Say Something:

I'm Giving up on You

Rachel stuck out her left arm, handbag slipping down to rest on her shoulder as she held tightly onto her Ralph Lauren suitcase with the other, desperately trying to catch the eye of a taxi driver as they continually picked up other passengers or sped straight past the departure lounge into the traffic heading towards central Manhattan.

She glanced skyward as an Emirates Airbus A380 roared overhead heading somewhere exotic. Dubai: Probably. Damn it, Geller! She thought, bitterly, as she checked the time on her watch. She should have been jetting off to start her new life in Paris.

She was about to start working for Louis Vuitton after the disastrous interview with Gucci, which, to her horror, resulted in the termination of her contract at Ralph Lauren, all because her current boss had been sat on the table in front of her and the interviewer.

She thought she had it all figured out with a little help from Monica and Chandler. She was going to find herself somewhere to live; get settled in and find her bearings to be joined by her two year old daughter, Emma, a couple of days later. She didn't have that much time. Gucci had given her a total of three days to leave her old life behind in New York and begin a fresh in France. She had already done the difficult part. She'd said goodbye to her friends! But, the final goodbye to him had been the hardest of them all.

"You really think that I didn't say goodbye to you because I don't care?"

She slammed Ross' apartment door, trying to keep her voice steady as she spoke. She could feel hot tears beginning to prickle at the back of her throat as she looked into his eyes - determined to get the point across, one that she'd been thinking about on the walk over, without breaking down. She had a habit of doing that but today she was prepared to change the habit of a lifetime and not let her emotions get the better of her!

How could she put all ten years worth of memories: the good and the bad; and all the emotions ranging from happiness to anger they'd shared together into that one final goodbye? She had been in love with Ross for ten years and now they had a child together. Surely that should count for something? How could he have been so insensitive? Did he really think that little of her?

"That's what it seemed like."

She could feel the corners of her eyes starting to water and took a deep, steadying breath. Monica had pre empted that Ross might be feeling slightly hurt that she hadn't said goodbye to him, but, he should have realised how difficult it would have been for her. For both of them. She could feel pins and needles beginning to erupt in the tips of her fingers, threatening to lick their way up her arms, determined not to tremble. "I cannot believe that after ten years, you do not know one thing about me!"

She threw out a finger. A violent move for someone who was usually so warm and friendly. She noticed that his face was contorted between a mixture of shock and curiosity. She realised that she'd hit him right where it hurts most: his intelligence!

"Fine; then; why didn't you say something?" Ross asked, his voice beginning to break. He could feel a lump in his throat, like someone had thrust a fist down his windpipe, yanked his heart upwards and wedged it there.

She almost swore but stopped short.

"Because it is too damn hard, Ross! I can't even begin to explain to you how much I am going to miss you. When I think about not seeing you every day it makes me not want to go. Okay, so if you think that... that I didn't say goodbye to you because you don't mean as much to me as everybody else. You're wrong! It's because you mean more to me. So there alright... there's your goodbye!"

With one swift movement, she began to leave the apartment but the pained call of his voice beckoned her to stay.

"Rach!"

"What?"

"You... you... can't."

"What?"

Then something peculiar happened. In that moment, the one moment, when she had shouted at him - their eyes had found and locked onto each other. She could see the hurt her departure was causing him which made her decision much more difficult. Ross moved closer. She could now see the small freckles on the end of his nose that she'd come to know and love. They kissed.

Now, her plans had changed! She had just settled down in her seat, opened the latest edition of Vogue magazine when her mobile rang. She glanced at the Caller ID and saw that it was Phoebe. She answered. Phoebe complained that she "had a feeling something was wrong with the plane" and that there was no "left phalange". She tried to reassure a now desperate sounding Phoebe that there was nothing wrong with the "left phalange" and that she would ring her when she arrived in Paris, but, the gentleman in the seat next to her had overheard the entire conversation and demanded to leave the plane. The air hostess tried to assure the now hysterical gentleman that there was "no such thing as a left phalange" which sparked an uproar leading to the entire flight being disembarked. Inside Newark terminal, Rachel stood waiting in the queue to re-board the plane and had just shown the woman behind the check-in desk her ticket when someone frenziedly screamed her name. She turned to find both Ross and Phoebe waiting for her. Ross begged her not to leave and confessed that he was still in love with her. She had wrenched her hand free from his grip and boarded the plane.

Yet, here she was. After having waited almost twenty minutes, a taxi pulled over to the sidewalk. The driver rolled down the passenger side window and spoke in a begrudged voice. She noticed slight dark patches under his eyes. Has he been up all night working? She thought.

"Where can I take you to Miss?"

"Central Perk, Greenwich Village?" she asked, sliding into the back of the taxi, placing the suitcase on the seat next to her. "How quickly can you get there? There's somewhere important I need to be."

"I'll try my best, Miss!" he assured her. "Unfortunately, there's a lot of traffic heading into the city today."

The driver turned on his indicator, edging slowly away from the sidewalk, and joined the rolling stream of vehicles that were making their way towards Manhattan. She stared out of the window at the skyline, which had changed dramatically in the ten years she'd been living in the city, as they drew nearer. Why did he have to choose now? She asked herself as she traced the door handle with her index finger. A distant memory made itself known to her now..

"Who's this from?" she asked the group, picking up a neatly wrapped box taking an inquisitive look at it.

"Oh, that's Ross'" said Chandler, matter of factly.

She tore open the wrapping paper to find a light grey box inside. She opened the box, tentatively, aware that everyone around her was watching wishing that she could be alone. She gasped.

"Oh my god, he remembered."

Inside was a pin.

"Remembered what?" asked Phoebe, trying to have a closer look at the pin.

"It was like months ago. We were walking by this antique store and I saw this pin in the window and I told him it was just like one my grandmother had when I was a little girl. Oh. I can't believe he remembered."

"Well sure but can you play it on a plane?" joked Chandler.

"Uh," gasped Phoebe as Rachel showed her. "It's so pretty! This must have cost him a fortune."

"Can't believe he did this." said Monica, honestly.

"Come on, Ross, remember back in collage when he fell in love with Carol and bought her that ridiculously expensive crystal duck?" reminisced Chandler, completely forgetting that Rachel was in the room.

"What did you just say?"

She tried to make sense of Chandler's revelation. She couldn't be sure, but, had he just told everyone that Ross was in love with her? Why hadn't she seen this coming?

"Crystal duck," he said, bluntly, trying to throw her off course.

"No. No. No." She was struggling to get her words out. She was fully aware that all eyes were on her. "The... um... the love part. Oh... my... god!"

"Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!" said Chandler, annoyed at himself.

"That's good! Just keep rubbing your head. That'll turn back time!" said Joey, slapping him playfully on the leg.

The taxi continued to make its way slowly down 5th Avenue towards Central Park. Shopping was one of her many passions and she had been blessed with the opportunity to work for many buyers. The taxi stopped outside 'Central Perk'. She looked through the coffee house window and saw six young people, not so different from her and her friends, sat on the same couch drinking cups of coffee as they had back in the day when she had first run into Monica and the others.

"I don't want to be single. Okay. I just... I just want to be married again." Ross moaned, fiddling with the umbrella in his hand.

She pushed open the door to the coffee house, her eyes frantically searching the floor, seeing a group of individuals sat directly in front of her. She wondered if Monica could be amongst them but thought that she had best ask at the counter.

"And I just won a million dollars!" shouted Chandler, throwing his arms wide in mock celebration.

"Rachel?" came an unsure voice. It wasn't a greeting. More of a question.

"Oh god, Monica. Hi!" She embraced her old friend. "Thank god, I just went to your building and you weren't there and then this guy with a really big hammer said that you might be here and you are... you are."

"Can I get you some coffee?" the waitress asked.

"Decaf!" insisted Monica, seeing the state that Rachel was in."Okay everybody, this is Rachel another Lincoln High survivor. This is everybody. This is Chandler, and Phoebe, and Joey, and you remember my brother, Ross?"

"Sure... Hi!"

The umbrella burst open, hitting her as she tried to hug Ross. She shuffled down in between him and Phoebe on the couch. There was an awkward silence.

"So, do you want to tell us now or are we waiting for four wet bridesmaids?" asked Monica.

"Oh god, well, it started about half an hour before the wedding. I was in this room where we were keeping all the presents and I was looking at this gravy boat. This really gorgeous gravy boat and all of a sudden I realised... I realised... I realised I was more turned on by this gravy boat than by Barry. And then I get really freaked out and that's when it hit me. How much Barry looks like Mr Potato Head! You know I mean, I always knew he looked familiar but... anyway... I just had to get out of there and I started wondering why am I doing this and who am I doing this for? So, anyway I just didn't know where to go and I know that you and I have kind of drifted apart but you're the only person I knew who lived here in the city."

"Who wasn't invited to the wedding?" scorned Monica.

"Oh, I was kind of hoping that wouldn't have been an issue."

The taxi pulled up outside Ross' apartment building.

"That'll be $27, Miss," said the driver.

She handed him thirty dollars insisting that he kept the change. She clambered out of the taxi dragging the suitcase with her. If she was quick enough, she would get there before he listened to the voice message she left before getting off the plane. She entered the lobby and walked over to call for a lift. The resounding 'ding' indicated that the lift was on her floor. She stepped inside and pressed the button for Ross' floor. The lift shot upwards. He was the only thing that mattered to her now and she needed to tell him how she felt. She stepped out of the lift and onto the hallway making for his apartment.

"Did she get off the plane?" begged Ross, hitting the rewind button on the phone trying to hear the message again as she pushed open the door.

"I got off the plane!"