WARNING WARNING WARNING THERE IS BAD THINGS AND ATTEMPTED SUICIDE AND SELF-LOATHING AT THE START OF THIS BUT THERE'S FLUFF AT THE END JUST REMEMBER I LOVE YOU XOXO AND HUGS AND FEEL OKAY OKAY END WARNING

A/N1: You may have noticed that some things happen "out of frame", so to speak, throughout this fic. This is to draw more attention to the littler things, which then become the big things. I think it's a particularly clever way of doing things.

A/N2: Okay, so, here's the end. I don't particularly like endings and I've never been good at them, because an ending implies an ending. The finishing of a story and the departure of characters, a saying of goodbye, which I've always been bad at, too. I really liked this story, and I hate saying goodbye to stories I like. I'm probably going to be doing more fics in this verse (always tagged "Chanceverse") although no more PLL/Glee crossovers. Sorry if that's why you hung around. So please read this and enjoy this, and please review.


I shift to get settled, hating the cold bench beneath me. But Spencer's been pushing me away all week, ever since she came out to her family (apparently, her dad disapproved and her mother told him to shut the hell up) and Judy's been insufferable, always asking me how I feel.

So I'd rather recline on this bench that seems to be twenty degrees colder than the freshly spring air, letting it seep into my aches and scars, reigniting old pains. I toy with my pills, but don't take any yet. I look deeper into my pocket and find the lithium I took from my mom's drug cabinet. I didn't even know she needed lithium.

Absently, I pop one lithium pill into my mouth and swallow with the assistance of a bottle of water I bought a while ago.

Spencer pushing me away isn't as bad as the rumors, though. The rumors that she's been hooking up with someone else, although the rumors vary. And that's not as bad as losing my friends. Emily's pissed off at me for making Hanna so sad, and Aria and I never spoke that much, anyways. Paige still talks to me sometimes, but never where her girlfriend could see or hear us. Her dirty little secret.

Two pain pills.

I wonder what they'll do with the other pill I took. I decide I don't care.

I put my headphones in, start listening to Metric. I'll shut up and carry on, scream becomes a yawn. Except I'm done shutting up and carrying on. All I've ever done is shut up and carry on, force myself to forge ahead despite everything I want to shout at the world.

Another pill.

Another song. When did the song change? Must have been a while ago as "Synthetica" drifts through my ears. It almost makes me laugh. Almost.

I used to be strong, or at least so close a semblance that it was indistinguishable (or nearly so), and I can't help but wonder where it went. The answer is obvious, suddenly: Quinn. I left my strength with Quinn. I try to call her but she's all the way in Ohio and another two pills.

I'm not sure when I pass out.


"Quinn. Quinn, wake up."

I attempt to swat the hands away, but my arms feel like lead or steel or something so heavy I can't pick them up. Those hands are like bees buzzing around my head and I don't know what's happening, but everything's pleasantly numb and my last thought before the black comes back to me:

I wonder how many of these I have to take before the pain goes away completely.

"Quinn. Please, please, I'm sorry, Quinn."

"Quinn. Just wake up. Open your eyes. Please."

"Quinn."

I'm not Quinn, I try to say to that broken voice. I'm Lucy. I left Quinn behind and when I vacate this body, she's welcome to have it back. I've been walking too much and I'm far too tired, and all I want is to sleep.

I let myself slip back into darkness.


When I'm pulled up again, there are fingers in my throat and I gag and then I feel myself emptying. I want to say, there's no reason for that. It's too late. The chemicals are in my blood and brain and they're sinking into me.

And vomiting is unpleasant, even if I'm still numb.

"I won't let you die," that voice says. "I won't let you go again, Quinn."

"Quinn. Come on, stay with me."

"Quinn. Just hold on. The ambulance is coming."

The word ambulance triggers something deep in me, triggers hospital, triggers panic. But I'm still too numb, too close to the darkness. I can't do anything except lie there in arms I barely feel with a voice I can't exactly place but I know I've heard, waiting for a doom I'm certain is coming.


The next time I wake up, I feel mostly inside my body, and the smell hits me first—that sterile smell that I became too familiar with—and then that hits the panic button, and I'm tied down and it's all just—

"Shh," a gentle voice coos in my ear. "It's okay."

With soft words and gentle touches she guides me down to calm again. When I turn to thank her, she's Rachel. The thanks stick in my throat and she mutters, "Judy said that you went to the park when you were upset. I wanted to try and talk to you again. When I got there…" She grabs my hand and squeezes, nearly crushing the bones. "Don't you dare do that ever again, Quinn Fabray."

"I'm Lucy."

"Not to me."

We glare at each other, a battle of wills, and she's the first to break. "Why did you do it?"

"Why not?" is my response. And, why not do it? I have a father who hates me, a mother who doesn't understand me (at best) and whose religion hates me, a string of heartbreak and betrayal, a series of failures—I haven't even been able to kill myself properly. Although I thought I had it this time.

Rachel bites her lip, hard, and for a second I think she'll snap and scream at me, storm out. But then she just whispers in a tired, broken voice that makes my heart ache, "Because I love you."

I shake my head. "No, you don't. You love Quinn. And—"

"You're right." She rubs my hand. "I love Quinn. And you're still Quinn, even if you say you're not. Because she was you. No matter what you call yourself, you're still you. And I love you, not a name. So, I love Quinn. I love Lucy. I'll love any other name you call yourself, because I love you. No matter what you do or say to me. And I admit, the last time I visited, I may have had a slightly unrealistic view of how things would happen. But, since that time, I've done a lot of thinking and appraised my life. Did you know that my first girlfriend was almost an exact clone of you?" Rachel shudders. "That was an awkward realization."

I chuckle softly despite myself, and Rachel smiles brilliantly. I ask, "So your offer's still open? To fall into your arms and be happy forever?"

"If you want."

I shake my head. "I can't be happy, Rachel. And the fact that you think it is just shows—"

"What?" Rachel crosses her arms over her chest. "Shows what? That I'm optimistic? That I think I can make you happy? That I believe in a future that you're in?"

My only response is to glare and retreat into myself. I was going to say, That you don't know me. Instead I ask, "Why'd you bring me to a hospital? I hate hospitals."

Rachel looks pissed off now. "Because you tried to kill yourself, Quinn. What was I supposed to do, just leave you there?" I'm about to nod, but think better of it. That'd just make her more angry and she'd probably call—

"My mom," I realize. "Where is she?"

"Getting some coffee and fresh air." Rachel leans back in her chair. "You've been out for a while, Quinn. Almost an entire day. The doctors said you're lucky I found you so soon and made you puke out those pills. Otherwise, you probably wouldn't have made it. And your mom was having a rough time without her meds. By the way, I never knew she was bipolar."

"Neither did I," I mutter. I'm barely paying attention now; I'm too busy imagining my next try. Cutting, probably. Knives and I used to be familiar, until we drifted apart. I think it's about time for a reunion.

"Quinn." Rachel's sharp tone brings me back. "The doctors are being careful with what they put into your body now. Anything you take is going to be strictly monitored. And Judy's angry and confused and—you know what, I'm angry and confused. Why, Quinn? Why would you do that?"

"Please call me Lucy."

Rachel makes a small, frustrated noise that pleases me for some reason. "Fine. Lucy. I ask once more: Why? And please give an actual answer this time."

"Was it because of me?" This new voice and development belongs to Spencer, and I shake my head.

"It was—" I sigh and want to yawn and sleep and cry and scream all at the same time— "It was a life of betrayals and broken hearts and self-denial and so, so many scars. I'm just… tired. I was tired." I glance up and down Spencer, who looks tired but happy. "I heard you have a new girlfriend."

She blushes. "Yeah. Jenna."

I nod. "Well, I wish you two long and happy lives." I lean back. "I hope she makes you happier than I did, Spencer."

Spencer nods and asks, "Is it okay if I tell Judy you're awake, Luce?"

I let myself smile at the nickname and nod. My mother probably has a lot to say to me.


It's not long after I'm released that Santana comes and slaps me across the face. "Stupid bitch," she grumbles, but I see the tears in her eyes and hug her hard, feeling her arms slide around me in return.

For some reason, I'm still numb. The drugs wore off long ago and now I'm on something significantly weaker. It doesn't work that well and my body's on fire most of the time, but I don't say anything. It's my penance, for not doing things correctly. But I still feel numb. It's very strange. But nice.

We sit and talk about Britt, about Ohio, about glee, about Sue. Everything except what happened. She knows me well; I don't want to talk about my failure, or my feelings. I have to see a lady every few days to talk about my feelings, and the first appointment was yesterday. Staring contests are boring.

At least she's kinda hot, for an older woman.

The next day Santana brings Brittany in and we go for coffee (after Santana promises not to take her eyes off me) and sit and talk and the numbness begins to lift, watching them smile and feed each other candy that Britt carries around in a bag. But then I see Emily and the numbness slips around me again, protective armor. Emotional kevlar. Santana tracks my eyes and asks, "Want me to fuck that bitch up?"

Her protectiveness brings an instinctive smile. "No. It's okay, San. Emily won't hurt me."

But they still form a protective phalanx next to me, a girl on either side, as Emily sits down. "Your mom said you came here. I wanted to apologize, Lucy. Hanna came to me, the night you two broke up, and… I guess I just forgot that you got hurt in that, too. If I'd known that things were that bad with you, I probably would've taken your side."

I hug myself. "It's okay, Emily. It really is. And Paige was still nice to me. Sometimes things get to be too much. And when things get to be too much, I do stupid things, like try to overdose or drive into a truck."

"Wait, Q." I don't bother to correct Santana as I turn to her. "I thought that was an accident."

I shrug. "Well, it was for him." Things are now more numb, if that's possible. Extra layers of protection in case Santana blows. No longer kevlar; now one of those explosion-proof suits.

Santana shakes her head. "Shit, Q. Why didn't you tell us?"

I shrug again.

Emily suddenly takes my hands. "Listen. If you ever need anything, anything at all, just ask me, okay? Or Paige, or Aria, or Hanna, or Spencer. Maybe not Spencer, actually. But we're all here for you, Luce."

Warmth begins to penetrate the numbness, and I desperately fight it back.


Two weeks of forced medications (weakened pain meds, antidepressants, whatever else they feel like forcing down my throat) and overbearing parents (Judy doesn't even allow me to write anymore) and over-attentive friends (I don't get a moment of peace at school) eventually break me down to one sentence in therapy:

"I don't know why they all try so hard."

My doctor-lady, Doctor Lubov, leans forward. "And why do you think that, Lucy?"

The floodgates are trying to open; I clamp them shut again. She sighs and says, "I know it's been a while since you trusted anyone with your emotions, Lucy. But you can trust me. You know the deal: Unless I feel it's something that absolutely needs to be shared, you control the flow of information to anyone outside this room. This is a safe place and you don't have to be scared to speak your piece."

I bite my lip, hard, harder, trying to break the skin and return to a semblance of normalcy. This woman is too kind to be real. I'm hallucinating. Any moment I'm going to wake up in blinding pain and that will be real life.

"Lucy. I got one sentence out of you, and I want more."

"Can I go early?"

She sighs quietly. "Okay. See you again on Thursday."

When I get home, Puck's waiting with Beth. "That's a low blow," I mutter, even as I take the baby into my arms. "What's this supposed to be? Trying to convince me not to kill myself by reminding me I have a child who'll grow up never knowing who I am?"

"No," Puck says. "I just figured you'd like to see her again, if you do it. Even though I don't want you to." His arms slide around me, and then he takes Beth from me and puts her on my bed so we can hug properly. "I kinda love you, Lucy. In a best friend way. And I don't want you to hurt yourself, but I also want you to do whatever makes you happy. It's confusing."

I chuckle. "You're confusing."

We hug, a thawing hug, and eventually I lean up and kiss him gently on the mouth. It's familiar, a habit I could get back into very easily. But he pushes me away. "Lucy, you're gay."

"I know." I hug him again and nuzzle his chest. "But you're sweet."

"And you're still gay." He pets my hair. "And our baby is right there, Lucy."

I laugh quietly. "I love you too, by the way. You're nice and easy, Puck. But I decided not to take the easy route anymore." I pull away and pick up Beth. "Sometimes the easy route isn't the best."

"Then why'd you try to kill yourself?"

I shrug gently, begin to rock Beth in the cradle of my arms. "Who ever said that suicide was easy?" Things are sliding out of my mouth now and I can't stop them. I don't want to stop them. Puck is good; if I ask him to stay quiet, he won't tell. "It wasn't easy. It was so hard. It got easier when everything got fuzzy, when I stopped being me, but it was hard, Puck. And please don't tell anyone anything we're discussing."

Puck nods eagerly. "As long as you get it out, babe. Consider me sworn to secrecy."

I sit down, feeling Beth squirm against me, trying to find something to grab. I give her a finger and let her suck on it. "This one wouldn't have cared. She'd have grown up with Shelby as her mother and you for a biological father and she'd never think about the messed-up girl that pushed her out and gave her away. Do you know how much thoughts can hurt sometimes, Noah? They stick in you and pull like barbed wire and you can't get them out until they're all you can think about: She will never love me. There's nobody that would care enough to stop me. I am irreparably broken."

Puck rubs my arm. "Hey. Don't you think like that. Beth is going to know who you are someday. Me and Shelby already talked about it, we were just waiting to talk to you about it too before we made it official."

"When?" I ask, as in, When is it going to happen?

"When she's eighteen." Puck sighs. "A month after her birthday, is the plan."

I nod. "I'm… okay with that." When she's eighteen, she'll know she had a failure for a birth mother. She'll know that, contained in her genes, she has addiction and depression and so many bad things.

"Rachel's downstairs," Puck adds. "Or, at least, she should be. I sent her a text when I saw you coming in. She's been wanting to see you for a while now, but Judy keeps telling her to stay away. Your mom's determined to protect you, by the way. She feels like she's failed as your mother. But Judy promised to give us some space, and she said she trusted me, so I'm bringing in Rachel. If you want me to be gone…"

"I want you in here," I say firmly. "And I want Beth in here, too." At least I know she won't scream at me if there's a cute, delicately sleeping baby in the room.

My ex-boyfriend sends a text, and soon my never-was-girlfriend is in my room.

"Hi," Rachel says awkwardly.

"Do you want to hold Beth?" I offer the child, and Rachel accepts her gently. Beth accepts the trade without even a hint of waking. "Why are you here, Rachel?"

"Because I want to talk to you." She sighs. "I missed you so much, Quinn, and—"

"Lucy," I correct absently, mostly out of habit, partly out of desire to see the way her eyes flare with annoyance. Such fire. I used to be able to manage flames of passion easily. Now, even if I'm only mostly numb, I can barely manage warmth.

"Quinn," she says once more, very pointedly, bringing a reluctant smile to my face, "I missed you. It's been a long time and things didn't go well the first time, which might have been partially my fault—"

"Or entirely," I say with a small smile, now less reluctant. I'm cracking. The numb is falling apart, leaving me defenseless. I gather as much of it as I can so I don't have to face this spear of speech without armor.

Rachel huffs. "Don't argue with me while I'm holding your baby, Quinn."

"Lucy."

"Quinn."

Laughter bursts out of me. It's so sudden and unexpected that it freezes everyone. I hastily withdraw into myself, away from their looks.

Suddenly, Rachel's touching me. I look; Puck is holding Beth, retreating. I want to tell them not to go, but air won't reach my lungs. Rachel grabs my shoulders and positions me in front of my mirror and says, "Quinn. Do me a favor and look at yourself."

I do. I find a ghost of a girl, the memory of strength and the current of despair. I wonder if the others see what I do—the ghost, the barely-there hint of what once was, what never will be again. I wonder if they'd let me drift away if they saw what I do.

"Now take everything you just thought about yourself and throw it in the trash because, dammit, Quinn, I love you, and if you ever try something like that again, I am going to be there, and I'm going to slap you across your stupid face and then I'm going to fix you, and I'm going to do it over and over again until you stop trying! Dammit, Quinn." I can see the tears in her eyes. "Don't you know what it means when I say I love you?"

It's not the words, really—more the tone, that broken, needy way she says them.

I crack apart in a million places and her arms come around me to hold me together.


"How are you feeling today?"

I smile at Emily, and her familiar greeting. I decided to stay in Rosewood for the rest of my high school career after Rachel broke the dams that held all my bad feelings at bay. I started talking to Doctor Lubov, little by little. It wasn't easy, but I forced myself to do it. I cleaned out all my dark little corners.

And then I started sweeping out the rest of the place.

"Good," I answer Emily. "How're you doing?"

She smiles. "I'm doing good. Me and Paige had a late night last night." The way her grin widens betrays what they were doing and it makes me smile. At least someone's happy. And although I won't ever tell them, the idea of them together has gotten me through many a lonely night.

"How's Rachel?"

The question distracts me from my thoughts (sometimes necessary, as any thoughts eventually lead to the dark places) and I answer, "Good. We're going slow. Stopping, actually. I decided to get my head straightened out and after that… who knows." I shrug and add, "I've gotten kinda used to single life, actually. Being in love can get tiring sometimes. Is that weird?"

"Sort of." Emily leans forward, crossing her legs and putting her elbows on each leg, lacing her fingers under her chin. "And how do you feel about that, Lucy?" she asks, doing a scarily accurate impression of my therapist. "What does it make you think about?"

I scowl. "I knew I shouldn't have taken you." Doctor Lubov said I needed practice letting other people in, so I took Emily and Paige to one session. "I should have known you'd use it for evil."

Emily smiles. "That's saintly compared to what Paige likes to do now. She stops during—I mean, you know—" I nod, knowing what she means and that she's not going to actually say it and if I interrupt her she's not going to tell me and I'm sort of curious— "And she starts talking to me like a therapist, all, How does this make you feel? It's actually kind of a turn-on, to be honest."

I giggle, imagining it. "But, seriously. I told Rachel to give me until we start college, and then I'd decide. I think…"

When I don't continue for long moments, Emily finishes, "You think that you're going to stay alone?"

I laugh quietly. "Yeah. For a while, anyways. We'll see. It's just easier for me. Relationships are complicated, and sometimes complicated is good, but sometimes its bad. Sometimes you have to take a step back and just live before you think about loving."

"Philosophical," Emily praises with a warm smile.

"Poetic, I prefer."

I smile up at Spencer as she sits down next to me. "Where's Jen?"

"Talking to Paige, trying to find out what her birthday surprise is." Spencer laughs, and I'm reminded of my birthday surprise, when Spencer convinced me that my mother had a stroke and when I got home everyone shouted surprise. "It's not like I'm going to be mean."

"Yes," I say in a very mild tone, "it's not like anyone's going to have a stroke."

Spencer shrugs. "Not my finest work, I admit. I just needed to figure out a way to get you home fast."

"How about, 'Hey, Lucy, we should go to your house and read poetry and blog about our feels.' I'd be home faster than a time-traveling salmon."

"That doesn't make sense," Spencer accuses, although with a smile on her face.

"It makes perfect sense. If a salmon can travel in time, it can go home whenever it wants because it can be that time anytime it wants."

"But—"

"They at it again?"

I turn to glare at Aria, but it comes out more of a pout. "You say that like it's annoying. We are having an invigorating and enlightening debate."

Spencer laughs. "Debate? This isn't debate, Fabray. This is you being wrong."

"I'm five seconds from punching you," I warn.

"Is Lucy murdering Spencer again?"

I glare at Hanna, and she shrugs. "What? With all the abuse you two lay on each other, it's not a stretch."

"That," Spencer clarifies, "is just sports."

A phantom ache has me rubbing my arm where she got me particularly hard. "Although you could be a bit gentler."

"I'll go soft when you go soft, Luce."

"Is my girlfriend flirting again?"

Spencer turns and kisses Jenna. "I was most certainly not. We were simply discussing how Lucy is a big baby and she needs to take her hits like a grown woman."

I roll my eyes. "I can take my hits, Spencer. I wasn't lying about those cheerleading scars. You club me. Like a caveman."

Spencer tries to defend herself, but everyone's too busy laughing at the image of Caveman Spencer. In the end, Spencer just pouts, and Jenna kisses it off of her. They're drawn into each other, kissing harder, wrapping their arms around each other.

I like them together. They consistently challenge each other, and sometimes they break up because their fights escalate quickly, but in the end they gravitate together again because that's just how they are. I can see the love and warmth in their hard kisses and commanding hands.

Someday they'll settle down and have kids or something, they'll calm down and be happy together. I can see it. It won't be easy, but they will.

"Luce," Emily murmurs, grabbing my hand. "You're staring, and it's kind of weird."

I laugh. "I was thinking, Em. Not staring. Just thinking."

"Whatever you say." She squeezes my hand and releases it. "Why don't you tell Spencer and Aria the good news?"

"What good news?" Aria asks, as Spencer continues making out with her girlfriend.

"I'm going to be alone, potentially for the rest of my life. By choice." I shrug. "Relationships aren't good for me."

Spencer squeezes my shoulder. "Whatever's good for you, I support. And Jenny supports too, right?"

"Don't call me Jenny," she grumbles against her girlfriend's mouth, but she still smiles warmly at me. "But, whatever, yeah, support and all that. Spencer, come back here." They make out again.

Eventually I excuse myself from the group, calling Rachel.

"Hey," she chirps excitedly. "How are you doing?"

I take a moment to consider that. I'm now friends with a woman I was (and still am) in love with, a girl who helped me realize that I need time to learn what I want, and an object of my lust; I'm depressed and considered a suicide risk; I'm surrounded by people who want to help me get better; I'm dedicated to making myself happier, sometimes by making other people happier; and I'm going to be alone until I learn exactly who I am, if I'm a person who's happy with other people.

So I say, "Better."