(A/N) Hi all! Thank yous to Laurie M, ClancytheGiraffe, and friendsfan101 for the kind, encouraging reviews. They were very much appreciated (esp. since you were the only three! haha) I can see how the first chapter could've been off-putting or confusing - or both! So you guys helped up my confidence, haha. You guys rock! :) Hopefully it will only get clearer from here - advice: keep an eye out for the dates!

Explanations/disclaimers: Last chapter - "April 2004" was based off of the goodbye scene from TOW Rachel's Goodbye Party, "December 1997" was created off one of Chandler's comments from TOW The Girl From Poughkeepsie. This chapter - "December 2001" is an elaboration of the opening scene from TOW Ross's Step Forward.

Onwards to the chapter! :)


January 2005

Rachel stood behind the podium, nervously adjusting the microphone to her height after Ross had just given his speech. She tugged at the hem of her little black dress for the millionth time.

She cleared her throat. The sound echoed off the walls of the high-ceilinged church.

"None of the amazing things," Rachel began shakily, voice thick with unshed tears, "that have happened to me in the last ten years would've happened if it wasn't for Monica Geller." A hot lump formed in Rachel's throat as she recalled the last time she had spoken these words. Repeating them in the exact order they had last been uttered seemed, to Rachel, irreverent but right all at once.

"No one has been more like a sister to me. I don't know what I'm going to do without her. I can't imagine not seeing her everyday." A stubborn tear fought its way out of Rachel's ducts and rolled down her cheek. "She's the best friend I've ever had."

Quiet sniffles rippled through the audience.

"But I'm so lucky," Rachel continued, her voice shifting up an octave in pitch. "I'm so, so incredibly lucky. Not only because I had the honor of having Monica for so much of my life, but also because the last thing I got to say to her in person was what I just said to you behind this podium. How many people can say that the last thing they would ever tell their best friend was a heartfelt goodbye and how much she meant to them?"

If there had been a dry eye in the house up until that point, it cried then.


November 2007

"You don't look good, Bing," Chandler's perceptive boss said, stubbing out his cigarette in his ashtray. "What gives?"

Chandler eyed the cigarette enviously, fighting the urge to light up one of his own. Instead, he sighed, "Sorry, Steve. It's just – it's this time of year. You know."

Immediately, Steve's face fell. "Oh, God. That's right. Monica."

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry, Bing."

"Me too."

Steve drummed a finger on his table. "Well, I know just what you need." He pulled up an email on his new iMac and perused it. "I know how you feel. You want to get away, don't you? Just want to drop everything, run as far as you can, be unknown for a little while?"

Chandler balked. "Uh, yeah. Exactly that."

Steve pointed to his temple knowingly, as if saying, 'Yup, it's this noggin that made me boss'. "I got your back. How do you feel about Paris, France? Pitching an advertising set to a big firm there? I'm thinking slogans, commercials, print ad motifs."

"That sounds…" Amazing? Fantastic? Perfect? "… great, Steve."

"Good man." Steve clicked around and began printing documents. "I've emailed you the information and some background on the firm. We'll put you up in the Hotel Napoleon for three days next week, but uh – you can stay a bit longer if you'd like. Unpaid leave, of course."

"Of course."

"Are you going to be okay alone in France, Bing?"

Chandler stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled. "Actually, yeah. I have a friend there."


November 2004

Ross Geller glanced at his Rolex for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "Uh, sir?" He rapped on the taxi driver's shoulder. "Sir? Sir?"

The Indian man turned around with a glare. "What?"

"I don't mean to be a nuisance" – here, the taxi driver rolled his eyes – "but I have to be lecturing a class at 10:00… and I have to be there about, well, 10 minutes ago. Do you think you could drive a - teeny bit faster?" He laughed awkwardly, all wheezes and chuckles.

"No," the man replied bluntly, gesturing to the bumper-to-bumper traffic going out of Washington Square. "You see all these cars? How can I get through? What do you think I drive, the Batmobile?"

Ross pulled a face and scoffed. "Geez, no need to be snippy about it." He sat back into his seat and consulted his watch yet again. The traffic really was horrible today. Must be some kind of car accident down south. Probably another motorcycle crash. Those guys always acted like they owned the streets. He wondered how many of his students would ditch class that day.


December 2001

"So around the fourth month of your pregnancy, your hormones start going crazy." Phoebe nodded sagely and took a sip of her coffee.

Rachel stared at her friend in awe. "Really? So this happened to you too?"

"Mmhm."

"Oh God, that explains so much." Rachel sat back in her seat. "You know, the other day, I went from store to store sitting on different Santa's laps."

They laughed. Phoebe launched into her own hormonal anecdotes ("And with triplets? Thrice as randy").

"Wait!" Rachel held up a hand to stop Phoebe mid-sentence. "That cute sporty guy in the back. Just my hormones?"

Phoebe turned around and made a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh. "Yeah. Okay. Well, I don't know what to tell you, Rach, but he's wearing a fanny pack."

"Oh." She grimaced. Even as hormonal as she was, the fashionista inside Rachel refused to let herself go that far. "Deal breaker."

"For sure."

"Ooh!" Rachel sat up straight again, her eye caught by the tall man in a fitted suit and loosened tie at the counter. "Okay wow, check out that one. Sexy. Am I right?"

Phoebe sighed and turned around again. She perused the man's back for a while. When she turned back around, she replied seriously, "Yeah, he's all right. Actually, I think I might know him."

"Really?" Rachel all but clapped in excitement. "Oh, Pheebs, you gotta introduce me!"

"Mm." Phoebe sipped some more coffee. "But, see, the thing is – I think you might know him too."

"What –"

Then the man turned around. And walked towards them. Then, with no hesitation, sat down next to them.

"So I think I have SARS."

"Oh, hey Chandler. Rachel was just checking out your ass."

Chandler paused briefly to register these words. "Huh. Apparently I've had the completely wrong idea of what SARS is, then."

Rachel gave what she thought was a seductive laugh, but to Chandler, it only sounded unnerving.

"Hi, handsome," she greeted, scooting closer to him on the couch. "Been working out lately?"

Chandler couldn't even remember the last time he went to the gym. "Hi, Pinocchio," he deadpanned back. "Been lying lately?" He tapped Rachel's nose lightly, but was startled when she, in one lightning quick motion, bit down on the tip of his index finger.

"Ow! Rach, what was that for?"

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?"

Eyes bulging in disbelief, Chandler whirled around to face Phoebe. He made a sweeping gesture with his arms as if to say - Please explain this!

Phoebe giggled. "Meet… Hormonal Rachel! Brought to you by four months of pregnancy." She shrugged. "But on behalf of Sane Rachel, I apologize for this behavior."

"Oh, right." It made sense to Chandler now; he had remembered when he'd caught a similarly pregnant Phoebe stealing one of his mom's erotic novels. "Hm. I don't know." He turned back to his coquettish blond friend. "I kind of like Horny Rachel. Watch this."

Chandler smirked and brushed his hand up Rachel's tantalizing thigh – a move that, usually, would earn him a sound slap across the face. "Rach," he said huskily, maintaining a straight face. "You are so beautiful."

"God," she replied breathily and grinned. "I'm so turned on right now."

Chandler exhaled. He couldn't deny that he was in an extremely tempting position, but he restrained himself and removed his hand. Damn my good moral character!

"Oh, big deal," Phoebe snorted. "Watch this. Hey, Rach."

"Yeah?"

"Vous sentez comme des poissons."

"Oh, stop it! I'm going to jump on you," Rachel giggled, much to both Chandler and Phoebe's amusement.


December 2007

Rachel came to in what seemed to be a bed made from clouds. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but she could feel a beam of sunlight pierce the outside of her eyelids.

"Ugh." She groaned softly and rolled onto her side in an attempt to dodge the light. It wasn't until she felt her bare skin brush against the silk of the luxurious blanket that Rachel realized that she wasn't fully clothed. Hm, that's weird. She rarely slept without a shirt on (pants were a different story). Where am I, anyway?

She rubbed her eyes and, sitting up slightly, silently took in her surroundings. Duck-egg blue walls. Velvet plush chair. Gilt framed mirror reflecting the view outside the window – a glorious Parisian morning, the Arc du Triomphe in clear view.

The previous night's events rushed back all at once.

Rachel smiled.

The man beside her, now awake, found her hand underneath the covers and squeezed it. Rachel was surprised at how this simple, innocuous act could convey so much love and fill her heart with such warmth.

He offered her a sleepy grin and leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

"Good morning."


November 2004

Good mourning.

Chandler replayed his therapist's words in his head, reflecting on how much that phrase had to be an oxymoron. How could what I'm feeling ever be considered 'good'? But his therapist had assured him that, although, it may not seem like it was right now – how he was reacting was preferable. Some people dealt with grief the wrong way – denial, violence, shutting out the world.

Mourning.

That's what he was doing. At present, it seemed endless, like he would never ever be healed. Like all that lay ahead was a dark tunnel of despair, so deep that it would never spill out into the sunshine again.

Chandler was suddenly doused with a sense of cold dread. What if his therapist was wrong? What if he never coped or moved on with his life?

What if this kind of mourning wasn't the good kind?

And for the first time since Rachel's goodbye party in that green guest room, Chandler cried.


(A/N) How was it? I hope you liked it! Sorry it's a little dark, but I've been trying to pepper in some happy times too. :) As always, everyone is welcome to leave a comment/question/review/anything! Thank you for reading, and I'll update soon!