A/N: So, where have I been? some of you may ask. Writing other fandoms, of course, I answer. Also, actual novel-y writing. Fanfiction is always a lower priority than my career, so if I disappear for a while, just know that I haven't forgotten about you, my three loyal fans. And, finally, please review. Please. Pretty please with a hug on top. I want to know what you think of my writing. PS anyone who's in lesbians with someone else, you should say so, just so I know how many lady-loving ladies like my stories, because lesbians are the most important demographic to me. If you're bisexual or straight you can say that too, and also asexuals, but only if you're going to be my friend. Anyways, story. Here you go:

~* Lucy *~

I'm sitting at my desk in my new house, composing poetry. Mostly about Spencer, but the sight of Paige and Emily together evoked some emotions worth putting to paper, and Hanna… she's pretty, not too bright, sweet and loyal. Just the kind of girl I should want. I've been trying to write something about her but everything just goes into the trash; nothing's beautiful like the things I write about Spencer. My obsession should be troubling, yet it's somehow not.

I can remember something Sam made up—we just finished watching The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and he said I was his forty-two, his answer to the meaning of life, the universe, everything. It was sweet. Somewhat nonsensical, but sweet. I understand what he meant, now, a little; Spencer is in my heart, in a special place. Right now, through the eyes of new love, it sure seems like she's everything. That's why I'm being (or at least trying to be) very, very careful with her.

At the moment, she seems like my forty-two. In a week, I'll probably hate her. But for now, I love her.

Enough to write twenty-two poems about her on a Saturday afternoon.

Ugh. I'm pathetic. I used to be in charge of everything, then things happened, and now I'm writing sappy love poetry to a girl who would rather just use me, then toss me in the trash. A part of me wants to give in to that; I know how it would make me feel, and a part of me wants that.

The more Quinn part of me wants to do the same to her, or beat her down, verbally or physically. But I left that part of me behind in Lima; that was a personality based on a defense mechanism. The quintessentially Quinn bits also want to just have fun, especially if it's naked. But that's even worse, generally.

I slept with Puck and ruined my life; I slept with Brittany and ruined my friendships; I couldn't even sleep with myself without getting into some awkward conversations with Judy.

Groaning, I let my head hit the desk with a thump.

Instantly, my mother is at the door, asking me if I'm okay. I wave her away. "Just reveling in how pathetic I am."

She bites her lip. "Is it about that… Spencer girl?" I nod, and she comes to me and rubs my back. "Don't worry too much about it, dear. There will be other bo—other girls." My mother gives me a tiny, apologetic smile, and I wrap my arms around her neck, forgiving her for the slip-up. It's hard for her, I know, for many reasons. "Just give it time and get to know her. If she's worth it, you'll know."

I avoid the obvious barb I could put into my mother: Like you're such a good judge of character? That'd just lead to an argument neither of us wants to have.

Besides, I don't think Russell was the way he was at first; the way Judy talks about him… he was sweet, at first. It's just that he was actually an insufferable jerk.

But she's trying, and that's the important part.

After a moment, she goes back downstairs, leaving me alone with my art. We've had conversations; when I'm writing, I like to be left alone.

After a few more poems (I manage to make them about locations and not lesbians) I put my pen down and stretch out slowly. I still look damn good; habitually, I've exercised hard to keep my figure. Because I look hot. That was one of my wishes as Lucy; to be beautiful. Funny how being beautiful also made me terrible.

Although, I'm not too sure about that. Causality is strange. I like to think that way, though, because that implies that now, in my flawed and not beautiful state, I'm not terrible.

But you are beautiful, some long-lost part of me whispers.

I have to get rid of that. I take off my clothes and look at myself, look at the scars from the surgeries, and the few I made myself. I'm not beautiful. I'm marred.

After a moment, I sigh quietly and put my shirt on. I decide to try and read, but I'm too jittery now, and I shout at my mom that I'm going out for a quick run as I put on my running shoes. She says to be back before it gets dark, with a smile on her face, and I smile a bit as well. Before, I used to go for runs and then just stay at Brittany's or Santana's. We never talked about it, but it happened a lot.

Then my mother sets her hand on my arm as I'm about to go out the door. "Be careful," she says, emphasizing the second word. I nod. The first time I tried to run after the accident, I nearly landed in the hospital again.

I start with a slow jog, warming up, before I slowly start stretching myself out more, until I'm speeding through the streets and then into the woods.

I'm not sure how long I run for, but after a while I make a loop and head back towards my house. I made sure to figure out as many ways to get home as possible, just so I wouldn't ever get lost in Rosewood.

When I stop in front of my house, leaning over slightly to get oxygen, I feel much better. Running, and physical activity in general, has always been therapeutic for me. The harder it is for me to breathe afterwards, the better.

My mom is gone when I walk in, and a few calls of "Judy?" produce no results, so I shrug and head up to shower. Once I feel I'm thoroughly cleaned, I wrap a towel around my body and head into my room. I'm looking through my closet when I hear, "So, I figured I'd return the favor."

I spin around, flushing as I realize I only have a towel on and I was just bending over to observe my collection of jeans, and find Spencer on my bed, twirling a pair of my panties around her finger as she grins. "Yours are cuter than mine."

They're a pair of Hello Kitty underwear that Santana got me as a joke, a while after she came out. I'm not exactly sure what the joke was, but it sure was funny at the time.

I feel my blush reaching into almost every part of me. "Why didn't you say anything when I walked in? I'm almost naked!"

"I can see that." There's an amused smirk on Spencer's face that I want to slap or kiss off, at the same time. "I thought you saw me. I was, after all, laying on your bed in the sexiest pose I could think of with a pair of your underwear gagging me."

My heart nearly explodes.

She laughs. "Oh, the look on your face. I didn't stuff your underwear in your mouth, that'd be weird."

Suddenly, I snap back to my senses. "Out."

Spencer freezes, confused. "What?"

Quinn the Bitch starts rising. "Out. I need to get dressed, and then I'll deal with you." I stalk over to her and kiss her lightly, then pull back to see her eyes widening. "Now out," I whisper again.

Spencer scrambles out, still holding my panties.

Oh, whatever. I'll get those later. I can hear her outside, speaking in low tones on the phone. To Aria, I think. The friendship those two have is so cute.

I get dressed quickly, nothing too complex, just a tank top and jeans, not too dissimilar from what I was wearing before my run. I let Spencer back in and grab my underwear from her hands. "Thank you very much," I murmur as I drop them in my dirty clothes pile.

"Your room is very ordered," Spencer comments as she settles on my bed again. "I like it."

I nod. Another Quinn habit: The dirty clothes pile is the only disordered thing in my room.

Plus, I like the way everything looks, when it's all in its place and unchanging.

I sit down next to Spencer on my bed, and she hops off, going over to my trophies. "You know, these all say Quinn, not Lucy." She glances back. "Something you want to tell me?"

Shit. I never really thought about my trophies. "There was a time when I went by my middle name. I… wanted to be a different person. So I became one. And… it didn't end well, which is why I'm here." I pull my legs up to my chest and hug them, resting my forehead against my knees. My body protests, but I ignore it.

It didn't end well. I think, suddenly, of Beth. My daughter. I left her behind. I told Puck to take good care of her, while he was there. I shouldn't have left her. I should have…

I sigh softly.

Spencer, thankfully, decides to change the subject. "I think your mom thinks we're going to have sex."

I shake my head. "No, no way." I pause. "Why does she think we're going to have sex?"

"Well, I told her that last time you came over to my house alone, things got a little heated. I think she thought I was talking about us…" She makes scissoring motions with her fingers, and I shake my head.

"My mom knows I'm not having sex anytime soon," I grumble. "It hasn't ended well for me, in the past."

Although I have to wonder. She vacated the premises. I send a quick text to my mother: Spencer is NOT as charming as she thinks she is, mom. My purity will remain intact.

A few minutes later I get a simple I know from her, and smile happily. She knows me well.

She should. I'm her daughter, after all.

When I glance back up at Spencer, she's going through my underwear drawer again. "What," I say slowly, confusion in my tone, "are you doing?"

"You can tell a lot about a girl by her underwear, I think. Like this." She holds up black, lacy lingerie, part of a set I was wearing when I tried to sleep with Santana. I was desperate, just wanting someone to want me. Brittany wanted me, and after that everything went to hell.

I shove that back in the drawer and slam it shut. Bad memories. Everything around me is just more bad memories.

I sit down on my bed in my previous position, trying not to cry.

Spencer comes over. "Hey, I'm sorry. What's wrong?" She starts to rub my back, and I flinch instinctively. For a while, my back was always on fire with pain.

Spencer takes it the wrong way, and pulls away. "I'm sorry. I mean, I thought…"

I twist to grab her hand and wince. "No, no, no. It's just reflexive. I'm sorry. Don't… it's not you, it's my body, and things that happened to it. I'm sorry."

I pull her towards me, and gently guide her to exactly in front of me, then hug her. "I'm sorry," I repeat. "I like you, Spencer. That's why I haven't told you to go away yet. I think you're pretty, and nice, and… I want to help you accept who you are. I've spoken with Emily, and I know you don't."

Something like anger flares in her eyes, but then it dies down a bit. "I… like you too," she admits, and I can tell it takes a lot. "You're so strong, and, well, stronger than me." That takes more. I can see the almost physical pain in that admittance. "I just… my family…"

"I understand." I settle my forehead against hers and then sigh. "Believe me, I understand. But it's okay. We can work through it all. Okay? But for now, let's start with the simple things. I like you. You like me. Your lips are very soft."

We kiss again, until she pulls away. "I'm sorry," she whispers breathlessly. "I just… can't. I…" Spencer lets out a shuddering breath. "I should go."

She's out the door before I can say anything.

A while later, Hanna calls me. "Lucy, what did you do to Spencer? She's at Aria's, completely freaking out, and she won't talk to either of us."

I sigh. "I kissed her. I told her I want to help her. Then she ran out. Just… get Emily. I don't think she wants to talk to me right now, but she might be able to talk about with Emily."

"Okay." There's a moment, and I'm about to say goodbye, when she asks, very shyly, "Can I come over?"

My brain says no and my mouth says "Yeah, sure. That'd be great."

I answer the door a minute later, and Hanna's standing, biting her lip. I can feel my jaw drop: She looks absolutely gorgeous. Her hair is curled, and she's wearing a skintight black dress I can't even start to think about, because all I can see is the way it clings to her body.

While I'm not proud of it, I am a teenage girl, and I do get feelings, and these feelings are telling me to drag Hanna in, shove her onto my bed, and have my way with her.

I take a deep breath to calm myself. "Come in, Hanna."

She steps in and I shut the door, and we're much too close to each other, her breath on my face. I can't breathe. We're too close, too close to…

When Hanna kisses me, I explode. All my repressed lust, for Spencer, for Hanna, for so many pretty girls I've known, comes out of me in one hard, long kiss, and then another one, and then a third, right there in front of the door.

Then it opens. "Oh," my mom says. "Ah, Lucy, if you want me to come back later…"

I blush. "Uh, no, mom, it's okay. We'll just go up to my room and I promise we won't do… anything." She knows what I mean by that, and nods gently. She trusts me. Hanna and I run up to my room and I shut the door behind us.

Then I turn to Hanna. "Look, I don't want you to get the wrong idea here. You're sweet, and cute, and so good… but…"

"You like Spencer. It's okay. I knew that." Hanna takes a deep breath and smiles. "I honestly didn't think we'd… make out like that. But it was good. Wasn't it?"

"It was," I admit with a smile. "But I thought you were straight, Hanna."

She shrugs. "I've dated guys. Doesn't mean I'm straight."

"Then, what? You're a lesbian that happens to…" I figure it out and smack my forehead lightly. "Oh, wow. I'm stupid. I've had bisexual friends, too. Wow. Oh, man."

Hanna laughs. It's a good laugh, a pretty laugh. "Well, at least you figured it out. Come here." She pulls me onto my bed. "Tell me about what happened with Spencer, today."

I get through it as quickly as I can, and at the end Hanna's looking at me strangely. "What?" I want to curl in on myself. Of course, that'd probably murder my scars. And, by extension, me.

"You're just…" She grabs my hand. "Great. If I was Spencer, I'd be your girlfriend. Just be patient and she'll come around. Because you're great."

I look down at our hands, and rub the back of hers with my thumb. "I don't know if I should, honestly. I'm trying to be healthy and happy, and she doesn't really seem like she'd be good for my health or my happiness. I want to go after her more, but I don't think I should." I run a hand down Hanna's back, then back up. "I want you. I like you. You're nice and loyal…" A thought occurs to me and I smile involuntarily. "You're Rainbow Dash."

Hanna blinks. "You… watch My Little Pony?"

Unable to help my giggle, I murmur, "Yeah. Like a boss."

Hanna's face breaks into a grin. "You don't seem like the type."

I pout. "Really? Well, there's a lot you wouldn't think I'm into. Women, Friendship is Magic, Halo, philosophy, poetry. I'm starting to write short stories, too."

Hanna reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. "You are a lot cooler than I thought, Lucy."

After a moment of silence, I ask, "Do you want to get coffee tomorrow?"

"Oh, God, yes. And the day after that?"

I smile. "It's two dates, then."

I kiss her, and she kisses back, and after an eternity of kissing, Hanna has to leave.

When I go downstairs, my mom asks, "What happened to Spencer?"

I sigh, running my hand through my hair. I honestly don't know. I've been keeping her out of my mind. I just want to be happy, an easy happiness that doesn't require me to force my way through a million emotional blockades.

"I just want to be happy," I reply quietly.

She nods. "Well… Hanna's a very nice girl." She opens her arms, and I hug her, letting myself feel safe in her embrace.