AN: Well, my birthday rocked, thanks to all of you.
I'm sorry this chapter took a while, but I promise you, very soon, it will be worth it.

Enjoy.


Ross kept running, as if there were a destination. Each step was but another mile toward freedom. It took more and more of a toll on the body, and yet, there was no pain. His legs did not ache, nor did they falter. The blankets of snow did nothing to slow the pace of the sprint, and the harsh crunching of twigs went unheard through the roars of the creature behind him. In every regard, fear should have presented itself, but it did not.

All that mattered was finding the way out.

He couldn't think anymore. His instincts told him to keep going, but his brain told him to accept his fate. Why, of all times, did Ross have to have an internal conflict now? Every passing second was sealing his fate into a bottle, where it would remain forever. A choice had to be made, and it had to be made now.

So, he closed his eyes. He closed his eyes, and pictured everything around him; they were only there because he allowed them to be. Reality was never as it seemed; the past several months proved that notion. Things were always fading in and out, like a dream.

A dream.

The word rang in his head, just as the another from the night before did. It was bell, struck by a bullet .The surrounding forest shattered into pieces like a broken mirror, revealing the darkness that had laid in hiding. Every leaf that fell from the tree came screened onto a piece of sharpened glass, cutting open the ground, where he felt the shockwaves of the quake that followed.

Ross was right. It was a dream; one that was now falling apart right in front of him. However, as each piece broke away into the stream of black, he could smell the weak scent of the pine forest; he could feel the snow nipping at his feet; but most of all, he could feel the pain that came from running so far, in such harsh conditions.

Without further warning, Ross fell to the ground. His body shivered in the cold embrace of the white flurry beneath him, and he almost froze as he heard the beast cry behind him. Piece by piece, the ground came apart, and yet, he knew that there was nothing to fear.

So, as his arm fell, he opened his eyes to nothing.

Nothing, but a lock of golden hair.

And so, Ross had awoken. The combined stench of his wool sweater combined with the metallic heat given off by his computer did the job better than any brand of smelling salts. Getting his bearings together, he lifted his head up, and looked on the screen; there was his report, as he had left it.

Eagerly, Ross placed his creased and callous hands on the keyboard, ready to finish this once and for all. His fingers began moving, albeit slowly; this was quite the feat for Ross, though, as his hands were still numb from laying his head on them. The tingling sensation that followed made him laugh a bit, unable to continue for a bit.

Through his laughter, Ross heard the toilet flushing.

To this end, he turned his head toward the bathroom, and was greeted to a horrible sight. It was not a person, nor a thing he saw, but the sunshine that beat down on him through the open window. Tantalized, but not gone, Ross hastily looked at the clock by the sink, his heart heavy with grief.

7:00 a.m.

His eyes glazed over the green LED display, and hoped that this was but another dream.

It wasn't.

Immediately, Ross began hyperventilating. He had to be at work in under an hour, with a finished report; his boss, Donald, was going to murder him if he came in without it. There was no way to avoid it; nowhere to run or hide. There were no alternative options, either. Calling in sick was out of the question; most of his vacation days were spent moving in and out of Emily's cousin's and the guys' apartment. However, faking illness wouldn't have helped in any way, as he needed a hard copy on his boss's desk in noon.

In every manner, he was screwed.

As he realized this, Ross shot up out of his stool, knocking it onto the ground. His hand palmed his dampened forehead, and he stomped the wooden floor in anger. Chandler, who had just come out of the bathroom, noticed this, and hurried over to his distressed friend.

"What's wrong?" Chandler stopped just short of Ross's elbow, which stuck out like a growth from his head, ready to give him a bloody nose.

"I fell asleep! I was supposed to finish this thing for work, and I fell asleep! Gah, my boss is gonna kill me!" Ross's hands shifted from gesturing his computer to smacking himself in the head. Panic washed over him, as he now tried to figure out what to do whilst simultaneously explaining his situation to Chandler.

"Why-why can't you just ask to, y'know, extend the deadline?"

"I can't! This was supposed to be done a week ago!" Ross's yells hurt his ears, but he managed to shake it off long enough to allow the reprimanding to begin.

"And you just started it? This is not the Ross I know." Chandler mockingly shook his head at his friend.

"It's not my fault! The guy who was in charge of this quit yesterday, and took everything he wrote with him! I had to start from scratch. Now I'm gonna get fired!" Ross raised his voice even higher, slamming the counter with his fist. Without realizing it, he woke up Joey.

"Isn't that a little unreasonable?"

Ross couldn't find an answer at that moment; his emotions were much too busy running rampant through his body and mind, destroying everything in their path. Somehow, not finishing one measly paper truly upset Ross to the point where he almost cried in front of his closest friend. Ross had to do something besides put himself in total hysteria.

It took only a second, but he managed to put everything in perspective.

He had lost his wife. He had lost his home. Now, he had convinced himself that he was on the brink of losing his job. That was pretty much the only thing he could lose, now, other than his friends, which had time and time again proved that they would stick by him, no matter what. So, even if he were fired, he would still have them. He also had a savings account to fall back on. It wouldn't be too bad, would it? After all, with everything that had happened, work should be the least of his worries; the only reason he was panicking was because he chose to.

"I- If I had just stayed awake, I know that I would've finished this. This is just, the worst thing ever." Ross whined, finally lowering his voice to an acceptable level.

"Dude, come on. I'm sure you'll be fine." Chandler patted his best friend on the back, hoping to console him. Ross usually never became so upset like this; he usually just kept to himself, and stayed away from everything, including his friends. This time, however, it was different; he was genuinely scared.

"What's goin' on?" Joey walked out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't help but awaken from the screaming and noise coming from the living room, so, being the good samaritan that he was, checked it out.

"It's just- why me, y'know?" Ross glanced at Joey, before returning to Chandler for one last snippet of gripe. He hated how things were turning out for him, regardless of whether he had control over them or not. It hurt, life. A cruel temptress indeed, when fortune favored the fortunate. The pain was almost unbearable.

However, Ross was smart enough to channel this pain into something positive.

So, he turned to Joey, putting everything he had into calming down.

"I, uh, couldn't finish this work thing in time." While the pain in his voice was evident, it was not enough to break his faรงade.

"So?"

"So? My career depended on this, Joey."

"On what? This essay or whatever?" Joey, still waking up, strolled over to the counter, arms crossed, bending over to get a better look at the words on the screen; as expected, he did not understand many of them. It was an orgy of -sauruses and -raptors, with some exotic ones on the side, such as -don, and -ia. A true smorgasbord for the geek people.

"You don't understand how important that is, Joey."

"Must be pretty important then, since I can't understand any of it."

Joey laughed at his own joke, causing both Ross and Chandler to roll their eyes. Sighing, Ross shut the lid on his laptop in an almost cruel response, before putting it back in his bag on the counter. It was obvious that he had no time for jokes, as usual. The divorce and eviction had taken his sense of humor from him; not that he had much to begin with, anyway.

"Alright, look. I have to get ready for work. What are you guys doing tonight?" He rushed for the bathroom, ready to take the quickest shower of his life. Ross wanted to change the subject to anything, just so that he'd be distracted.

"Dinner at Monica's." Chandler pointed his thumb toward the girls' apartment.

"Okay. I'll probably come home late."

"Why?" His brow furrowed; Ross never came home later than he had to. It became a staple of his character ever since he and Rachel began fighting over it on the eve of their break-up. He knew that in order to upstage her, he had to stay away from hypocrisy.

"Hey, I just lost my job. First thing I should do is drown my sorrows." Ross took the initiative to think that things were always going to be worse than they really were; it was a by-product of being so downtrodden and unlucky, along with losing most of the dignity he was famous for keeping close to his side.

"What a drama queen."

Joey's lewd comment seemed to pest Ross more than anything. The dirtiest look was now given, along with a side of anger. Noticing this, Joey regretfully backed away to Chandler's side. Of course, his heart was in the right place; he did want Ross to get over this, but mocking him was certainly not the correct way.

Without further argument, Ross headed into the bathroom, ready to lose himself in thought within the streams of warm water that cascaded down his body.

x..x..x..x..x..x

Chandler walked through the green door, facing the bright and vibrant purple walls that he had grown accustomed to. His angel waited for him in her black and grey plaid robe, and her shoulder length flaxen hair was soon warming his fingers.

"God, you're so beautiful. You just wake up?" He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, noting how soft and beautiful her alabaster skin was, and how good she smelled; it was certainly better than coffee beans and sunflowers that were advertised in commercials.

"Of course not. You think I'd look good if I did?" Monica chuckled, putting her hand through her freshly shampooed-hair, feeling how soft it was compared to the usual rag she had when she woke up. Growing it out was a bittersweet investment, but Chandler liked it, so she did it. Little did she know, however, that Chandler didn't care; he would think her beautiful even if her head shined in the sun.

"Well, you always do."

Monica couldn't help but smile at his flattery; none of their friends really knew how romantic he could really be. It was like reading one of those trashy romance novels, but more special; this was Chandler, of one of her best friends. It was better with him than with anyone else, because of this bond of friendship.

On the other end, Chandler watched her scarlet lips draw themselves into a thin but gorgeous smile. He knew very well that Monica was the most beautiful woman he had ever gone out with. Not only that, but with her, he felt different. Usually, he'd be insecure and be convinced that he was being cheated on. With Monica, it was different.

He was happy.

He'd stare into her crystal-blue eyes, forever, if he could. Chandler didn't think so much as he did bask in her gaze. Monica did the very same, as she looked up at him. Their hearts began to pace, and Monica decided that it was time to continue to why they were really together, at that moment.

"Rachel's at work. Phoebe's playing at the coffeehouse." Her words were quick, as the urges that had been subsided only last night began to surface again. Her smile grew further, seductively enchanting Chandler to carry on with the dirty deed.

"Ross just left."

Monica growled, and jumped into Chandler's frail arms, which became stronger when handling such precious cargo. He took her into the bedroom, where they would share each other for several hours, or days, or whenever.

As long as no one else found out.