Chapter Text
“And this year’s winner of the Scripture prize is… Lucy!” the youth minister calls out. Lucy Quinn Fabray, age 7, beams as she stands, smooths out her yellow dress and bounds up to the front of the church and accepts her ribbon and book token as a prize, mind already racing with possibilities for the ten dollar voucher, and the much bigger treat she’d get to pick for bringing honour to the Fabray name- her first, though she’s seen her sister decide on shopping sprees and the sort of slumber parties 13 year olds dream of having for her treats since she started winning middle school cheer competitions. Lucy fidgets through the rest of church in excitement and smiles when her parents friends pat her little blonde head in congratulations after it. Then finally she drags the Columbus newspaper unto the table at dessert and presents the advertisement for the touring production of Matilda with wide, pleading eyes. Its her favourite book this month, she tells her parents, and she’s got her father wrapped around her finger enough then that the theatre-averse Russel and Judy sigh and agree to book them a trip there, for Christmas.
In another life, a boy two grades above her remembers an extra two verses of the psalm and she loses. But this Lucy has her life transformed, bouncing on the balls of her feet in her Sunday best shoes through the ticket line and to her seat in the cavernous Ohio theatre. She reads through the programme hungrily then sits up straight when the orchestra swells. This is nothing like hearing music through her piano teacher’s tinny speakers.
She’s transfixed by the lights and movements and giggles at the antics of Mrs wormwood and then- a tiny little girl holding a stack of books steps on to the stage. Matilda, she thinks, wowed- and then she starts to sing. By the end of act one, Lucy’s eyes follow the girl on every part of the stage and holds her breath at every note. When she sings her song about quiet, Lucy thinks of nights where she goes still and rigid in her bed at the sound of shouting and crashing downstairs. When they sing about growing up for the second time, the vision in Lucy’s head has irrevocably changed- gone are images of hosting church dinner parties and kissing her husband hello over the already simmering dinner. She just wants to sing like that too.
On the way home the next day, the Fabray’s discuss the horrendous selfishness of the children in the show, the lack of Christian morals in the Wormwoods- and in theatre in general don’t forget, Judy did you see the girl playing Matilda thanked her fathers - plural? Their words float above Lucy’s head. She’s clutching the cast soundtrack she bought with her pocket money, and her little mind is hard at work. She’s got work to do to go from shy little Lucy to sing and dance like Rachel Berry- her Matilda.
The next pleading dinner conversation, to become a Broadway star, doesn’t go over so well. She wore her ribbon from the contest and everything- but Russel makes the table shake with his fist pounding during the rant about the vulgar work of performers, the lack of respect for religion. Judy purses her lips together so hard they disappear. Frannie gives her a pleading look and says no, she can be a real estate agent along with her one day. She drops it as a silly idea to her parents before any plates are smashed, but the message is clear- that night when she buries under the covers with her earphone in, she takes the cast soundtrack as instructions. She’ll have to be a little bit naughty.
It takes planning, but each time they do a research project for school, she uses family computer to look up how to become an actress. She’s going to need singing, dancing and acting- well. Better get to work.
For her 8th birthday she asks to double her piano lessons- to get better to play in church when she’s older, of course, she says with a nervous grin to her parents- and sends the email to her tutor herself when Russel and Judy get predictably glassy eyed after dinner. She deletes the message that books herself singing lessons in the new time slot from their sent items. For her 9th, she begs for tumbling classes so she can one day be a cheerleader like Frannie (who’s trophy shelf has started to bow in the middle under the weight of Coach Sylvester’s specific brand of ruthless victory), and picks a studio that does dance too, to get one step closer. By that Christmas, she can belt songs like she never thought she would and watches the contemporary dance classes from the balcony in the hour before Judy can pick her up. Her Matilda CD starts to skip from overuse.
There’s a universe where Lucy meets two girls at the freshmen cheer camp and decides to make some allies. This world isn’t as lonely- like a gift from above, she walks into the gym changing room one bright afternoon and into the side of a tall blonde girl. Lucy springs back as if she’s been burned, "Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going-"
The girl just turns around happily. "Don’t worry. The Lord Tubbington tries to knock me over all the time, and he’s not succeeded yet. You brace your knees and the cats can’t work around it", Brittney Pierce says in all her quickly glory. Lucy furrows her eyebrows as she stretches out her hand. "I’m Brittney. Why haven’t we met before?"
"Lucy.. and uh- my class has moved later" She responds.
Britney’s face twists in confusion. "Have you got another name?"
"No. What?"
"I don’t know. Lucy just doesn’t sound like your unicorn name, if you know what I mean."
Lucy most certainly does not. She regrets this conversations already but sticks to it. "I mean, you could call me by my middle name- Quinn?"
Britney nods seriously, then launches into an explanation about how she wishes it was that easy to convince Britney Spears to change her name, so that she could be more unique too.
"I think you’re plenty unique."
"Thank you", Britney flushes like its the highest form of flattery, before looking thoughtful. "Do you want to go into class and learn my dance today? I’ve already got it down and I need a nap- I was up late hunting for ghosts in my garden."
For a second she considers saying yes. The other kids at her elementary don’t think she’s any fun now that they swear and she can’t lest Jesus, or her father, kill her- but she doesn’t think Brittney would mind. This girl is funny, her own person, with spunk right out of a musical, and Lucy would love a friend like that. "I’m actually a gymnast", she says regretfully, patting her over the shoulder bag.
"I’ve seen you watch our lessons"
Her cheeks flame red then, having never wanted to be caught and made to explain herself- the other kids talk about being a dentist or in a lab or teaching or staying at home with 7 kids. She had taken her love of the stage and buried it deep in her chest. "I’m just waiting for my mom."
"No, you’re not". Brittney argues back happily. It takes several minutes of back and forth and Brittney’s uncanny insight, but finally the girls strike an agreement- Lucy, or Quinn she now supposes, will take Britts dance class on Thursdays and her own tumbling class on Mondays and vice versa. And so the best friendship of her life begins. The times she spends practicing moves on the floor of the spare rooms until they form piles of blonde giggles become a highlight of the week. They talk, too- she tells her dreams about standing ovations, stages lit up for her to sing on them. Brittney responds in kind and tells her Lord Tubbington has foretold a life where she dances all day and no one ever calls her stupid. Quinn has watched her pick up choreography- she is far from stupid.
A few months into their arrangement, she meets Santana at a sleepover she’d convinced Frannie to drive her to on the way to her boyfriend’s house. She’s as sharp tounged and fiercely protective of her blonde best friend at 10 here as she’d be in every life, and Quinn panics for three solid hours that the Latina hates her and won’t let her be friends with Britt when they all end up at McKinley until its clear they share an unwavering belief that Brittney is a genius in her own way and a love for bad movies. By the time they’re brushing their teeth for bed, she gets a genuine smile. "You’re not bad, Quinn."
Friday night sleepovers become a ritual, after that. Quinn would never dare say it, but they feel more sacred than church- there’s laughter and cupcakes and Brittney’s parents never shout or break things. They watch movies and old Cheerios routines on Brittany’s laptop, with solid plans to join together in freshman year. It’s obvious that Santana and Britney are popular at their middle school by the way they talk about it, and while she’s moved up the food chain at her own now her two best friends have all but banished her shyness, the cheerleaders in the videos seem like a whole other level.
(Sometimes Britney and Santana look at each other like there’s no one else in the world, and she’ll leave them to it. The computer of the Fabray household doesn’t have headphones, so she waits until her best friends disappear into their own little world to search up musicals on YouTube, and okay, sometimes search up Rachel’s name specifically. The night she finds footage of the child star, still tiny at 9 or 10, singing ‘castle on a cloud’ on Broadway, it’s still the same visceral reaction she had to the girl at 7. Britney comes to find her and hears the tail of Rachel’s interview from the Tony’s, and gives her a soft smile.)
Middle school begins to fade into memory with an eight grade filled with parties she follows her friends to, dance classes and tumbling, and parents who are more and more glassy eyed with each passing month. They play spin the bottle at a party in someone’s basement on a sticky night in May, and Quinn (almost always, now) watches Santana kiss a high school freshman with confidence and finally asks the questions that been tingling on her lips after years of getting to know the girl and her clumsily hidden kindness, her affinity for attention. The three walk the two blocks home to Santana’s with arms linked and she can’t help herself. "San? How do you have so much confidence?"
The Latina spared a glance sideways as they walked. "Confidence isn’t real, Q. It’s just the best method acting class of your life."
The choice of words makes laughter bubble up in her throat. Singing and dancing classes she’d worked out ages ago and had lied about since- and here the solution to acting was right in front of her. It’s wasn’t going to be through scoring the role of Mary each Christmas- it could be every day of high school if she really wanted the practice. "So you’re saying you fake it to you make it?"
Santana nods. "And I think I’m on my way to making it."
They fall into companionable silence then, until Britt stops dead in her tracks because she felt the presence of Lord Tubbington’s mafia contacts nearby. The fall they take all together isn’t pretty, but the nose job she gets after the elbow to the face Santana gave her as they fell looks pretty sweet once it heals.
That summer brings cheer camp, and the beginning of short polyester skirts that Russel and Judy only approve of because it got their eldest daughter a college scholarship and a respectable footballer boyfriend. Quinn, for her part, dates their church choir master’s son for the second half of the summer. He kisses her gently when he leaves her to the porch and takes her on summer picnics and affection feels like method acting but it’s nice when he holds her hand in church. They break up when cheer means they have no time to spend together and she refuses to give up unholy trinity sleepovers to hang out with him. Judy is only mildly disappointed- they lasted long enough to go to at least one church youth formal, at least.
She gets made junior varsity cheer captain by a snarling Coach Sue who calls her Frannie half the time and she falls into the role best she can, barking orders on the field and insults down corridors even though the other kids have done nothing to deserve it. Its acting, she chants in her head. By October, their whole grade give her, Santana and Brittney jealous looks as they sashay down the corridors. It really does look like Quinn Fabray (at least her character) can do anything- her bookworm ways pay off in AP classes, and her nose job pays off when junior varsity quarterback Finn Hudson agrees to go out with her. Finn is gentle, straight forward and has definitely taken a lot of hits to the head for the sake of the game, but takes her to breadsticks and listens a little more than she gives him credit for, judging by the flyer for Lima community theatre’s summer auditions he gives her for their three month anniversary.
“They’re doing, um,” he looks down at the flyer to check, “Legally blonde, and you’re blonde and Brittney told me you’re a good singer as well as a cheerleader. So, take it.” She gives him the most genuine kiss of their relationship thus far as she stares at the slightly crumped page as a way of thanking him. She’d make a great Elle.
The summer flies by as rehearsals get underway- school makes crafted insults to stay on top and book reports seem like they’re important, but this is a breath of fresh air, a guiding star to remind her why she even wants a cheer nationals for future applications. Britney gets to be an angel, Santana tries to take out everyone’s ankles as Brooke, and Quinn wears pink all summer long as Elle and has the time of her life, as she figures that actually, she’s kind of great at this.
Her love interest is this slight boy named Kurt from two towns over, who’s gaze lingers too long on Sam Evans’ legs as the post boy to make Elle and Warren’s romance scenes very genuine- but they’re fast friends by the end of the summer. Between scene breaks in tech week, he talks about flying out pilot season- his dad is willing to support him, because his mum used to say he’d be famous. By sophomore year of summer theatre, he’s gone, booked on some NBC show, and Quinn can’t help but be jealous that Burt will move across the country for his kid’s big dreams. Judy and Russel are having such violent arguments these days they don’t even notice she’s never home.
Sophomore year brings the realisation that dating shouldn’t feel like improv acting quite so much, but she shoves that realisation and what it could mean to the back of her mind to deal with after her friends aren’t imploding. It takes the experience of kissing every football player in the school but Santana works out that kissing Britt is more fun. Brittney had that small knowing smile when she told her- but one that vanished when her best friend picked denial and started ignoring her. Quinn finally has enough one day of watching them make out with a new boy everyday in a misguided attempt to show the other one their bleeding heart and leaves them to it, heading to the auditorium.
She plans to play complicated concertos as a distraction but curiosity overtakes it when peaks the doors around to see confident diva Mercedes Jones and the timid Tina Cohen-Chang singing their hearts out in a duet. Before she can help it- a high harmony flows out and joins in.
The two girls look up, a startled look that turns to pure fear when they see her high pony and tight polyester. Slushies are time honoured at McKinley. This Quinn is more interested in dousing boys who leer up skirts and girls whose bitchy comments tip over into small town racism- but when she’s acting the head cheerleader its impossible to stop loser girls like them getting stuck in the cross fire. She indicates for them to keep singing and jogs up the steps to reach them for the last chorus. When three part harmony gives way to deep breaths, she smiles at them. "Do you guys do this often?"
Tina and Mercedes share a glance, waiting for the hidden prank camera to emerge, most likely. "A few times a week", Mercedes finally says, non-committally.
"I can tell. You both sing really well together." She says genuinely. With her own vocal training, she can both girls have something special in their voices- and she’s never met anyone at McKinley who cares about this sort of thing. They still look scared. Quinn lets her smile drop a little, from the shark grin she’s realised she’s giving them. They’re expecting the Bitch, not the well-hidden musical theatre kid.
"You too", Tina says, still uncertain. She shuffles sheet music in her hands, rescued from the old choir room when Mr Ryerson had been fired and before it became a computer lab. (With no Rachel Berry living and breathing and surviving these halls, there’s no glee and Santana runs occasional study sessions to make up for Mr Shue’s abysmal Spanish.)
"What were you planning next, mind if I join?" There’s enough head cheerleader energy in her tone that they give in. But three songs later, Quinn cracks a joke and they laugh just a little at her and timidly say they would be in the auditorium again on Monday lunch.
Singing at lunch time expands into a small pulsing club in the background of the school. Artie trails in after a while, big eyes always fixed on Tina. When Santana and Brittney finally kiss and make up (quite literally) and start to hold hands down corridors with shy giggles and barely there confidence, Quinn hugs the life out of her two best friends and drags them along too. Sometimes Finn pokes his head around the door and plays the drums, graceful there in a way he’s not at anything else.
It’s casual. It’s never going to be anything more- the titles Quinn will list on her college applications will be cheer leading ones, not glee competitions. But in this life, in every life, it’s just the right type of community she needs. Tina and Mercedes come for their sleepovers sometimes, where Tina puts temporary coloured streaks in everyone’s hair. Mercedes and Quinn alternate churches on a Sunday morning and take each other out for brunch afterwards. For her next birthday, Artie and Finn buy them all tickets to go see Wicked in the theatre in Columbus, and Quinn gets the gift of seeing live theatre for the second time in her life. If one exposure had focused her driven energy towards musical theatre at 7, it’s this trip and these people that makes it more and more like a reality.
That summer Tina joins their community theatre, and plays a mighty Carrie all summer long, while Quinn and Santana trade insults as Sue and Chris. Britney is made dance captain. On opening night, the whole experience feels like flying.
Miss Pillsbury sits them down, and piles Santana’s arms full of law school material after a year of arguing with homophobes and scouring pages of legislation to make sure she could one day make Britt’s dreams all come true had made her realise the power of her sharp tongue. Brittney gets handed numbers of tutors in town and pamphlets about repeating grades which the other girls bin, and pledge to get her through the next two years of high school themselves. In the fake privacy of her glass walled office, Quinn pushes the brochures of cheerleading at Ohio state back across the table at the ginger woman, and voices her dreams out loud for the first time in a serious capacity. There’s no Rachel and Kurt here, no drama programmes already lurking in the drawers. But a week later she’s ordered in all the brochures and points out all the best programmes to Quinn, including which ones may enjoy her unusual credentials. The five letters are emblazed in gold on a black background, and something settles correctly in her chest. NYADA.
The musical before their senior year is Heather’s, and Chandler is the role perfect for her after McKinley had provided Quinn with three of the best years of improv work as a bonafide head bitch. It’ll be lifeboat she’ll sing as an audition song later that year for Carmen Tibideaux though. Russel and Judy think she’s going to Ohio state with Finn and getting engaged at graduation, spending that summer at a real estate internship. Finn still talks about her dreams like they’re a hobby despite the drama school applications she fills out, still looks at her like he’s 14 and she hangs the stars in the sky. She’s worked out by now why it all feels like method acting but can’t bring herself to tell him. There’s not a flaw in her audition song- if Russel, if Finn is the captain, she’s going overboard one of these days.
In her interview, Carmen starts with a piercing glance. "I’ll be frank, Miss Fabray. You are far from our usual applicant." Her gaze travels down Quinn from her high ponytail to the yellow and black plaid dress, worn to get the right vibe for her song choice, down her long athletic legs. "From small town America, for a start. Head cheerleader but community theatre credentials. An application essay all about how you’ve been lying to your parents for most of your life, camouflaging ambition. What makes you want this so badly when it’s so foreign to all you know?"
And Quinn had practiced interview technique with Mercedes, as she’d mastered the art of down the phone interview technique with recording companies. And Finn had told her to smile and talk about her strengths, like he had to for his football scholarship. But Brittney, her first real friend, had told her to talk about things like she meant them. So she tells Carmen about Matilda, about Russel and Judy’s countless cruel comments about anyone not fitting their cookie cutter religion mould, about watched Brittney dance with her head in the clouds but feet so sure on the ground, about late night chats high in the rafters of the Lima youth theatre about what it is to perform, about the afternoon Artie taught them all how to rap until they were a messy pile of laughs, about dancing on a field in front of thousands at cheer nationals and the past summer, acting till her heart was full to burst on closing night.
"I’m sure in some other life I’m happy with the idea of Lima forever- maybe I’m even knocked up here really young or desperate for prom queen like my sister was," she concludes, out of breath almost from the adrenaline and her answer. "But I am convinced I can go further than here."
Carmen smiles. There’s a few other more practical questions, but soon it’s all over. "Thank you, Miss Fabray. I’m confident you would be quite the unique addition to our freshmen class."
Quinn thanks her and inside Lucy beams. Then she walks out to Santana waiting in her car with a kind but snarky comment and they drive to breadsticks to celebrate with their friends. She knows her world will end before she makes it near New York in August, when the OSU letters she didn’t apply for never come and she leaves a good boy behind her in the dirt. But for now, she closes her eyes and listens to her friend hum along to the radio. She might just have done it.