A/N: This is my own birthday present, from me to you :)

I can't stand I'm just no good for you
Oooh
I can't stand I'm just no good for you for you,
For you ohhh
She said that my chance has been and gone

{The Pigeon Detectives – I found Out}

Here we are – the finishing line. The night before the wedding.

Rachel is staying in their apartment alone, with Quinn and Tina staying down the street at a motel. She stares at the bedroom ceiling as she tries to fall into sleep, remembering the glow-in-the-dark stickers her fathers had stuck on her roof when she was a little girl. She had dreamed and dreamed that somewhere amongst the glowing little stars was Rachel Berry. Now it was true, and on that star's finger was a wedding ring and a fiancée close by its side.

She misses her little stars now – they had been so comforting in the dark. Her Daddy always said, 'Don't be afraid, beautiful, your stars will lead the way'. She had grown to be dependant on them to be there as a guidance, and so when she moved out, the temptation was to peel them off and glue them back on the New York apartment ceiling. She didn't though – she was her own star.

And yet she was here - years on from being that same little girl, from living in Lima and needing any guidance whatsoever - and she missed her stars. The night before she was getting married and she thought she needed tacky little stickers to be there for her.

Rachel, truthfully, does not believe this is how you should feel before your get married. But it's one night before she gets married, and Jesse is truly, utterly perfect and tomorrow is going to be beautiful.

Someone knocks on her door at ten thirty (Noah, Noah, Noah – he never did come to the engagement party) and so Rachel jumps out of bed to get it. She wasn't getting any closer to sleep, anyway.

When she finds a petite, pretty blond on her doorstep, her hair windy from the summer night breeze and wearing the blue dress she had been wearing six hours ago, Rachel doesn't understand. "Quinn? What are you . . . What are you doing here? You should be resting; we have a long day ahead. You'll be stunning; we all will. Where's Tina? Does she know you're-"

"I just wanted to chat," Quinn says, pushing past Rachel and flopping down on the couch. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

Rachel thinks about it for a minute, searching for the truthful answer. Finally, she mutters, "No." Quinn mulls that over, staring at her knuckles and nodding her head. From the expression on her face, Rachel thinks her answer might not have been the best one.

"I know- Okay, Rachel, I definitely know I shouldn't be here now. I shouldn't be talking to you about what I'm talking about-"

"But we aren't talking about anything!"

Quinn gives her a look. "- but I have to. It's been eating away at me, and I can't sleep. I had a feeling you couldn't either." Rachel nods. "Most wives-to-be do – I would know, all of my country-club cousins married at the age of twenty in big churches so they could suffer a life time of pretty, fake romance. I don't want you to be like that."

"I don't understand-"

"You do," Quinn insists. "I know you do. When I brought Beth up here, you two . . . God, I swear . . . I mean, you and Finn were charming and all together, but even with you and Puck fighting you could see it."

"Quinn, I really have no idea what you're talking about. What is 'it'?"

"Sexual tension, unresolved mutual feelings . . . It was practically dripping from your eye sockets, Rachel, you two are meant to be together. And, honestly, I don't want to know the details, but if you can tell me that there hasn't once been an occasion when you two haven't gotten together – or at least come close to it – then I'll go. We can forget this conversation."

"Quinn, I really don't think you should be here. It's late and-"

"Answer me, Rachel."

"No! Tomorrow morning, I'm getting married to Jesse. It's going to be in a nice big church, and everyone is going to say we look perfect. Jesse will look at me like a loving husband should and we'll waltz in synchronization. It'll be perfect!" Rachel's eyes start to burn at the realisation of how very long 'man and wife forever' will be, and the realisation that forever is with Jesse. Before she knows it, she's crying uncontrollably.

She doesn't want perfect so much, anymore.

"Oh, sweetie," Quinn says softly, wrapping an arm around Rachel's shoulders. Rachel leans her head on Quinn's shoulder, and they stay like that, staring out the window at the real stars, both trying to figure out what to do.

By three in the morning, Rachel has stopped crying. "If you'll excuse me, Quinn, I have to go rest. I have a wedding to attend tomorrow." Quinn frowns at the formality of it all, at the absurdity. Rachel has made up her mind, though, and starts to shoo Quinn out the door. "Have a lovely night, Quinn."

"But-"

"Go sleep. I can't have a head bridesmaid with rings under her eyes, now, can I?"

"Rachel, you're in love with Puck. And if you don't do something about it, I feel really sorry for you," Quinn says quietly and sadly, turning her back on Rachel and heading towards the elevator.

Rachel ends up taking heavy painkillers, the kind that make her so drowsy she can barely make it back to her room, so she can finally get some sleep.

Marriage is painful, and it hasn't even started.

(She has dreams, but they are so dark and emotionless that she can barely make anything of the images in her head. That is, until she hears a scream, and then she gets a good idea of where the dream is going.)

The next morning, Tina picks Rachel up and takes her to The New York Palace, where they'll get ready, as the church is down the road. Tina and Quinn and Luanna are all wearing dresses of gold, with detailed embroidery and soft fabric that reaches the floor. They're all set, pretty much, now it's her turn.

The hairstylist, Duncan (no last name, they say), is apparently hugely known in France. Luanna would know – she travels everywhere.

The three girls are crowding around her, cooing over her hair and helping Duncan decide where this strand should go and whether there should be ribbon. They're all a bit tipsy, though, and so none of them really know what they are saying. It's okay though, because all they have to do in the ceremony is walk and look stunning, and they aren't that drunk that they can't take a step, yet.

Luanna pops out for some fresh air when she starts to look flushed, leaving Tina and Quinn to stumble off and get their make up done in the next room over.

The door flies open about ten minutes later. Puck stands in her doorway, his cheeks red and sweat dripping down his forehead. Duncan looks between them, then backs out of the room slowly.

"You came," she whispers.

"I came."

It takes a few minutes, but Rachel finally jumps up and wraps her arms around him. He inhales her hair and she avoids getting too close to him, because it's a hot day, he's sweaty and she looks amazing.

Amazing because I am about to get married, she reminds herself, pulling away. Marriage, marriage, marriage. It sounds funny on your tongue, when it's about to happen.

"I- I don't think you should be here," she says, pleading him to make this easier.

"But you-"

"Not in this room. You're welcome to stay for the ceremony." (Please just leave, I can't handle this.)

"Do you want me to?" (Tell me you love me.)

"I don't know." (Yes, yes, yes. I'm sorry.)

"That's fine with me." (It's not fine, say it to me.) He leans in to kiss her when the door bursts open again, making Puck and Rachel pull away like terrified cats.

It's the first time she's really, truly seen Jesse angry. His fists are shaking, his knees look like they are about to give out and the look in his eyes could burn a hole through the wall. Puck shuts his eyes and rubs his temples, while Rachel sinks into the chair next to hair. "It's not what you-"

"Stop. Telling me. Lies," he snarls at her, turning to face Puck. "You, Puckerman, need to get the fuck out of here!"

Puck throws his hands in the air. "Whoa, just calm down, buddy-"

"Tell me the truth!" Jesse yells, slamming his fist against the wall.

Rachel's voice is small and nervous when she speaks. "What . . . What makes you think that I would-"

"Luanna," Jesse spits. "I heard from Luanna, your best friend, when we were having a friendly chat. Maybe it was because she was drunk, and she didn't know she wasn't meant to vomit up all of your dirty little secrets, but when I mentioned all those times you stayed at her place she said she had no idea what I was talking about!"

"Jesse, I-"

"Shut up! I want to hear it from you, Puckerman. What the fuck made you think you could lay your hands on my girlfriend?"

"You don't love her," Puck growls. "You never have, and you never will. You don't even know what the hell love is. You're just this fuckin' robot that walks around thinking he's a god. You wanted her because she'd make a nice trophy when you became famous!"

"I've never felt this way about anyone before. Especially now – no one's ever backstabbed me like she has. This is the second time, isn't it, Rachel? This is the second time you've broken my heart! You can rot in hell with your stupid, degrading, loser of a man. You don't even deserve him. You're a slut."

"DON'T TALK TO HER THAT WAY!"

Jesse's hand collides fist collides with Puck's mouth. Rachel is left sobbing and gasping, burying her face in her hands, eyeing her wedding dress that will never be and pulling the pins from her hair. She would break them apart if she could, but how?

Footsteps sound from the hallway, the door bangs open, Jesse's groomsmen pull them apart. She looks at it all through her blurring tears that burn her eyes. She hears the gasp of the rest of the wedding party, and she has never ever been more ashamed. Rachel jumps up and rushes to the bathroom, tears in her eyes and lunch coming back up her throat.

This is not how wedding is supposed to end.

(But this is it, this is the end. She should have known it was coming.)

Rachel surfaces from the almost oxygen-free, stuffy bathroom three hours and thirteen minutes later, mascara dripping and the room quiet around her. She suspects everyone has abandoned the lying, cheating, terrible bride-to-be, and is therefore startled when she sees a black-eyed man sitting on a chair.

"You've been there the whole time?" she chokes out.

"Yeah," Puck replies, lacing his knuckles together. "I've had to piss for the last hour, but I couldn't tell if you'd ever come out, and I didn't want to miss you . . ."

Rachel's brow is knit together, wringing her hands subconsciously as she takes a step forwards. "Who else is here?"

"Quinn and Tina and Lu. Jesse is long gone, and no one really knows where." Puck looks up at her, his eyes burning. "Your folks are still here, but his were 'outraged' or some shit like that. Pretty much everyone who likes you is still here, wondering where the hell you went."

"Yes, all five of them," she snorts quietly, sitting down across the room. She doesn't want to be close yet.

There's a note beside Rachel, on the bench, with her name on it. It's printed in Jesse's fine form, so she tears it open quickly. (She's hoping this is like a bandaid – the faster it happens, the less it hurts.)

Rachel,

You are a cheating, lying slut. You broke my heart, and it's all I had to give you.

But I loved you. So, so much. I can't write anymore than this; I don't truly know why I wrote this in the first place.

For the last time – no more chances – all my love,
Jesse

Puck lets Rachel cry all over his shirt, holding his hand one minute before sobbing loudly and pulling away. He sits there, taking her in his arms when she needs it, letting her go when she can't stand it, whispering things when she's silent, being silent while she's screaming.

They stay the night, repeating the painful process. She thinks she's going to hell.

I found out you're going out with him
(Going out with)
(Going out with)
You, would not believe the state I'm in
(Going out with)
(Yes you're going out with)

{The Pigeon Detectives – I Found Out}