Here's the second to last chapter, folks! :D

Rachel grabbed Ross' arm and excitedly pointed in the direction of one of the Princesses posing nearby.

"Oh Ross! Can we get a picture with Cinderella? Please, please?!" she begged him. "I used to be such a big fan, and now Emma loves her…"

Ross smiled and, naturally, agreed. "Of course sweetie," he chuckled. "You don't even have to ask."

After taking out his camera and snapping a picture of Rachel with her arm around the Princess, the pair soon left for their next destination: Toontown, the home of Mickey Mouse.

"Augh Goddammit! I don't wanna wait in this frickin line for one and a half hours!!" Rachel complained, folding her arms across her chest.

"Come on, Rach! You really wanna leave DISNEYLAND without meeting Mickey Mouse?"

"…No…"

"My point exactly."

"But I'm tired and I don't wanna miss the fireworks show later!"

Ross glanced at his watch, "Honey, the show's not for another four hours!"

He knelt down in front of her. "Hop on," he told her, insisting she climb onto his back.

She shook her head rapidly from side to side. "Aww sweetie, thank you, but you'll get tired!"

He stood up, not interested in continuing this pointless argument with her. "Oh! I have an idea…" he whispered, removing his sweatshirt and handing it to her. "Sneak this under your top."

"WHAT?!" she replied loudly.

"Shh…no one's watching."

Rachel quickly rolled the sweatshirt into a neat ball and tucked it under her shirt. "Come on Ross, no one's gonna buy this crap."

He kissed her cheek, "Shh, be quiet! You look pregnant. Come, let's go."

They stepped out of the line and Ross urged a confused Rachel forward to the front of the queue.

"Oh my God! What the hell are you making me do?" she wondered aloud.

He soothingly rubbed her right hip, and this simple gesture somehow told her to dispose of all her apprehension and to just blindly listen to him.

"Excuse me. Excuse me, sir!" Ross interrupted, tapping the middle-aged guy who was manning the Mickey Mouse House entrance.

"Yes?"

"My pregnant wife here," he tightened his arm around Rachel. "She's nearly seven months along and unfortunately won't be able to wait-"

The man smiled brightly, adjusting the nametag pinned on his shirt, "Of course! You can go in."

He stepped back so that the young couple could cut in front of everyone and go straight to meet the famed Disney character.

"Thank you," Rachel replied, casually brushing her hand over her fake bump.

"Wow I really admire that guy," Rachel sighed, as they exited the place where they got to meet and greet Mickey Mouse. "It must really suck ass to be stuck in there for the whole day. I'm sure he must get paid a lot!"

Ross stifled a giggle, and when they were a few minutes walk away, he suggested, "Sweetie, why don't you take my sweatshirt out of your top now?"

She blushed and swiftly removed the fake bump from underneath her shirt. "Oh crap, I didn't even realize…!"

"It's okay," he told her.

But before he could say any more, his thought process was interrupted by his girlfriend's high pitched squeals. "Oh wow! Look Ross, it's Donald and Daisy!!"

He laughed at how promptly she could turn into 'little girl Rachel' when the opportunity presented itself.

"And there's no line too! Rach, go over there quickly. Chandler's gonna be pissed if we don't get him his autograph."

She smiled and hurriedly rushed over to the waiting characters. "Excuse me? May I have your autograph?" She realized how weird it must have sounded, and then added, "For my friend – err, nephew?!"

Smooth Rachel, smooth…

Ahh, whatever. They're just cartoon characters; not like you'll ever see them again.

As the autograph procedure completed, Rachel stood in the middle of them and "Donald" and "Daisy" put their arms around her.

Once again, Ross whipped out the camera to take the photo.

He noticed her unadulterated girlishness and the twinkle in her eyes, the sway in her step and the shine of her hair.

Most of all, he watched her complete obliviousness to what was happening around her.

But she had no idea what would happen to her that evening.

And on some level, neither did he.

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