Author's Note: Hi there. Taking an extended break from writing has been difficult, knowing I have a lot of unfinished stories. And after watching the 'I Do' episode of Glee, I challenged myself to pick up the pen (okay, put fingers to keyboard) and write, really write, because if I couldn't do that, I would surely be a failure.

Wemma fans were visibly upset after the non-wedding between Will and Emma. It didn't seem fair, did it? Two beautiful characters, so good for each other, how could it all go so wrong? I believe in happy endings. Why should Wemma be any different?

Thank you Jodie and Sarah for having a read through before posting. Your comments were invaluable and gave me the boost I needed. And to Charity, thank you for kicking my butt in all things Wemma xxx

Damaged lace. Confused heart. Each teardrop that tumbled down her rosy cheek held more sorrow and compunction then she had ever thought lived and breathed inside of her.

Emma Pillsbury had cried a bucket of regrets today.

How could she do this to Will? How on earth could she run, run away from the man she had always dreamed of being so near? How, for the love of god, could she have screwed up so damn badly, the guilt of her actions now a gaping wound of self-loathing and detestation?

She was no better than Terri. And Terri was cruel. Comparing herself to the former Mrs Schuester made Emma dry reach and clutch at her stomach like she'd mistakenly eaten a bowl of uncleaned grapes.

"Ma'am, if you make a mess back there, there will be an additional charge of $60," the taxi driver stated nonchalantly, peering into the rear view mirror.

"If only you knew me," remarked a breathless Emma; her beautifully made-up face now a painted mess. She caught sight of herself in the window's reflection. The face was familiar, but the woman was unrecognisable. Who was this stranger, this red-haired female in a wedding dress who hailed a taxi and bolted from her own nuptials?

There were so many questions dangling around her, prodding her, begging for answers. But she had no answers. There were no answers.

There was nothing. Nothing except repulsion in her own behaviour.

The driver, a burly, grey-haired guy who more than likely had carved his behind in that particular driver's seat, cleared his throat. "Where we off to?"

"I don't… I don't know…" Her voice drifted out to sea. Emma hadn't thought about that. She couldn't think. The dense fog seeping into her mind had set in, and didn't appear to be lifting anytime soon. She tugged at her veil and wedding dress, the ones she had specifically selected after visiting every bridal store in Allen County and examining every single catalogue that crossed her path, knowing the moment she tried both on, they was perfect. But as she tugged, she heard the distinct sound of tearing fabric. Her dress and veil, so expensive, so perfect, were ruined.

"Well, ma'am, you either give me an address or I'm gonna drop you off at the nearest gas station." He had zero tolerance for the weeping, crazy woman sitting behind him. He was only doing his job by picking her up. Just collecting another fare. This one was a doozy.

"Um… um…" She couldn't deal with this. Not another decision she was forced to make alone.

"Hurry up!" Impatience flowered in the front seat.

"Don't force me into making a goddamn decision when you see me sitting here in a wedding gown that, by the way, is stuck in your door, knowing full well I've just run away from my own wedding and perhaps left the best thing that ever happened to me at the altar!" Emma let fly like a fierce torrent of water, her body shaking, tears falling faster than raindrops in a thunderstorm. Stunned from her melodramatic response, Emma covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes widening. She rarely spoke in such a tone, but lately, everything seemed to build up and her outbursts, not to mention choice of words, were less than desired.

The taxi driver raised an eyebrow. "I'll just… circle then."

Her apology came quickly. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I'm a little messed up right now." Messed up was an understatement. Emma was a ruptured bundle of pick up sticks; no clear focus, nothing in order, just a jumbled chaotic state which agitated her to the core.

"You're telling me. I'm a taxi service, not a runaway bride mobile."

"I can't believe… I can't believe… I…" She snapped her eyes shut, those butterflies fluttering in her stomach has morphed into balls of lead, wildly thrashing inside her, weightless but packing a punch. They had to stop. Her breathing was erratic, her cries jittery, if she didn't calm down, she would be fighting harder to suck in the air her body so desperately needed. Although right now, it would certainly put her out of her misery.

The driver grew concerned with Emma's deep cries of pain. He didn't even know this woman, but now feared for her wellbeing. She began to gulp loudly, each one followed by a split second of silence.

"Ma'am… are you okay?"

Emma buried her head into the corner between the back seat and the door, drawing her knees up onto the seat with her, trying in vain to regulate her breathing. In, out; in, out. She had never felt more alone and helpless. Even her common sense had abandoned her. All that lingered were irrational pieces of terror and humiliation. Her comfort and safety, her support, any sense of normalcy… gone. She could never recover from this.

And what could she say about her parents, the ones who were supposed to be there for her no matter what? They were probably rejoicing inside the church that their little Freaky Deaky didn't show up. They never wanted her to marry Will in the first place. They were against the wedding even before there was an engagement. They never liked Will. But Emma did. Emma loved him with all of her heart.

"Do you want me to pull over or do you need a tissue or something, ma'am? Just tell me what you need, okay?" Emma greeted his change of heart and genuine sympathy with a sad nod. He gave a tight, but kind smile back.

"I – I just need some time," Emma sniffled, wiping her eyes, neat lines of black mascara from her eyelashes striping her pale skin. "And a tissue, please."

He whipped his arm around behind him and handed her a box. "By the way, the name's Gerry."

"Hi Gerry. I'm Emma." She pulled out a tissue and dabbed her eyes.

"Emma. I'm sorry I snapped at you before."

Emma twisted her engagement ring around her finger. It was as heavy as her heart. "It's – it's okay."

Internally, everything was far from okay. Something else was eating away at her, stewing inside, making her ill yet again. It wasn't just the solo planning of the wedding, or how, in Emma's opinion, when asking Will for help on the decision-making, he lacked the proper care and attention that she so badly wanted from him. That didn't compare to her conscience hanging a noose of betrayal above her head in the shape of Finn Hudson.

Her worries over wedding preparations became a panic attack that spiralled out of control, and worst of all, it all unfolded in front of a former student. A former student that she had been spending a lot of time with while Will was away. Will's best man. She let a side of her show that she had been trying so hard to quash, and here she was, breaking down in front of Finn, who one minute was telling her they'd figure it out together, the next, his hands gently framing her face, the soft touch of his lips on hers. Kissing her. It was only a second, but it stopped her cold. It scared her. It shouldn't have happened. But it did, and lying to Will, keeping this from him was tearing her apart.

"I'm – I'm also sorry that you're upset on what should be the most beautiful day of your life."

Emma hiccupped a disjointed "T-thank you."

"You know, I have three daughters myself, all married to wonderful men. But man oh man, the preparation leading up to the wedding… I honestly don't know how they did it. I don't remember my own wedding being that complicated. However, all I had to do was turn up in a suit." He continued chatting to Emma, his pleasant conversation, mostly for Emma's benefit, turning into background noise as she trained her mind to think about the horror of the last ten minutes.

What are you doing? This is your wedding day. Your WEDDING DAY. You've waited all this time to get married to Will and now you're going to dump him, leave him standing there with all your family and friends and co-workers? This is Will FREAKING Schuester! This is the guy you pined over for three years and now that you finally have him you're going to throw everything away? Wake up!

Emma wished she had a pamphlet for this moment. She needed some advice. Someone, anyone, or anything to lead her in the right direction. This was too much complication for one person to handle, but in reality, she had to work this out herself. She had to be an adult and not let things like Finn's kiss, or her parents, or handling the stress of planning a wedding on her own get the better of her. She told Finn to pretty much get over it; she needed those harsh words drilled into her too.

"You know a lot of brides get cold feet, but it's all part of the process of taking that next step. My eldest, well… you remind me a lot of her and..." Gerry picked up the discussion again, unaware that the bride-to-be was barely listening.

Emma knew, without a doubt, Will was the guy for her. He had a hold on her from the moment she saw him in the hallways at McKinley High. He made her feel special, held her hand, and helped her through the tough times, all because he adored her, just as much as she adored him. Their relationship may not have been as smooth as they liked, but what relationship was? To become Will's wife, to have her name connected with his forever, was her dream; the ache in her heart told her so.

Getting married to Will was not something to run away from. It was something to look forward to.

A poignant montage of Will's faces appeared before her, and she smiled through her sadness. His warm green eyes, curly hair and lopsided smile lured her to the special times they shared; those precious moments she was not ready to let go of, could never envision letting go of. When Will looked at her, she saw love, and only love. His love floated from his eyes, from within the depth of his soul and touched her heart. Always.

She couldn't live her life without Will by her side.

"Turn around." She cut Gerry off mid-sentence, her voice strong and adamant. Emma was ready to marry the one she loved.

Gerry smiled at her. "Back to the church?"

"Uh-huh. Step on it."

Wasting no time, Gerry did a u-turn in the middle of traffic, receiving hand gestures and the odd beep from annoyed drivers. Emma composed herself at the red lights, opening the door to pull in the rest of her gown and veil and to check out the damage. There was a small tear at the hemline, which was dampened from the snow and the veil looked like it came out unscathed from catching in the door. It would have to do.

Gerry slowed as he neared the church, almost coming to a complete standstill outside. Emma took in a deep breath and put her hand on the door handle, ready to open.

"All the best Emma, now, go and get married. The groom needs to see his beautiful bride."

Emma pressed her face and one hand against the window, staring at the church where Will was waiting for her and wondering where she was. Her fingers clenched the handle, her knuckles turning white. Her body froze. She couldn't open the door.

She shook her head wildly, fear catching her emotions. "No I can't do this. I can't get married. I can't I can't I can't. Go. Please. Take me home."

"Are you sure?"

"I can't do it. I can't get married. Not today. Not ever." Emma broke down in tears again as the taxi left the church for the second time. She sobbed uncontrollably, her cheeks and eyes swelling from her cries. Gasping for air, she coughed and choked; the onset of another panic attack was mere seconds away.

"Would you rather I take you to the hospital instead of your house? Maybe a doctor or someone can help you out," Gerry offered.

"No. I don't want to see anybody! I have to go home! I have to get out of here!"

This was the worst day of her life. Realising she made a mistake by marrying Carl in Vegas was now a very distant second. Today was living proof that marriage and Emma Pillsbury were never meant to mix.

Emma could never face Will again.

"Excuse me, Emma, but where's home?"

She incoherently rattled off her address, and laid down on the back seat, her hands covering her face as more tears fell from her chestnut coloured eyes.

Somehow, Gerry figured out her address and took her back to the apartment she shared with Will. He remained silent for the remainder of the journey, and couldn't help feeling heartbroken for the distraught woman he had as his passenger.

He pulled up outside. "Emma? You're home. Do you want me to wait for you and take you somewhere else?"

Emma sat up, still trembling, but slightly calmer. "No, uh, I'll be okay. I – uh, my purse it at the church but I think there's some change in Will's sock drawer if you –"

"No charge ma'am, on me. I'll help you out, hey?" He got out of his seat and opened the back door. Taking hold of Emma's arm, he pulled her out, supporting her until she regained her balance.

"Thank you, Gerry," she sniffled.

"It'll work out, Emma, you'll see." He patted her hand. "If he loves you, he'll understand." Gerry bid her farewell, returned to his vehicle and drove away. She watched the pale green taxi disappear around the bend in the road and sighed heavily.

Emma scooped up her dress and cautiously walked up the steps to the apartment entrance, hoping not to trip. As she pressed the button to the elevator, she realised she didn't have a key to get into her apartment.

"Brilliant Emma, the only time you don't have your handbag!" She scolded herself and ran over to the concierge to ask for a spare key. Snatching it from him before he could ask questions, Emma headed back over to the elevator and closed the door behind her. She pressed the button to her level and slumped to the floor, crying.

Will consumed her thoughts. It was difficult not to think of this wonderful man whose heart she had trodden on. Actually, it was more of a stampede. Emma didn't want to think about what was happening at the church. Had she gone through with it, they would have been reciting their vows they had written for each other. The pain within was unbearable. She had to escape, to get away from everything.

As the elevator came to a halt, Emma collected her dress and ran to her door. Fumbling with the key, it took a couple of attempts before it slipped into the keyhole. There wasn't a second to spare; her need to flee before they started looking for her was the most important mission in her life right now.

Emma packed a bag, grabbing whatever she could, shoving it into her black patent leather suitcase with the grey bow. This was no time for neatness. She looked at the photo of Will on her nightstand, hesitated for a moment, and then added it to her bag. She searched Will's sock drawer for the money she knew he hid in there and pulled out a couple of notes. More guilt crept in on her, knowing this was considered stealing. She hoped Will would understand. But she knew he wouldn't. He wouldn't understand anything that happened today.

Changing clothes wasn't an option. She required a second person to help her into and out of the dress and would end up tangling herself in the layers of material if she did it by herself. Taking her toothbrush, toothpaste and makeup case, she glanced into the bathroom mirror. Emma did not like what she saw. Drawn face, red eyes, makeup smeared, her hair uncurling. The usually neat and clean appearance of the guidance counsellor was a lot to be desired. Yet how she looked was now the least of her worries.

Emma found her car keys were on the kitchen bench, along with her cell, which she mistakenly forgot to collect before she left the house this morning. There were a lot of messages, including one from Will. She dared to look at it.

Em baby, I can't wait to see how beautiful you look today. I love you with all of my heart. Your soon-to-be husband, Will xxx

"Oh, Will." The text message broke her in two. Emma ripped the veil from her head and tossed it to the floor. She was an absolute wreck and couldn't take it anymore. It was time to go.

Once Emma thought she had everything she needed, she said her final goodbyes to the apartment she shared with Will; doubting she would ever see it again. Out of breath by the time she got downstairs, she gave the room key back to the concierge with thanks and headed for her car. He gave her a strange look; Emma chose to ignore it.

Her vision blurred from the endless waterfall of tears. Throwing her suitcase in the trunk, Emma squished herself into the driver's seat. There was so much wedding gown, driving would be difficult, but she would manage. Turning the key, the car fired up, and in a flash she drove away from her home, from her work, and from Will.

With little money, no credit card and half a tank of gas, she wouldn't be able to go far. And the wedding dress would draw to much attention if she were to go anywhere in public. Emma needed some time to think clearly, time to understand her actions and time to forgive herself. She needed to feel safe and sheltered, free from the catastrophe that had become her life.

Her destination was yet to be decided.