A/n: Wow! Thank you for the outpouring of support. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.

CHAPTER 5 - Not So Funny

Rachel

For a while, Rachel and Ross sat together and Ross listened while Rachel told him the whole story. How Joshua was so critical of her - if her shirt didn't look right or her shoes were less expensive than someone else's, he would taunt her cruelly.

"'Why are so fat?' 'You're hair is turning an ugly color.' 'Your breasts droop more every day,'" Rachel mimicked her husband. "Nothing about me is ever right. Ever." She felt tears welling up in her eyes once again. Joshua was right, and she knew it, but saying it out loud made it worse.

"Rach, none of that stuff is true!" Ross exclaimed. "You are incredibly skinny, your hair is beautiful, and your breasts..." he trailed off uncomfortably, but Rachel caught the tone in his voice.

"Thanks, but you don't have to make all that stuff up," Rachel muttered looking down at her hands.

"I'm not," Ross said, lifting her chin up with one finger. "You can't let him make you believe all that crap! What else did her do? Tell me why he would hit you. It's the only way I can help."

Rachel took a deep breath. This was the hard part. "Um, those times I told you... Jamie running out in the street, Callista falling... once Jamie swallowed a penny and Joshua told me it was my fault for not watching him carefully. I really try to be a good mother, Ross, I try so hard! But I'm not good enough."

"Yes you are," Ross said. "And even if you weren't, he has no right to hit you. Rach, I have a lawyer that can get you and the children away from him, and he can divorce you, anything you want. You just have to promise me that you will testify against him."

"Testify?" Rachel said blankly.

"Yeah. At the trial."

"What trial?"

Ross frowned. "We're pressing charges," Ross said.

"Oh, no, we're not," Rachel said, horrified. "We can't press charges against him! He'll kill me! I just want to divorce him, that's all."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No! I'm serious. No charges. I'm just going to tell him I want a divorce."

Ross studied her. "Are you sure?" No, Rachel wanted to cry out. I want that bastard to rot in jail, I want him to pay for what he did to me.

"He's the father of my children," Rachel said softly. "I don't want them to suffer."

"All right," Ross said. "I'll call the attorney. But, listen, we could protect you - he's a wife beater, for God's sakes - "

"Thank you, Ross," Rachel said. "Thank you. But that's all."

Ross nodded. Then he leaned in and hugged her, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "If you need anything, or just need to talk, come get me."

"I will," Rachel said, biting her lip. She smiled at Ross one last time as he left, then threw herself onto her bed and dissolved into tears. Tears of relief, shock, terror, excitement - all of it had been building inside her, ready to explode. She was leaving Joshua.

Joey

Joey snuck down the stairs and out the back door. It was ten-thirty at night, and he was meeting Phoebe on the beach. All the bedrooms in the house were full, so they'd decided to meet on the sand.

Phoebe. The name brought a jolt in his chest. Phoebe, his - fiancee. He was marrying Phoebe. He grinned. They'd always had a deal - if neither of them were married by the time they were forty, they would marry each other. They were just doing it three years early. Joey always knew they would end up together, but when he was moved across the country for his show, he had been devastated.

But now everything was just right. Joey did a little skip on the sand and crept up behind Phoebe. She was standing right where she was supposed to be, with her back to him. Her blonde hair was flowing lightly along her shoulders, and moonlight shone on her profile. He ran up and put his arms around her.

"Hey, baby," he muttered in her ear.

"Hey, honey," she said back, and they both grinned. They'd always used pet names for each other, but now it all meant so much more. Joey began to nibble on her ear, and before long they were rolling around the sand.

A few hours later, as they lay wrapped in a blanket, holding each other, Phoebe asked a question. "Are we going to have kids?"

Joey mulled this over. "I - I don't know. Aren't we kind of, well, old?"

"Joseph! You are never to tell a woman that she is old... have I not taught you anything?" Phoebe teased. Then she sighed. "I mean, I know 38 isn't the perfect childbearing age, but I've always wanted kids. Don't you want kids?"

"I guess," Joey said. "I mean, yeah, I do... but I don't want to be 75 when my kid graduates from college, you know?"

"Well, do you have any kids hidden away in your pockets? Because I don't."

"You know, by the time we get married, and all... we're gonna be, like, 40."

"So what are you saying?" Phoebe asked, turning to look up at Joey. Joey grinned. He'd just had a wonderful, spectacular idea.

"Let's get pregnant now!" he exclaimed.

"Now?" Phoebe said. "As in, tonight?"

"Why not?"

"Because, Joey, we've only been together for, like, a day!"

"No, that's not true. Pheebs, we've been together for years. You know I love you."

"I know, and I love you too, but... are we ready?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," Joey said, caressing her back. "And, I mean, even if we don't get married right away, or at all... we'll just be friends with a kid! That's pretty cool, you know?"

Phoebe shrugged. "All right then, lover boy. Fertilize me."

Chandler

I've died and gone to heaven, Chandler thought as he kissed Monica. This is heaven. Or else I'm dreaming. There is no way Monica is kissing me.

But she was. Oh, boy, she was. How many times had he dreamed of this? How many nights had he lain awake in bed, wishing that he could feel Monica's lips on his just one more time? How many drinks had he taken to get rid of this very thought when it threatened to consume him?

All of a sudden, her lips her gone. Chandler opened his eyes, and saw Monica staring, open-mouthed, at him.

"What?" he asked. Monica burst out laughing.

"I can't believe - I can't believe we were just - just - kissing!" she cried, laughing.

Chandler let out a dry chuckle, although he didn't see the humor in the situation. "What's so funny?"

"I don't know," Monica said, lowering her booming laughter to a few giggles. "I just - that was really stupid of me. I'm just sort of desperate, you know?"

"Right," Chandler said, realizing what was going on. "Too much salt air. Ha. Ha."

"Can we just - forget this happened?" Monica asked.

"Sure," Chandler said, feeling like he forgot to breathe.

"Okay. I'm sorry - got a little out of my head there! Well, I'd better be going up. And, again - I'm sorry about not telling you before. G'night."

"Night," Chandler mumbled, watching Monica go back inside. Once she was gone, he put his head in his hands.

A joke, he thought. I was a joke. I was her 'desperation' kiss. Monica didn't feel any of what he felt. Not a tad. She - she laughed in his face!

"Oh my God," Chandler said, humiliated. He swallowed hard. Her could still feel her lips massaging his, her hands running through his hair - how could someone kiss like that and not mean it?

What was the point, anyway? What was the point of staying sober if there was no one around to care?

You have a daughter, Chandler's better side thought. You have a daughter who you are going to meet. Be sober for her. Yeah, right. Who knew if Monica was actually going to do what she'd said? And he didn't even know this daughter - what if she hated him? What if he was a terrible father? What if Monica decided she didn't want her daughter around him, didn't want her daughter to know she'd hooked up with her loser best friend eight years ago. And being so lose to Monica and not able to touch her and kiss her again, to hear it was all a mistake - that was too much.

Before he'd even realized where he was going, Chandler was up and heading for the kitchen. He was opening the liquor cabinet...

No! Chandler thought, closing it again. 89 days, man... do you really want to give that up?

Yes. It would make all he pain go away - it would make Monica's laughing, his daughter, the smarting, freshly-salted pain - make it all go away. A drink was what he needed. He could imagine the cool, burning feeling as the first sip went down his throat, and all the proceeding sips. His head would feel lighter, carefree, his nerves would unjumble, his heart would stop pounding, the tears threatening to overcome him would go away. God, how good it would feel.

He took out a bottle of good, hard vodka, pulled a glass out of the cabinet, and poured himself the first drink he'd had in 89 days.

A/N: Hope you liked this chapter! Sorry about the cliffhanger! If I get lots of reviews, I will try to post the next chapter tonight, because I know the end of this chapter will drive you crazy. Keep the reviews coming!