Author's notes: This chapter has eating disorder triggers in it. Skip to the end for a brief synopsis if you don't want to read.

Dani

It's three days since I met Santana. Three. It seems like I've known her forever. Today I'm in Toronto. Last night I played a sold out show. Tonight I'm playing a sold out show again. I don't get a break. Tomorrow I'll be flying from Toronto to Detroit. All I can think about is Santana. It's insane.

I've got a few hours before I have to go to hair and make up. After that, I have a signing, then sound check, then I get to relax and get dressed.

I'm curled up on my bed in my caravan, watching a movie. It's called The Help. It's really nice to lie down, not to have someone yelling at me, not to have someone caking things in my hair or on my face, to be able to wear sweatpants with holes in them without someone yelling at me about it.

I'm texting Santana: tomorrow she's going out for dinner with Rachel, Kurt and Blaine, apparently.

Santana - This is an excuse for Kurt and Blaine to talk more about their wedding. Honestly, it's going to be bigger and whiter than anything a girl would ever plan.

Dani - Don't be so sexist. I'm totally not a big white wedding girl.

Santana - Thank god, me neither! I'm actually totally dreading even the confection that Kurt's going to create for me…

I grin, imagining Santana being squished into one of Kurt's souffle dresses.

Dani - Can't you appeal to Blaine?

Santana - Blaine's smitten...he'd probably feed me to a pack of ravenous wolves if it would win Kurt's heart.

I roll my eyes. Drama queen.

Dani - I'm sure he's not quite that mean :P DRAMA QUEEN!

Santana - You'd be amazed…

Dani - I probably wouldn't. I've been sold out to the press by more friends than I have fingers.

Wow, that just got serious, I think. Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

Santana - I'm sorry, Dani. I'll never do that to you, I promise.

Dani - Haha I trust you. What are you doing?

Santana - Nothing, actually. Wanna Skype?

I glance at my movie. I glance at the little picture of Santana in the upper left hand corner of my phone. The movie. Santana.

Dani - Sure.

We exchange details quickly, then I press the little green telephone.

"Dani!" She waves enthusiastically.

I wave back, smiling. "Santana!"

"You know, if I was an asshole I could totally tweet your Skype right now."

"Yeah but you're not an asshole," I say, giving her the finger.

"No, but, how about you do something for me? Just to make sure I don't?" She winks at me. I know she's joking.

"Well, Miss Lopez… What would that be?" She leans forward… I'm curious about this.

"Truth or dare?" she asks, laughing.

"Are you asking me if I want to play or asking which one I want?"

"Which one?"

"Truth," I say.

"Hmm… What's the most scary thing that's ever happened to you?" Santana sips from a coffee cup.

I look down. Santana has me all figured out. "Do you want the honest truth?"

Even though the picture is all pixelated, I can feel Santana's eyes staring into mine.

"You can tell me anything."

That's all the invitation I need. I desperately need to explain this to Santana before we go any further but it's kind of a hard thing to say - how do you do it?

You look lovely today, and I just thought you should know that I used to puke my own guts up.

I love you, but I have a deep, dark, secret.

It's not really a secret, though. The media had a field day and a half when I went to rehab for bulimia.

"Dani? It's okay. Forget I asked," she sounds concerned.

"You know that I had bulimia?" I say, breathing shallowly. I am terrified that she's going to judge me. That if I tell her this, it's not going to be me anymore. I'm going to be some insane person.

"Yeah…" she says. She sounds nervous too.

"The scariest thing was when I realised...I realised…" I pause, taking a breath. "I was...making myself throw up one day, and I realised that I wasn't controlling it anymore. It wasn't just after I ate loads, just to 'make myself feel better', I was actually doing it every time I ate, pretty much. And I was crying, and my throat was stinging, and my mouth tasted disgusting, and I just - I needed help."

"Dani…" Santana reaches out and hovers a hand up in front of the camera. I think she's trying to block me out.

"I'm sorry, I'm disgusting…" I start crying now too, my fingers damp where I'm covering my face, an instinctive reaction.

"Oh, honeybun… It's okay. Here, hold my hand." Then I realised what she was trying to do. Slowly I held up my hand until I could see that they were in around the same place and imagined her palm pressing into mine. "Seriously, it's okay… I'm not gonna pretend that I understand why you'd do that, but I'm not judging you at all. It's okay. You can tell me more if you want." Santana sounds sincere, and worried, and everything that no one has ever been before, and it just makes me cry more.

"Hey, seriously, I love you, Dani. You're beautiful. You're funny, you're an amazing artist." Santana keeps up a string of reassurances as I gather myself again.

"So I went to rehab...I thought it was all over. My girlfriend, when she found out...she upped and left and told the press all these lies. And suddenly everyone knew. And on top of all that, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Someone leaked that-" I have to stop, have to get myself under control. I'm unrealistically scared that this could all happen again.

"Oh, Dani…" Santana rubs her hairline. "You don't need to tell me, you know. If it makes you this upset, it's okay. I'm not judging you."

"I think I have to tell you," I say. "Anyway, I'm recovering now… I have to take mood stabilizers and I have to be really careful about drinking, and I have an eating plan and everything."

Santana nods. "Is there anything I can do...for you? To help?"

I shrug. "Not really. If you're with me, just, make sure I do that all. Don't get drunk, don't binge, take my meds." I'm not crying anymore. Santana reacted remarkably well. She knew what to say, just like she knew what to do the other night.

"Okay, honeybun." She still hasn't moved her hand.

"So...truth or dare?" I ask, smiling a bit.

She laughs. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you." I mean it. I'm so grateful that she's still here, that she hasn't run away, that she hasn't said something that cut me like a knife.

"Truth," she says.

"Rock bottom?" I ask.

"Oh, nasty one," she says. "Right after I broke up with Brittany. I walked out of that room, I sang her a song to break up, and I walked out and never looked back. If I'd looked back I just would have crumbled… I came home and I couldn't do anything for a couple of days. Rachel sorted me out."

"I'm sorry, San." It kinda stings that she obviously had feelings for this ex, but she is here, in front of me, so…

"It's okay. I'm over it." She waves a hand. "When do you have to go for hair and make up?"

"Um-" I check the time. "Now-ish. Sorry."

"It's okay. I thought so," she laughs.

"Bye, Santana," I say.

"Bye, Dani. I love you." Then she hangs up before I have the chance to say anything else.

Dani - I love you too!

Santana - Haha, well done. I wondered what you were gonna do.

Dani - Hey, seriously, thanks for before. You said all the right things.

Santana - It's okay, babycakes. One of my many talents.

Dani - Many, huh?

Santana - You'll see next time I'm with you.

Dani - Speaking of, when are you free for three days?

Santana - You wanna see, huh? ;) Um, I'm free Monday-Wednesday, if I get Kurt to cover a shift at the diner, and if I can be back Wednesday before 3pm.

Dani - That can be arranged.

Santana - See you then?

Dani - Not if I see you first.

Synopsis: Dani and Santana Skype, play truth or dare, and Dani admits to Santana that the scariest thing that's ever happened to her was figuring out that she needed help with her bulimia. Santana admits that she lowest moment was after breaking up with Brittany. They then text and tell each other that they love each other.