"And your queen is… Santana Lopez!"

She had no idea where it had all went wrong.

Maybe it was last week, when she'd indulged herself with a candy bar, sighing into velvet chocolate and remembering… things. Or maybe it had been when she was sixteen years old and she gave it up for a wine cooler and a boy with honey on his lips. Or perhaps thirteen, on a hot, sweaty Friday afternoon when she'd first slipped on a pristine pair of white tennis shoes and smoothed a flirty red skirt over red spanx. Or three months earlier, when she'd touched the white bandage protecting her new nose and smiled.

Maybe, just maybe, it had been that time when she was six years old and she'd stolen a cupcake from the kitchen at eleven after midnight, creeping upstairs to sit on her bed and flip through a fashion magazine by flashlight.

Then again, it could have been when her father's sperm met her mother's – okay, ew, no. She wasn't going to think about that.

And as the applause rained over her and her crown – her glittery, silver, perfect crown – was perched onto the head of someone that wasn't her, she glanced over and saw a petite brunette standing next to a tree.

And Quinn Fabray knew exactly where it had all gone wrong.

Her first instinct, as it had been when she'd walked into school and saw posters of her former self plastered along the walls, was to run. So run she did, ignoring the protests of her date. Sam could fend for himself for a little while.

The one voice she couldn't ignore, though, was the one currently calling after her.

"Quinn, wait!"

That voice, she thought to herself. That stupid voice that had started everything.

Why had she joined the glee club anyway? Quinn wondered, as she placed two hands on one of the bathroom sinks to steady herself. What had it brought her? Granted, it had been fun, and though she had missed cheerleading while she was pregnant, and rejoined the first chance she'd gotten, there was a certain freedom to be… Quinn that glee had afforded her, something she hadn't felt since she was thirteen years old. Even if it meant just sitting on the risers and reading a book while Schuester "rapped" and the others fell over him like mindless sycophants.

She'd joined to keep an eye on her boyfriend, because that's the way things were supposed to go. The cheerleader and the star quarterback. Movies, books were written about stories like theirs. Every sugary pop song in the world probably started out as an ode to the football player and his girl.

And now she didn't even have that.

"This is all your fault," Quinn snarled, turning on Rachel Berry with blazing eyes.

Rachel Berry. Rachel Barbra Berry, standing in front of Quinn in a pink dress, eyes wide and confused. And concerned.

As always.

It was infuriating. Because Rachel Berry was the reason Quinn was in glee club in the first place – to keep manhands away from her boyfriend. Because Rachel Berry was the reason Finn was under the delusion he was some sort of hero destined to bring greatness to their little group, even though he couldn't lead anyone if they were trailing behind him on a leash. He was sweet, mostly, he was a good football player and he tried to be a good guy.

But it had been hard, Quinn thought, staring at Rachel and fighting to get her breathing under control. Hard to feel him slip through her fingers, giving up popularity and the American Dream for a five foot two talented diva with doe brown eyes and a smile that never seemed to know when to quit. Quinn had lain awake many a night wondering how she'd be able to get Finn out of Rachel's grasp, but every idea had been shattered the day she'd come to school and heard him bragging.

"Tapped it," he'd said. As if taking someone's virginity was meant to be reduced to two words, a slang of bravado and high fives from Puck and the other guys. Quinn's chest had burned, and she'd emptied a pint of Ben & Jerry's as soon as she'd gotten home.

Her only consolation, the one thought that had brought a shiny glimmer of hope into everything, as she stared at the bottom of the empty carton, had been that Rachel and Finn still hadn't bonded.

"Quinn, I don't understand," Rachel said, and for god's sake she actually took a step closer. "What's my fault?"

She laughed, a dry, humorless sound, and shook her head. "That should've been me up there," and ugh, it was getting worse because her voice came out like a whine, like a stupid puppy waiting at the door for her master to come home.

"There's always next year," Rachel said sympathetically, and Quinn snarled again.

"Oh, shut up, Berry, have you ever lost at anything in your life?"

She rubbed a hot, shaking hand over her face, trying to remind herself that they weren't freshmen anymore, that she and Rachel were actually kind of friends now. They'd even sung a duet together, after the idiot had cracked across Rachel's nose like it was a tennis ball. And thank God she hadn't gone through with her plans to have Quinn's nose.

Rachel Berry without her nose… just wasn't Rachel.

Although good luck explaining that to Finn. Though she knew the bond hadn't happened when they'd had sex – Finn wasn't wearing any telltale ring the next day – Quinn knew that he was still trying to mold Rachel into what he thought she ought to be. Quieter. Less opinionated. Stifling her dreams in favor of his. He carried himself with an air that told the other students of William McKinley High School that he was Rachel Berry's Dominant, and she followed after him like a good dutiful submissive, and Quinn Fabray's blood boiled.

That was supposed to be her.

Except she didn't know if that was supposed to be her. No one really knew, after all, not until if and when the bond happened. Because sometimes it did, and sometimes it didn't. Quinn had heard about it when she was little, that sometimes people were destined to be soul mates, and when the time was right the bond would reveal itself. It was always accompanied by a tangible sign – something both people would wear to signify to others that they were, for lack of a better word, taken. If you were a submissive woman, you'd find yourself wearing a necklace; the submissive guys always received a collar. And every Dominant would have their bond established by a ring on the right hand.

She'd watched, nearly every day for months, Rachel Berry hope to bond with Finn Hudson. Quinn had watched, nearly every day, as Rachel kissed Finn, the hope in her eyes dimming a little each time nothing happened.

"I lost my first competition at the age of five," Rachel was explaining, and Quinn rolled her eyes. "In my defense, I had a cold, I was in a bad mood, and frankly it felt rather satisfactory to be disqualified for attempting to sabotage my rival's performance."

Quinn stared. "How do you sabotage a competition for five year olds?"

Rachel glanced around and sighed. "I hid her teddy bear. She was inconsolable until they found it in my bag. I hadn't fully zipped it and well. His foot was out."

From teddy bears to crack houses, Quinn thought, but it did nothing to assuage her anger. "That was meant to be me up there," she snapped, pointing to the bathroom door for good measure. "But no, now everyone knows me as fatass Lucy Caboosey, and it's all your fault."

"Quinn, I didn't hang the pos—"

"I know you didn't!" Quinn practically yelled, and took a deep breath. She knew Rachel hadn't, it was Puck and Zizes, his latest fetish. There was no way Rachel could have known, would ever have known. The last person Quinn would have ever let see that side of herself would've been Rachel Berry.

"Then what—"

"It was supposed to be us," Quinn managed through clenched teeth. "Finn and I were meant to be together, don't you get it? That's how this plays out, Rachel. The quarterback and the cheerleader, god, how can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time? Your dreams are too big for him, I'm the one who's supposed to be his girl. King and Queen, the most popular kids in high school. And you ruined it."

And she was speaking again, with that same prim attitude she always had, and her nose (that she absolutely did not need to change) slightly stuck in the air.

"Quinn, I'm sorry that you don't like the fact that Finn and I are together now, but we are, and you're just going to have to accept that."

"Where's his ring?"

She knew that was low, and she regretted it for a moment when Quinn saw the expression of hurt that crossed over Rachel's face. She knew Rachel was in love with him, in that adorable puppy kind of way, where she was willing to ignore anything and everything because Finn was meant to be her leading man. Because Quinn knew, as much as she had her own dreams, Rachel had hers as well. The stunning young ingénue and her costar, a handsome and bright leading man who had just enough of his own light to shine on her. It could've been Jesse, Quinn thought. She might have liked Jesse, until he egged Rachel. But he was the only one to match Rachel in talent, and Finn paled in comparison.

And besides, Finn was hers.

"I'm sorry you lost, Quinn, but I—"

"He's supposed to be mine. We're supposed to be together, and we were supposed to win. And we didn't, because of you. You did this to me!"

Rachel rocked backward with the force of the slap, her hand flying to her cheek even as Quinn stared in shock. She glanced down at her hand, at her open palm, scarcely able to believe that she'd actually struck someone.

She'd hit Rachel Berry.

"I am so sorry," Quinn whispered, the tears already on their way as much as she tried to fight them.

Her hand hurt; it burned, and she looked at it again, puzzled. Her fingers flexed, and with a sting that grew ever hotter, ever more apparent on her fourth finger, Quinn's world came crashing down around her.

"Q-Quinn?"

She tore her gaze away from her hand long enough to look at Rachel, who was staring at herself in the mirror. Rachel's fingers gripped at her own chest, just below her neck, toying in confusion with what lay against her collarbone.

The necklace glittered in the harsh high school bathroom light.

Quinn had seen it before, on other students. But the two interlocking circles – one silver, the other gold – that rested against Rachel's tan skin seemed almost foreign to her, though Quinn couldn't take her eyes off of it. The rings were held to Rachel by a slim gold chain, and Quinn shook her head.

Maybe she'd been wearing that all along, she told herself. After all, she hadn't been paying attention to Rachel; she'd been concentrating all night on Sam, and making sure he didn't lumber all over her toes in that mess of moves he called dancing. Rachel had been wearing a pink dress, pink shoes, and her hair had been curled up in waves that fell around her shoulders. A pink corsage.

Had there been a necklace? She hadn't noticed.

But there definitely… there definitely hadn't been a ring.

And yet… now there was, securely tucked on the fourth finger of Quinn's right hand.

It, too, was gold and silver, fashioned into two metallic ropes that entwined around each other so that if you weren't looking carefully, you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Quinn held up her hand into the light, turning it this way and that as the ring sparkled.

It was, she realized, a perfect fit.

"This can't be possible," Quinn whispered to herself. She looked at Rachel again; when she spoke, her voice was pleading, and also accusing.

"You had that on when you came here tonight. Right? Right?"

Rachel hesitated, her eyes glued on the slim band encircling a finger of Quinn's hand, which she was still holding up in front of herself. She shook her head.

"I wasn't wearing it, Quinn."

"Yes you were," Quinn retorted, her breath once again coming in short, panicked gasps. "You just forgot! You – one of your dads gave it to you, you just forgot, there is no way this is happening, I can't – not to you, not to you…"

She trailed off, and Rachel finally turned from looking at herself in the mirror to regard Quinn. Her brown eyes were full and solemn as she quietly asked, "Did you forget you were wearing a ring this evening?"

She wanted to say that yes, she had forgotten it. Quinn's racing mind was already concocting a story about how her father had gotten it for her on her fifteenth birthday, and how she hadn't really liked it and stuffed it into the back of her jewelry box, because really, she had so many rings. Being a Fabray meant you had whatever you wanted: a new car when you got your driver's license; a new wardrobe every school year.

Parents who weren't bonded, and a father who thought cheating on his wife was more important than supporting his terrified, pregnant daughter.

"No," Quinn said, deflating and leaning against one of the sinks. "I wasn't wearing it."

"I don't understand," Rachel said, pulling some tissues out of her purse. She held one up, offering to help Quinn, and to her surprise, Quinn nodded.

She wanted to laugh then, because as Rachel wiped her eyes gently, Quinn Fabray realized the truth, the absurdity that was her life.

She was seventeen years old, stuck in the bathroom instead of out enjoying her prom. Her baby was off being raised by someone else, someone who just happened to be Rachel Berry's mother. She had lost prom queen, was dating a boy who was supposed to raise her social standing but couldn't even climb the first rung of the ladder… and now she had apparently bonded.

To the girl she'd hated since she was thirteen years old.

God, life sucked.

"I don't understand this—"

"There's nothing to understand," Quinn said. "It's a mistake."

"My dad says fate doesn't make a mistake…"

"Well clearly this time it did," Quinn bit out, trying to hold herself up against the sink even as her arms shook.

There was no way she was going to do this, she told herself. She knew now that she was a Dominant, but Quinn had always expected that. She was just a little too demanding, a little too in control… but she'd always thought that of Rachel too. Someone who stormed into a room demanding all the attention, and then stormed out of the room with the same amount of self-absorption? How could she be a submissive?

But there had been the tissues…

And hadn't Rachel come to her when Finn had found out about the baby's real father?

Quinn couldn't help but smile, just a little, remembering when she had stormed up to Finn while he and Rachel had been talking.

"I'll just g—" Rachel had started to say.

"No, you stay."

And Rachel had sat down. Slowly. Dutifully.

"But that doesn't mean I'm your Dominant," Quinn said, then flushed crimson, realizing she'd spoken aloud.

"No, I suppose it doesn't," Rachel said carefully.

Her fingers still played with the necklace, and Quinn had to fight the urge to rip it off her.

No way was she going to be bonded to Rachel Berry.

God, Santana would have a field day with this. If she found out. And she wouldn't, Quinn resolved. No one would.

Her fingers found the ring; she pulled, and watched as it slid effortlessly over one knuckle.

"What are you doing?"

She slid it back. "Just testing something," she muttered. She looked at Rachel and tipped her chin towards the necklace.

"Take it off."

"What?"

"Take. It. Off."

"But—"

"Look, Rachel, I don't know what delusion you're operating under this time, but it's a mistake. This whole thing is a mistake."

"My dad says—"

"I don't care what your dad says!" Quinn snapped. "I mean, okay, your dads are bonded, then, I guess?"

Rachel nodded slowly, not even looking at Quinn. Her teeth worried her bottom lip at the same time her fingers still worried the necklace, and Quinn had to stop herself from reaching out and pulling Rachel's hand away.

"And they met, I don't know, when they were—"

"Twelve," Rachel finished, finally done playing with the necklace. Her hands behind her back, she leaned against the wall opposite Quinn, not looking at her.

"And I'm guessing they didn't hate each other?"

"I don't hate you. I never did."

"That's not the point! The point is your dads actually love each other, and I – I don't love you, Berry!"

Her finger burned, and Quinn felt sick. She felt sick because not only did she feel angry, she was feeling so many other things: confusion, worry, bewildered and… something else.

Something that she couldn't quite put her finger on, but something that felt like… fear. It was the tiniest of an emotion, dancing just around the periphery of her brain, an emotion… brought about by the striking of a hand against a cheek, that now Quinn knew, without a doubt, stung. She could see the faintest of redness against Rachel's face, and Quinn wanted to throw up.

Because she knew the fear wasn't hers.

It was Rachel's.

"I don't love you either." It was soft, quiet, almost wounded, and Quinn wasn't sure that the confirmation of her own feelings made anything any better. Because there was still that fear, trickling like water from a fountain, and welling up around it was something that Quinn wasn't used to feeling, when it came to the little girl with the loud, obnoxious voice.

The urge to fix it. To comfort.

"I love Finn."

"Well… that's it then," Quinn decided, pushing herself off of the wall. She squared off against Rachel, nodding firmly.

"It's a mistake."

"A mistake," Rachel echoed, sounding as if she didn't believe it one bit.

"It happens," Quinn shrugged, but she hadn't heard of it happening at all. People were lucky when they were bonded, because not everyone was. People wanted to be bonded; hadn't Rachel been fighting all this time to bond herself to Finn? And now…

"Take it off," Quinn said again.

"I—"

"Take it off, Rachel!" She was almost pleading, and Quinn squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before reopening them. "We know this can never work, how was this ever supposed to work? We don't… we don't even like each other, we're barely even friends—"

"Celine Dion sang about that, and I'm sure you remember how the story ended."

"This isn't Beauty and the Beast, Rachel, god, you are so frustrating!"

"You're the one who surprisingly recognized the movie I was referencing."

"Do you ever turn the Broadway off?"

"No, I do not."

They were quiet for a moment, and Quinn was even more unnerved to realize that the burn of the ring on her finger had settled into a warmth in her chest. She stood there in the school bathroom with Rachel – why did all of their encounters have to happen in the bathroom? – realizing this could never work. Rachel had just bonded to the girl who was her sworn nemesis, and yet she still found time to fit a musical into the conversation.

It almost made Quinn smile.

Almost.

"Do you really want me to take it off?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because we're not meant to be together."

"Quinn." Now it was Rachel's turn to come off of the wall, and take a few steps forward to Quinn. "Fate doesn't make mistakes. I just – it doesn't, all right? You and I both know, we've both heard the stories. For better or worse, you and I are joined now. You're supposed to be my mis—"

"No!" Quinn shook her head violently, ignoring the little chill that ran up her arms and settled at the base of her neck. "Don't you dare say that, Rachel, it's not true. We're not meant to do this."

"The ring and the necklace would beg to differ."

"Oh yeah?" Quinn ripped the ring off her finger and held it up in triumph, ignoring the fact that with that one movement, she felt as if something more than a piece of metal had been torn from her.

She hadn't felt that way since Beth.

"It's just a ring, Rachel," Quinn said, holding it up again to the light, watching as it coursed through the empty circle and shone on Rachel's tear-stained face.

… had she started crying before or after Quinn took off the ring? She hadn't noticed.

"It's just a ring, and that's just a necklace, and we're just two stupid high school kids that fate thought he could play a joke on. I don't love you, you don't love me, and it's not going to work."

"But—"

"It's not going to work! So just… take it off. Take it off, and go back to Finn, and be in love. It's what you want, isn't it?"

"No."

"What?"

"I'm not taking it off," Rachel said resolutely.

"Rachel—"

"I know that I'm supposed to do what you tell me to," Rachel said, "Because like it or not… we're bonded."

Quinn looked away.

"And you say you don't love me. But Finn does." Quinn snorted, and Rachel pressed on. "He does, and I love him."

"Then why won't you take it off?"

"Maybe because I'm a stupid romantic," Rachel said, as Quinn moved towards the door and placed her hand on the knob. She looked back at Rachel.

"Maybe because I still believe in that one great love, that's better than fairytales, better than any song, even better than any musical. The one person that's meant for me, has been meant for me even before the stars existed."

"You believe in the impossible," Quinn muttered.

She thought she'd found that. First with a boy who was the perfect choice. And then again with the boy that had been her choice.

She'd ended up with nothing. No crown, and a baby who probably would never know she even existed.

"I have a place in my Tony award acceptance speech—"

"Oh of course you do," Quinn interrupted, and Rachel huffed. It was so like their usual dynamic that some of the pressure in Quinn's chest eased. But not by much. Her finger ached from the absence of the ring, that she was now rolling around in her other hand.

"I have a place in my Tony acceptance speech for this great love. You would think I would have already filled out the name, but I haven't."

"Why?" Quinn asked. She told herself she didn't care to hear the answer. She opened the bathroom door.

"Because I don't tell fate what to do. And tonight it seems I've been completely correct in that. So you can ignore it all you want, Quinn Fabray, but I won't. We need to talk about this."

"And that's where you're wrong," Quinn said. "I'm not talking to you about this, or anything else, Rachel. Take the necklace off. Go back to Finn. It's what we both want."

She moved back through the hall to the gymnasium, barely cognizant of the fact that Rachel was following her. Quinn found Sam easily in the crowd and slipped into his offered arm, kissing his cheek.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

She glanced around with a smile, which faded only a little as she noticed Rachel, speaking to Finn. He was gesturing wildly at the necklace, his face angry and confused.

She was still holding the ring. Quinn dropped it into her purse.

"I'm fine," she said to Sam, smile still firmly in place.

"I'm just fine."