Okay, you guys are awesome! And I seriously did not expect you guys to like it, I don't know, maybe just five or six?

This time, Quinn is narrating the story, because I notice the last one is confusing with all the 'she'. Again, Quinn is a little OOC, I guess I had LUCY in mind when I was writing this.

PS. the whole cookie obsession is from 'Coffee and Cookies'. It's one of my favorite quinntana fics!

PPS. NOT AS GOOD AS THE FIRST ONE. I can't write Quinn period. This is just for all those who wished maybe Santana and Quinn will end up together somehow.

LUCY QUINN is 11 (Christmas Eve)

You know how people always say count the stars before you sleep? Well me, I literally have to count the stars to sleep. And well... this days, I could just do it by crying myself to sleep. Yay to myself!

Nobody should be sad like this on Christmas! But I am. I am every single day of my life. Because I'm a Fabray... rather, I'm not enough to be a Fabray. A lot of people say that I'm probably adopted, or the babies were switched when my mother gave birth (my dad had to double check when I hit middle school). I just... I'm not like my mom. Or my sister. And my family just stopped caring... except my grandpa. He's actually the only person who cares about me... Who loves me. But God had to take him away. Frannie said he needs torest for good, and that he had done enough for his life time.

But I still need him. So my wish this Christmas? Someone to love me. It doesn't have to be this Christmas. I could wait... two-three years? Maybe five?

...

...

...

But it's never gonna happen 'cause Christmas is stupid. I only get one... ONE present every Christmas, and that's from my grandpa. So this year, I won't be receiving anything 'cause he's dead. And I had to watch Frannie open her tons, and maybe she'd give me those she didn't like... just like last year, and the previous year, and all the Christmas we've spent. And it's not like Santa would wrap up a person and put a ribbon on it... 'Cause lets not kid ourselves. Santa isn't real.

I think I'm losing my mind. I'm talking to myself for entertainment because I never had someone to talk to.

Then I hear a faint sound downstairs. And now I'm imagining sounds too. Great.

Achooo.

I really hope this cold will go down soon. My life sucks enough as it is. I don't need cold to repel other people from coming near me. My physical appearance is doing its fine job itself.

Thump. thump. Thump.

"Hello?" a my voice echoes through the hallowness of the room. I slowly reach for the railing of the stairs. "Who's there?" Grandpa? "Grandpa? Is that you?"

"Nope. He would've woken me up if he was here. He always does." I get closer to the living room as I realize how stupid (and desperate) I'm becoming. No one comes back from the dead, Lucy. That's just one of the facts in life. "At least he used to."

I stop dead at my tracks and had to push up my glasses to study this... stranger in our living room. It's girl... no a lady? with a black blazer over a white top, black trousers, and shin-high boots.

We couldn't have any visitor at this time of the night. She... She looks beautiful... would pass up as Frannie's friend, but she looks older than Frannie. Maybe she's in college? But I've never seen her before. And I've never heard of a female burglar before, but who knows these days? Better be sure.

"I'm probably going to call the police in, like, in twenty seconds," I inform her lightly. She looks harmless but I grab the phone nonetheless. I'm sure she's not a good person if she's trespassing someone else's house at Christmas Eve.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Oh, she speaks! I return my gaze back at her and raise my eyebrow, "Why not?" I hover my finger over '9'.

"Because then, how would you be able to get all these amazing presents?" Her voice is now probably about as dry as a desert, if not drier.

My eyebrows furrow. That's the best she got? "Are you a burglar masquerading as Santa Claus? Because I'm telling you now, the flaw in the plan kind of lies in the fact that you're of the wrong gender." I cross my arms as I stare back at her. She's so... different. Different from what I used to anyway. Her hair, her body structure, her voice, her clothing. Yet it looks presentable... right even.

"I'd choose that over this any day." And she's doesn't scream Christmas either.

"So...you're not a burglar?"

"Maybe."

"What are you?"

"Santa Claus," she replies. And I snort, Yeah sure. And I'm pretty. "No, but really."

She whips around to pin me with a glare that could... rival my sister's. I squint my eyes. Maybe she is one of my sister's mean friends after all... or a cousin... a distant cousin? She doesn't look like a Fabray at all. "Yes. I am Santa Claus. I may not look the part, but I sure as hell got the sled and the giant bag of presents to prove it."

My eyes widen. "presents?" What? Love what you can't have, right?

She sniffs to herself with disdain. "That's what I said, wasn't it?"

I look at her for a moment and maybe... and maybe I might actually believe her, then shakes her head. "No way. Santa Claus isn't even real."

"Okay," Stranger replies simply, crossing over to the tree and beginning to empty the contents of her sack under it.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" she grits out.

"Are those... presents?"

"Wrapped and delivered specially for you," Stranger retorts in a ridiculously sweet tone without missing a beat. Her sarcasm seems to be backing up my theory that I'm supposed to know her or at least be connected to her somehow.

"You're... real," I gape at her. "No way." Santa isn't real.

"I thought we'd pretty much established that," she replies tersely, already making a beeline for the fireplace.

"You're actual, genuine Santa? But... why do we all think you look like an old guy with a white beard? And that you wear red?"

"I wasn't in the mood to don the traditional costume," she mutters.

"And why is your name Santa? Or Nick? Or whatever?"

"My name isn't Nick," she corrects with a sigh. "That was my great grandfather's name. Every time the next boy in the family is old enough to take the job, he adopts the name Nick. Kinda like those popes you have here, or in Vatican City, or whatever."

"So, where's the boy in your family?"

"My father died last summer," she says softly after some time. Oh. just like Grandpa? If you're Santa, and my grandpa is just a mere mortal, would they go to the same place? They seem to be both good people.

"It's only me now." Just like me then.

Look at that. Two lost souls on Christmas Eve.

"Oh," This couldn't be a coincidence, right? And maybe I'm just dreaming. My subconscious has probably playing mind tricks on me. So why not make the best out of it? "Well... What is your name?"

She blinks in surprise. "What?"

"Your name. What is it?"

She opens her mouth, only to close it again with a slight shake of her head. "I don't have time for this," she says, turning back towards the fireplace.

"Aw, c'mon," I said, "I bet it's something really pretty, like... Rose." She's my gift right? She has to be.

At this, stranger can't help but turn back around to give me a look of utter disdain. Rose? Geez Lucy. Where do you use all those brain cells? I can't help it though. I have a Rose in my class and I think she's really pretty. I should really learn how to stop this talking to myself thing. "Okay, maybe not Rose. But my point still stands. Pretty name for a pretty girl, right?" Maybe if I'm nice she'll be nice to me too. My grandpa always says, smile and the world will smile back at you. I tried it everyday, but it never really seems to work, but this... stranger hasn't stopped talking to me so I would keep going. Doesn't hurt to try, right?

She doesn't bother to dignify my words with an answer, choosing instead to step into the fireplace and place a foot on the brick of the chimney. God, she's rude. She's probably the worst Santa out there. Well not really, this is the longest conversation I had with someone so I'm still taking chances.

"Hey, wait, don't go! We, uh, we've actually got cookies and milk and stuff – wait, let me just go get them – please don't leave in the five seconds it'll take me to go get them! I promise it's worth it!"

I walk-runs while trying not to make a sound, because that would cause my sister or worse, my parents to wake up... or worst, me probably waking up in this dream. so I wouldn't want to risk it. I grab the plate with cookies and pour a milk and tries to get back at the living room where I hope stranger is still waiting. I really have to get a name soon.

"I've got them!"

"You know, I kinda thought you would take off just now..."

"Believe me, it was tempting," Stranger mutters, backing out of the chimney and stepping out of the fireplace. She turns around, and finds herself suddenly face to face with me. For a minute, (it's feels like a lifetime) she stares at me. stares at me. Doesn't she know staring is rude? I clear my throat and take a step back. I need some space.

"Uh, here," I hold out a plate piled high with cookies (which I baked, nothing to brag about, it is expected on a Fabray to be good at everything, well as my dad used to say, in my case, at least be good at something) towards Stranger. "I made them."

Stranger takes them carefully, and almost lets her eyes widen when she can see them more clearly. She seems to study the patterns, which I hope she likes 'cause I worked really hard on it. She seems to be hesitant to take one, and I feel insecurity back at my heart. Baking is the one thing I'm sure I'm good at. Doesn't she think it tastes good as it looks?

Relief washed over me when she grabs a cookie from the plate, "I thought you didn't believe in Santa Claus?"

I only grin. "You know, you are nothing like I'd expect Santa Claus to be."

"Oh?" Stranger says with dry amusement. "What's different? The lack of the beard? The wrong coloured clothes? The age? Maybe the gender?"

"Well, there is that, yes," I agree, holding out the plate to her once more when I see that she's already finished off her second cookie. She must have liked it then! "But it's more that you're probably the least Christmas-y person I've ever met."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she mutters around a mouthful of shortbread.

I wait for her as she takes another cookie. I take this moment to study her face. Frannie is the prettiest girl I've ever seen, but this... stranger... I think she's pretty too. Beautiful even. With her tan skin, and that, cute dimple that appears when she chews. But her eyes. It's like she's sad... and empty. And I feel like my eyes mirror the same. Is it because she'd lost someone too?

Oh, I'm staring.

I know girls don't like it when people stare at them when they eat, 'cause I do, but this stranger doesn't seem to mind. One of the many things that makes her so different... and intriguing. What is wrong with me? I feel like Tarzan, seeing Jane for the first time. I might come off creepy to her. I should be friendly.

Yes.

Even though I've never had friends before-mind you, it wasn't from the lack of trying, I AM friendly. I initiate every conversation. I swallow my pride... (even though my sister thinks there's not really much to swallow), and keep on approaching my classmates every single day. It's just that they never really... find me worth their time. I study hard because mom said that intelligence attracts other people, but the boys at school just tease me over it.

I haven't scared this girl off, so I might as well keep going.

"So," I watch her finish her fourth cookie which is quite amusing. She reaches for the glass of milk on the table, drinking around half of it in one gulp. She must really be hungry. This delivery of presents is hard work after all. "You never told me your name."

Stranger frowns into her milk. By the way her eyes narrow, and her lips pressed in a thin line, I can see that she's thinking it over.

"I'm Santana," she says, a little hesitantly.

Santa..na?

I feel my lips turning upwards. No kidding. What gives?

"Santana." I repeat. Seriously? I might as well go with the teasing, "For real?"

By the way her eyes narrow at me, I'm thinking she's struggling to fight off that scowl coming. But I decide to introduce myself before she goes through it. "I'm Lucy," I have a second thought on adding Fabray.

'always introduce yourself as a Fabray. You'll need it.' My dad used to say.

I don't think Santa...na knows who the Fabrays are in North Pole. Or she must, 'cause she has to deliver our presents. But our status in life must be unimportant to them. So I just keep that to myself.

"Did you like the cookies?" I decide to tease her even more. She only huffs, getting up from the table and crossing once more to the fireplace.

"They were... okay," Santana replies, "Thank you," she manages.

I feel myself blushing and my smile growing. No one has ever said thank you to me before. No one has ever acknowledged I existed before.-aside from the boys who tease me everyday, and my classmates who laughs at me. Okay, maybe they do know I exist. They just don't think I deserve any respect... at all.

"Least I could do. Considering you left us our presents and all."

Santana looks at me as id studying me... again, then looks away quickly. "I should go," she says abruptly.

"Oh," Can't help but feel disappointment fill my heart. Of course she has to go. "Right. Of course. I bet you've still got loads of houses to get through, right?" Anything better than talking to a freak like me, right?

"Right," I glance over at her, and watches as she shifts awkwardly.

"Okay," I say quietly, offering her a hesitant smile. "I guess I'll see you next year, huh?"

"Yeah."

She climbs the chimney, and then seconds later she was gone.

Santana.

I think I was frozen at my spot for a few minutes, replaying the whole thing in my mind.

I shake my head, when I'm sure I've memorized every scene, every image in my brain. I walk back towards my room as I recall every detail of Santana etched in my memory.

Grandpa, I made a friend today.

The next day, Frannie and I are eating breakfast alone as my mom continues to talk over the phone about the preparations for the Christmas party later today, and my dad is... on his phone too, talking about business stuff.

I can't help but ask. "Do you think Santa is real?"

Frannie looks at me like I've grown another head. "Lucy, I think you're too old to believe in Santa."

"Who brings the presents then?" I glance over my shoulder towards the Christmas tree.

"Uhh... I don't know. Try mom and dad!" She says as she rolls her eyes at me. I slump my shoulders in defeat. Suddenly, I don't feel finishing my breakfast anymore. "You do know it's Grandpa who gives you those gifts, right?" I nod my head slowly. Of course all of it is just a dream. There's no way, Santa is real. Even if s/he is, it can't be a girl. A very attractive girl.

"Hey, you know what? I'll let you have any present you want." I feel Frannie put her hand over my shoulder comforting me. Great, the last thing I need is her pity.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray! What did I tell you about eating pass your bedtime?" I hear my mom's voice from my back, and I look at her confused.

"What?"

She walks towards me and put an empty plate and a glass over the counter. "This. I told you sweetie, if you want to lose some weight, there's no such thing as midnight snacks!"

I open my mouth to protest but close it again when realization dawns on me.

Empty plate and glass.

Empty.

No way.

I hear my mother talk about the same thing she's been telling me all those years. Lose weight.

But my mind is in whirlwind, I nod my head slowly as if I'm processing her words, but really, I 'm thinking of last night.

It wasn't just a dream. I didn't make it all up.

When my mother is finished, I excused myself and went over to the Christmas tree.

I gape at what I saw. The presents weren't piled carefully the way my mother would've put it. It is the same way as Santana had dropped it last night.

Santana.

"You do know you have to rearrange that before dad sees it, right? You were lucky, mom didn't call you out on it." I hear Frannie says as she stands next to me looking at the Christmas tree too. "You were looking for your present aren't you?" She says with pity dripping off her voice.

"Fine. Two presents of your choice. Know what? Make that three. You'd need all the love you can get even if it's just for Christmas."

Lucy Quinn is 14 (December)

Three years of not seeing Santana is making me crazy. I'm Quinn now, and maybe she doesn't recognize me anymore, but it's all for the better now, right?

Why am I being like this? It's like being Lucy all over again. I doubt myself when it comes to her. I'm acting like I have some stupid crush on her. And I don't! I'm a girl... and a Christian, and most of all, I'm a Fabray. (finally, I could say that out loud... or in my mind) I simply cannot have a crush on a girl. Much less someone whom I pretty much made up in my mind?

"Quinn! Are you even listening?"

I snap back to reality when my friend-Yes. I have a friend now, is literally snapping her fingers across my face. I push it away and glare at her. "Yes!"

"What did I just say?" She puts her hand to her waist and taps her foot.

"Uhh... You finally decided to throw those sweaters away?" I forced a smile her way as she shakes her head. "Close."

She takes a seat next to me in my bed and we both fall back. "Where did you just go?"

Where I wish I would go.

North Pole.

To check if Santana is there.

Or she's just been lying at the back of my head all these time.

Ugh.

"Do you believe in Santa, Rachel?"

"I'm Jewish, Quinn."

Right.

"Well, hypothetically, do you think, it's possible that... Santa is real?"

Rachel chuckles and I feel like I'm just embarrassing myself even more. "Aren't you too old for Santa, Quinn?"

I hate it when people say it like that. Why can't they just say 'No, Quinn. I don't."

I sigh. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I've lost my mind.

I had imagined Santana when I was eleven. I thought I made a friend, just because I lost my grandfather, that one person who loves me back.

I had imagined meeting a blonde when I was twelve. I thought I made another friend, a much more friendly version this time, because hey, if you're making up a friend, why not make someone more cheerful and kind.

I had imagined meeting the same blonde again which appears to be Santana's friend when I was thirteen because she has mentioned that Santana was sick. And my brain had probably projected that because I thought Santana is sick or dying somewhere for not returning to see me again. That, or I had scared her away just like I do with other people.

Maybe I really am just imagining things and that I was the one who ate those cookies and drank those milk.

So I had changed myself so I could gain some friends and maybe stop hallucinating every Christmas. That... and the hope that I'd meet Santana again.

"Have you ever felt something so strong it makes you believe that something is real, then reality hits you back at the face and tells you it was all just in your head?"

"All the time."

I look back at her and notice she was looking at me too.

Oh Rachel.

She told me she likes Finn, and they're actually getting along really well. And I thought that was her saying, 'I like Finn for you. You're cute together.' Because Finn and I are going back through this flirting, sneaking glances at each other. Then she got mad me and ignored for three days, and when I confronted her, she just yelled, and cried, and slapped me, not really in that order, and told me that she likes likes Finn.

"If it'll make you feel any better, I think I'm crushing on someone and that someone doesn't like me back."

She just shakes her head and that actually puts a smile on her face. Geez. Do I have to make myself feel bad to make her smile? "You don't have to lie to me to make me feel better, Quinn."

I sit up to look at her because she had turned away. "It's true. It's not even a crush, it's just..." I try to save some of the dignity I have left. I don't have a crush. I'm just trying to make Rachel happy. I'm just making this all up, just like Santana, and the blonde cheerful girl who replaced her, and the cookies, and the milk. I might as well make something up for Rachel, like feelings.

"Quinn, everyone likes you. Probably in love you. So no. Don't do this to me, okay?"

"But there's someone!"

"Who?"

I open my mouth to tell her. To finally tell someone about these weird encounters I have on Christmas Eves. But I can't. Because I'm scared she'll tell me it's all just in my head. And thinking about it is different, hearing it is another word. A weight to the words make it real.

"Just as I thought."

"You're back."

She is back. My Santana is back.

I can't believe it. Or it's my depression probably kicking in and have decided to play mind tricks on me, again.

Eitherway, I'll take what I can get.

"I... You weren't here the year after. And last year... I thought... I thought you'd never come back." I step forward and she steps backward.

She looks exactly the same as she was three years ago. She opens her mouth and closes it without words coming out. It's adorable.

Well, I think I should go with the familiar ones. "I made cookies," I tell her, and I immediately reached for her hand. to lead her towards the temple.

"Again?" she asks, but my mind is so occupied about the fact that I've just touched Santana whom I've probably just imagined. Great, now I can imagine what it feels like to touch her. See? I can imagine feelings too.

"I made a few more than usual," I told her nodding towards the plate. The blonde girl who didn't give her name (she actually looks surprised that I even asked, even more surprised that I mentioned Santana's name.

Santana though, just frowns. "Why?"

"Well, apart from the fact that someone almost finished them off single-handedly last time..." I decide to tease her again. God, I miss her. I miss the way she studies my face for malice every time I say something, like she's trying to figure me out. I seriously hope I am not crazy, or so help me God, I'm starting to think my imaginary friend has a mind of its own.

"I thought your bestfriend might like some too," Might as well throw that too.

"Brittany?" Santana says without thinking. I smile brightly again. Ooh, my other imaginary friend now has a name too!

"Is that her name?" Brittany. I actually expected something like Noelle. Or Nicki. Or Nicole. Something related to Santa Claus.

"No – I mean, yes, but – we don't need your cookies," she tells me. And I'm surprised by her tone.

"I mean, sure – of course you don't, I just meant she might like them, is all," I explain earnestly.

Where is that cool and calm Quinn Fabray I has worked so hard for?

I've waited this day for three years, and I'm just throwing it all away because... because it's Santana.

What's so special about her anyway? So what, if she's my first friend. It's not like we bonded over summer and she stayed by my side and was introduced to those kids at school. No, she just disappeared. Like a bubble. With no trace. (except for the empty plate and glass, which is probably my doings)

I'm such a mess.

I didn't notice Santana grabbing a cookie and eating it until she finally speaks, "I've never mentioned her"

"Who?"

"Brittany."

oh right. We were talking about the other friend I've imagined.

"Oh." And now I feel guilty. "I... I saw her the year after we met."

"I thought it was you, then I noticed... she wasn't. And I... I offered her cookies, and she likes it so I thought-"

"And what? You assumed she's my bestfriend?"

"I... I said your name and she looked surprise that I know you. And she told me you couldn't come because she wanted to be Santa that year. And she's your bestfriend so you can't say no." Now I feel embarrassed. Great, I've just thrown Quinn all away and had let Lucy take over. What is wrong with me?

And then I remembered why she wasn't here last year.

"You weren't here last year too. 'Cause you were sick. I... Are you okay now?" I was about to touch her forehead when she pulls away like I'll burn her or something.

"Of course you are. You're here." I whisper like I can't believe it.

God, remember when I asked for someone to love me? Nevermind that. I just wish Santana is real, and is here to stay. Just that, and I'll do whatever you want. Celibacy? My life devoted to the Virgin Mary? I will do all of that. Just please, make her real.

"But... you're not exactly 'you'." She said and I feel myself getting shy. Like Santana is some jock, I'm flattered to have her attention with.

"I'm Quinn now."

"Why?"

"Quinn is my middle name."

"So why did you start going with it?" She pause before adding, "I thinks Lucy is just fine."

I blush looking away. Stop it. I've probably just missed her that's why I'm acting like an idiot. "Well, you're the only who thinks that way."

If I made her up in my mind, might as well tell her the whole truth, right? Who she gonna tell? Her elves, and her reindeers?

"Kids made up mean nicknames."

"Like what? Juicy Lucy?" Santana snorts.

I'm hesitant as I put my lower lip between my teeth, something I've got from Lucy which I've never got rid of. "Lucy Caboosey."

From then on, I was on roll. "I hated the way I looked. I had zits. I was chubby. I felt terrible about myself. I didn't have friends. No one would talk to me."

I should stop talking. because it hurts. And my eyes are watering, and I promised myself I won't cry anymore.

"I was the only kid at school who had to dissect their own frog because nobody would be my lab partner."

And now I'm crying. So much for being Quinn, huh?

I was stunned when I feel Santana's hand on my cheek. Is she... is she wiping my tears?

'Hush now, my princess. Grandpa loves you." For a moment I felt like I've seen my Grandpa all over again.

When I feel her retracting her hand, I placed my hand over it as I smile back at her.

She just... makes me feel stronger. Makes me believe I could be better.

"I joined ballet, lost a little bit of weight, found out I was athletic, joined gymnastics, then cheerleading. 'Went on Proactiv for my acne. And when my dad got transferred and got a raise, I asked if I could get a nose job. And he said yes."

Santana looks around the house as if finally noticing it wasn't the same house where we met three years ago.

"So you hated yourself?"

"No. I love myself so I did those things." I shake my head as I grab Santana's hand with both my hands. I rub it gently as I notice it is cold. Why isn't she wearing any gloves? I blow on it as I keep myself from actually kissing it. "I was a miserable little girl. I've been that girl and I'm never going back."

I look back at Santana and smile at her, but I notice her frown instead.

"You... You don't like it?"

My heart sank when she shakes her head slowly "No-yes... I... I just... I was hoping... I just... I was at your house, 10 minutes ago. Well, your old house anyway. And you weren't there. So I thought, I would never get to see you again. And it turns out... I really wouldn't see Lucy again."

Frannie is in college and before she left, she had to broke up with her high school boyfriend. I accidentally heard them talking, though Frannie might have told me to listen so I would take notes and how to do a clean break up. Frannie, made it seem like they were both changing and they're just not meeting in the middle like they used to...

I hold into Santana's hand tighter, and I wait until she's looking back at me.

"I... I'm still me. Sort of."

And it's just like how Frannie did it. Santana pulls her hand back, and it hurts like hell. Now I know what Alex felt.

"Thanks for the cookies." Santana says as she moves towards the Christmas tree to put our presents.

How is this possible? She was the only person who liked Lucy... How can she not like Quinn? How can I not have her when I have everyone else?

I'm looking everywhere but her, 'cause I feel like I can't watch her physically walkaway from me.

"Hey. For what it's worth. I think Lucy's great. I mean, yeah sure. Being human sucks, 'cause no matter how great you are, how talented you are at baking those cookies, the first thing people notice is how much weight you put on. Which is pathetic because what does your weight tell about you anyway?"

I look at her, unsure if I should believe Santana.

"But you don't like me."

"Of course I do." She answers a little to quickly, like I'm not supposed to know that because she puts her hand over her mouth.

"You don't mean that." I shake my head. Now I know how Rachel felt awhile ago. "You said you don't."

I promise to call Rachel tomorrow morning, apologize to her and stick with her.

She likes me.

Everyone else knows her.

And more importantly, She's real.

"You're the first person who made me feel like I'm not a nobody. You made me feel like a somebody. So it gave me courage to change, to be better. And now... Now that I've changed. And that people are noticing me... You... You don't like it."

Santana shakes her head in protest. She moves forward towards me and she's probably not sure where to put her hands because she clench it and unclench her fists.

"My opinion doesn't matter-"

"It does. It does to me."

She looks taken aback by my answer and I am too but I don't show it because, well, it's already there. She's silent for a while as if thinking what to say next. "Did you bake those cookies?" Santana turns her eyes on the... now empty-plate on the kitchen counter, and I slowly nod my head because Santana has no idea about the art of subtlety.

"Then we're still good." Santana smiles at me, FOR THE FIRST TIME. "I don't care if you're Lucy... or Quinn, or if you're blonde, or your chubby. As long as you keep those cookies coming, I'll always like you."

Oh God, I shouldn't be feeling this way. Stop it heart. Stop. "Really?"

"Yup." Santana continues to put out the gifts the same way she did three years ago. And now I laugh.

The empty plate and glass. Check

The gifts. Check.

"Will I see you again?"

"Will you rearrange that?" Santana points to the gifts messily on the floor near the Christmas tree.

"No. It's my only reminder that you're real."

It's what keeps me sane.

"That and the empty plate?"

This time I smile. "That, and the empty plate."

Santana finds her self smiling back. Without answering me, she went to the fireplace and disappear.

If on the next day, I see this place, just the way as it is. I wouldn't care what others think.

Santana is real.

And it's not just all in my head.

Because I've touched her, and she touched me. And she smiled back at me.

You don't make up feelings.

I've felt something. Though I'm not sure what it meant.

For now, that is enough.

Lucy Quinn is 17 (November)

"Babe, that was amazing!"

Yes, of course, only I'm just too busy processing what just happened to make sense whatever Puck was saying to me. I felt an overwhelming sense of panic like that time I'd been locked in Frannie's closet. The walls had felt like they were closing in and this wasn't unlike that. I gulped in a deep breath, discreetly and glanced back to the expectant light brown eyes.

Puck is different when he's with me. He used to flirt with most girls but when we started dating, he only had eyes for me. His eyes held a warmth so sincere it makes my heart flutter every time he sets it on me. I'm the only girl he really cared for, and that makes me feel special. The warm, gentle hand on my shoulder drew my attention and I glanced back to my boyfriend, the man I chose to lose my virginity with, and I felt like I was seeing him for the first time.

"Are you all right?" He asked, his brow furrowed in concern. I forced myself to nod, gulping in another breath. He seemed almost relieved as he smiled back at me. "Did you hear what I said?"

I caught the uncertainty on Puck's face just before he hid it, and felt guilt settle at the bottom of my stomach and begin to boil.

Why can't I just say, it was amazing for me too?

Frannie said that her first time sucked and hurt. And well, I think it's the same for me too. But I love Puck. So that should compensate, right?

Looking back slowly, I tried to compose myself. What could I say to reassure Puck?

I fight back the tears threatening to drop. I leaned in and kissed him instead, which he is happy to respond to. I feel his hand roaming my body again, and all I could think of is how this might have been a bad idea.

I'm decided to take Art Classes on my Senior year just in case I might use it for college next year, even though I'm set up to what I already want to take, and I'm due to passsomething for our final requirement. I really had no idea what to do so I asked my instructor, Miss Holiday a few weeks back and she said that I have all these things in my mind. She told me to just close my eyes and think of that one thing I just can't shut down.

I expected Puck to just pop up. His handsome smile, his broad shoulders, his strong arms. Anything that would relate to him. Anything that made me love him.

I grabbed my stencil and started sketching him.

And for days, it worked.

Until one lazy afternoon, Rachel had snatched my sketchpad from me and looked at my work.

"It's not yet finished!"

Rachel squints her eyes at the picture and then looks back at me. "Look, I'm working on it, okay? And hey! You know I hate it when people look at my drawing when it's not yet done!" I started getting defensive. I don't like the look she's giving me.

She hands back the sketchpad to me and I put it in my chest, hugging it protectively. She hugs me from behind as she puts her chin on my head. "You know you could just break up with him."

"What?"

"Quinn, you've been working on this thing for a week now, and look at your work? It's not even his eyes! Clearly you're thinking of someone else." She traces the eyes as she slowly massages my shoulders.

"I love him." my words muffled as I dropped my face to the pillow on my bed.

"Who are you convincing, me or you?"

I turn around and open my sketchpad again. Every time I draw something, I erase it immediately and replace it with Santana's features. And I hate myself for it. It's like she's a fictional character I'm fangirling over and over for years. Except she's not. She makes it seems like she's real. But I can't know for sure, because no one has seen her. Should I feel special? Should I panic? Well, clearly, I'm confused.

"Why don't you just draw her instead?" Rachel told me softly.

I told Rachel about Santana. Except the fact that she's Santa. And I only see her during Christmas Eve. For all Rachel knows, Santana is a family friend who is in college so we don't see each other a lot, but when we do it's...

"I need to draw Puck, Rachel. That's the assignment!"

"Quinn, you've had sex with Puck! Did it change anything? Did you feel your bonds getting stronger? I don't think you can do anything to prove-"

"I don't have to prove anything!"

"Then why do you need to draw him?"

I hate it when Rachel gets the last words.

Lucy Quinn is 19 (week before Christmas Eve)

I've decided to spend my Christmas vacation in New York with my friend Rachel before we have to both go back to our homes for the holiday.

"So, am I finally meeting your girlfriend?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Santana is not my girlfriend!"

Rachel looks at me, smirking, her eyebrows raised. "Yeah, I was talking about Julia?"

I open my mouth but no words are coming out. Crap.

You know how I only told Rachel about Santana so she is this one person I talk to about her? And sometimes she teases me about it, implying that this crush has turned into an infatuation. And at some point I've accepted the idea that I may be into girls. It wasn't easy, I was in denial... for 5 years maybe. But Rachel helped me. And my sister supported me too. Funny how crazy my relationship with my sister, she's the only one in my family who truly cares about me... in her own weird way.

"You're my little sister, Lucy. Of course I love you."

Then I started seeing this girl Julia, in my Bio class. I've seen two girls before her, but she's the first girl I started going out with for a couple of times now. I think there might be something in there. I just don't know if it's enough to overcome my infatuation with the burglar who stole my heart when I was eleven.

"Of course, you are." I look at Rachel pointedly. I go to next aisle and continue on my hunt for Christmas gifts. Rachel had decided to put off Christmas shopping until I come to New York, which gives us three days to get everything. And I'm finding it hard to finish this task at hand. I get really picky and I tend to find something wrong with most of the things I see.

Rachel catches up to me and loops her arm to mine, "Aside from the drawings, you've never really shown me her pictures. I mean yeah sure, she's beautiful, and you're talented, you make it seem like it's a black&white photo of her, but come on, Quinn. Are you hoarding all her photos?"

I scoff at her. Yeah, I'm hoarding all her photos alright.

A part of myself is superficial. I feel that if I take a photo of her, she wouldn't show up in the picture, and that part of me is terrified.

I believe that she is real.

She is real to me.

What if she isn't real to the rest of the world? I've never heard rumors of someone, seeing Santa. But then again, most of those stories are told by kids. Santana told me, that she has this magic dust, that can erase human memory of her. And I've asked her why she hasn't used it on me.

"Then, who's gonna give me those cookies?"

I've decided to drop the subject because I chose to be selfish and savor the special treatment.

"Hey! How about this one?" I look at where Rachel was pointing. "Do you think she'll like it?"

"Have I told you how amazing you are?" I smile brightly as I ask the saleslady to wrap up this item.

Lucy Quinn is 22 (October)

"You have to stop this, Quinn!" Rachel hisses as she pushes me at my bed, and she continues to pace in front me. Words such as 'disappointment', 'waste', and 'sad' was thrown out there. I suddenly feel like fourteen again when my dad would lecture me for a simple mistake I've made. Like not meeting his expectations? And his well-prepared speech of what it takes to be a Fabray.

I've confessed to Santana two years ago and she run away from me. Last year, she came back and we made up and everything came back to normal. With us being friends. And I don't want to be friends.

So I go around meeting new people. Going out on dates. Maybe sleeping with this one girl... Samantha? Then I just missed Santana more. So this time, I've decided to try with a guy. But Rachel came in and had pulled him off of me when we were one moment away from doing it.

"Are you high, right now?" She grits out when I find myself giggling. "No, I don't think so. I'm drunk. And I was about to sleep with Nate! He is so... hot-"

"More like a male version of you?" I ignore her and continue to list off the attractive things I find on him.

"And you!" A point at Rachel and tries so hard to make my glare as threatening as it was in high school, "you ruined all that! We're gonna have some ho-"

"Quinn, you're a lesbian." Rachel deadpans, and I find it amusing how she could be pissed at one point, then bored the next. She's amazing. Why can't I just be in love with her? Then I imagine us together, hugging, kis- Blech. She's like a sister!

"Maybe I'm bi? I've been with Puck!"

"You were hiding, Quinn." Rachel says softly as she puts her hand at my back and runs it in circles.

I slump my shoulders in defeat. I just can't win with her.

"Why don't you call Santana? Maybe not now, 'cause you're drunk and you'd probably say words you'd regret-"

"I already did, and she doesn't want me!" And now, I start sobbing. Ugh. I want to stop crying. How is it possible to be in love with one person for... ten years maybe? When that person isn't even real. I can't be in love with an imaginary friend! And I can't talk to someone else about this. Because I'm afraid that they'll scold me.

"Did she tell you that? That she doesn't want you?"

"No." I say weakly. Why can't she just let it go? Why can't she just tell me 'its her loss.' and tell me how great I am, maybe lift up my spirits? Isn't that the protocol? Your bestfriend tells you how crappy your ex was and tell you all the great stuff about you?

"Then why-"

"She just left! In what world does that mean she doesn't want me back? I hate how stupid she is! How she plays dumb about my feelings! Of course she knows, she knows about it, and she chooses to ignore it because we can't be together, I know that because I'm not stupid like she is! But unlike her, I chose not to runaway from it!" I'm so angry at Santana. Because she's a coward. And she always run away. And it's impossible! And it's crazy to even think that we could be together at the end, but why do we think of the future when we can't even handle the present?

Does that make sense?

Ugh. And here I am talking to myself again! Maybe I should talk to a shrink instead.

Rachel must have left me to process my thoughts, and then she speaks up, "Did she came back?"

I look at her slowly confused by her words. "Did she came back for you? When she left?" I nod my head weakly. She did. She came back last year. And she told me she missed me. Then she just had to say, 'a year in a human world is just 2 months in my world.' So for her to say that she missed me means a lot. But what can I get from that? Another thing I hate about Santana? She doesn't know how to talk about feelings. Which is frustrating. And it makes me crazier!

She takes a deep breath and holds my gaze, "Even if the distance seems far, run after her. Even if it feels like she isn't next to you, grab on to her."

Finn and Rachel got together junior year. Rachel wasn't a second choice to Finn. He did not settle for her, because he did fall in love with her in the process. And they were so in love with each other they had this whole future set up for them. That until, Finn had to sign up for the military after high school because Burt died, and they needed the money. So eventually, they had to break up so Rachel could go to New York. Rachel was patiently waiting. She didn't have to tell me. But I know she is. She started dating in her sophomore year, they even lasted a year, but I know she's just waiting for him to come back to her. Except he never did. It was his first assignment... and his last.

"Do you miss him?" She just lays her head on my shoulders and intertwines her fingers to mine.

"I didn't give up on him, Quinn. 'Cause I know... I know he was my person. Is Santana your person?"

Is she?

Santana... I've always... always been chasing after you... even... now, even when you've run away from me. But... this year, I'm going to stop once and for all. Next time, I'll be next to you, holding your hand... and kissing you! Just give me something to hold onto, and I would wait for you. You know, I would.

And if... if you don't feel the same way. I'll stop.

It'll be hard, but I can take it. I have to.

Lucy Quinn is 25 (Christmas)

Rachel was shocked seeing me at 1:24 am on Christmas, but I usher her in either way. I've called her minutes passed after Santana left.

She gives me milk, and I cry harder. Milk reminds me of Santana.

"Sweetie, why don't you tell me what happened?" Rachel said softly as she puts a strand of my hair behind my ear.

It hurts. Everything hurts. I was willing to give my life to her. To wait for her every year. It'll be hard, but it'll be worth it because I'll be with her. She'll make it worth it.

"It's over. She broke up with me."

Rachel's eyes saddened and she hugs me tightly. "I'm so sorry."

"Why does human always apologize for things they are not responsible for?" Santana used to ask.

Shut up brain. You can't associate everything with Santana. She left my life.

My eyes start gushing tears again and Rachel's face startles, and her eyebrows knit together. "Oh, Quinn," She tangles her fingers in mine, and then pulls me closer to her.

We later on moved to my bedroom. We snuggle with each other in bed as I cry. "Quinn." Rachel says after some time. I'm not crying anymore, but I still have my face pressed against her. My own tears are making her skin damp and uncomfortable against mine, but I don't care. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

I pulled away from her slowly, and wiped away my tears. I looked her in the eyes pleading. "I'm gonna tell you something, and you have to believe me. Promise me, you'll believe me."

"Quinn, you're scaring me."

"Promise me, please."

Rachel nods slowly. "I promise."

I took a deep breath, then I close my eyes.

"You know how Santana and I only meet during Christmas season...-"

I tell her everything.

Lucy Quinn is 26 (May)

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it awa-"

"You have to stop!" Rachel shuts down the music and I frown at her.

"That's our song!" I whine.

"Quinn, I've been putting up with you for five months now. I've been understanding even. I'm glad. That you've started living your life again. But I swear, if I have to listen to Taylor Swift one more time, I think I'll-"

"You don't get to judge me, Rachel! I've been by your side when Finn died!" I snapped at her. I don't know if I should use that against her. because even though she's married now, I still think she has a spot for Finn.

"Yes! And I'm truly grateful. But look at what you're doing to yourself! I don't think that's what Santana wants-"

"She wants kids, Rachel! And I can't give it to her! I guess artificial insemination isn't accepted procedure in her world!" I raised my voice again. I know Rachel doesn't deserve this but I don't have someone else to yell to. "Why has she gone to where I cannot follow?"

She's silent, and I wonder if I had pushed her away too.

Frannie came last month when Rachel called her. I've cried to her too but I didn't tell her about Santana. She just know Santana broke up with me because we can't be together anymore. Frannie didn't ask anymore explanations. She just stayed by my side and helped my got back to my feet. i'm getting there.

Being unable to eat and sleep is the basic thing. Waking up in the middle of the night will become a daily routine. Because the one you love has turned into someone else, you also can't whine to each other for the fear of being scolded by that person. So, you cry by yourself. But what hurts the most is that person doesn't actually miss me like the way I do. It's like that person has forgotten about me and is simply being happy alone. All you want to do is die, but you can't die either… because you're scared that you won't see that person again.

It is until Rachel speaks up again that I looked up into her, "There are things that are thought of as fantasies merely because they're far away. Just as it is with people who are too beautiful, they readily disappear."

"What?"

Rachel reaches my hand gently, "When you called me that night, I was so worried. I thought you killed someone. And you know what's crazy? Is that I would've covered your tracks, because I know you probably have a reason to do so, I just know you're not insane. So imagine my shock when you started talking about not just falling in love with Santa, butactually having a relationship with Santa. And to tell me that your only proof is the empty plate and glass of milk. Maybe Santana is just a fantasy."

"You promised me you'll believe me!" I cried. I wouldn't be able to handle it if Rachel had thought I'm crazy all these time

"I did! And I still believe you. Because even though it's a lot to take in. I know you, Quinn. And I've never seen you so broken like this before. So Santana had to be real."

"So you listen to me. And you listen to me very well."

I nod weakly. But I hold into her for support anyway.

"What you had with Santana is real. Tragically romantic even. But it has ended. You've been listening to Last Christmas, right? Yes, it's sad. But it's about moving on... 'this year, to save me from tears. I'll give it to someone special.' At least trying to move on.

Before she leaves me to my thought, she speaks up one more time, "Promise me-no, promise yourself, you won't wait for her this Christmas. promise."

Is this what you want?

Lucy Quinn is 30 (June)

I watch as Rachel smile brightly at my engagement ring. She continues to gush over it as I think of how lucky I am to find Clarisse and for her to fall in love with me.

Engagement ring.

Few years back, I would never thought of getting married. I had gave up on that thought when I knew I was in love with Santana.

But here I am. Engaged.

How did Santana became a big part of me when I've only been with her for 24 hours tops? And it's only composed of borrowed time every year.

Over the years, I've realized how beautiful Santana is. And therefore, how far away she is from me.

Being with Santana is like flying so close to the sun. It's exhilarating. But what happens when you get too close to the sun? Your wings get burnt.

Rachel said it's okay to think of Santana. Because she's been a big part of my life, it'll be impossible to just forget about her. Rachel is married to Thomas now, and she still thinks of Finn.

I mean maybe what happened between Santana and I was a blessing in disguise. Maybe we just weren't meant to be and that Clary is possibly the person I'm meant for. She picked up the pieces. She knew what she was bargaining for and she still want me.

I just want someone who would love me back when I stop loving myself.

Maybe it was Clary who I was waiting for all this time.

And me? I didn't go to Med School. Instead, I moved to New York with Rachel and took Baking Classes instead.

And here we our in my own Cafe.

"Yes, ten of those, please! It turns out I've developed a craving!"

It can't be. I can't hear what Rachel was saying because the voice. It's just not possible...

I look back at the glass-pane counter to see a woman smiling brightly at her employee pointing at her specialty cookie.

"Quinn?" I ignore Rachel as I walk towards her.

"Santana?" I grab her arm and that makes her turn around and drop the paper bag with her cookies. The cookies I baked.

She has one caught between her teeth and I would've found it cute if my heart isn't pounding like it wants to jump out of its cage... that or the confused look she has on her face... the same face I'm familiar with... the same face I fell in lo-

"Quinn what's wrong?" Rachel said as she tries to grab my hand away from Santana, but I refuse to let go. Not now. Not this time.

"Excuse me?" Santana finally speaks up, and God. I missed her voice. I miss everything about her.

She looks back at my hand on her arm, then back at me, then to Rachel as if asking what is wrong with me.

"Quinn, you have to let go. Because well, I think you're hurting her. And people are starting to look our way." Again, I ignore Rachel. She had seen Santana. I've drawn her a couple of times so she should know. She should know this girl in front of me is my Santana.

My Santana.

Except, it's not snowing outside.

It's not December

It's not Christmas.

So how is she here?

In daylight?

"Ugh! I've waited two months to eat those! I was really looking forward to that! You know just... ugh." She forcefully grabs her arm away from me. She seems to be really pissed.Two months.

Rachel offers an apology and asked to buy her another bag. She bows and went quickly to the counter.

"Are... Are you Santana?" I asked her, my voice shaking.

I wait for her. Just like I have always been.

"Yes" she answers hesitantly.

"Oh God. How is that possible? It can't be! it's not Christmas! It's not... you're here. You're back!" I engulf her with a hug and I inhaled her scent. It is the same as the last time we saw each other. Memories come flashing back. The happy memories, the bad ones.

"I... uhhh... wish I could share the same enthusiasm you have... "

I pulled back, with both my hands at the either side of her face, to see it crumpled up in confusion. My face is probably a mess right now but I don't care.

"Do I know you?"

Have you guys read House of Hades by Rick Riordan? If not, well I would quote him

'To my wonderful readers:

sorry about the last cliff-hanger

well, no, not really. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

But seriously, I love you guys.'

Again, I am NOT sure if I would do a sequel, I probably won't! (for real this time, I have no idea where to go from here-actually, I do, I just don't know how to put it in words, and my ideas are all messed up, if I tried, you'd most likely hate it.)

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ORIGINAL LAST PART OF THE FIRST ONE:

Annie is 5

Santana had been to Quinn's house for nine years, and Quinn, to her promise, wasn't there waiting for her. If Santana would've been given another chance, she still would have done the same thing. She lets her go so she could have the happy life she deserves. She misses her. Every day of her life. And how she wished she has some magic ball that can show her how Quinn is doing all these years.

On this year though to her surprise, she finds it somehow nostalgic to see a plate of cookies and a glass of milk waiting on the table on the living room by the fireplace at her... 56643rd? house. She sets down her sack of presents by the tree and slowly walks towards the table.

She grabs one cookie hesitantly, the smell of cinnamon overpowering her sense, memories of the girl she used to know flooding her mind, fills her.

"Santa?"

She nearly drops the cookie she was holding as she hears a little girl's voice.

"I can't believe it, you're real! Mom said you weren't but Mommy-oooh!"

Don't turn back.

She slowly put her hand on her pocket as she reach for her magic dust. She brings it with her now, just in case this happens.

You promised no to do the same mis- (she can never consider Quinn a mistake) again.

She has a fistful of dust ready for action, when she feels the little human hugs her legs, she does not dare look down. She has a soft spot for kids. Because Christmas is for kids! It's like every Santa's weakness.

Unexpectedly, she feels the little human reach for her free hand with both of her (also) little hands.

Little human giggles, "Mommy is right, you do have a cold hand! You should wear mittens, Santa!" Little human rubs her hand.

No. Stop it.

The little human offers her the plate of cookies as high as she could and offers Santana a warm smile. "They're your favorite! Do you like it? Do you like it? I helped my mommy do it!"

Mommy?

She feels her eyes water as the impact of her words hit her. Suddenly, she's on the floor, probably because her leg is suddenly too weak, or so she could see her.

"Are you okay?" Little human's eyebrow furrow, concern written all over her cute face.

Santana feels the little girl's right hand to the side of her face, her left hand wiping her tears.

She has her eyes.

She opened her mouth to say something... anything at all.

Stop. You don't cry, Santana. You don't.

She leans in to put a chaste kiss on Santana's forehead. And Santana had to fight herself from recoiling.

Quinn, what have you been teaching your child?

"Mommy does that when I cry, then I stop crying." Then she puts her small arms around Santana's neck and she remembers her hand on the magic dust in her pocket.

She promised herself to not be in this situation again.

"It's gonna be okay, 'Ana. I'm here."

She loses it. She puts her arms around the little girl and she hugs her back.

I've let you go for this.

But I was like, Hope breeds eternal misery so why not put a cliff-hanger instead?

Which ending do you prefer? (ps, I might put that one back to Last Christmas, for future readers)