A/N: This chapter is a long one. I was writing and next thing I knew it was like OMG. Lol. Thank you guys for all the alerts ! The response was overwhelming. So here's the next chapter. REVIEW (:

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Chapter 2: Beauty In The Breakdown and The First Encounter

Santana awoke the next day, attempting to shield her eyes from the sun that was peeking through the blinds in her room. She groggily looked over to her phone checking the time. 1:45pm "Shit" sliding her finger across the screen she looked at the text she received from Puck:

U ok? I'll call ur appointments for earlier and ask if they want to reschedule till later. Call me on ur way.

Santana smiled at her best friend. If she had anyone in the world that was always there for her, it was him. Grabbing her pack of Newports and her lighter, she pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Taking a long drag, she sat in her covers and tried to figure out why she was still having that nightmare. Blowing out smoke, Santana tried to figure what was going on her head. She spent countless hours with her therapist trying to push those last few years from the fore front of her mind to the back, never wanting to remember or feel those feelings again. Of course, she figured once she thought she was ok again, something like this would happen. Taking another drag, she ashed her cigarette and climbed out of bed. Looking around at her apartment, she walked to her kitchen. Almost tripping over the shoes she kicked off last night, ashed her cigarette in the ash tray in her living room and gradually made herself some coffee and a bowl of cereal. Using the last bit of her milk, Santana swore. "Fuck I gotta go grocery shopping today."

She debated whether or not she wanted to go to work today. But quickly decided against it, she learned in therapy that the last thing she needed to do in times like this was to be by herself, that's what caused relapses, she needed to keep herself busy. Which meant taking her ass to work, so after putting her coffee mug and bowl in the sink, she sauntered to her bathroom to take a shower. Once she got out the shower, she wiped the mirror and looked at her face. Her dark curly hair dripping wet and dangling on her shoulders, she shook her hair out and started to blow dry it. After putting on her cut off jean shorts and a sleeveless tank top that hung loosely on her body, she debated on if she should straighten her hair. She was already late, and just decided to wear it natural. Walking to the mirror she looked at her reflection, she saw the drastic comparisons from her former high school self and now. How she just barely had a spark in her eyes, when just 5 years prior they were full of fire. Shaking her head she applied her makeup, lining her eyes and coating her lashes thick with mascara. Pleased with her appearance she looks back down to grab her new gauges, placing them in her ears without looking in the mirror. Once again she glances in the mirror, and for a minute she thought she was seeing things. Blinking her eyes again and again, she looked in the mirror. It had to be another sick joke her mind was playing on her. The reflection that looked back at her was not one she wanted to see again. It was her, but it was her from that time in her life. Her face looked gaunt, her dark eyes looking like pools of darkness, her face stood emotionless, almost menacing. Her former self spoke to her.

"You thought you were getting better? HA! Please, you'll be back to your old self in no time. You thought you could forget? I'll always be that dark shadow looking over your shoulder every time you turn a corner. You'll never be better. You'll never get over it. You'll attempt to put up this façade like your normal again, but we both know you're not. You never will be. Your first attempt was pathetic. You could do better. You've thought of better. It will be only a matter of time. You'll succumb, you always do. You pathetic, worthless, little bitch."

Santana blinked her eyes again; she looked in the mirror and saw her normal self but with a tear streaked face. Fixing her makeup, she wondered if she would ever be able to shake this. Her dreams always reawakened these feelings. She couldn't let herself cave in. She had come so far. People were starting to trust her again. She was able to stand being in the dark by herself. Opening her medicine cabinet, she pulled out two more bottles of pills. Taking one of each, she stood over her bathroom sink, holding the sides for dear life, bracing herself to face the world for yet another day.

"You can do this Santana. You're strong enough. You've come so far. Everyone is looking up to you. You're better than this. All that hard work will not go unnoticed." She repeated the mantra over and over again. Each time the words sunk in deeper and deeper, until she felt a wave of calm over take her. She was ok again; she could look at the world with a brave face and take whatever it threw at her. Of course it was probably the effects of her medication. But she thanked god for them as a backup, when her will alone wasn't enough to fight the hands that tried to pull her back into the darkness she just recently stepped out of.

…..

Kicking her off her Vans and sitting barefoot and cross legged in her big chair in the back room, Santana was filing paper work and paying bills. She normally has Tina do it, but she let her go early. It was Friday and she knew she had plans with Mike. Brushing her hair back, she logged more hours and more receipts in the books. It was something to keep her busy. Everyone could tell that she just wasn't herself, but then again everyone knew what she was dealing with emotionally. She had her good days, she had her bad days and everything else was in between. It was a constant battle with herself internally. She was drained, she was tired of looking over her shoulder constantly worried that her past would clothesline her when she least expected it. So she kept herself busy, focusing on her tattoo parlor, and her relationship with Puck, Mike and Tina. They were always there for her. They told her constantly how proud they were of her and of how far she'd come. She can't wallow in her thoughts; they were too dark, too deep, too damaged. It would do her more bad then good. She called her therapist and made another appointment. She hasn't been back there in almost a year. She hoped she wasn't relapsing again; she was just talking about how far she had come. How she felt better, happy. She instantly thought of Puck, Tina and Mike's faces when she said she was slowly starting to feel like herself again. She couldn't let them down, but most of all she couldn't let herself down. She was granted a second chance, she wanted to make it work.

Puck watched Santana in the back room. He could tell she was kind of spaced out today. He figured she more than likely was still reeling from her dream the night before and was on her meds. He almost forgot she had to take them. She hasn't spoken or seemed like she had to take them in almost a year. His heart ached for his best friend, after that night almost 3 years ago. He vowed to God that if he got his best friend back, he would do everything in his power to make her whole again. To do his best to make sure she was happy and ok again. He felt that familiar prickle behind his eyes as he thought about that night, quite possibly the worst night of his entire life. He still had nightmares of walking into her bathroom, finding her unconscious on the bathroom floor, eyes rolled in the back of her head, her body completely limp in his arms as he screamed for help. He shook his head; he had to be strong for Santana. He had too, he was all she had. The only thing from her childhood that was still attached to her side, forcing himself out of his daze, he focused on Santana. He saw her fidgeting with her prevention bracelet she always wore. He cleared his throat loud enough for Santana to her, he couldn't let her relapse. If he lost her again…

"Tana-ram, whatcha doin?" He asked walking over to her in the chair, looking over her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her neck from behind her.

Santana jumped, immediately stopping her fidgeting with her bracelet. "Puckerman, you scared the shit outta me. It's Friday, the fuck are you still doing here?" Honestly she was glad Puck was there. She needed someone there with her. Her meds where wearing off, and despite how hard she was trying, she felt those dark hands grabbing her shoulders pulling herself further and further back.

"I was cleaning up my station and I realized you were still here, so I came back to keep you company." Puck said smiling brightly, sitting on the side of her desk. "How are you feeling?" He asked looking into her eyes with concern.

"I've had better days. But I'm fine. Don't worry about me." Santana forced a smile, trying to look as genuine as possible. But she knew Puck knew her better than that. Turning her head so she wasn't looking him in the eyes anymore.

Santana's eyes told everything about her. She could be stone cold mean, angry or even violent. He could tell everything about her by looking into her eyes, and when she avoided looking him in the eyes. He knew something was wrong. "You sure?" Puck asked again.

"I said I was fine." Santana snapped back, anger was her only resort right now. She didn't want to talk. She wanted to finish up this last bit of work so she could find the comfort of her own dark house.

Puck grabbed her by her shoulders. The last time he asked her this question and she didn't look him in the eyes, she gave him this same answer with the same venom laced voice, he found her in her bathroom twenty minutes later. This was NOT about to happen again. "Santana Marie, I know something is wrong. Don't shut me out…please." Puck looked her in the eyes again and wouldn't let her look away. "Santana look at me. Please. Not again, we've come so far. Don't back track now."

Santana blinked her eyes, she couldn't help the few tears that have gone rogue and escaped. She knew she was back pedaling. Her face in the mirror told her everything. It was only a matter of time before she felt her foundation crumbling beneath her. The one she worked so hard to keep together every day of her life. Next thing she knew, her face was buried in her hands, her body shook with sobs that took everything she had to keep herself in the chair.

Puck grabbed her and squeezed her tight. He knew that this wasn't easy for her. She just said yesterday how she felt like things were alright again, and now this. Pulling her face to his chest, she clung to him for dear life. "Shhh, San I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here." He repeated it over and over again. Santana's therapist told him to do just that whenever Santana was having an episode. "Calm down, talk to me." He brushed her hair from her face, waiting for her sobs to cease.

"I have no idea. One minute I was fine, everything was finally seeming ok. I had a d-dream" Santana fought through her tears, she had to get this out. "It was when I was being rushed to the hospital that night. I thought it happened again. I thought I heard her voice. Puck, I can't do this anymore. Why can't it just be over? I just want to be myself again." Santana sobbed. Although she felt a weight off her shoulders, she still felt empty, numb. She needed to feel again. A reminder she was still alive, she need to… Stop Santana. She scolded herself in her head, she started to pop her prevention bracelet. The sharp sting of pain in her wrist silenced her urges.

"It takes time San, you've been doing so well for so long. You haven't even noticed it's been almost 2 years since your last episode, almost a year and a half without your meds. It was a dream. You're doing great. Keep focusing on the future. I'm gonna stay with you tonight. Alright?" Puck grabbed her hand. He never left her alone after this.

"It wasn't just a dream Puck. I looked in the mirror this morning and saw the old me. I told myself that I was worthless and that it was only a matter of time before I relapsed and I had fooled myself into thinking I was alright again. I said my first attempt was pathetic… and that I would succeed next time. That I knew a sure fire way for success when it all caved in on me." Santana said, tears still flowing freely down her face and popping aggressively at her prevention bracelet. The urge had crept on her again, she looked down at her wrist. It burned and her sun kissed skin was bright red.

Puck stood there speechless. He tried to process what his best friend was telling him, but every time he tried, he just ended up opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. "Did you call your therapist?" He was finally able to voice.

Santana nodded her head. "She's making a special trip to the office on Sunday for me." She hated the feeling that everyone had to stop what they were doing to take care of her. She wanted to be just herself again. The person that people weren't always weary about leaving her by herself. But then again, with her track record if the roles were reversed. She wouldn't leave herself by herself either. But she was glad Puck was always there. Just like when they were little.

"Good, then I'm going to do something to help you feel better." Puck said smiling, pulling Santana out her chair and putting the books away. "You're done with work for the night."

"Puck, you know as much as I'm flattered. I don't swing in that direction... at all." Santana emphasized the "at all" part and laughed finally, feeling the pressure she felt on her chest levitate to where she could take comfortable full breaths again.

"See, I knew you always wanted a taste of the Puckster. It was just a matter of time before you jumped from behind that rainbow flag you were waving to trade it in for the one with the pink and blue."

"That's probably the most disgusting thing you've ever said to me. And trust me, you've told me a lot of things that made my stomach turn." Santana rolled her eyes and slipped her feet back into her shoes and turning the lights off in the back office before walking with Puck to the front of the store.

"Please, I was just playing. Everyone knows that you've always had a fondness for tacos. And not just the ones your Aunt Marisol makes." Puck winked at her before locking all the cabinets and turning the lights out.

Santana shook her head at her best friend, setting the alarm and following him out the shop locking the doors behind her. "Can we PLEASE go for a day without you making remarks about my lesbianism?"

"But it's so fun." Puck playfully pouted at his best friend. "But all jokes aside. We're going out tonight. Your choice of clubs, the night is young and so am I. All I ask is that you don't pick another gay club. I love you but there's only so many times I can be hit on by dudes. I like tacos like you."

Santana couldn't say anything to her friend. She just shook her head. "Alright whatever. I could use a night out." Santana purposefully ignored the last part of his statement.

"YES. Straight girls here I come." Puck punched the air with his fist before he got in his car. Santana just hopped in her car and started the ignition, pulling off to her apartment.

…..

Santana smiled watching her best friend grind against this girl to the beat of the song playing loudly over the speakers. She could tell she was feeling better, but that was probably just the 8 mega shots of Jose Cuervo coursing through her veins, straight no chaser. She slowly rocked her hips to what she thought was the beat of the music, but at this time she was so drunk she was probably dancing to her own beat in her head. Spotting a hot girl over in the corner, Santana had to resist the urge walking up to her. Damn Puck for resisting all her gay club suggestions. Throwing back another shot, she shook her head. Just as she was going to leave the bar and dance, she felt someone brush past her and sit next to her at the bar.

"Hey, I saw you across the bar and I have to say that dress… is just… damn. I'm Matt." Santana had to resist the urge to laugh in his face. She had to say, he was very attractive. But the fact that he had something dangling in between his legs is something Santana was not attracted to at all, unless it was strapped to a harness between girl's legs. "Can I get another shot of whatever she was drinking for the girl?" Matt ordered her another shot. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Santana scoffed. "I didn't throw it." The bartender set another shot in front of Santana. "Thanks for the drink, Matt." She walked away after throwing the shot back, she had to resist the urge to laugh as she walked away knowing Matt was staring at her as she sauntered away. Spotting Puck across the room she walked over to him, noticing how he slightly stumbled. She knew he was drunk. "Puck. PUCK!" Santana shouted over the music.

"Lopez! I was looking for you." Puck slurred. "This club is rocking. I got like 3 numbers." Santana smiled at her friend. "You're drunk Puckerman."

"And so are you. Your eyes are glazed."

"I had to leave the bar. Too much penis for my liking."

Puck rolled his eyes. "I'm sleepy. You wanna leave?"

"Yeah, my bed is calling me right now." Santana grabbed Puck's arm and wrapped it over her shoulder. They both leaned on each other for support as they stumbled out the club. Santana was drunk, she knew it and the tossing and turning her stomach was doing wasn't helping her either. She stopped walking for a second to gather herself before she went outside. Puck looked at her quizzically trying to figure out why she wasn't moving, she looked sick. "San, you ok?" Puck asked.

Taking a deep breath, Santana eased her turning stomach before grabbing Puck to take another step. Maybe I did drink too much. Santana thought before someone bumped into her, normally the bump would have just made her stumble a bit, but being as drunk as she was she fell right over, falling smack to the floor and losing one of her 4 inch stiletto in the process. Santana groaned for a minute, trying to keep her stomach intact before she lost her threw up all the liquor she consumed over the night on the floor. Swallowing the vomit she felt right in the back of the throat Santana looked behind her, prepared to punch whoever it was that knocked her down in the face, but as soon as she saw who it was, her breath hitched in her throat. She was the most beautiful thing she as ever seen and suddenly there was no one else in that club but the both of them.

"OH MY GOD!" The mysterious woman looked mortified. "I'm so unbelievably sorry. I was hugging my friend and got overly excited. Are you ok?" She held her hand out and helped her up from the floor. The woman's hand felt soft, she instantly felt her anger dissipate as she looked into the brunettes eyes. Her long brown hair was curled, her chocolate eyes locked on Santana's and she felt her knees go weak again. The woman grabbed her arm to keep her from falling again. Santana got herself standing on her own and just stared at her, she couldn't help herself as her eyes did a once over the woman's body, eyes knowingly filled with lust. The tight bright blue dress the woman was wearing was unbelievably short and stopped just a few inches from the space in between her legs and she couldn't keep herself from staring at the woman's ample breasts, her cleavage spilling out the top. "Are you sure you're ok? I can't believe it. I'm so mortified. I'm so sorry. I can't say it enough." Santana kept herself from staring too long, thankful that the club was dark so the woman couldn't see the blush creep across her cheeks or the desire in her eyes. She noticed the woman's eyes fixed on her body and stopped at the bottom of her dress, she fixed her dress realizing that her dress hitched itself higher on her legs than intended when she fell. The woman shifted her stance uncomfortably as she noticed Santana staring at her, thankful the club was dark so she couldn't see her blush or how she stared at her intently eyes filled with lust as well. "Once again, I'm really sorry." The woman explained, Santana could tell that she was sorry. But she noticed something different, the woman's eyes bore holes through her skin, licking her lips inadvertently while glancing at the tattoo Santana sported that started from her shoulder and down to her elbow. Was she checking her out?

Santana opened her mouth to speak "It's fi-" but as she felt the bile rising in her throat again. She was gonna be sick, she couldn't hold it back. Santana ran out the club in a blur her hair rushing out behind her. Puck sat there and watched the whole scene, running after Santana outside the club.

The woman sat back stunned. "What's her problem?" Her friend asked behind her. She just turned to her friend and shook her head. Continuing her walk to the VIP section, she almost tripped over something. She looked down; it was that woman's shoe. She picked it up; hopefully she would run into the beautiful woman again. That beautiful woman she accidently knocked down and whose face was forever burned into the forefront of her brain.

…

Puck walked outside looking for his friend, there was no sign of her anywhere. What he watched back in the club was hot. They were staring at each other with those crazy sex eyes, before Santana ran out like a little bitch. "Santana!" He called her name out again, hoping she would answer him. She couldn't have gotten far. "SANTANA!" He walked past the long line at the club and heard vomiting in the alley way. His curiosity got the best of him and he walked to the alley. He quickly blew out a breath of relief when he found Santana doubled over, one hand clutching her stomach and the other bracing herself against the brick wall of a building, coughing and sputtering as she heaved again, releasing the contents of her stomach. Puck walked over and held her hair back, trying not to touch her bangs in the front that already had a considerable amount of puke on them already.

"Damn you ran fast." Puck said rubbing her back when her vomiting ceased. Santana just wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then leaned against the brick wall and slid down sitting on the ground trying to stop the world from spinning and seeing two of Puck.

"Will you stop moving?" Santana slurred. "I'm tryna focus and you're just making me even sicker." Santana felt the urge rise in her throat again and leaned over dry heaving.

When she stopped dry heaving, Puck picked her up and placed her on his back, piggy back. "How much did you drink Lopez?" Her head was slumped against his shoulder, he could smell the tequila and vomit on her breath and Puck had to turn his head before he got sick.

"Oh, I don't know." Santana slurred. "Maybe 5…6…10"

"10, Lopez?" Puck shook his head. "Oh you're gonna feel this tomorrow. Let me get you home before you puke on my back. And I am too good looking to be walking on the street with puke on my shoulder and a drunk girl on my back." He silently thanked God, for Santana choosing a club that was only 3 blocks from her house. They walked to the club earlier in the night and Santana was fairly light so he didn't mind, even in her drunken state she was no wear near being the dead weight most people are.

….

Puck chuckled as he heard light snoring from Santana, clearly she passed out on the walk back home. Puck kicked open her bedroom door and chucked Santana on her bed. He sobered up a long time ago and watched as Santana stirred in her sleep for a bit before snoring again. Walking over to her dresser drawer, he pulled out a large shirt from the drawer that was his for when he slept over and undressed Santana. Had this been any other woman, her lack of clothes under her dress would've been heaven, especially since Santana failed to wear a bra. But that was his best friend, and that was all it was. He just slipped the shirt over her head and pulled the covers over her body. Walking to the trashcan in the corner of his room, he picked it up and placed it by her head before stripping down to his boxers and climbing in on the other side. That way he would be there in the middle of the night if she got sick, or had another dream. Clicking the light off on the bedside table, he got comfortable under the covers, before realizing that Santana only had one shoe on when he brought her home. It was a lost cause, he had no idea where it was. He just shook his head and turned over; allowing Santana's light snoring to slowly lull him to sleep.