place, where Patty lays a hand on her shoulder and Abby whispers to her that it's okay. But it isn't okay because Erin is gone and so is half of Holtz, and she doesn't think she'll ever be okay again.
She cries for the first time after the funeral. Rebecca is put to bed for a sleep that will end with her crying for her mother in the middle of the night, but for now she rests. And Abby and Patty have both gone home. They offered to stay of course, but Holtz tells them to go because it's all too much and she feels like she's being suffocated by it all, and she just needs to be alone, needs to breathe. She barely makes it to her room and gets the door shut, before heaving sobs tear through her; one after the other, so close together she can hardly tell when one ends and the other begins. It's as though their are glass shards in her heart, and Holtz has nearly blown herself up hundreds of times, but nothing has hurt as much as this does. She sinks to the ground and cries there for hours on end, until she finally falls asleep on the hardwood floor; still wearing her black suit from the funeral. And when Rebecca wakes her up in the middle of the night, she somehow feels worse than she did before. But she climbs into her daughters bed, holding Rebecca tightly to her chest. And as Rebecca finally drifts back to sleep, she stares mutely at the ceiling, keeping up her silent vigil for Erin.
She never comes.