A one-shot instead.
I hope you enjoy this. :)
Rachel Berry had a very happy childhood. She lived in a quaint two-story home with her dad, Leroy, and her daddy, Hiram. They were interior designers, and they lived well enough. They couldn't simply throw away their money, and they couldn't always get nice things - but they were happy. How could they not be? They loved each other (very, very much).
Rachel often went to the theater as a child during the holidays. She always sang for Mr Brown, the owner of the old, small, but homey building. He always gave her five dollars - ten if he thought she sang really, really well. (In her opinion, she always sang exceptionally).
At 8 years old, she met her. She looked like a princess, with her (seemingly soft) honey-blonde hair falling in ringlets, her sweet, curious smile, and such wonderful, wonderful eyes. Rachel saw her from the stage as she was performing, singing her heart out like she always did. (Her daddies sat in the front row every time she performed, just so you know.) The girl, dressed in a lovely white dress, was standing by the doorway of the theater with a middle-aged man with a shiny cap and soft green eyes. The crisp driver's uniform he was wearing almost made her falter, because if a young girl like her needed a driver, then she was obviously very important.
She never performed better than she did that night.
Lucy did not have a very happy childhood. Her mother, Judy, was the daughter of one of the most accomplished men in the country - whatever that meant. Her father, Russell, worked for her mother's father as the Chief Executive Designer. And while they loved her dearly, they did not love each other. She saw it every morning, with her mother screaming that she was right and that her father was wrong whenever he left for work.
She, Lucy Quinn Fabray, got everything she wanted, from toys to clothes and beyond. But that's not what she needed. Not really.
At 8 years old, she knew exactly what disappointment was like. She had practiced for weeks for the Christmas party at the private school her parents had enrolled her in, but her father never came, and her mother left before she got to perform, muttering things about 'useless husbands'. On the way home, she spotted a tiny theater, tucked away between two, much larger buildings. She asked her driver, Burt, to stop, managing to convince him that she was 'so sad' that neither of her parents got to see her perform. (She was, at this stage, indifferent to their constant absence).
That night, she witnessed Rachel Berry. (She found her name on the theater program after the performance). The (very tiny) girl had her long brown hair tied in neat pig tails, her chocolate-brown eyes shining in the stage lights and her adorable little Santa hat tipping slightly over her forehead whenever she moved. Her voice, though, was what she heard first, right at the moment she entered the warm little theater. She stopped right where she stood as she listened, not caring if Burt almost ran into her.
It didn't matter anymore if her father didn't attend the performance she worked very hard on. It didn't matter if her mother didn't care enough to stay. It didn't matter if she was late for the party her mother was throwing at home. When she heard Rachel Berry...
She swore she felt her heart skip.