"If You Could Only See"

But, she's not afraid. Santana hears herself telling Mrs. Pillsbury this for the third time in the past ten minutes. And it's true. She's not. Santana's not afraid of many things. Her fears can be counted on one hand and they are as followed: the citizens of Lima, Ohio finding out how she really feels about girls, inheriting her grandmother's atrocious crows feet and being raped.

Death was not on this list. Death has never been on this list. It's not because she's feels invincible. She's young and she knows it but she's always be acutely aware of her own mortality.

"I've never been afraid of dying." She hears herself say out loud. Mrs. Pillsbury crinkles her nose and bites her lips in a way that Santana knows mean she doesn't believe her.

"Santana, I think these sessions would go a lot smoother and be a lot more beneficial for you if you were honest with me..." She drifts out as Mrs. P begins to ramble on about how pure an truthful heart is and how many doctors believe that it will prolonge your life span.

Santana still can't seem to put her finger on her guidance counselor. She seems to genuinely care about the students. That's when she's not lusting after Mr. Shue or the hot ass pseudo-doctor husband of hers. She watches as the older woman rambles on excitedly, her hands flying animatedly in front of her. She was kind of odd looking. But, in a good way. Like a beautiful bug-eyed mouse lady.

"Santana, I think we should get your parents involved in this-"

And that's when Santana snaps back into reality. Her eyes bulging, battling with Emma's to be the biggest. "You can't do that."

"I want to help you, but I can't if you won't talk to me." Mrs. Pillsbury replies earnestly.

"Look. It was a mistake. Okay? Accidents happen. I don't sleep at night and I was tired. So I took some pills. They're prescription-"

"A prescription that belongs to one of Rachel Berry's dads. And you didn't just take some pills. You took half a bottle and you washed them down with a bottle of bourbon. That also belong to Hiram Berry."

Santana doesn't have a response for this. In all honesty she wants to spit back that Mrs. Pillsbury's a liar. Because this doesn't sound like something she would do. But, she knows she did. Although past seventy-two hours of her life are covered in a thick blanket of fog she can see patches. She remembers going to Rachel's house for another so-called "party" at Sam's beckoning. She remembers venturing upstairs away from the party and into Rachel's dad's bedroom. She remembers pocketing the bottle of sleeping pills and swiping a bottle of bourbon before leaving without telling anyone goodbye.

She knows that her feet directed her from Berry's house to the park.

But, that's it.

When she came to she was vomitting in the back of Mr. Shue's car. He brought her back to his house and she begged him not to tell her parents. She even thinks she may have offered sexual favors. He agreed to keep quiet if she agreed to start seeing Mrs. Pilsbury.

So here she sat. Telling the truth yet still not being believed.

If she needed to embellish she would. She's a natural born actor. And a fantastic liar. So it wouldn't be too hard. She would say anything to keep her parents uninvolved. They had an unspoken agreement.

If Santana stayed without a child, out of jail and without a drug dependency the y would stay out of her way. It wasn't the most nurturing arrangement, but it worked for the Lopez's.

It worked for Santana.

"Are you listening to me?"

Santana snapped her head back toward Mrs. Pillsbury. Clearly she wasn't

"I am."

Emma's worried eyes flickered down as she scribbled something on a notepad.

Showtime.

"I had fight with Sam..."

Mrs. Pillsbury lifted her, intrigued and hopeful. Maybe she could get to the bottom of this. "Keep going..."

Santana's brain kicked into overdrive as she began fabricating a lie simple enough to be believed because this was high school. "I saw him flirting with Quinn...They used to date, before he realized that I was the hotter piece...We got into a fight when I asked him about it. He said he wasn't. And I mean, I should've believed him because only someone with a severe case of the blind would choose Quinn freaking Fabray over me."

"And that's why you took the pills?"

"It was stupid I know. But, I was sad." Santana replied, shrugging her shoulders a bit.

Clearing her throat, Mrs. Pillsbury began to gather the papers that were spread across her desk, "Honey, boys like Sam Evans will come in go. But, there's only one you. And you should be more careful with the only Santana Lopez that there will ever be."

"I know."

Santana watched as the gears turned inside of her counselor's brain. Her tiny little mouse lips twitching as if she was on the verge of saying something, but stopping short of actually speaking.

"You can go now." she finally managed out.

"Are you going to call my parents?"

"No."

Relieved, Santana stood, letting out a deep breath.

And the Oscar for most convincing boy crazy, basket case of William McKinley High goes to her she thought as she made her way over to the door.

Please hold your applause.

"But, maybe you can think about actually being honest with me before we meet again."

Santana stopped short at the door, her hand idling on the knob. Again she found herself without a response.

Without looking back, she leaves.

Things had gotten better in the weeks that had gone by since she she had told Brittany she loved her. Well, maybe not better. But, they had gotten more normal.

She still couldn't look Brittany in the eye or sit by her without halving the conflicting desires to shove their bodies together and/or punch the blonde square in the face, but she was working on it.

She was working on not loving Brittany and as long as Brittany didn't come near her she was fine.

But, her resolve had broken at Rachel's party. Brittany was drunk and Artie was too discracting doing whatever people in wheelchairs do at parties to notice when Brittany had grabbed her hand and pulled her upstairs.

For the record, Santana was strong for the first, like, three minutes. Even when Brittany had her mouth clasps firmly to her neck. Even when her hands got dangerously close to being called textbook sexual assault.

Santana was strong.

But, then Brittany kissed her. A delicious concoction of peach shnapps and the sweetest blonde filling her mouth. And she was gone.

She pushed the voice that said she was taking advantage of her drunk friend as far back into her head as possible and she pushed Brittany on to Rachel's dad's bed. Her body fitting against her like a puzzle piece.

Santana tore at Brittany's bra, her mouth latching onto the first bare piece of skin she found. She fought back moans as Brittany forced her hand into her jeans forgoing unbuttoning them as she blindly made her way to Santana's center.

"I've missed you..." Brittany whispered softly into Santana's ear as her hand slid idly over Santana's embarassingly wet panties.

Just as Santana felt the words she should've never spoken about to spill over from her lips yet again, Artie's voice cut through the air.

Ruining everything.

"Baby, we gonna be out! Puck's ready to go. Let's roll!" he shouted from somewhere downstairs and Brittany groaned.

"You're seriously not about to leave right now are you?" Santana spat out her voice firm, but her heart shaking.

"I have to. I told Artie's mom that I would go with her in the morning to shop for matching shirts for our cats. She's letting me spend the night...In the den. But, I like it better down there than in Artie's room anyway. It has a television and they get Showtime-"

"Brittany your hand is in my pants right now." Santana interrupted.

The blond underneath her grinned, "I know. If my hand could talk it would say it missed being in your pants."

"We're totally getting it on on Rachel Berry's dad's bed and you want to leave?"

"I don't want to leave, but I have to. I promised his mom." Brittany replied too simply.

Too simply, Santana thought as she removed Brittanys hands for her and stood up. Her arms automatically crossing in her standard defensive position.

"Why do you keep pretending like you owe him something? You don't. Boys don't get shit when it comes to us. We make the rules." Santana snapped.

"I don't understand." Brittany said as she began to put back on the little bit of clothing she was wearing before she entered the room.

Of course you don't understand, Santana thought. But, that wasn't a good enough excuse anymore. Brittany was simple, Santana knew this. But, if she was wise enough to understand Artie's feelings. If she was lucid enough to understand that if she broke up with him, it would break his heart than she could damn well understand Santana.

"What about the things you promised me?" Santana asked her voice cracking.

This was not the route to go. Santana knew it as Brittany's head tilted to the side her face contorting with even more confusion.

"I don't-"

"Understand." Santana finished for her.

"My mom and dad finish each other sentences." Brittany smiled. This was a good thing. Her mom once told her that when you find someone that can finish your sentences then you've found someone who truly knows you...

Brittany's pretty sure she meant a boy. But, Santana's got boyish hips so that's pretty much the same thing.

"Baby? Let's bounce!" Artie yelled again from downstairs.

"I keep telling him that it's pretty unlikely with those wheels that he'll ever be able to bounce. Maybe we can raise money for one of those balloon castles that we had at my tenth birthday party? We can throw him in there and watch him fly-"

"This was a mistake." Santana spoke suddenly. As if realizing it for herself for the first time.

"Don't say that."

Admittedly that was not the reply Santana was betting on hearing. She was mentally preparing a speech to explain to Brittany exactly why it was a mistake when she gave her the stock, "I don't understand."

"I've really missed you. I've really missed my friend."

"I can't be your friend, Brittany."

"But, you love me."

A pain began to creep up at the back of Santana's head. The first warning signs of immenent tears. She needed to get our of here.

"You love me." Brittany pressed on.

"No, Brittany. I'm in love with you. It's a little different and honestly I don't have the time to explain it to you."

Santana quickly shoved her feet back into her boots as Brittany watched silently from the opposite side of the bed. She sat down heavily on the bed, more exhausted than she had been since she had stopped cheering for Coach Sylvester.

"...Just get away from me, Brittany." Her voice was low and filled with pain. Honest pain. It was the kind of sound you make only after realizing that you've lost something you loved.

And that's how Santana felt.

As if Brittany was a million miles away from her. As if she was born in an entire life apart, but she still knew that somewhere in time she existed.

"But, you-"

"Get out, Brittany." Santana said against her voice cutting into the blonde's skin. Hurting her the way only Santana could.

Slowly she turned. Opening the door, the music and laughter intruded into the stillness of the room. A crude reminder to Santana that no one cared that she was hurting. Brittany took one last look back at the slumped shoulders of her ex-best friend and the most confusing person she had ever met and left out of the room. She shuts the door quietly behind her, once again closing off the room.

Once again leaving Santana alone. Santana lied back onto the bed, her body tired, but her mind working in overdrive trying it's best to process what just happened.

She just wanted to shut it off. She just wanted to sleep. So, she stood making her way to the bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet...

Santana beelined down the hallway, past the class she was supposed to be attending, past Mrs. Pillsbury's office and into the girls bathroom. She quickly dived into the first vacant stall and braced herself against the toilet as her stomach turned against her and she began hurling up the pop tart she had forced down that morning at breakfast.

This was all her mothers fault. Every couple of months, Mrs. Lopez decided to take an active roll in her daughters life. Which included making breakfast. Well, what Mrs. Lopez considered making breakfast. A healthy serving of strawberry Pop Tarts and a half a glass of OJ. The breakfast of champions.

She couldn't tell her mother that solids hadn't been agreeing with her the past few weeks. Instead she forced it down with and even more artificial smile than usual.

And this was the clear aftermath of a caring mother. Vomitting in a public bathroom for the entire world to hear and gossip about the possibilites Santana Lopez having an eating disorder.

Her stomach emptied Santana stood upright. Catching her breath, she flushed the toilet with the toe of her boot.

Even in the midst of an early morning crisis and her entire world crashing around her, the tiny Santana voice in her mind quietly complimented herself on her successfull accusations of such hot boots. Stealing was an art form. And as far as Santana Lopez was concered she was Jackson freaking Pollock.

Satisfied that she wasn't going to explode again, Santana unlocked the door and made her way out of the stall only to find a stranger waiting for her.

A stranger who looked oddly familiar.

"I had a bogus Pop Tart for breakfast. You tell anyone about this and I'll curb check your ass, Eddy Norton style." she spat out before the girl in front of her had the chance to speak.

"Everytime I see you, you're wretching up your lungs. Me'thinks you may have a slight problem." The girls voice was deep, but delicate. She had a slight smile on her face and aviators hanging off the collar of her shirt.

She leaned against the bathroom stall, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her beat up blue jeans. Her hair was a dark brown and wavy, hanging just past her shoulders.

"You don't remember me?" She asked a light laughter spilling out.

"No, I don't. You do look kind of homeless. Have I given money to you before?"

"I'm not homeless." She was still smiling, which Santana didn't understand because that was clearly an insult. Maybe she was retarded to boot?

"Fair enough. I don't really give money to the homeless. Or anyone for that matter."

Done with the conversation, Santana turned to the sink closest to the door in an effort to make a quick getaway as soon a she finished washing her hands.

The girl waited until Santana had lathered her hands with soap before speaking again.

"I'm Julia..." Her voice trailed off as she watched to see if any light bulbs went off in Santana's head at her name. When an unfazed Santana gave her a blank stare she went on, "I was the one who found you a couple nights ago in the park. You were throwing. I found Mr. Shue's phone number in your wallet and called him..."

Santana stood frozen at the sink, the water running over her hands.

"I'm glad you're okay and I hope things work out with that Brittany chick."

With a knowing smirk, Julia pulled a couple paper towels from the dispenser setting them next to Santana who stood motionless.

"I'll see you around."

And with that Julia was out of the bathroom.

Santana's heart racing inside her petrified body. She had no idea who this girl was but she could potentionally know the one thing, the number one thing, Santana was most afraid of.

Damage control needed to be done...As soon as she figured out how to make her legs work again.