Title: Forever and Every

Rating: T

Fandom: Glee

Pairings/Characters: Quinn/Rachel

Genre: Romance and Angst

Summary: For Faberry Week - Day 2: Kid!Faberry. Rachel and Quinn fall in love at the tender age of ten. Told in Quinn's POV.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot belong to the respective author. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: This is unbeta. All mistakes are mine. I wrote this in a little under three hours.

Forever and Ever

People don't believe me when I tell them I met the love of my life at the tender age of ten, the year of 1993. Bill Clinton was being inaugurated as the 42nd President, giving America the hope they longed for, the World Wide Web was born at CERN and Whitney Houston's top charter, 'I Will Always Love You' crooned softly on the radio. In my opinion it was the best year of my life. It was the year I would meet Rachel Barbara Berry, the girl who would forever change my life.

It was summertime, mom was making her famous lemonade, my sister, Franny, was deciding who was hotter: Leonardo DiCaprio or Brad Pitt as she lounged in our new pool, flipping through her new Seventeen magazine, and I was exploring our new home in Lima, Ohio. My overalls (with one strap down) were stained with dirt and grass smears, my new Nike Air Force Max's were scuffed and dusty, my hair was pulled back in a sloppy half-ponytail held by my Scrunchie and my pockets were full of Pixy Stixs and a box of Nerds. Life was great.

We had moved to Lima, Ohio from Boston when my dad's company offered him a position at their Ohio base. Our new house had woods in the back, and while I chewed my Hubba Bubba gum, I explored them. I didn't know how long I was out there picking up worms, throwing sticks or jumping over tree roots until I came across what would be something that would forever change my life.

There, sitting in a small field of blossoming wild flowers, was the smallest girl I have ever saw. She was also the prettiest girl, too. She was sitting in the middle of the field of sweet perfumed wild flowers, on a pink blanket with gold stars, playing with her collection of Beanie Babies (from what I could see the little girl had Flash the Dolphin, Splash the Whale, Spot the Dog and Squealer the Pig), Party N' Play Stacie and her Littlest Pet Shop kittens. I watched her for a second until I couldn't handle sitting in the background watching her like some freak.

"Hey, you," I shouted as I marched towards her, my closed fists resting on my hips. "Why are you in my woods?" I asked her. It wasn't what I wanted to say to her, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

The girl looked up at me with the biggest brown eyes, ever. "These are not your woods, they're mine," the girl huffed, going back to comb her Stacie doll's hair.

Getting a good look at the girl, I could see she was way smaller than me. She had long, wavy dark hair that touched her blanket as she sat, big, round dark brown eyes and tan skin that my sister wished she had like all those girls in L.A. She was wearing a pink baby doll dress with pink jelly shoes. I thought she was cute, and for some reason I felt the need to protect her.

"These woods are behind my house," I explained, sitting next to her. My feet were hurting me. Looking at me shoes, I sighed. My mom was going to kill me.

Big brown eyes looked up at me. "They're behind mine, too. See," she said, pointing to the trail that leads out of the field. "If you squint your eyes, you could see my yellow house. My mom is out gardening."

Doing as told, I could see her house. For some reason that thought made me happy. It meant I would be able to see her more.

"I live on the other side of the woods," I told her. "We just moved here from Boston. My dad works in a big building downtown with lots of windows." Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out two Pixy Stixs. "What's your name?" I asked reaching out to hand her a Maui Punch flavored Pixy Stix.

The girl beamed. "Rachel Barbara Berry," she said with a wide smile. It made my stomach ache like when I eat a billion Pixy Stixs and War Heads and my heart jumped like when I watched Candyman with Franny one night when mom and dad were out having their date night.

"My name is Lucy Quinn Fabray," I told her, ripping the top off my Pixy Stix, dumping half in my mouth.

That day was the beginning of my life.

For the rest of the summer, Rachel and I played in our woods, spent a night at each other's houses, got wet with my Super Soaker, went swimming in my pool while our parents talked and laughed together, and went camping in the backyard of her house, telling ghost stories, snacking on chip, drinking grape soda, and eating Pixy Stixs and Rachel's favorite candy, red gummi bears.

I learned a lot about Rachel that summer. I learned that her mom and dad have been married for eleven years, and were trying to give her a brother or sister. She loved red popsicles but hated the color red. Her favorite color was pink. She had dreams of becoming a famous Broadway singer. She hated it when her feet got cold, and loved cold mornings where she could snuggle up with her favorite blanket. Her favorite food was red gummi bear but since she couldn't eat them all the time, she would have to go with spaghetti. And most importantly, I learned that Rachel was the most loving person in the world. She was my best friend.

The Sunday before school started, our parents were having an end of the summer barbeque. They all got along. Especially when they found out that our moms worked at the same school, and Rachel's daddy and my dad worked in the same building. Rachel and I were running around playing tag. Rachel's face was flushed from running and the heat, her bangs were sticking to her forehead and her smile was brighter than the sun's.

"I'm gonna get you, Lucy Q," I heard Rachel shout from behind me.

I didn't worry about her catching me. I had longer legs and I was faster. When we played tag, I would usually slow down so she could catch me. At the beginning of our friendship I quickly learned I would do anything to make Rachel Barbara Berry happy. Her happiness was the only thing I cared about. And if catching me in a game of tag made her happy, I would gladly be 'it' for the rest of my life.

By the time she caught me, we were both out of breath. Lying down on grass, chest heaving, I looked to my right at Rachel. It was then I knew. Somehow without knowing, I fell in love with Rachel Barbara Berry. I loved her more than Pixy Stixs. And I loved my Pixy Stixs.

"I'm gonna marry you one day, Rachel Berry," I said to her.

Rachel turned sharply in my direction. "Lucy Quinn Fabray, I am a lady. That is in no way to propose to a lady," she huffed.

I chuckled. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out my ring pop. I quickly popped the ring pop out. Kneeling on the freshly watered grass, I proposed to Rachel Berry.

"Will you marry me, Rachel Barbara Berry? I promise to pick out all the red gummi bears for you, play Polly Pocket with you and let you beat me at tag for the rest of my life. I love you more than Pixy Stixs. Forever and Ever, Rachel." I pushed the red ring pop onto her finger like our moms had.

"Yes, Lucy Q, I would love to marry you. Forever and Ever."

All through elementary, junior high and high school, Rachel and I were together. We went through acne, boobs and our periods together. We had our first kiss when we were twelve under her big oak tree, went on our first solo date at fifteen, and lost our virginities together on our high school prom night junior year. Our parents were worried that we were missing out, that we were too dependent on each other. In some ways we were. I learned that I was only whole with Rachel. I always felt like I was missing a piece of my soul when she wasn't around. But we were also just Rachel and just Quinn. We had separate lives from each other, and we were fine with it. We knew that no matter what we would always come first. We were each other's first priority.

On graduation night, as we lay on our hotel bed in the graying morning light, after making love all night, I gave Rachel my grandmother's ring, proposing to her for real. Over the years we upgraded our rings from ring pops to twenty-five cent machine rings to carnival rings we won to rings we bought at the local Wal-Mart for twenty bucks. My grandmother's Claddagh ring was the last and final ring Rachel wore. The ring itself was nothing fancy but Rachel and I loved it. The band was sterling silver with the heart having one small emerald in the middle. I always loved the symbolism of the Claddagh ring. I thought it fit Rachel and me perfectly.

"I think it's time to upgrade your ring," I said, lifting her left hand until it was within eyesight. I loved how her caramel skin mixed with my milk skin, and how our hands fit perfectly together. We were meant to be. "I think it's turning your finger green – Ow!" I chuckled rubbing the sting out of Rachel's slap from my shoulder.

"I love my ring," she pouted. She had the most perfect lips. I always thought they tasted of cherries, rain and promises. Because I couldn't resist the opportunity to not kiss her, I leaned over and yield my lips gently to hers, tasting the essence from our love making from before. Pulling back, I captured the look of pure bliss on Rachel's face into my mind.

"You could put it into the jewelry box like the rest," I told her. She had kept every ring I gave her. After eating the lollipop of the ring pop, she wore the plastic band until I found the perfect twenty-five cent ring at the age of twelve. It was also that time she gave me my first ring. When the toy ring was getting too small and dented up, we luckily won rings when the carnival came into town. They were mood rings, and really cool. When the mood rings started to get too small for our fingers, we saved up to buy each other rings from Wal-Mart. Our parents didn't like us to be so committed to each other but after a while they gave up when we wouldn't relent on the idea.

"I don't know," I said continuing, slowly pulling off her ring, "I just thought I could replace it with this," I put my grandmother's ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

"Lucy," she said in a breathy whisper that made my insides clench.

Rolling onto Rachel, I settled myself comfortably between her legs. "I have loved you since I was ten, and I was helping you climb the trees in our woods. I will always love you. Will you do me the great honor of being my wife, spending the rest of your life with me?"

"Will you promise to pick out all the red gummi bears for me?" She asked, her eyes never leaving grandmother's ring.

As if I would be able to say no to her. I have never been able to say no to Rachel Barbara Berry.

"I promised you eight years ago to do so, and I will continue to pick out all the red gummi bears for you the rest of my life," I told her vehemently.

"Just like you promised to pick out all the gummi bears for me eight years ago, I promised you to marry you. For eight years I've been married to you, Lucy Fabray. I want to be married to you for the rest of my life. Of course, I'll marry you."

"I had it engraved," I said, remembering the elegant writing in the inside of the band.

Rachel slowly albeit reluctantly slipped off her wedding ring. "Forever and Ever," she murmured, her eyes filling with tears. "You're my forever and ever, Lucy."

"Forever and Ever, Rachel, that's us."

Rachel and I married a week we were set to leave to New York in a commitment ceremony in our woods with only our friends and family invited. We had my mom's lemonade for drinks, spaghetti for our dinner and a candy shop full of Pixy Stixs and red gummi bears for dessert. It was our perfect wedding.

We settled into college life pretty easily. Our parents had pitch in to put a down payment on a studio apartment for us in Manhattan. Rachel went to school from six to two at NYADA, and I went to NYU from seven to three. When Rachel got out, she would start making an early dinner for us. We would eat our dinner together until we had to leave to our job at a diner a block from the apartment. We worked the same shift – five to eleven. I was a line cook and Rachel was a waitress. Weekends were free for us, so we made sure to spend as much time with each other as much as possible. Most of that time was in our comfy bed, exploring each other's bodies.

We also had our bad times, too, where we fought, shouted and said regretful words in the moment of anger and hurt. We had only spent a night at each other's houses, and we were discovering pet peeves of each other in the process. Rachel hated it when I would leave my clothes scattered in our apartment. I hated it when she would eat peanut butter out of the jar with her finger. While Rachel was cold blooded, I was hot blooded. It caused some serious fights on if we should sleep with the window open or not. She would complain about my dirty dishes, and I would complain about her leaving her hair everywhere. Even with all our fights we never forgot our love for each other, or went to bed angry at each other. Lessons we learned from our parents.

After four years of college, we graduated. Rachel got a part on an off Broadway show about star-crossed lovers in WW2. I got a job working as an assistant in a publishing house. Life to me couldn't get more perfect.

When we were thirty, settled into our careers and financially stabled, we had the talk of kids. We both knew we wanted kids, and we both felt like it was the perfect time to start looking for a donor. We had discussed it in great lengths, and ultimately decided Rachel would carry our first child. Since she was taking a break from her acting career after having being on Broadway for five years, and in movies for four, she made a name for herself. She was a Tony, Emmy and Oscar winner. I had just accepted an English position at Dalton teaching eleventh graders the language of books.

After deciding who was carrying our first child, we had moved onto looking for a donor. We weighed the pro and cons on if we should use a guy we knew, but ultimately decided we didn't want that. We didn't want a third party raising our child, and with all the legal fees, too much work. Going the artificial insemination route seemed to be the easiest for us. It was surprisingly easy for us to find the perfect donor for us. We already knew what we wanted so finding one to match our wants was pretty easy. We wanted him to be at least 6 feet – Rachel didn't want our child to be picked on like she did when we were younger. I thought Rachel's height was perfect. I loved the way she tucked into me, her face pressed into my neck perfectly – we wanted blonde hair, hazel or green eyes, vegan and Jewish (with no genetics of the Tay-Sachs disease.) We wanted him to be a lover of animals, an avid reader and artistic. We wanted him to have a college degree, and no major health problems that were hereditary. It seemed far fetch to find our perfect guy, but after a week we found him. He was 6'3, blonde hair, green eyes, vegan, and half Jewish and Irish, a double win for us, considering my family was Irish. He was a veterinarian but volunteer at his local community center as an art instructor. He was raised by a single mom who was Jewish, and believed in the Judaism faith. He loved reading in his spare time, and attended Yale University but then transferred to Oxford to complete his studies and be near his dying mom. Thus, lead him to the decision to donate. He didn't have the desire to have kids, but also didn't want his bloodline to die out, either.

By the time Rachel and I were finished reading his profile, we felt he was the ONE. The next time Rachel was ovulating we went in and had donor X6457 implanted in her.

Three months later, we found out Rachel was pregnant with our first child.

I loved Rachel being pregnant with our first child. I loved watching her stomach grow and feeling the taunt skin. She was beautiful pregnant, her face glowed and her smile was wide. I didn't complain when she would wake me in the middle of the night with cravings of vegan chocolate pudding and pretzel M&M's. I didn't think those vegan-friendly but I didn't dare voice that thought to her. At our five month scan we found out we were having a little girl. Finding a name for our little girl caused more fights in mine and Rachel's relationship than ever.

Rachel wanted her to be name Aster or Stella both meaning star in Greek and Latin. I wanted her to be named Catherine or Josephine or Penelope. I wanted something old-fashion but timeless and beautiful. Of course that sparked the idea of naming our daughter after me. For some reason she loved my name. I went by Quinn nowadays with only Rachel allowed calling me Lucy, or Lucy Q.

"Baby, she's beautiful. She looks so much like you," I murmured softly to Rachel, placing kisses all over of face. After almost twenty six hours, Rachel and I were graced with our baby girl entering the world with a set of lungs that rivaled Rachel's.

"I know, Lucy. Did you see her? I swear I think she looks just like you. She's so beautiful. And her hair, it was so dark and curly." I knew Rachel was exhausted beyond belief but she was smiling that smile that was only reserved for me and now our daughter.

"I know, baby. It looks like she got your hair. Let's hope for your eyes." I rested my forehead against her damped forehead. "I love you so, so much. Forever and Ever."

"Forever and Ever," I heard her say back to me softly in my ear.

I leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips, holding her sweaty face in my palms. "You look so beautiful," I whispered to her.

She smiled weakly at me. I tucked the blanket around her. She was colder than what she normally was, and looking slightly pale.

It was then I noticed the commotion around me, nurses were moving more quickly and shouting orders at each other. We noticed, and both our panic eyes snapped towards the doctor still between Rachel's legs.

"Is the baby okay? Did something happen to her?"

The doctor smile was small and strained. "She's fine, Rachel. She received a ten on her APGAR test. You gave the world one beautiful child." The doctor's tone was calming but distracted. I didn't like it. On reflex I looked between Rachel's legs. Terror and panic filled by body.

There was so much blood. Towels dripping with blood were piling between the doctors legs, and Rachel's bed was a dark crimson colored that went from the bottom to her back.

I looked back at Rachel. Her face was pale, and eyes seemed to lose that spark of life. No, no, no, no. Today wasn't supposed to end this way. Today was a happy day.

"There's some bleeding, Rachel. I don't want you to panic. We're doing everything we can, okay," the doctor spoke but neither of us heard him. "I'm taking you up to surgery." He stood from his stool, and whispered something into the nurse's ear.

"Lucy," I heard Rachel call to me weakly.

"You're going to be fine, baby. Don't worry your pretty little head." I tried smiling but it faltered at the paling looking in Rachel's face.

Rachel smiled tiredly. "Come kiss me, Lucy Q." I immediately complied with her wish. "I love you, Lucy Q. Forever and Ever. Take care of our daughter. Remember, Forever and Ever."

"Mrs. Berry-Fabray, you need to move. We're taking her in," the doctor barked at me.

I kissed Rachel's dry lips one more time, lingering. "Forever and Ever."

In labor and delivery room six, standing in a room full of my wife's bloodied towels, the same room my daughter was born in less than an hour ago, I laid eyes on my wife one last time. I never looked into her eyes again after that night. I died that night.

Rachel died from cardiac arrest brought on by too much blood lost. She died on the way to the O.R. from what the doctor told me. I don't know…it's was all a blur from there. All I knew was that my soul was gone.

Sitting in the hospital's private waiting room, staring aimlessly at the walls, barely hearing the mournful cries of our friends and family, I lost it. My Rachel was gone. My sole reason for existing was gone. I don't remember much of that time. I remember snapping, I remember throwing chairs, I remember feeling a prick in my arm, and collapsing bonelessly into my dad's arms. I woke up the next morning hands wrapped in gauze and Shelby's red-rimmed eyes watching me.

"It wasn't a dream?"

She wordlessly shook her head. She hurried over to my side, letting me bury my face into her arms as deep, painful sobs left my body. When I was calm, still held in her arms, I heard her.

"Would you like to see your daughter?"

Following Shelby's gaze, I found a small plastic carrier on my left side. I immediately stood going over to my daughter's side.

I looked at my daughter. She looked so much like Rachel. Some people would have not been able to look at the baby in my position but I was the opposite, I couldn't stop looking at her. She was so perfect and innocent. I knew what I had to do. My daughter needed me, and I was going to be there for her. I would never get over Rachel, but my daughter eased a little of my pain.

"Have you decided on a name," Shelby asked, caressing the baby's soft cheek.

"Stella Rae Berry-Fabray."

I took Stels home alone that night. I introduced her to her mama, telling her stories about her. I was determined to keep Rachel's memory alive. I rocked our daughter to sleep with Rachel's voice singing various lullabies dedicated to our daughter. I took Stels to Rachel's funeral and the many honorable memorable ceremonies that were held for her.

Eventually time moved on. I continued to teach and raise Stels by myself. Before I knew it Stels was turning one than five than ten. My parents had moved down to help, and Rachel's visited at least twice a month, staying for a week or so. My friends came over to spend time with Stels and I, and we would watch movies. Though, I had heaps of family and friends around, I missed still Rachel. I was happy. Stels and I had plenty of memorable times together, but I always knew something was missing. Rachel was missing.

When Stels was twelve my friend, Santana, brought up me dating again. Since Rachel's death I haven't even entertained thought of dating. I wasn't over Rachel, and never will be. I still wore my wedding band and Rachel's on a necklace around my neck.

"Quinn, I really think it's time for you to go back out there. Rachel would want you to be happy," she had told me in a gentle, sympathetic voice.

"I told you before. I don't want to date. I have no need to date. No desire to meet anyone new, or anyone who could replace Rachel in my heart. I love Rachel."

"We know you do. You always will. That doesn't mean you can't go out and meet someone new, though."

"I said NO! End of discussion." I stood from the chair. I found Stels in her room watching old DVD's of Rachel performing on Broadway. I cuddled next to my daughter watching Rachel perform. That was how was fell asleep.

When Stels was thirteen we had decided to attend Thanksgiving dinner at my parent's house for a change. Rachel's parents and brother, Noah, were attending, along with Santana and Brittany, Santana's wife. Rachel's friends, Kurt and Blaine, were unable to show due to a snowstorm in Chicago. I looked at my family and friends. It was only then I noticed a woman on the left of Santana. She was wearing a tight black dress that showed too much cleavage, heavy makeup and her blonde hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. She looked like a slut.

"Quinn this is Kitty," Santana introduced. "Kitty, Quinn."

I smiled politely. Throughout dinner, Kitty kept trying to talk to me; she would touch my arm, rub my arm and flirted with me. I ignored her, fuming inside. I knew what was happening. When she placed her hand on my thigh, I abruptly stood, startling everyone.

"Stels," I addressed my daughter, "go and gathered our stuff, we're leaving. And don't come in here until I tell you to, okay?"

She nodded, her dark brown hair falling into her face. "Okay, mommy."

Once my daughter was out of the room, I turned back to my family of betrayers. "How dare you?" I hissed angrily. "How fucking dare you?"

"Quinnie," I heard my mom say.

"Stop! I don't want to hear it. What don't you guys understand? I don't want anybody. I will never be able to move on. Rachel wasn't just some love to forget and move on from. She was, is my everything. She was my forever and ever. I will never replace her. I will never love another. When Rachel died, I died right along with her. The only reason I'm even alive right now is because of that little girl waiting for me. Now, if you excuse me, Stels and I are leaving. I don't want to hear from any one of you for a while."

We all eventually made up. They apologized and I forgave. I understood they meant well. They never set me up on another date again, or discussed me dating. Again time flew by. Before I knew it, I was watching proudly as my daughter accepted her high school diploma. She had graduated with high marks, and was accepted to NYADA.

I felt happy that my daughter wasn't leaving me, and was still in my home. The same home I shared with Rachel. Stels wanted to follow her mama's footsteps. At eighteen, Stella Rae Berry-Fabray looked so much like Rachel. Stels stood at 5'5 with Rachel's dark wavy hair, dark, deep eyes, nose, lips and ears. The only thing she had gotten from the donor was her killer dimples. She was also a shade or two lighter than Rachel. Stels may have looked like Rachel but she had my manners.

Four years later, Stels graduated. I was so proud of her and her accomplishments. She was already staring in a Broadway play and had acting gigs lined up. She was going to be okay. The ache Rachel left never went away. It seemed as time went on the ache hurt more and more from being without her. My soul was crying out for her.

The night after Stels college graduation party, I rested in bed, finally surrendering to what my heart desired for twenty-two years, I let go.

I woke up again in a room that was pure white, and big doe-brown eyes staring back at me. Eyes I've missed for twenty-two years.

"Rachel," I breathed.

"I'm here, Lucy Q. Can you feel me?"

I reached out and touched her smooth cheeks. "You're here," I sobbed out. The ache in my heart lessened little by little.

"I'm here, Lucy Q. We'll never be apart again. I promise."

"You mean…"

Rachel smiled. "You died in your sleep. My dad found you. They'll say you died from natural causes but they all know the real reason."

I nodded. I died from a broken heart. I lasted twenty-two years without Rachel, and my heart and soul couldn't stand being apart from its other half any longer. As much as I was happy to be reunited with Rachel, I couldn't forget Stels. It had been just me and her for twenty-two years.

"Stels?" I whispered.

Rachel smiled. "She's so beautiful. You did a wonderful job raising our little girl, Lucy Q."

"It was hard without you guiding me."

Rachel tsked. "I was always there. I watched you and Stella every second. She was a terrific Annie. I had everyone, even the Big Guy, watching her."

I laughed but my expression quickly turned somber. "Is she going to be okay?"

"Come have a look," Rachel said, pointing to a hole in the ground. Looking down, I could see Stels talking animated into her phone, not watching where she was going. The next moment she bumped into a man, knocking over his coffee and spilling it down on his suit.

"That's Ryder Lynn. They'll fall in love, marry and have three kids. One named Rachel Jude, the other Ryder Lucas and Matthew Roy. All named after their family member. Rachel Jude was named after yours truly and your mom, Ryder was named after his daddy and you, Matthew were name after Ryder's grandfather and my daddy, Leroy. Ryder is a lawyer; and Stels will be one of the biggest Hollywood stars. She's going to miss you Lucy, but she'll be okay. Her life will be filled with laughter, smiles, happiness and love."

"Good, she deserves it."

"She does," Rachel said softly. "Are you ready to see where we'll be living for the next eternity?"

Rachel and I walked down a stone path, lined with yellow and white roses until a house came into view.

"You didn't?" I asked astonished, gawking at the house in front of me.

Rachel beamed, rocking excitedly on her heels. "I did," she squealed.

"You picked a pink house, Rachel. Our house is pink!"

"Don't forget the star shaped door. I had to sweet talk my way to get that." Rachel continued to babble about the house I would be spending eternity with her in.

I smiled at Rachel. I was still a little shocked that our house was pink with a bright golden shape star for a door, but I was never happier. It looked like Rachel and I got our Forever and Ever, after all.

The End.

A/N: I hope this qualifies had Kid!Faberry. I've been receiving some PM's on when I would be updating my stories and they make me so happy to have people wanting to read my story. I hope to have an update soon. I'm working on this writing challenge that's been taking up most of my time. I've been writing when I can but it's not nearly enough to post as a chapter. I'm hoping within two weeks, or so I will have an update ready.

Patty