Title: Lucy Quinn Fabray
Rating: PG-13 (Warnings--Character death, bullying, child abuse? I don't even know. Just... warnings.)
Spoilers: whole series, but especially "Born This Way"
Summary: Missing scene from "Born This Way"
I own nothing except the mistakes, and don't really know where this came from, except I'm 99% sure that they actually shot this scene and it is on a cutting-room floor somewhere. Or maybe Telly's fannypack... One-shot.
The bruises were fading; the swelling had gone down; Rachel’s nose looked as good as new. She closed her eyes against the light from her television and curled closer to the blonde resting next to her on the double bed. Quinn smiled and reflexively tightened her grip on the other girl’s shoulder, taking advantage of Rachel’s closed eyes to lightly trace her features with a fingertip: a smooth forehead, two eyebrows, a nose that perfectly fit her face, pronounced cheekbones, full red lips. Rachel giggled and caught Quinn’s finger between her teeth.
“Quit that, munchkin!” Quinn laughed and shook her finger loose, sitting up and backing away from her girlfriend.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I hate it when you call me that, you know.”
Quinn grinned. “I know.”
Rachel sat up. She lifted her arms above her head, yawning and stretching out the kinks from remaining still too long. “Thank you for singing with me,” she said. “I really appreciated it.”
Quinn blushed. “Of course, munchkin,” she said. “Anything for you.”
Rachel smiled and leaned towards Quinn. She pressed a chaste kiss against the taller girl's lips. As she pulled away, Quinn's eyes remained closed, and Quinn sighed before opening them again, blinking.
“I’m glad you didn’t get a nose job,” Quinn said. “I like your nose just the way it is. It’s kissable.” She dipped her head and pressed a feather-light kiss against the very tip of Rachel’s nose.
“So,” Rachel said, “speaking of nose jobs, I heard about your conversation with Lauren.”
“Oh,” Quinn said, softly.
Quinn hugged her knees to her chest, and Rachel could see her shrink before her eyes as she folded in upon herself.
“Do you — do you want to — well, do you want to talk about it?” Rachel asked, finally, when Quinn showed no signs of movement of willingness to speak.
“Not really,” Quinn mumbled, her face buried in her knees.
Rachel rose to her knees and shuffled across the bed to join Quinn by the wall, the television forgotten.
“Quinn,” she said, “You are beautiful. I don't care that your name is really Lucy and you used to be fa — ”
“My name isn't Lucy!” Quinn cried, wrenching her head up. “My name is Quinn Fabray, and I have never, ever, not for one day, been fat.”
“But,” Rachel said, taken aback at Quinn's sudden vehemence, “I saw the signs. Your name is Lucy and, no offense, Quinn, but you were really not — Well — You were — Let's just say you had an awkward phase. I had one too! You've seen pictures of me from sixth grade!”
Quinn laughed, low and harsh. “I have. And you've seen pictures of me from sixth grade. And I was beautiful.”
Rachel's brow furrowed as she thought. “You're right,” she said. “You were. Then who is — ”
Quinn took a deep breath. “Lucy,” she whispered, “was my sister.”
“Your sister?” Rachel paused, trying to assimilate this new information. “You're an only child, Quinn.”
“I am now,” Quinn said. “Lucy killed herself three weeks after that photo — the one on the poster — Lauren’s stupid fucking poster — was taken.”
Rachel gasped. “What?” she cried. “Quinn, what are you talking about?”
A single tear rolled down Quinn's cheek and Rachel instinctively reached out to wipe it away. Quinn flinched away and Rachel recoiled, hurt.
“Rachel,” she said, urgently, “I've never told anyone this before. Santana and Britney think Lucy went to live with my grandparents in Cedar Rapids. My parents took all of her pictures down after — well, after it happened, and we collectively, silently, agreed not to talk about her.”
Rachel nodded and tentatively placed her hand on the other girl's ankle. She was encouraged when Quinn did not shrug off the contact and squeezed, gently. She listened to Quinn's uneven breathing and waited through interminable minutes of silence.
“Lucy was eleven months and four days older than me,” Quinn said, eventually. “My dad used to joke about it, back when my dad still joked. He called us Irish twins.”
Rachel laughed and caught herself. She cringed. “Quinn, I'm — ”
“No, Rach,” Quinn said. “It's okay. It was funny. It was the family joke.”
“We were really close. Like, really close. When Lucy was born, the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. It cut off her oxygen supply.”
“Oh Quinn, I'm so — ”
“It's okay, Rach. She was slow, but she was funny and friendly and — and — she was my best friend. I looked out for her from the time I was just a baby. In the playground, at school. It was always like she was my little sister.”
Rachel leaned forward, moving her hand from Quinn's knee to her shoulder. Quinn leaned, ever so slightly, into the touch and continued.
“Middle school was hard, for Lucy and for me. She was heavy, and had horrible acne and braces and thick glasses and a big nose, and kids were awful to her. Really, really awful. They called her Lucy Caboosey and a whole lot that was worse. I was beautiful, and was athletic and graceful and popular except that I was devoted to my sister and would destroy anyone I caught fucking with her.”
Quinn released her knees and tipped her head back to rest against the wall.
“When she was in eighth grade — I mean, special ed classes, and all, but eighth grade, still — and I was in seventh grade, things got really bad. There was this guy who led the pack. He was a lot like Karofsky, actually, only even worse, and Lucy might have been slow but she knew she was different and she knew he was terrible. Lucy begged my father for a nose job. She begged my mother for help losing weight, and for contacts and Proactiv. And they — ” She turned to look at Rachel. “ — they said ‘no.’ They said ‘You need to learn to stand up for yourself, Lucy! There's nothing wrong with who you are!’”
Rachel gave a small, thin smile. “Well, that's good, right? That's what Mr. Schue was talking about this week and — ”
Quinn shook her head. “Lucy pleaded for a full week. When they wouldn't give in, she would just weep. She was hysterical. One night, my dad smacked her. Right — ” Rachel winced as Quinn demonstrated, smacking her own leg with all the force she could muster. “He just — over and over again! He hit her so hard, Rachel. And she — ” Rachel wrapped her arms around the blonde as she shook with silent tears. “ — She hung herself, Rach."
“She hung herself in the fucking closet we shared. I found her when I got home from a late dance class.”
“Quinn — ” Rachel started, before Quinn interrupted.
“No, Rach, I want to tell you.”
“Okay,” Rachel said, nodding. “Okay.”
“Lucy never really got the hang of handwriting, but she was a great artist. She drew me a picture, left it on my bed. It was us, her and me, in Tir Na Nog — in the land of eternal youth and beauty.”
Quinn sagged against Rachel as her words faded. She was exhausted from revealing her darkest family secret, but felt somehow lighter. Rachel rocked her gently as the final sun's last rays dipped behind the horizon.
“Why did you lie to Lauren, sweetie?” Rachel finally asked, running her fingers through thick blond locks. “You could have told her.”
Quinn sighed. “When Lucy died,” she said, “my parents changed. They turned to this weird ultra-conservative evangelical Christian church. My dad applied for a transfer with his company, so we wouldn't have to live in the same house. My mom started drinking. I changed, too. I went from Quinn Fabray, Lucy's little sister and biggest protector, to Quinn Fabray, beautiful head bitch in charge. I built this wall and I — I — well, I really do have a warped world view.”
Rachel hugged her tighter.
“I didn't tell Lauren the truth because I didn't want her to know about Lucy.”
“Quinn,” Rachel began, “there's nothing to be ashamed about — ”
“I am not ashamed of my sister!” Quinn cried. “I just — I mean — Look, anything Lauren can dish out, I can take. But Lucy's not here to stand up for herself.” She shrugged. “I protected her when we were little and I protected her now.”
“What about your name?” Rachel asked. “Lauren told me your name on your school record is Lucy Quinn Fabray.”
“I changed that, too,” Quinn said. “After she died. I took her name to — to remember her.”
“Oh, Quinn,” Rachel said softly, suddenly overcome with love for the broken-looking blonde in her arms. “That might be the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.” She kissed the tear tracks on Quinn's cheeks. Quinn sniffed, loudly. “I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever known. Outside and inside.”
“No,” Quinn said. “You didn't know Lucy. She was beautiful.”
Rachel sunk into the pillows, pulling Quinn with her to rest against her shoulder.
“Tell me about her,” she said.
“Well,” Quinn said, “you would have loved her. She was so freaking funny. Once, we were on the monkey bars, and she said that — ”
And the two girls passed the evening in that way, full of stories of Lucy Fabray.
- Fic: Lucy Quinn Fabray