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Story Line: When Rachel answers the roommate wanted ad of one Ross Geller, neither expect what is to come. AU

A/N: This is my newest fic, all of which has been posted on Friends Cafe so far. It, unlike "Secret Feelings" when I was posting it, remains an unfinished fic. However, the first ten chapters or so are written at this point. So, at least those should be quick updates. I hope you guys enjoy the story :-)

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, as much as I'd desperately love to own my dear Rossy. They are, however, the creation of Bright/Kauffman/Crane productions.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is Janine there?", a deep male voice filled the reciever.

"Um, I think you have the wrong number."

"Oh, I'm sorry." A clank, then dial tone.

Rachel turned her attention back to the computer screen in front of her. A twenty-six year-old, beautiful young woman with long honey-colored hair and a fit body most women would give an arm for, and she was at home on a Friday night. Playing solitaire on her computer.

Again.

She sighed to herself as she gave up on her latest game, hitting the "Deal" button. She made a face of disgust at her cards but attempted to play nonetheless. 'Wild night I'm having,' she thought bitterly to herself. Rachel couldn't even remember the last time she had a date. Well, she could, but she couldn't remember having a good time. This moving to the city business was a lot more work than she thought it would be- and living by herself in the big apartment bought for her by her father wasn't very fulfulling. All her girlfriends were back in Long Island, living in grand mansions with their rich husbands that were doctors. Rachel couldn't understand it; she knew none of them were had any remote feelings for their spouses. All trophy wives and money providers and fun things to show off. She almost gagged everytime she thought about how she almost married Barry, the orthodonist her parents had set her up with. Thank God she got out of that.

Frustrated, she shut off her laptop without even exiting her game. She paced her front room, thinking of possible things to do. Call a friend? Oh, she couldn't do that. She didn't think she could bear to sit and listen about the latest gossip from the gym back home, or the big shopping spree at Macy's. Of course, shopping could get her excited jut like any other woman, and Rachel loved fashion, but . . .she didn't feel like she fit in with this crowd anymore. She needed something new.

Going off the whim of the moment, she grabbed the New York Times that was sitting on her kitchen counter. She flipped to the classified section; upon seeing the ads various people sent out in search of a new roommate, she got a thought. Maybe someone new to live with, someone she could reinvent herself for, be a completely new person. She ran her finger down the page as she browsed the names, reading the ads that accompanied them.

". . .no, I don't like cats . . .oh my God, not her . . .'non-smoker, non-ugly'? You've got to be kidding me . . ."

She sighed, not seeing much that would interest her here. She almost gave up, until one small ad at the bottom caught her attention.

"Ross Geller," she read aloud, and stopped to consider. He sounded like a decent guy- late twenties, divorced, works in the science field. 'Hm,' she thought. 'He doesn't sound so bad.'

She decided to give the guy a call tomorrow. She retired to bed early, absentmindedly flipping on the television in her bedroom. Rather than watch the program that was on, she sat back against the headboard. 'Ross Geller.' She wondered what he looked like. A science guy- probably with glasses. Might be real dorky, like the kind of kids she used to pick on in high school. Ugh, there was her past, creeping up on her again.

She made herself a promise- even if this guy was the ugliest man on the face of the planet, that if he was a nice guy, she'd live with him. Assuming he accepted her as his roommate, of course. But she would stick it out- no matter what her ex-cheerleader mind tried to tell her.

-----

"Has anyone answered your ad yet?"

"No, not yet. But it's only been a day, you know?", Ross replied hopefully. He was out to lunch with his younger sister Monica, the two enjoying the freedom and sanctity that Saturdays often bring. "I just hope I don't get, like, a freak or anything. Or anyone who'll touch my dinosaur stuff!", he added.

Monica laughed lightly. "I doubt anyone's gonna want to touch that." He shot her a look, but she just continued their conversation. "I just wonder who will answer. It's so funny how Joey's making this a competition, isn't it?"

"Yeah, although, it's Joey, you know? He'll probably get some really hot girl and I'll be stuck with some geeky science nerd."

Monica looked at him funnily. "You have looked in the mirror lately, right?"

"Ha ha," he said sarcastically. "But seriously, I would love if like, I don't know, this amazing girl answers my ad. I know it's a long shot, but I'm just so sick of being single! I mean, I was so insecure after finding out about Carol. Even she got a woman! Why can't I?"

Monica laughed again. "Someone will come, Ross. I wouldn't worry. You're a great guy! I'll be honest, the dinosaur thing isn't exactly a turn-on with women-" he looked at her, hopeless, "- but once someone takes to time to get to know you, I don't doubt that you will have someone amazing there. You're sweet, kind, loyal. You have nothing to worry about, sweetie."

"Thanks, Mon," he said, completely sincere.

"Anyway, I doubt you'll find the woman of your dreams through a roommate ad," she added as a joke.

"You never know . . ."

-----

Ross returned home an hour later, throwing his jacket on the couch. He rolled up his sleeves, prepared to battle whatever that green stain was on his bathroom wall. However, he noticed his answering machine flashing- four messages. 'Who's calling me?', he wondered. 'I only hang out with about four people . . .'

He pressed the play button. "You have four new messages," the machine said. "Message one . . ."

"Hey Ross, it's Chandler. Me and Joey got tickets to the Knicks game tonight, if you want to come. Front row seats, man! Give me a call."

Beep. "Message two . . ."

"Hi, Ross Geller? This is Candy . . .uh, Sexygirl! I'm just answering your ad . . .what, Monica, it's funny! . . .Yes, he'll think it's funny! Oh come on, you're such a killjoy! First, you don't let me play 'Little Black Curly Hair' when you know I want your opinion, and now this! You just suck the fun out of everything! . . .Um, never mind Ross. Bye!"

Beep. Ross rolled his eyes as the messages continued. "Message three . . ."

"Hi Ross, it's your father, just double checking to make sure you're coming to lunch tomorrow. Your mother saw Carol the other day, she said she's looking really happy with Susan! Just thought you should know. A woman at my work is a lesbian, you know. Well, I'll see you tomorrow!"

Beep. "Message four . . ."

Ross lost hope on any of the messages being particularly important. But just as he began to walk towards the bathroom, an unfamiliar silky female voice came out of the answering machine. He stopped cold.

"Hi, uh, Ross Geller? Um, my name's Rachel Green, I just saw your ad in the paper. I was wondering if, maybe, by some chance, you'd maybe like to meet me? You know, to potentially be your roommate or whatever . . . Okay! Well, uh, think about it and if you could give me a call, that'd be great. Um, my number's 555-2487, and the name again is Rachel Green. I live by myself, so, uh, you'll either get me or the answering machine. So yeah. Um, I'll talk to you later maybe!"

Beep. "End of messages."