She has to remind herself she's not hers as she walks down the island. All in white, her beautiful skin stands out against the clothing, like in none of her dreams.

In her dreams, she's wearing pink, and her skin accommodates the color like a flower under the dazzling afternoon sun, like she's rising from the grass in her full, beautiful glory. And in her dreams she'd smile at her, dazzling white teeth and sparkling eyes with wrinkles in the corners, because they waited too long.

Long enough.

But in reality, her smile isn't less marvelous but directed at someone else. And the churning in her heart isn't supposed to be there in her dreams, but it is here, because here is reality. In the real world, she's walking towards someone else, sharing someone else's dreams; another bed, another house. In her dreams they'll share everything, from tooth brushing time to clothes, the same house and the same happiness. In her dreams, their happiness belongs to both of them, and it's not complete without the other.

Here, in real life, she's read in magazines that they are perfect for each other because they have a separate life shared when they come back to one another. That's not the love she imagined for them. But she has to remind herself that she's not hers to make happy, never was. And now, never will be.

The guests abound, and this church accommodates them all into category and fame. There's no one here to recognize her, because every single person that shared their time line isn't worthy of this privilege. They tormented her enough before to be here now, in the happiest day of her life.

Outside there are cameras and reporters, people behind fences to watch from the side lines. She was able to get in because she knows her way around churches, even the ones here in New York don't stand a chance against years and years of sneaking out. In her dreams, their wedding would be simple, hidden far away from fans and cameras. There would be none of this people she hasn't heard a thing about in her private life, no career-improving famous friends or business-benefiter producers. There would be no church, just an open field and an outside wedding, light wind and sun and maybe even a lake or the sea. Sometimes children, a little girl or boy shedding flowers for them to step on as they walk.

But it's too late now to be bitter about anything, there's nothing she can change right now, watching Rachel walking forward with straight hair cascading down her back. In her dreams her smooth skin is bare to cascading brown curls, perfectly marring her shoulders and a rebellious one sneaking from her forehead to stroke the side of her face. She can see it all perfectly in her dreams because they walk together. No one waits for no one to get to the front, because they would never leave each other behind. In her dreams she can feel the soft skin of their arms purposely rubbing delicately, soothing nerves and warming each other.

Everything could be so perfect.

She's dreamed about this so many times, awake and asleep, in High School or College classes, in parties or jobs and while being with someone else. No other thing could crush all those fantasies but this moment, but she's got no one else to blame but herself. She had never planned those things that went before; asking for forgiveness, winning her trust, wooing her and falling in love. That one she did on her own, but the bravery that took to do all those things Rachel deserved, she never had it. It was engrained in herself since day one, never brave enough, never good enough. So she hid, behind petty words, behind popularity, behind looks and behind boys, and even in those moments of weakness when she opened up to her while they were still kids, she hid behind her fear to show herself for who she was: a lonely girl, a scared girl, a girl in love.

She will have nothing but her dreams and fantasies after this, and the selfish thought that they could have been happier, if only she was brave enough, if only Rachel knew. But it was too late now, Rachel didn't even remember her anymore, didn't think about her; could never even phantom everything she meant for her. Always will. And even now, after hearing I do, Quinn was glad at least one of them would be happy. Even as Rachel turned around, beaming with happiness and with tears of joy down her face, their locked eyes showed nothing more than surprise in Rachel, and Quinn hoped her schooled features didn't give anything but pristine military composure. And that was what she needed, to know that her presence didn't change a thing, that Rachel still walked ahead, that she only turned around once, just her head, with just a glimmer of something Quinn thought she understood.

Long enough. She took too long.