Disclaimer: I don't have enough money to buy off Glee, therefore I don't own Glee. Nor do I have enough money to buy off The Hunger Games, therefore I don't own it either. Double damn.
"Come on, slow poke!" Brittany called out to a tired, cranky and overall just bitchy Santana. The Latina wondered how the other girl managed to be so upbeat and unfazed by the fact that the Game Makers had just set half the woods on fire, and that the two of them had nearly been barbecued in the process. They managed to leave with only a handful of burns here and there, but a lot of their supplies had been burned to ashes, like one of the sleeping bags, Santana's jacket, and most of all, they had lost a lot of their food too. Okay, now that seriously sucked.
Muttering a string of curses, Santana stumbled her way to Brittany, who seemed to look amused by the predicament she was in. Santana sometimes wondered why she even left the others Careers and partnered up with the blond from District Four; Brittany was infuriating, at times extremely annoying, but what really bothered her was how she was always smiling, like everything seemed to amuse her, but her eyes always showed something else, something like sadness. And sometimes they burned with anger. It was odd, but intriguing. For someone who looked and acted bubbly, Brittany also had a dark side to her. Santana couldn't figure this girl out, and she decided not to bother herself with trying to figure her out.
Distracted with her thoughts, she doesn't see the rock in front of her and she trips, face first too. Fatigue kicks in, and every muscle in her body aches like hell, and it feels like hell too. Her legs were leaden at that moment, and even her arms felt heavy. Hunger kicks in last, and it is the worst feeling of all. The pain is just indescribably horrible. Santana groans, feeling angry at herself for showing weakness not only in front of Brittany, but the whole of Panem as well. The Capitol must be having a blast watching this right now, she thought bitterly. Oh, how she hated the Capitol so much.
She's taken by surprise when Brittany gathers what little they have left (which was just two bags close to being empty, really), and lifts Santana off the ground and carries her in her arms as she continues down the path. Santana can't stop the redness that floods her cheeks. She didn't know how she felt about the gesture. For one thing, she was embarrassed that she was being carried, especially after that humiliating stumble. She could only imagine what her mother's reaction would be. Her mother always told her never to show that she was weak, or afraid, or in doubt. Never. She blew all that in less than five minutes. But it felt...it felt...
It felt...good. Yes, that was it. It felt good to just be in her arms. It felt good to have someone care for her in such troubling times, even if that someone was a girl she'd have to kill sooner or later. She was reminded of how back home in District 5, when she was just a little girl, her father would scoop her up in his big arms and hug her, hold her tight, and she would feel so safe in his arms, like nothing and no one could ever harm her. Her father's death had changed all that, and she learned the hard way that anything and anyone could hurt her. It brought tears to her eyes, just thinking about her father, and it dawned on her that she hadn't felt that way in so many years. And a girl she just met, a girl that was supposed to be her enemy, was the one who would maker her feel that way.
"Santana?" Brittany whispers.
Instead of looking up at her, Santana rests her head against Brittany's chest, right where here heart is. Her long, dark hair curtained her face, and she was glad for that too, since it hid the tears streaming down her face. She had felt so weak, so helpless, so tired, so angry, and so vulnerable all at the same time. She felt like a little girl again, watching as people she hardly even knew talk about how great a man her father was, about how they would miss him. She felt like the little girl she was back then, watching numbly as the lowered the casket into the cold, hard, miserable ground. She didn't want to remember her father like that, but she did anyway, and it hurt so much just thinking about it. She didn't know what triggered all of these emotions or these memories, but she could only guess that the stress from trying to stay alive in an arena like this was the reason. Then there was Brittany to consider too. Brittany, tribute from District Four. Annoying, indecisive, impulsive, ridiculous, brave, caring, loving and wonderful Brittany. It was all too much for her.
She started to sob miserably into Brittany's worn, tattered and burnt shirt. The other girl stops walking, and gently says, "Santana? What's wrong Santana?" Santana doesn't answer, but just sobs. She hasn't cried in a while, not since her father's death. All the pain, the hurt, the misery she felt, she had to keep to herself, and now they were all pouring out. She didn't even care about the audience anymore. She didn't care if she lost sponsors or if the Capitol were sniggering right at that moment at her, or if her mother was shaking her head, disappointed.
All that time, Brittany just held her tighter, her lips pressed against Santana's hair, whispering muffled words of comfort.
After at least two hours and a half of walking-well, Brittany was walking-they stop to rest. They sit under a tree, and they spread out what they have salvaged from the fire. It isn't much. They have a few packs of food left, and they both decide to eat just enough. Santana eagerly devours the beef and the crackers while Brittany eats a little more conservatively. They hadn't eaten properly (or at all) in days, and they were running scarce on water too. Santana had to stop herself from getting a couple more crackers, and she takes a sip of water. She didn't want to think about what might happen if they ran out of both water and food completely. She just had an emotional attack of sorts earlier, and she didn't want to stress herself out much more.
She turned her head to Brittany. She reminded her a bit of Finnick Odair, the victor from District Four and mentor, who was loved and adored by many. Well, Brittany did have the charm that Finnick had, and it showed during their interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Whereas Santana came off as the badass, headstrong bombshell of the group, Brittany was the disarmingly charming, undeniably adorable yet goddess-like sexy type of girl. Well, Finnick was her mentor, and he obviously did a good job with mentoring her, but Santana had a feeling it just came naturally to her. Then there was the fact that much like her mentor Finnick, Brittany was just as good-looking. Her long blond hair had been cut a bit shorter, which suited her much better in Santana's opinion. She had the trademark blue eyes of those who lived in District Four, but her eyes were probably in a whole other level themselves. She was toned and fit, tanned, and tall too. It wasn't a surprise why she was a fan favorite. Santana was glad, however, that she was the only one who got to see the other sides of Brittany, like the side she had shown earlier, the sweet and loving and caring side, and even the dark and intriguing side of her.
From the corner of her eye, Brittany catches Santana looking at her with what looked like an admiring and appreciative look. She turned her head to Santana, whose cheeks immediately turn red. Brittany laughs and Santana scowls. They couldn't have been any more different. Yet somehow, it felt like the were also the same, like they mirrored one another in terms of life experiences and views in life.
"Why were you looking at me like that?" Brittany asks.
Santana raises a brow. "Like what?"
Brittany raises the corner of her lips in a smirk as she replies, "Like you're in love with me."
Santana is gobsmacked. How could she have been looking at her like she was in love with her? Sure, she might have been admiring Brittany's good looks and just appreciating the acts of kindness that Brittany had done for her all throughout their time in the arena, but in love? Santana opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. She closes her mouth and turns away from Brittany, who just chuckles. She finds herself remembering her interview with Caesaer Flickerman without really wanting to...
With her killer good looks, her magnificent hair style and the stunning red dress her stylist assigned her, it is clear to see that Santana Lopez is in charge of the interview, that she is in control. And the fans can see it, and they love it.
"So, Santana," Caesar continues, "anyone special in your life at the moment?" He wiggles an eye brow teasingly, and the audience hoots and cheers and laughs. She had to hand it to this guy; he was just so naturally charming and charismatic.
In return, she raises a perfectly arched brow teasingly. "Define 'special'."
The crows cheers some more. She feels elated. The crowd loves her! She quickly glances at her mentor and at her stylist, who both nod in approval. And before she can stop herself, she glances at the girl tribute from District Four, Brittany. The blond smiles a charismatic and winning smile at her, which makes her heart leap just a little. She looks away immediately, cheeks slightly flushed. Brittany had had an amazing interview with Caesar, making the crowd cheer here and there, and even joking around with Caesar. The man seemed to genuinely enjoy interviewing her. And in the long, white satin gown she was wearing, she was a stunner, hands down. And it only brought out the blue in her eyes...those beautiful blue eyes that kept flickering to her...
She snaps back into reality in time for Caesar's next question: "But really, is there a special someone back in District 5? "
Santana smiles as she shakes her head. "Sadly, no."
Caesar raises a brow. "Might it be your fellow tribute over there? He's a handsome boy."
Santana just laughs. "He is handsome, yes, but no."
The crowd lets out a disappointed "aw". She couldn't believe how much these people loved gossip and meddling in other people's personal lives. But then again, she only had to put on a good show for them, and she could continue to loathe them in silence, which was good enough for her.
"That's too bad then!" says Caesar, "Especially for a girl with such beauty like you."
Santana has the grace to blush. She catches Brittany looking at her, and she doesn't look away. She hold Brittany's gaze for a long time before looking back at Caesar and replying, "Well...there might be someone..."
The crowd gasps and cheers, shouting "Who is it?" and Caesar mirrors their enthusiasm. Oh, how easy it is to please these people. With a huge smile on his face, he says, "I knew it! So..." he leans in closer to her, mic still in hand, to whisper, "...who is it?"
Santana laughs, but it's a nervous laugh. She hopes that the crowd thinks that she's laughing nervously because of this crush she has, being a teenager and all, when it's something else entirely. "That, Caesar," she replies mischievously, "is for me to know and for you to figure out." A cheer erupts from the audience.
The buzzer signals the end of her little time with Caesar Flickerman, and as she walks back and sits down on her stool, she and Brittany exchange looks again. Brittany raises a brow, and looks away.
"It's pretty dark now," Santana observes. Brittany nods. They didn't make a fire, as usual, and Santana wished they had: it was so cold that night. But she knew better and she had to stick with their game plan as much as possible. They always managed to make it through the cold nights because of their sleeping bags, but now that they only had one left...
Santana blushes at the thought of sharing it with Brittany. The blond seems to read her thoughts, and says, "You can have the sleeping bag. I'll go on watch duty."
Santana gnaws on her lower lip. She didn't want to have to owe Brittany any more than she already did, and she felt guilty just imagining Brittany sit through the cold night while she was tucked in more or less sleeping in peace. She didn't want that, especially not after all the shit they'd been through together.
"Look, it's fine," Santana says, "We could just take turns on watch duty. We can share the first watch."
Brittany studies her and the Latina can't help but waver under that intense gaze, but Brittany just shrugs after a while. "Okay then."
They sit side by side, shoulder to shoulder against the tree. There is silence in the woods and between them. Santana felt herself ready to doze off, but she fights to keep herself awake. The Games was taking its toll on her: she was restless, fatigued every single day, starving, and she was just an emotional wreck. The emotional fit she got into a few hours back had drained her completely of her energy, and she had managed to hold on long enough, but exhaustion was starting to seep back into her body and her bones and all she yearned to do was sleep. You can't sleep just yet, you promised to share the first watch with her.
Brittany disrupts the silence when she asks in a quiet whisper, "Why did you cry earlier?"
Santana is caught off guard by the straightforwardness of the question. But Brittany asked it gently, as if to put across that it was fine if she didn't want to answer. Like...like she understood her pain like one would understand themselves. Santana turns to look at her companion, who looks back at her. They hold each other's gazes for a while and Santana finally answers, "It's just...I'm just...I'm just so fucking tired, Brittany. Not just physically, but emotionally too. I just couldn't help it anymore."
Brittany doesn't say anything, and Santana continues to vent. "It's just so damn different when you have death staring you in the face at every corner, I just...it's just too much for me to handle. It'd be too much for anyone to handle. I'm constantly living in fear that one of the other tributes will kill me in my sleep, or kill me right where I'm standing...and...I'm so fucking scared." The last four words came out as a whisper, a soft and quiet whisper. She gnawed on her lower lip again. Brittany wrapped an arm arm her shoulders, pulling her closer. She was glad for that. The warmth Brittany radiated was relaxing, and she found that she had an easier time talking about everything she just felt.
She gulped, took in a shaky breath of air, and continued. "The last time I cried and just really broke down was when my father died. He was killed in an accident in one of the power plants back home. I was around eight-years-old when that happened. I had come home from school, and my mother was crying like hell. I asked her what was wrong, and all she did was pull me into her arms and just cry and cry. I didn't know why she was crying, yet I cried with her. I cried because she was crying. It made no sense to me then, but I didn't like seeing my mother so sad. After a while, she wiped away her tears, and she told me, 'Your papa's gone.' I didn't understand any of that, and so my mother told me in a way a parent would tell their little girl that their dad had just died. She told me he was in a better place now, and that I didn't have to worry because he wouldn't have to experience pain anymore. I cried more after I heard that.
"I have never felt as devastated like I did at that moment before. It was when I began to realize how hard and cruel life was. I always wondered, 'Why papa? He was never a bad guy.' I learned the heard way that it doesn't matter if you're a good guy or a bad guy, because when it comes to death, no one's exempted.
"I loved my dad beyond words. He was my hero, really. I looked up to him, and more than anything, I wanted to be like him in every single way I could be. And it wasn't just that. Whenever I got scared, like when there'd be a loud thunder crash, my dad would just hold me real tight, and tell me everything would be okay, and I always believed him. Whenever my dad did that, I believed that nothing could hurt me. No one could touch me, hurt me or take me away from my family. I always felt safest when I was with my dad, when I was in his strong and secure arms, with him telling me, 'It'll be fine, baby girl. Nothing will ever hurt you.' I...I hated him for a while after he died, because he lied to me. 'Nothing will ever hurt you' he says. Well, it isn't ever that way is it?
"My mother was even more bitter about it than I was. The loving and caring mother I once had was replaced by some stranger, some woman who didn't believe in love, who believed that to love was only a sure way to get you hurt. She took that out on me. She was short-tempered now. The slightest mistake and she would hit me, and even if I cried and cried, she would only get angrier at me, telling me only cowards or weaklings cried. As I grew up, I grew to despise her for being a monster. A cold, heartless monster. I could feel that she thought of me as a burden to her in many ways, and she took to drinking and every now and then gambling. She was at her worst when she was drunk, and when I was fourteen, I finally had the guts to confront her about it, and I asked her to stop, and all she did was slap me and curse at me and tell me I had no right to say anything. That I had no idea what she went through when my father died, and I lost it at that moment. We had an argument that only ended in more tears and pain. I hated my life, and eventually I started taking to vices. I was slowly becoming the bitter woman that was my mother, and I hated it. I eventually got back on the right track, but my mother never did. All I had left was the ghost of the mother I had once loved and adored so so much. The day I lost my father was the day I lost my mother too.
"And then...then you came along and when I couldn't get up anymore, when I just wanted to give up on myself, when I just wanted to die and say, 'I give up, you win' to the Capitol, just so they'd end my misery, you picked up me. And then there I was, suddenly reminded of the father I lost, the father I loved, the only person who I could ever feel truly safe and untouchable around. I felt that way when you carried me in your arms. I mean, yeah, it sounds stupid now, and a bit funny even, how tripping over a fucking rock and having you pick me up the way you did would actually bring out so much emotions, but...I miss him so much, Brittany. I guess in a lot of ways, you reminded me of him. You reminded me of how my father would always tell me that no matter what, I never should give up on myself, and you gave me that feeling of safety, like nothing would ever hurt me again. And looking back on it now, you did everything in your power to keep me safe in this arena, even when we still fought alongside the careers.
"My mom would probably kill me herself if she were here. After my dad died, she told me to never ever let my guard down, to never be vulnerable. 'Emotions and feelings are your greatest weaknesses,' she says. I believed her. I still do, I guess. But I'm just too tired. I'm tired of constantly bottling up every hurt or every pain I have ever felt, and it's about time I let it out. A person can only take so much, you know?"
Brittany nods understandingly. She was looking at Santana in such a sad way, and she seemed to be back in that dark place, and her wonderfully expressive blue eyes only showed anger, sadness and...self loathing. Santana had always self loathing, but she had never expected to see it in Brittany, who seemed to be a happy person with a good life. Then again, they hardly ever really knew each other, and who was she to judge?
She intertwines her fingers with Brittany's and ask, "What about you? What's your story?"
Brittany's silent for a while. She looks down at their hands, clasped together. She looks back up to Santana and replies, "I wish I had a dad like yours. Mine was...he was a monster." Santana was surprised to hear so much vehemence coming from Brittany, and she could already tell this wasn't going to be a pretty story.
"I can't even begin to describe him," she continues. "Even when I was little, I would see him beating my mother bloody, and even when she had my baby sister in her, that didn't stop him from hurting her. I hated having to go fishing with him, because just being in close proximity with him made me nauseous. I hated him so much. I still hate him to this very day. He didn't stop with my mother, though. He'd beat me too, except I was always fighting back, and I guess it came across to him that I'd be a bit harder to deal with than my mom. I'd sometimes go to school with a huge bruise swelling on my cheek, or with a bloody knee. He ruined my childhood, really. There were many times when I would yearn to just kill him, let him have a taste of his own medicine. But I couldn't. I hated the fact I was so afraid of that monster.
"And then my baby sister was born. Mom named her Marina. My father wasn't there during the time she was giving birth to Marina, and I was glad for it too. I was five-years-old then. I loved my sister more than anything in the world, probably even more than I loved my mother. I tried my best to keep her sheltered from all the abuse and pain my father brought us, but it always seemed to backfire on me. She would always wind up crying, always asking me why daddy was hurting mommy. I could never answer her. I wanted to run away more than ever now. If I couldn't run away with my mom, then I'd have to keep my sister safe. I knew my mom would have wanted that for us. To be safe from the monster that was our father.
"Things change when I was fifteen. Marina was just ten. I saw how my dad would look at Marina and me. It wasn't like before. He always looked at me like I was some brat, and Marina too. But as we grew older, I could see exactly what he wanted, and it scared me. The looks he gave scared me to death, not just because of my own safety, but because I was afraid of what he'd do to Marina.
"The looks he gave seemed...predatory in a way. I was more and more conscious around him, but I couldn't help my sister. He..." her lower lip was trembling now, but she calms down and says, "he...raped her."
Silence hung between them. Santana could feel tears in her eyes, she felt her heart aching for this girl, who had gone through such lengths to keep her sister safe, and yet that happened. "I'm...I'm so sorry." That didn't cut it. Yet Brittany smiled sadly.
"He threatened me and my mother's lives if we ever spoke to anyone about it. Sometimes he'd do what he did to Marina to me. Eventually my sister stopped going to school, my dad stopped working, and even my mom was scared to leave my sister's side. I was the only one who ever really left the house now, to go fishing and make some money, but when people asked me about my dad or my sister or mom, I would have to hold back from saying anything. Eventually people started thinking I was a little wrong in the head. I probably was.
"Then one evening, while I was out trying to get some more money, my dad decided to just end it. He had killed my mom and sister out of a drunk fit, and by the time I got home, it was raining like hell and the only two people that were ever family to me were dead. I faced my father, who looked like he was gonna kill me next. He probably was. I ran and ran, until I found a knife. Before I could do anything, he already pounced on me, pinning me to the ground. With the last gust of strength I could muster, I made a grab for the knife I had dropped and I killed him. Stabbed him right through the heart.
"A neighbor had heard all the commotion and had called the Peacekeepers. When they arrived at my house, they saw me holding the knife in my hand as i sat curled up in a ball in a corner, too numb with pain to even cry. A few of them knew me as the girl who sold them fish, and they knew how some people thought I was a bit wrong in the head. They immediately put me under arrest. Afterward, they asked my side of the story. I wouldn't talk for days, and soon weeks. Finally, when my grief had settled down, I told them everything. They ran a test on me, and I was set free to live with my maternal grandmother.
"I haven't forgiven myself for that until now. When I had the chance to save them from that torment, I was too afraid. And the only time I muster the courage to do anything about it is when they're fucking dead, when it's too fucking late," Brittany says in conclusion to the story. There is silence again.
"I guess you and I are more the same than we know," Santana whispers sadly. She rests her head on Brittany's shoulder, and somehow, she doesn't feel as miserable or as sad as she used to be. It was an odd feeling, finding someone who was from an entirely different land and with an entirely different story and life yet seemed to be just one side of the same coin. They were both broken, broken beyond words and comprehension. Yet that was what made them so the same. She never thought such sad events could bring out something beautiful. Two side of the same coin... yes, Santana thought. That's what we are.
Brittany nods. "I guess so." She looks down at Santana, who feels herself dozing off again. She was just so tired, both physically and emotionally, yet she didn't want to sleep just yet. It was hard to figure out what she wanted, really, but after having such an emotional conversation with Brittany, someone who she never would have told about her life experiences, or the pain she went through, she couldn't bare to just fall asleep. That was just too embarrassing. And this new found connection they had was something so splendid, so amazing she could hardly keep herself from feeling happy and most of all, hopeful. Yes, hope. Something she hadn't felt in a while.
There's a silence between them, and Brittany says quietly, "You know, if we'd met under different circumstances..." She smiles. "I could teach you how to fish, and swim. Do you know how to swim? I guess not. I'd show you the best places in District Four, the best beaches. We could travel to places by boat. Those are the best. I'd take you to the market place. It's my favorite place, to be honest. It takes a while to get used to, but the people there are great. And you can always get a good bargain from the vendors. They always give me free stuff. And we have some festivities too, and I'm sure you'd love them the way I do."
Santana laughs, but she appreciated everything she just said. "I, on the other hand, would teach you a bunch of boring electrical stuff, like how to put in a light bulb," she says jokingly. But more seriously, she said, "But...I'd like that. To go visit District Four, see the market place, learn how to swim, see the fish, see the festivities, travel by boat..." Santana lets out a yawn.
"Go to sleep," Brittany says gently. And teasingly, she adds, "You seriously need it right now. You look absolutely horrible, Santana."
Santana rolled her eyes. "Look who's talking," she retorts.
"Yeah, but when I'm all messy it's cute and endearing."
Santana yawns again. "Yeah, yeah," she says sleepily. "Good night, seaweed-for-brains."
Brittany smiles. "Good night, Santana."
A/N: So. This took me a whole day and I guess it paid off? Along the way I decided to try and base it off the essence of 'Safe and Sound', which really helped me tbh. And now, I'd like to give credit to the meme that influenced what Districts they'd be in: http :/ brittany-santana . tumblr . com/ tagged/ gthg