Title: Beautiful Today
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Summary: 'She hates what she sees. She hates it all, because Quinn told her to.' Santana needs saving, but no one seems to notice. Brittana.

Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Deals with self harm and eating disorders throughout.

Authors Note: I should never set upload dates. I should never set deadlines for anything I do, because they are never kept to! I apologise. I am currently, and had been all weekend, dying from an unknown illness and taking refuge in my bed. I feel like crap, but that's not important right now. I updated! I will try to make the wait shorter next time...though I will not deadline myself, 'cause it really does never end well.
Thank you to everyone who has been reading and/or reviewing. Especially those who reviewed, and especially-especially those who left those long, in-depth reviews. I appreciate them, as I do them all, so thank you again!

Anyway, enough rambling. Time for Brittany to be epic again...

CHAPTER 3
I've been stuck in this routine

Santana had found herself repeating her actions from that night almost every day of the week. She never stopped to think about it; never thought about the amount of times she raided the refrigerator and forced food into her aching body, only to end up leaning over the sink or toilet, fingers at the back of her throat and vomiting violently. Only the slight burn that remained reminded her of what she was doing.

She had also visited some sites online. One told her that drinking water when you feel hungry would fill you up, so she tried it out. One night, returning home from school and watching her mother close the office door, she headed for the kitchen. This wasn't going to be like the night before, she decided, when the rumbling in her stomach began, when the hunger pains were evident. She took a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water, and drank it just as quickly.

It worked, to a degree. She did feel full, but not for long. She continued to drink. Every time the thought of food came into her mind, she would fill her glass and gulp it down desperately. A sense of unrivalled achievement settled over her that night as she lay in her bed; the realisation that she had managed to not eat a solid meal, not since the slice of toast that her mother had made her eat that morning, filling her mind. She smiled at her self-control, pride radiating from her fragile body as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next day was Friday, and Santana hopped out of bed when her alarm went off the next morning. It had been a week today, she remembered, that she began to use her mothers scales in the bathroom. She had weighed herself every night, usually two or three times, bar last night. She knew it was going to be good. She knew that she had done everything right, that she had used the tips from the website. The water thing had worked the day before, and would probably work again today, she noted.

She entered the bathroom, locking the door behind herself, and walked to the scales. She stripped down, taking off every item of clothing and possible weight addition, before stepping on with a deep breath.

Two and a half pounds.

Her heart sunk as she looked at her new weight. She was sure that it would be less, was sure that she had done enough for it to be so much less. She continued to stare at the numbers, willing them to change, but they didn't. Her jaw clenched as she stepped off, staring at the numbers as they slowly plummeted down to naught, before vanishing completely. Two and a half pounds. She hadn't done enough, she had done something wrong. She was still fat, and Quinn was still right. Her hopes were high, they were so high, and they had all just been destroyed by three simple digits on a screen.

She glanced down at her body, seeing her stomach sticking out. She sucked it in, but she could still see it. She hated it. She hated that it wouldn't go, that she couldn't get it to just go away. She glanced to the side, being met by the large mirror that almost covered the wall beside the bath tub. She saw her stomach, she saw it taunting her in the reflection, proof of her failure. She pushed it in with her hands, pushed it as far as she could. Her ideal, she thought, before removing her hands and facing the eyesore again.

"Honey, have some toast," her mother called from the kitchen.

Santana glanced into the room, surprised to see her mother with both hands occupied and full concentration on cooking, not one flipping through notes or browsing on her phone. Her father wasn't there, though. She didn't even know why she bothered looking for him any more. "I'm okay," she excused, "I got up early, I had a banana."

Her mother accepted her lie, nodding with a smile. "Enjoy your day," she offered as Santana headed for the door. She paused for a moment, a small grin on her face. She doesn't remember the last time that her mom had said something like that, had wished for her to have a good day or took an interest in events once she got home. She continued, sending the woman a quick 'thanks' before letting herself out of the house.

She had planned to walk into school that morning that little bit more confident, to not have her hair draped at the side of her face as she stared at the ground. That's what she had planned, before she had stepped onto the scales. She wanted new confidence, people to notice the change in her. No one did, and again the insults were thrown her way as she walked into the room and found her desk. She pulled her glasses from their case. She hated this part, placing them on her face and being ridiculed for it almost instantly. Today was no different. Her mothers claims of 'you're kids, it will die down in a day or two' were horribly inaccurate.

"All you need now are braces, Ugly Betty."

That one was new. The new ones always hurt the most, she found. Eventually she got used to the other names; 'Satan' being there from the beginning, but the new ones found more ways of cutting into her. She felt like she was hurting in every way possible, the amount of names that she heard every day. She could tell that this one was from Quinn, from both the voice and the overreaction from everyone else in the room.

She was quickly up and out of her seat again, this morning's disappointment and the reminder from Quinn still haunting her mind, and was scuttling quickly towards the door. She knew this time, when her legs carried her without any conscious instruction, where she was heading. She would have made it, too, if she hadn't felt a hand grab her forearm and force her to stop. If she had the strength then she would have jolted from her grip before confronting her, but instead she just slumped, defeated, before turning around. It was Brittany, the girl from last week. They hadn't even spoken since the incident; Santana had been sure that the blonde would prefer it that way, to not be associated with her. Even when Brittany sent her a quick smile, Santana had glanced around and noticed Quinn's eyes wandering, so she refused to return the gesture. It would make things easier, for both Brittany and her conscience. If she was going down, she would do it alone. And she was going further down than anyone ever deserved to go. "What?" she asked, trying to sound snappy but failing in her attempts. The fact that Brittany was the first person to ever run after her was not lost on the shorter girl, who was finding it impossible to be anything but weak as she found the strangely stern blue eyes of the girl stood before her.

"Why did you run away?" she asked, her voice still so calm. Her facial expression betrayed her tone, however, as a frown now lay heavily on her lips. She still had her hand on Santana's arm, refusing to let her run away from this too. She always seemed to just run away.

"It doesn't matter, just let me go please," she said in little more than a sigh, pulling her arm to try to release it from Brittany's grasp. She couldn't. The blonde girl was surprisingly strong, she noticed.

"Go where? Your stuff is still in the classroom..." she pointed out, confusion on her face. "If you're going to skip class, then you should probably take your things with you."

Santana looked down, thinking as hard as she could for an answer. She knew where she was going, what she was going for; even if, at the time, her legs hadn't been as kind as to inform her brain. "I just needed to get out of there. She had started again..."

"She does it every day," Brittany pointed out, as if Santana needed to be kicked while she was down.

The smaller girl sighed, rolling her eyes. "I know," she replied simply, this time a very slight bite to her words. The other girl didn't seem to notice.

"And yesterday, when she called your mom a border hopper, you didn't run away..." she trailed off, a look of confusion slowly evident on her face. "I don't even know what one of those is...it sounds fun."

"No, I just sat there and felt like crap," she retorted, ignoring the almost muted mumblings that followed the real point that the girl was making. That was what she had done for so long now; sat and took the insults, pretending to not be bothered by them. She was sick of it. Getting away felt much better. "Why would I want to sit in there while she said things like that?"

"Because when you go, she laughs and says even meaner things about you. People tell her how great she is because she got you to run away." Santana looked away again, towards the ground. She glanced at her arm on the way past, realising that Brittany's grip hadn't loosened in the slightest. She felt a strange sense of comfort. "She thinks that she is better than you when you do that."

Santana scoffed bitterly. "She is better than me," she said softly, defeated. She kept her eyes on her feet, even through the moments of silence that followed. She felt the blonde's hand on her arm tighten every so slightly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"No she's not."

It was so simple. It was three words; three words that Brittany had probably said without thinking, three words she had likely said to many people many times. It was so small, yet it made Santana's eyes instantly snap back to Brittany's, looking for some signs of a joke. Something to tell her that Brittany didn't mean it. All she found was sincerity, even a slight upwards turn at the corner of the girl's lips. It made her chest suddenly feel frantic, a warmth within her that she doesn't remember feeling in years. She had always felt so cold, so empty, but now she felt like this meant something, that she meant something. She felt real. She couldn't help the doubt, though, and it flowed over her just as quickly as her previous emotions, causing her head to fall again. "You don't have to lie to me," she spoke almost silently. "You can go and sit with them and stuff, I mean...I would get it."

The hand on her arm slowly loosened, soon removed completely as Santana watched the small white marks gradually turn back to her natural tanned skin colour. She lifted her gaze again, daring a glance at Brittany, who was looking at her through confounded eyes. "Why would I do that?" she asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Santana smiled sadly. "The things they say to me...they will say them to you too," she replied hesitantly, slow in her words. She figured that Brittany deserved to be told before anything resembling a friendship could be built between them. That's what had scared all of her other friends off, knowing that befriending her would be give them Quinn Fabray as an enemy. From past experience, Santana couldn't really blame them. She was sure she would have done the same. "She picks on anyone that even talks to me."

"I don't care," the all too immediate answer came. Santana's self-pitying smile faltered, falling into a confused half-frown. "At least you wouldn't be alone any more."

This girl, this girl that Santana hardly knew, had managed to twice achieve a genuine smile from her in almost less than a minute. She had managed to make her heart feel like it was beating for a reason, made the thoughts of visiting the bathroom to make herself feel better only a dull temptation at the back of her mind. She had said things that no one had said to Santana in what felt like a lifetime. "Thank you," she offered, knowing just how inadequate those two words sounded. She was sure that Brittany had no idea just how much it meant to her; to want to be her friend, to want her to not be alone. It was the only thing she had been praying for every night for the past year. It was as if God had finally sent her. She smiled at the thought.

"So you'll come back?" Brittany smiled hopefully, almost bouncing on her feet.

Santana couldn't help but giggle lightly at the almost instant change in the girl's demeanour. She had gone from serious, to confused, and now to positively glowing. She seemed unable to just have a little of one emotion, the smaller girl noted, and she really quite liked that. She nodded slowly, still weary of walking back into the hostile environment that she had left behind. "...sure," she offered with a half-hearted smile, biting her lip nervously.

Brittany's hand quickly moved to Santana's, holding it tightly for a moment and squeezing reassuringly. The gesture was over before Santana even realised it was happening, but the warm feeling on her hand remained, the biting of her lip stopping as a small part of her nervousness melted away. "Come on," the blonde offered as she slowly began to walk back in the direction of their room. "We can't be late again."

Santana nodded, smiling, before she hesitantly followed behind her.

That was the best night that Santana had in almost two weeks. Sure, she still didn't eat as much as her body was clearly demanding her to, but she ate. She ate a sandwich that she prepared for herself, and though the urge was there, she didn't make her way to the sink to rid it from her body. She quickly put her plate on the counter and exited the room, closing the door behind her, trying to block out the thought of what she could do.

And it had worked. As she sat watching the TV, having just eaten her admittedly small dinner, Quinn's voice was soon keeping her company. But for once, it seemed like she had a much nicer voice there fighting it away. She had a friendly voice, a voice that was new and comforting; she had Brittany's voice. Every time she thought about how fat she felt, how fat Quinn had told her she was, she would instantly feel the need. The urge to silence the voices in the only way she knew how. But then she remembered the worried blue eyes that had prevented her from doing just that earlier, she remembered the taller girl telling her that she didn't want her to be alone, offering her friendship in spite of what it meant for her future at the school.

She remembered all of those things, and her other thoughts seemed to melt away. She had found someone who didn't care about her popularity, about her weight, about Quinn.

"Hey," Brittany smiled as she approached her in the hallway the next morning.

Santana looked up, surprised, and quickly returned the gesture. The taller girl had already begun walking alongside her as they headed for the room, her backpack over her shoulder as she looked down at Santana. "Hi," she offered, looking ahead of them again, this time her gaze not falling to the ground. "You're usually in class before I get there," she thought out loud.

Brittany shrugged, also looking along the hallway in front of them. "I figured you might want someone to walk with," she replied. Santana again felt an inevitable smile on her lips, a strange warmth coming over her for the second day in a row. "You always show up on your own. And I was going to ask Mrs Powell if I could sit at the desk next to you, it's been free since I got here."

"They transferred," Santana confirmed with a smile, loving the idea.

They entered the room together, and Santana noticed the decrease in volume when it came to the insults thrown at her. In fact, she realised, there wasn't all that many of them either. She waited by Mrs Powell's desk while Brittany requested to the woman that she be moved, daring a look to the back of the room, seeing Quinn watching her through confused eyes. The rest of the class didn't seem too interested, a few only acting it for Quinn's sake.

Mrs Powell was nodding at Brittany when Santana looked back at the two, and she couldn't help her smile. She was saying yes; she would finally have somebody to sit next to now, someone who would sit there and actually acknowledge her existence. Mrs Powell stood from her desk, as Brittany took a few steps back, and walked towards Santana. "I think this is a brilliant idea," she offered with a grin. She placed a hand on Brittany's shoulder, nodding once with approval. "It will be good for you to have somebody in your corner, Santana."

She wasn't sure what the teacher meant by that, but she smiled anyway. Brittany was soon placing her things down on the desk next to Santana's, grinning from ear to ear as the other girl sat at her own seat with much the same expression. She hadn't actually seen Santana smile that that, she was sure. Not so big and bright, anyway. She didn't know that Santana could smile like that, it was a very nice smile.

There was a scoff, a very loud and intentional scoff, from the back of the room, and Brittany's attention turned to the source. She noticed that Santana's face had instantly fell, and now a confused half-frown settled on her own lips. "You seriously don't want to do that," Quinn stated simply, an eyebrow raised.

Brittany stood straighter, placing her backpack underneath the desk. "Do what?" she questioned, unsure as to what she had meant. Did she put her English and History papers in the same pile again? She did not want another repeat of the 'Shakespeare was the Nazi leader' mess from her last school ever again, if she could help it. She glanced down at her papers, eyebrows furrowing when she realised that she hadn't mixed anything up.

"Sit with that freak," Quinn quickly replied, jabbing a finger in a shrunken Santana's direction.

Brittany followed her line of focus, her own eyes settling on the girl. Santana was smiling before; like, really smiling. Now, however, she was slouched again, her hair falling on either side of her face, a frown still evident through the dark strands. The blonde's brows furrowed. "Santana?" she questioned, receiving no reply. She didn't even care about Quinn any more, not when the smile that she had finally gotten to see was now gone. Completely gone. Little did she know one was the cause of the other. "What's wrong?" she continued softly.

Quinn laughed. "Have you not been here for the past few weeks?" she bit back sharply, Brittany's focus hesitantly moving from Santana to the other girl. "That's what she does. She knows her place, and I know mine. Everyone knows mine. Yours isn't decided yet..." she trailed off, anger turning to arrogance. "...I can make you or I can break you. Your choice."

Brittany didn't understand that phrase, but she had heard it before. On TV, she thought. She had asked her mother about it, leading the woman to an hour of explanation. The younger girl had nodded and pretended that she understood, but she didn't. Not really. 'They're saying that they can make people like you or hate you, honey'. She remembered the words, staring into space as she mulled them over for a moment. "I don't want to be broken," she replied honestly, and she didn't. Broken things were never good things.

Quinn nodded, smirking. "Then you know what to do," she replied, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

Brittany, after a moment of silence, shook her head defiantly. 'They can make people like you or hate you'. The words repeated in her mind. The only person, since she got here, that she has even wanted to be friends with was Santana. She loved being liked, and had never known anything any different. Everyone always smiled around her, even Santana had finally broken into a grin. Quinn wasn't a nice person, that much was evident. She didn't smile when Brittany was around; the only time she ever exposed her strikingly white teeth was when she had said something offensive, something hurtful, and had a proud smirk on her lips. She wasn't a nice person. Brittany didn't want to be friends with someone like that. She shook her head again. "If you like me, then Santana will hate me. I don't want her to hate me..."

Santana raised her gaze a little, complete shock evident within every inch of her face. This was the part where Brittany was supposed to leave her, realise what she was getting herself into and run as fast as she could in the opposite direction. Then why, Santana wondered, was she still stood beside her new desk of choice, simply staring back at a now infuriated Quinn Fabray.

"Are you kidding me?" Quinn practically spat, both eyebrows almost jumping from her forehead. "I'm giving you a chance here, new girl. You choose that loser and I make your life hell, or you choose to stay away from her and we get along just fine."

Santana's head bowed again. Worded that way, what person in their right mind would ever choose her? If she could turn back time, she would give anything to still be on Quinn's good side, to not go to sleep every night hating herself because of something that the blonde had said earlier that day. If there was something she could do to change her life right now, she would do it in a heartbeat, without hesitation. Anyone would do the same.

"I choose Santana."

A few gasps filled the room, a disbelieving scoff sounding from Quinn's furious lips. "You have no idea what you have just done," she hissed in an almost whisper as she saw Mrs Powell rising from her seat, moving around her desk to inspect the scene. She offered the woman a fake smile, narrowing her gaze when her eyes fell momentarily back to Brittany's, before turning on her heel and taking her seat.

Brittany watched her go, herself turning around and taking her own seat only seconds later. She straightened out her papers a little, kicked her bag further under her desk, and finally glanced in Santana's direction. The girl was staring, literally staring, with a mouth that hung slightly agape and knitted brows that caused her forehead to crinkle with confusion. "What's wrong?" Brittany asked, mirroring the puzzled look.

"Why did you do that?" Santana asked in little more than a breath, staring incredulously.

Brittany simply shrugged. "I want to be your friend," she replied quietly, Mrs Powell beginning her lesson at the front of her class. She lowered her voice even more as she leaned towards Santana, smiling a small, reassuring smile. "She said she could make me or break me," she began to explain as the woman at the front of the class turned to her board. "I think you're already broken..." Santana's eyes downcast at the words. She had spoken to her only twice, how obvious must she be? No one else seemed to notice, and yet this girl comes out of nowhere, and after little more than a week is saying everything that she has never had the guts to say herself. She was broken, probably far more broken than Brittany really know. "I think you're broken, and I want to fix you," she finished simply, her voice innocent and soft.

Santana's eyes found hers again, found her face and the smile on her lips, sincerity radiating from every inch of her body. Everything about Brittany's expression made Santana's heart thud fast, so fast. She felt warm, almost tingly. No one had ever tried, not even her own mother or father had taken enough notice to want to help, to want to 'fix her'. Nobody had. Except Brittany. She let a small smile creep onto her own lips, having to physically prevent the tears that she could feel burning in her eyes from falling.

She felt like she had been waiting for Brittany forever.

A/N: Replies to some reviews...

naaaaaaah: NAOMILY! They shall never be forgotten...anyway, thanks for the long review! And this fic will have eventual Brittana, yes, so we will see how the people around them react to that and how it effects Santana (Brittany too, of course, but Santana's the one with the real problems here). Also, the fact that you love this story already is amazing! I hope I don't disappoint with this or future chapters.

karlymorrig: Writing this was actually hard because all I wanted to do was get Brittany to instantly make her better, simply because Santana being all broken is kinda the saddest thing ever...haha. But there would be no story if it happened that quickly, so on with the torture we must go. Thanks for the review! :)

miknge: Yeah, Quinn's a bitch. We will sorta see a few different sides to her in future chapters. The whole Santana/Quinn dynamic will be a confusing one. Thanks for the review :)

88BonnieBlue8: Thank you :) I'm happy that you said that, because that is one of the biggest things I worry about when I write this. Glad you're liking the story!

Insuferable-know-it-all15: Capturing Brittany's horribly-yet-wonderfully unpredictable character is something that I will never claim to be able to do, but I'm glad that I'm somewhere in the ball park! Thank you for reading and reviewing :)