June 6, 1992

The now twenty four year old Phoebe stood in her old friends apartment, glaring at Leslie. Her fists balled up, her jaw clenched in anger. It had taken some detective work on Phoebe's part that had brought Leslie and Phoebe back together two years earlier. Phoebe had gone back to Leslie's old house and asked her mom where Leslie was and tracked her down to a coffee shop she was working at near the New York Institute of Massage. The two reunited, picking up where they had left off. There had been tears, Leslie apologizing to Phoebe on behalf of her step dad, telling her that Leslie's step dad had run out on her and her mom. Phoebe was never angry at Leslie and they picked up where they left off, catching up on each others lives. Phoebe was still living at Port Authority, working at The Closet and going to massage school. Leslie has gone to Boston University, majored in advertising and was trying to get a job in advertising.

That had been two years earlier and in addition to catching up, they decided to resume their roles as writing partners. When they weren't working and when Phoebe wasn't busy with school, they would perform in coffee shops and sing songs they'd written. There were songs about shoes that were sticky and men made out of paper mache. They had been an amazing two years for Phoebe. She loved playing with Leslie. She considered it the most fun she had had in a long time.

Phoebe would often crash at Leslie's or Sue Ellen's studio apartments at times but for the most part she was on her own, saving up to graduate and finally get a place and after much debate, she had decided that place would be with Leslie. Phoebe wanted nothing more than to live with her best friend. She had dreams of getting a loft where they could play music and act like sisters. That had been the thought, but standing there on that Saturday afternoon, those thoughts were suddenly disappearing.

"I don't understand why you're so upset?" Leslie asked.

"Because you sold out. You went and you took our songs to an advertising agency," Phoebe said.

Phoebe had stopped at Leslie's studio apartment that day, not expecting the news that Leslie dropped on her. Leslie had taken their songs to an agency and they apparently wanted to sign both of them.

"They loved it...I mean, they want to sign us. We can write jingles for them and we can make so much money. Oh G-d...think about it."

"No. First, I don't want to be in advertising. I wanna be a masseuse. I took the State Exam a week ago to become a masseuse. Some mysterious donor paid for my entire education, the exam and my books for all three years. That's over fifty grand. I think I owe him to follow through on that."

"It can be a back plan. Don't you wanna finally make money?"

"No. I don't care. If I cared about money...then I would have tried to do something about it. But I've survived ten years with no home, no phone number...hell, I haven't even been to a dentist or a doctor since I was thirteen. I'm lucky I'm still alive."

"You know, Pheebs. You are unbelievable. People give you an out and you won't take it. I offer for to live in my house-"

"With your step dad who felt me up."

"It was still a home and I know your friend Sue Ellen and myself...have offered up our homes-"

"In a studio apartment."

"It's still a home," Leslie said, her voice becoming louder. "Maybe you like being homeless."

"I don't like being homeless. I'm going to be fine."

"And we sign the deal for the advertising company, we can actually get a two bedroom apartment. We could afford it. They're gonna pay us a lot of money."

Phoebe glared at her friend. When she and Leslie had reconnected to years ago, she had always felt like maybe something was different. She and Leslie just seemed so different now although she didn't want to see it. She was desperate to not see it. She didn't want to grow apart from her best friend but they had taken different paths in their lives. They were different people.

Leslie couldn't possibly understand how against this whole advertising jingle thing Phoebe was and Phoebe was against it. Her songs were from her heart. They were private and personal. They were her's. If they were used for commercials, they would be ruined. There were televisions at Port Authority, she had watched commercials. The jingles were cute but she never wanted to part of it.

"Maybe we shouldn't be roommates," Phoebe found herself saying.

"What?"

It stunned Phoebe to hear the words coming out of her mouth but as she stood there, she slowly came to realize something she had tried to ignore for the past two years. Maybe she and Leslie weren't friends anymore and hadn't been friends for awhile. Maybe she had been trying to recapture something that was long gone and that broke her a little.

"If we're fighting already, then maybe we shouldn't be roommates. Leslie, I don't want to write jingles. I don't want to make a ton of money. That's not my goal."

"Then what is your goal? And don't say it's a home because it's obviously not that. We could have a home. You don't have to live on the streets."

"I want happiness."

"If we take the job at the advertising firm, we will have happiness in a lovely two bedroom apartment."

"No, no...I want to feel...home. I want warmth and...did you ever look for me?"

"What?"

"I left your house nine years ago and I was the one that tracked you down. I missed you. Did you miss me?"

"Of course I missed you but I wouldn't have known how to track you down. I mean, it's not like you left me an address."

"I think I need to go."

"What are you gonna do after you graduate next week? Where are you going to live?"

"I'll figure it out."

Phoebe turned on her heel and walked out of the apartment. As soon as she made it outside, she leaned against the wall of the apartment building with tears in her eyes. She would be graduating in a week and what she thought she had wanted seemed to be suddenly torn from grasp.

She had tracked Leslie down in the summer of 1990. She had finished her first year at The New York Institute of Massage and spent the summer working and catching up with her old friend. She had spent many nights going between Sue Ann and Leslie's apartments and just enjoying her summer. She dated a lot, absorbing herself in that wondrous freedom, she'd come to love in her life.

When school started again, she was taking more difficult courses, still working and on the weekends, singing with Leslie. That second year was phenomenal. She had friends, boyfriends and Duncan had even come into town for what was her twenty third birthday in February of 1991. That had been a great birthday, the spent the weekend in his hotel room, never leaving and ordering room service.

Before she knew it, her final year of school had arrived and she could almost feel that degree in her hands. She and Leslie were playing together as much as they could and Betty had given her a raise. Phoebe was the one who went against her belief that good friends should not room together and instead made the suggestion because she had felt Leslie was the exception. Leslie had been a better sister to her than even her own sister whom she hadn't seen or heard from in ten years. She so badly wanted to be friends with Leslie. She was convinced Leslie was her ticket to that warmth, that feeling of family.

Now, as she leaned against the wall of Leslie's apartment, Phoebe remembered the weird images that psychic had once described to her: the chandelier with clown noses, the green wedding dress, the harmonica in a baking dish, the dinosaur figurine and the meatball sub on top of two pizza boxes. Did Leslie represent any of those images? Phoebe shook her head, it didn't matter. This was her best friend and she had lost her best friend and that killed and she had nowhere else to go.

Phoebe turned and began to walk slowly back towards Port Authority, crying softly as she walked. On her way, she stopped at a newsstand and bought herself a newspaper. She looked at apartment listings as she walked, trying not to think about Leslie. As she walked, not paying attention to anyone else, she stopped suddenly.

Roommate wanted: SWF 22yrs old looking for a female roommate. Two bdrm apt in the Village. Must be non smoker, neat and friendly. No pets. Please contact for appt.

Phoebe looked at the address. It was on Bedford Street. She knew where that was. She could walk there. She remembered Bedford. She and Duncan had had their first date at that sandwich place on Bedford.

She began walking, as she walked, her heart began beating fast. The pain of losing her best friend seemed to lessen with every step she took. Leslie could go to hell, for all she cared. Well that wasn't true, but she would be okay, she just knew it. She had to see that apartment.

When she reached Bedford, her heart dropped when she noticed the sandwich shop was now a bar. She looked up at the building, it looked so beautiful that Phoebe began to wonder if she could even afford it but that thought was shoved out of her mind. She needed this apartment. Something about that ad, something about that building, She needed to be there. She looked at the phone number listed and walked into the bar. She would make an appointment, right now.

"Can I use your phone?" Phoebe asked the bartender.

"Only if you buy a drink."

"Uh, a shot of Whiskey, a dirty martini and a Jack and Coke," Phoebe said.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, handed her the phone and went to go make her drinks. Phoebe squinted a little at the paper and dialed, praying the girl who had the apartment was home and when she answered, Phoebe breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Hi...I'm Phoebe Buffay. Can I see your apartment? Like in ten minutes?" Phoebe asked.

After being told that was fine, Phoebe downed and paid for her drinks before walking back outside towards the the front of the building. She looked at the names until she found GELLER on the keypad and pressed the button. She was immediately buzzed in and began walking the flights of stairs. It was six flights of stairs. Monica Geller was in apartment 20. As she walked, the pain she had been feeling earlier seemed to melt. She couldn't shake this strange feeling like she was supposed to be there.

She took a deep breath and knocked on green door of apartment 20 and suddenly, a petite woman with long dark brown hair opened the door. She was grinning broadly.

"Hi, I'm Monica."

"I'm Phoebe."

"Come on in," Monica said.

There was something about this girl that seemed familiar but she couldn't quite place it. She felt like she had met this girl before. She walked into the apartment, it was purple and huge. There was a big couch in the center of the room and sitting on the couch were two young men, staring at her. One, she didn't recognize, but the other she most certainly did and he was grinning at her. Phoebe knew he recognized her.

"Oh, Phoebe. This is my brother Ross and this is Ross' friend, Chandler."

"I'm your friend too," Chandler said.

"It really depends on the day," Monica said.

"You're so kind," Chandler said.

"So Phoebe, where are you from?" Ross asked.

"New York...upstate," Phoebe said.

"Let me show you the apartment-" Monica said.

"It's really big though," Phoebe said.

"Rent control...and illegal subletting," Monica said.

"Monica," Ross admonished.

"What? Alright...this is a kitchen. I'm a chef. I cook a lot so don't worry about food. Oh and Ross and Chandler are here way too much. I hope you don't mind."

"No."

"Great...now this is the living room, the balcony...out there.. My room is over there by the window and this would be your room," Monica said walking towards an empty pink bedroom.

"Wow," Phoebe said.

"So Phoebe, where are you living now?" Ross asked.

Phoebe turned and looked at Chandler who was still smiling at her. She didn't know what to say to that. What could she possibly answer? She was pretty sure Chandler recognized her and if she lied, would he call her out?

"Um...I live by the Port Authority bus terminal," Phoebe offered.

"Oh, yeah...there are some really nice apartments down there," Chandler said, almost immediately.

"Yeah, there are," Phoebe smiled at him, breathing a sigh of relief. Chandler was still grinning at her, giving her this knowing look like he could see right through her. Ross though was clueless.

"Do you have references? Oh, also...what do you do for a living?" Ross asked.

"Ross, please. You said you were going to let me interview perspective roommates on my own," Monica said. "Trust me, I'm not going to choose a murderer as a roommate."

"Although, I bet they'd have some great carving knives," Chandler mused.

"Chandler," Monica said.

"You're a chef," Chandler said.

"Actually, I'm graduating next week from The New York Institute of Massage. I'm going to be a masseuse," Phoebe said, looking over at Chandler, trying to gauge a reaction at that news. He smiled and simply nodded.

"So you're unemployed? How did you manage to pay rent in the apartments near Port Authority? A studio is like two grand a month and-" Ross said.

"Ross...go downstairs and get a drink, please or go home to your wife," Monica said.

"Come on, man. I trust Monica," Chandler said getting up and patting Ross on the shoulder. Ross let out an annoyed sigh and got up. He followed Ross towards the door. Phoebe and Monica watched as they walked out, closing the door behind them. Phoebe silently said thanked Chandler and then ran over all his comments and looks in her head, wondering if he gave any hint that he might just be her donor.

"Are you homeless?"

Phoebe jumped a little at the sound of Monica's voice behind her. She looked at Monica and shook her head.

"What?"

"The apartments near Port Authority are really, really expensive. Something seems off...are you homeless?"

"No, no...I live right by Port Authority."

"By or in?" Monica asked.

Phoebe let out a sigh. Monica knew. At that moment, Phoebe began to contemplate walking out but something in her kept her rooted to that spot. She needed this apartment. She wasn't sure what the reason was, but she knew she needed it more than anything. Phoebe walked over to the couch and sat, Monica sat next to her, looking concerned.

"I'm homeless. I've been homeless since I was fourteen. My mom killed herself and I ended up on the streets. I've been surviving and I..."

"How are you in school?" Monica asked.

"I saved up enough for a semester and I um...I..got financial aid for the rest," Phoebe said, not sure how to explain the whole mysterious donor thing to Monica...as she wasn't quite sure how to explain it herself..

"Oh."

"Monica...I know I am not an ideal roommate...but -"

"Oh my G-d." Monica said, suddenly, bringing her hand up to her mouth.

"What?" Phoebe asked.

"You're the girl."

"What girl?"

"When I was seventeen, I volunteered at a soup kitchen and there was a girl...tall, blonde...wearing a Lincoln High sweatshirt. I remember her because she seemed strange but so happy even though she was homeless and...and...but her name...I don't remember it but-"

Phoebe's mouth dropped too. How could this girl possibly remember her? It couldn't be...could it?

"Did you have a bitchy friend?" Phoebe asked, grinning. She did remember the soup kitchen. She remembered the heavy girl and her bitchy friend. But she was even more amazed that this girl remembered her after only one meeting five years ago. Had she really made that much of an impact on her?

"Yes, I did. Rachel. I'm not friends with her anymore. But I remember you were so optimistic and I thought it was so wonderful and so inspirational that here you were with nothing and yet you were happy and you had that laugh and...it made me just look at things differently," Monica said.

"Wow...wait...weren't you...well, I think I remember you but weren't you-"

"Heavier. I've lost a lot of weight."

"You look good."

"Thanks. Be my roommate, Phoebe."

"What? I have no references...or a job."

"I don't care. You'll get a job. Right, you are graduating in a week?"

"Yes."

"I want you to be my roommate. You inspired me, Phoebe. I mean, I don't remember people I've met in the last week...but I met you one time five years ago and yet...be my roommate. We'll get you a bed...'cause I'm sure you don't have one. Maybe some furniture."

Phoebe smiled as Monica grinned at her. This was too weird. About an hour earlier, she was fighting with Leslie, she was ending a friendship she had thought would last forever and now here she was meeting someone completely new but there was a strange feeling being in Monica's apartment. Something she had never felt before, she felt home.

A week later, Phoebe sat on stage wearing a cap and gown. It was her graduation day. Sue Ellen, Marjorie, Blackie the albino window washer, Betty, Duncan, Lowell and Cindy sat together in one of the rows. She grinned at them and waved, the tears could not stop falling. She had found out she had officially passed her exam and was now licensed. She had done it. Leslie had not shown up and while that did hurt, seeing her friends that had been through the fire with her waiting for her made her happier than she had ever been.

Scanning the crowds, she noticed three familiar faces, sitting there towards the back. There sat Chandler, Monica and Ross. She wondered how they knew about her graduation or where it was? She looked at Chandler and wondered if he were her donor the he must be feeling pretty great right now. She hoped that he didn't regret his decision. Phoebe just kept crying as she sat there. This moment seemed so unreal and in that moment, she made a mental note that she would never forgive Leslie. By not showing up to her graduation, Leslie had betrayed her and cut a wound that could never and would never be repaired.

She had everything she needed at that moment, her past comforting her and sitting in the back was her future. She had never expected this moment in her life. She had wanted it so badly and now there it was, within her grasp. She knew in that moment, she would never be homeless again. She now had direction. Phoebe Buffay was going home.