Okay, Puck knows that Lizzie Hummel is a little different. According to Kurt, she's never really gotten over their mom's death, and she's kind of been trying to BE her. It's a little weird, and slightly creepy, but sweet at the same time. That's Lizzie for you; always everybody's favorite.

Anyway, Puck's not even sure that's true, about her being the surrogate mom in the Hummel house. That's what Finn told him, before they stopped being best friends. Now, he has no way of finding out more without talking to Kurt, and he's not about to go up and interrogate Kurt about the inner workings of his possibly messed-up sister.

So he's watching her.

Well, not really HER, just the things she's left behind since she stopped coming to school about three weeks ago. Mostly her locker, which has been unlocked, all her stuff taken out, and turned into something of a memorial, even though she's still alive. He guesses she's really sick or something, because only when you're that popular will people leave gifts for you if they hear you're under the weather; Get Well Soon cards, homework cheat sheets, low-fat candy, nice letters from every Cheerio and Sue Sylvester. . .

What? You didn't think he was going after some unknown chick at the bottom of the social food chain with her gayer-than-gay brother, did you? Elizabeth Hummel, more commonly known as Lizzie, is one of the most popular, attractive girls that goes to McKinley High. And, before she disappeared, she was trying to help save Glee Club, if only because there are some fellow popular kids in it. That must mean that she's a good person, and you know what? Puck's kind of sick of chasing girls who are A) not nice, or B) completely unreachable in some way.

Yeah, and did he mention that Lizzie is single?

No joke. She's single, never had a boyfriend before, far as Puck knows, and Puck knows a good bit. He knows she's been asked out by ninety-nine percent of the school's male population-with the exception of her brother, Finn, Artie, and himself-and he knows that she's turned them all down.

Well, that's about to change, people. When Lizzie Hummel gets back from wherever she is, she will BELONG to Puckzilla. He doesn't care if she isn't Jewish; he'd still date her if she were a Nazi Jew-hater, which is highly unlikely. Either way, that doesn't matter.

Lizzie Hummel WILL be Puck's.

And that's all there is to it.

Thing is, it takes exactly one month since the last day Puck saw her for Lizzie to return to school, and when she does, she isn't the Lizzie he knows; she and Kurt are surgically attached by their hands, which is weird, and she won't even LOOK at her Cheerios uniform, which is even fucking weirder. Who is this girl? Lizzie LOVES being in Cheerios. There has to be some kind of mistake.

And then, to top it all off, there are scars: Four parallel ones on either cheek, screwing up what was once perfect skin. She's wearing long sleeves-another oddity-so he can't be entirely sure, but he'd be willing to bet his Mohawk if it was still on his head that there's more where they came from on her arms. And, speaking of heads, hers is shaved. Bald. Completely hairless.

He knows one thing for certain about this mess: Her yearbook picture isn't going to be pretty.

He spends a good chunk of his day debating whether she's still worth going after. For Pete's sake, the girl looks like a total emo now, with her black skinny jeans and, of course, the cuts. And the lack of hairdo is certainly a questionable offense. Does Puckzilla even want to risk that kind of thing? Then he thinks about it some more. She's probably still the same nice girl, she's definitely still single, and the new developments might give her some kind of bad girl image, a different rep from Lovely Lizzie. Maybe now she's Emo Elizabeth or something. Plus, if she's depressed, she'll probably want to make out with him a lot. Puck's never made out with a bald chick before.

Oh, yeah. Puckzilla is definitely still interested. The question is, how to talk to her without her new hip accessory? He'll have to get her alone somehow. He needs to distract Kurt in some way. Maybe he could get Finn to. . . no. Finn would never go for that. Matter of fact, he'd probably pound Puck's face in for even suggesting it. Besides, they're not friends anymore, meaning he'd pound Puck's face in even harder for suggesting it. Um, HELL no.

Perhaps he could get Mercedes to create some drama to distract Kurt; they ARE best friends, after all. But. . . never mind, she doesn't like Puck ever since they broke up. Besides, she's got enough Lady Gaga going on to give April Rhoades' desire for liquor a run for the money.

By the end of two days, he has nothing. No plans, no allies, no anything except his manly charms to get Lovely Lizzie on his side, and he wonders if that even matters; she's depressed enough that she's barely looked at ANYONE today.

And. . . wait. She's depressed enough that she's crying in the band room all by herself. Hello. He stops and peers in, watching her sob at the piano bench for a minute or so, then gives Glee the finger and shuts the door behind him; they can wait. Lizzie Hummel needs Puckzilla more than Glee needs the band room just now.

As he sits down beside her, she lifts her head and looks straight ahead, pretending that she wasn't just crying her eyes out over the piano despite the fact her cheeks-and the piano keys-are still wet. He's just thinking what to say to her when she asks in a whisper, "Am I. . . Do you think I look disgusting?"

He frowns a little as she turns to face him, eyes red, then lets himself openly stare at her as he hasn't had a chance to for a month; that slender nose, those pouty lips, those lovely, clear blue eyes. "No," he says at last, "I think you look beautiful."

"Beautiful is a placeholder." Lizzie says so instantly that he knows it's been drilled into her somehow. "What do I really look like? Tell me the truth, since no one else will."

Puck hesitates; say what? "I. . . I don't know what you mean. What kind of thing are you asking for?"

"The truth." she insists, then sighs, "Preferably something that doesn't relate to beautiful or perfect. I've had that for too long, and I'm fucking sick of it, man!"

Puck bites his lip. "Is that why you cut your face?"

Lizzie rolls her sleeve up to her elbow and shows him a library of cuts going horizantally up her forearm; damn. "That's why I cut everything. The bathtub makes my brother cry now."

Puck swallows, trying to get a handle on the situation. "So. . . wait. You tried to kill yourself?"

"No, I tried to kill your mom." Lizzie mocks viciously; who is this girl? "Yes, I tried to kill myself. I've been in the hospital for the past month trying to get over it."

This can't be real, Puck thinks. Lizzie's nice. Nice and pretty and popular and smart and altogether too happy and lucky to even THINK about suicide, much less nearly get the job done. She has money, good looks, a sweet car, a sense of humor, nice clothes, gorgeous hair, Cheerios. . . Why try to kill yourself when you're perfect?

"Okay, maybe I'm dumb, but I don't get it, Lizzie. Why would you want to throw away everything you worked so hard to get?" Puck asks, looking at her like she's lost it, which she probably has.

"Do not call me Lizzie." she snaps in a voice that gives Puck chills. "Do. Not."

"Fine. Elizabeth, then. Why would you want to die when you're the best of us? Huh?" Puck growls, wondering if she'll lash out and punch him; she sure looks pissed enough.

But Elizabeth doesn't punch him. She doesn't scream or kick or have a nervous breakdown; she explains in a calm, matter-of-fact voice, "Because that was never me. Lizzie was like a costume, a fake-happy normal suit that I put on after my mom died. She was the perfect girl, and. . . she was what everyone else wanted and needed. I wasn't supposed to be her for so long. God, I hated her so much. It got so when I didn't need her anymore and it was time to go, she wouldn't go. I couldn't get rid of her. She was everywhere. I just wanted to be me again. So I cut her out of me."

Puck looks at her, in her weird black skinny jeans and long-sleeved purple shirt, with her bare scalp that was once bleached blond hair smoothed into a Cheerios ribbon, at the scars that make her different, and decides that this woman, right here? She's the one he wants for good. Not Mercedes, not Rachel, not Quinn, not even Santana. Only her for the rest of his fucking life.

"You look. . . You look like you, Ellie."

Puck doesn't know where the nickname comes from, but neither of them care; she looks surprised, then pleased, then comfortable in her new self. "Ellie," she says, tasting it. "Thank you."

Puck ducks his head, feeling nervous and shy for the first time he can remember in his entire life; Ellie is doing weird shit to him, but he loves it. God, he loves it! He asks, "Do you want to stay for Glee Club?"

"Yeah."