Past & Present
Chapter 10: A Damn Cold Night
DISCLAIMER: I don't own "Friends" or any of the characters. But I really should…don't you guys agree?
THE PREMISE: Rachel must choose between her past and her future. Will tragedy be the result?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: One thing I need to get out of the way first: yes, this story is dramatic. That's why I categorized it as a romance/drama. If drama is not your thing, you might want to stop reading now, because the drama is going to be dialed up to new levels in the two chapters following this one.
Having said that…
The countdown to the resolution begins in the next chapter. There are probably only four chapters remaining at this point. I already know how it's going to end and how we're going to get there. I realize that there have been a few twists and turns. This chapter is no exception. If some of the things that happen in this one seem a little crazy, just hang in there with me. All will be revealed in the end, and I think most of you will be very happy with the finale.
I've taken some criticism for the direction and tone of this story. Like any writer, I believe in staying true to my vision even if it's not to everyone's liking. Still, some good reviews would mean everything to me right now. I really need some positive feedback. So, as always, read, enjoy, and review!
P.S. – The title of this chapter comes from an Averil Lavigne song: "I'm With You". I listened to it as I wrote certain parts of this, and it seeped in somehow.
~*~*~
"What happened with you and Mike?" Chandler stirred his coffee as he asked Phoebe his question.
"It was just a misunderstanding," Phoebe answered, leaning closer to Chandler so he could better hear her against the din of the morning rush in Central Perk. "You know his ex wife has sort of a problem with pills…"
They were interrupted by the arrival of Ross, who smiled when he saw Chandler but stopped short when he saw Phoebe. He stood still for a moment, debating with himself about whether or not to join them before taking a seat next to the little table.
"Phoebe was just telling me about what happened with Mike," Chandler told him. Ross nodded and stared at Phoebe's boots.
"Anyway," Phoebe continued, clearing her throat. "She was having a hard time because their bird died…he went over to help her find someone to cremate the bird for them. He ended up staying all night, talking her into getting treatment for this whole prescription drug thing of hers." Phoebe smiled and gazed up at the ceiling. "He's so awesome!"
"So are you both on for helping me paint the baby's room?" Chandler asked.
"I'm for anything that involves paint fumes," Phoebe answered. "What color is it going to be?"
"Well, since the amnio results revealed that it's a boy, we decided to go with a revolutionary choice."
"Blue?" Ross chimed in.
"Yeah, pretty much," Chandler answered.
"What time?" Phoebe was getting up to leave.
"Around 6:00." Chandler turned his attention to Ross. "You're coming too, right?"
"Of course. Although I am allergic to paint fumes."
"You're scared of painting under Monica's supervision, aren't you?" Chandler countered.
"Terrified." Ross's eyes followed Phoebe as she made her way to the door of the coffee house. "I'll be right back…I just remembered something I forgot to tell Phoebe."
He rushed to the door, catching Phoebe by the arm as she stepped out.
"Is that it? You're just going to go back to him without so much as telling me why?"
"I love him…and he loves me. I can't ruin that over a physical thing with you." She paused, her natural honesty getting the better of her. "Even if it was a really intense, powerful thing…which it was."
"Can you give yourself more time to think? Maybe you and Mike could go on a break until you decide…"
"Seriously, you've got to stop with this break thing of yours." She sighed and took a step back from him. "Look, I'm sorry I hurt you. It was a mistake. What I have with you is too important to destroy for some fleeting attraction."
"It's not a fleeting attraction," he insisted, knowing that the battle was lost.
"Let's go back to the way things were and pretend that those two incidents never happened," she pleaded, looking suddenly exhausted. "I feel like death warmed over this morning. I'm not up to rehashing this right now."
He loosened his hold on her arm. "I'm sorry," he said, as much to himself as to her.
"I've got to get to an important appointment. Can we finish this later?"
Ross nodded. "I'll see you tonight at the paint party."
She gave him a quick hug and disappeared into the crowded street.
~*~*~
"Six cans of 'Summer Sky'?" Monica called from her seat on the couch.
"Check," Chandler answered.
"Five natural fiber brushes?"
"Check."
"Five paint pans?"
"Check."
"Five rollers?"
"Check," Rachel called from the room she occupied, where she was arranging painting supplies. "I got everything covered in there," she said as she joined Chandler and Monica in the living room. "What time is everyone supposed to get here?"
Chandler checked his watch. "Any minute now. Everyone said they'd be here, but I haven't seen Ross or Phoebe since this morning."
"Have you seen Joey?" Rachel asked, hiding her face by rummaging through Monica's neatly organized box of scrap rags.
"Yeah, he'll be here. He's in charge of sandwiches."
"I suppose Lydia will be joining him." Rachel pronounced Lydia's name with mocking sarcasm.
"God, I hope not." Chandler shuddered.
"Why not?" Rachel looked up from the rag box, eagerly awaiting Chandler's assessment of her competition.
"Well, you know those really annoying tiny monkeys that screech constantly and are all over you twenty-four seven?"
"You mean like Marcel?" Monica interjected.
"Yeah, like Marcel," Chandler answered. "Give Marcel a French manicure and a laptop – instant Lydia."
"While I agree with you," Monica said from the couch, "you know way too much about nail care."
"For the love of God, she is so loud. Janice sounds like Enya by comparison." Monica and Rachel both laughed, causing Chandler to warm to his subject. "She's so short and tiny, I'm always expecting her to invite me to join the Lullaby League or the Lollipop Guild. And she's all over Joey, all the time, like he's the jungle gym at McDonald's Play Place and she's a five year old who needs to refill her prescription for Ritalin."
Chandler made a sour face, mimicking Lydia's smoky voice and Queens accent. " 'Joey, let's go get a snack. Joey, come look at the new page I made for you. Joey, I need a new CD burner. Joey, the Knicks still suck. Joey, pretend like Jessica is your real daughter and buy her some stuff, too!'"
"Sweetie, do you really think she's after his money?" Monica asked, concerned.
"I don't know. I do know he's not in love with her." Chandler glanced at Rachel. "He's lonely. He's so desperate to fill the void in his life…he hasn't stopped to question her motives."
The conversation was interrupted when Joey opened the front door. He was carrying a box from the deli around the corner. "I brought sandwiches!" He set the box down on the table and cast a longing glance at Rachel.
"Is Lydia coming too?" Monica didn't look up from her paint chips as she spoke.
"Nah, she has some parent-teacher thing at Jessica's school." His eyes shot nervously to Rachel. "Besides, we don't go everywhere together. It's not like she's my girlfriend or something!" He waved his hands in the air emphatically. "We're not dating. We're not seeing each other. And we are most definitely not sleeping with each other." He stopped, pausing for breath and looking hopefully at Rachel. "We're just friends. That's all we'll ever be."
A surge of happiness over his words lifted Rachel to the clouds. "Let's get the painting started." She led the way to her room.
~*~*~
Ross had just changed into a faded NYU sweatshirt and jeans when his phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Ross, it's me," Phoebe's voice responded. "I need some help."
"Sure, what is it Pheebs?"
"Are you busy right now?" Her words were stressed with urgency.
"I was just on my way to Monica's to help with painting…but it can wait…"
"Can you borrow her car? I need to leave for Montauk, like - now."
Montauk…that's where her birth mother lives, he reminded himself. "Phoebe, what's wrong? Tell me."
"I can't tell you. You're going to have to trust me on this." She paused, fighting tears. "Ross, please take me to Montauk. I have to see my mother."
"Why isn't Mike taking you?" He asked only to satisfy his curiosity. Ross already knew that he would be the one to take her, not Mike or anyone else.
"Mike can't find out about this." She burst into tears. "Please help me."
"Tell me where to meet you." Holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder, he grabbed his jacket and some cash from the dish on his coffee table.
"In front of Dot's." She sniffled loud. "And Ross…"
"What?"
"Don't tell anyone where I'm going."
~*~*~
The phone rang, slicing into Chandler's rendition of "Torn Between Two Lovers, Feelin' Like A Fool". He, Rachel, and Joey had been painting the spare room for almost an hour. The only interruption had been a brief visit from Ross, who'd borrowed the keys to the Porsche for some mysterious errand. Phoebe was a no-show.
Monica's voice drifted into the spare room as she answered the phone.
"This is his wife."
"Oh, did he? Thanks for calling us. He'll be right down there to pick it up."
Rachel and Joey looked at each other conspiratorially behind Chandler's back as he stepped into the doorway that connected to the living room.
"What was that about?"
"You left your wallet on the checkout counter at the paint store." Monica stood up, stretching. "Since Rachel and Joey have everything under control with the paint, I think I'm going to take a bath while you go down there and pick it up."
Chandler put his paint roller back in its tray and wiped his hands on one of the rags piled on the floor. "Be back in a few minutes," he told Rachel and Joey as he headed for the door. Within seconds, he was gone and Monica was locked inside the bathroom.
~*~*~
Chandler stepped outside the building, still humming "Torn Between Two Lovers" to himself as he turned in the direction of the paint store. He pulled his jacket around him, shivering a little as the cold wind nipped at his face.
The sound of an engine ripped through the relative quiet of the evening. Chandler raised his head, surprised at the sight of Monica's Porsche roaring to a stop in front of Dot's.
What the hell?
His surprise doubled as Phoebe burst through the door of Dot's Spot carrying an overnight bag. She raced to the Porsche, threw open the door of the passenger side, and climbed in next to Ross before he tore out through the street at top speed.
He was sure neither of them had seen him. But what on earth were those two doing, hauling ass in his wife's car, and together, no less?
And why couldn't they have just told everyone where they were going? Why all the secrecy?
It was a mystery he intended to solve.
But first he had to go pick up his wallet.
~*~*~
Rachel sat cross-legged on the floor, idly stirring the baby blue paint in a way that would have appalled Monica. Being left alone with Joey unnerved her. His physical presence overpowered her, sending every square inch of her body into overdrive. She was as uncomfortable as a teenage girl on her first date - and with Joey of all people – the person she had felt the most comfortable with for so many years.
She watched as he refilled his tray with paint. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he said, breaking the silence. "For all I know, there's some special method for paint pouring and this is ass-backwards."
She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, watching the way his hand gripped the roller. "I won't tell if you don't."
"Where have I heard that before?" His mouth twisted ruefully at her as he dragged his roller through the paint.
"That seems to be our thing, doesn't it?" She fumbled for a change of subject. "How's it going with Drake?"
"It's going good…I'll find out tomorrow if I get to present a Soap Opera Digest award."
Rachel gasped. "Do you think you have a good chance?"
He shrugged philosophically. "The producers think so. Estelle will find out tomorrow and give me a call." He put his roller down and turned to her. "You wanna break for a sandwich?"
"Sure." She stood up and looked at him, noticing something. "Sweetie, you've got a big paint splotch on your face."
"Where?" He ran his hand over his face, seeking the unwanted paint. "I'll go to the bathroom and wash it off."
"You can't – Monica's taking a bath, remember?" She took a rag from the pile on the floor and led Joey to the kitchen by the hand. "I'll get it for you."
She sat him down in a kitchen chair before holding the rag under hot tap water. She then walked from the sink to the chair where Joey was seated, standing between his knees. Tilting his face upward, she dabbed at the paint stain on his brow with the hot, damp cloth.
His warm hand stole around her waist, burning her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt. She sucked in a breath and looked down into his eyes. They were staring up at her, searing her with their heated intensity.
"Almost got it," she said in a shaky voice, referring to the paint splotch. She moved her hand slowly away from his brow. He caught it with his free hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the inside of her wrist, filling her with molten heat. Her blood rushed to all sorts of interesting places as he worked his lips up the soft skin of her inner arm, giving her a one-way ticket to pleasure.
Don't stop, she silently willed him, her knees sinking beneath her. She released a sigh, realizing how long she'd been holding her breath. His other hand was around her waist and he was drawing her onto his lap, assuring that they were face to face.
"Kiss me," she ordered him in a whisper as she placed her hands on the back of his neck.
His lips brushed hers tentatively at first, then with an agonizing fever fueled by countless days of denial and suppression. Her demanding response spurred him on. She drank in the taste of him, the feel of his hair gliding through her fingers, the flawless way their bodies melted together.
He removed the clip that was holding her hair in an upsweep, setting it free to fall around her shoulders before brushing her hair out of her face in the familiar gesture that never failed to trigger something inside her.
"Couch?" She pulled away to ask him.
"Couch, floor, table…I don't care." He resumed the kiss. His hands were on her rear end, pushing her against him.
Rachel thought fast. "Monica can hear us in here. Let's go back to my room." She grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her.
Just as her foot crossed the threshold, Chandler opened the front door and let himself in. Rachel let go of Joey's hand and Joey rolled his eyes at her in frustration.
"Did I interrupt something?" Chandler insinuated. "Or do you two always run into empty rooms holding hands and panting?" He reached into the fridge for a soda. "By the way, Joey, nice lip-gloss. You sure coral is the right shade for you?"
Joey sheepishly wiped away the stain of Rachel's lip-gloss he'd acquired during their kisses. Rachel pushed her hair back into its former upsweep, noticing that her hair clip was under the kitchen table. She scurried over to retrieve it as Chandler continued talking.
"You two should know you don't have to hide what's going on from me," he was saying. "But Monica will kill you if you have sex on her couch."
"We weren't gonna," Joey pouted.
"Yes, you were!" Monica yelled from the bathroom.
"No, we weren't!" Joey called to the bathroom door. "We were gonna have sex in the baby's room!"
Rachel closed her eyes and put her hand on her forehead in horror.
"Yeah, I'm gonna go paint now," Joey said in embarrassment, trudging back into the spare room. Rachel followed with Chandler behind her, snickering.
~*~*~
She rolls the window down
And she talks over the sound
Of the cars that pass us by
And I don't know why
But she's changed my mind
Would you look at her
She looks at me
She's got me thinking about her constantly
But she don't know how I feel
And as she carries on without a doubt
I wonder if she's figured out
I'm crazy for this girl
Montauk: 5 Miles.
The green sign on the side of the road left no room for interpretation as Evan and Jaron's song played on the radio. They would be arriving in Montauk within minutes, and Ross still had no idea what was propelling Phoebe along this desperate path.
She had withdrawn into some private corner of herself the minute he'd picked her up, a place where no visitors were allowed and no communications were given or received.
Ross supposed that it was a survival technique she'd developed during her years on the street, this ability to disappear inside herself, shutting out the rest of the human race. He diverted his eyes from the road just long enough to take a mental snapshot of her: long legs twisted pretzel-like beneath her, head tilted to the side and propped against the car window, eyes looking out on the scenic ocean view but seeing nothing.
Even the large crystal ring on her delicate hand suddenly seemed too heavy for someone so fragile.
As the rounded the corner that led them to her mother's beach house, he found himself wishing that he could save her from whatever demon had latched onto her. And not just that, he thought as he glanced across at her again, watching her sigh and close her eyes. He wanted to go back into her past and erase all those years of misery and deprivation and suffering, just as he'd given her a bike and concert tickets and so many other things. He was always seeking a way to make up for what life had denied her.
She was the one to hold me
The night the sky fell down
And what was I thinking when
The world didn't end
Why didn't I know what I know now
"Third house on the left," she mumbled, steeling herself.
Ross turned the car, wishing that she'd tell him her troubles before he had to leave her but knowing that she wouldn't.
The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the gravel driveway of Phoebe, Sr.'s house. He eased slowly up the driveway before switching off the ignition.
"I'm gonna go now," she said without looking at him. "My mom will bring me home in a day or two." She grabbed her bag and opened the car door.
Ross let himself out and ran to her side of the car. "At least let me carry your bag for you and walk you in," he pleaded.
"No." She shook her head decisively. "This is my own mess to clean up." She edged past him and walked slowly up the sidewalk that led to her mother's front door. Ross heaved a sigh as he watched her go.
Phoebe abruptly turned and dropped her bag on the ground, running back down the sidewalk to the car and throwing her arms around Ross' neck. A salty sea breeze intertwined with the distinctive scent of her trademark essential oil fragrance, wrapping itself around Ross and imprinting his senses with an indelible memory.
"Thank you," she whispered into his ear. Just as quickly, she fled his arms and raced back to the door, stopping only long enough to pick up the bag she'd dropped on the ground.
Right now
Face to face
All my fears
Pushed aside
And right now
I'm ready to spend the rest of my life
With you
Ross saw Phoebe's mother opening the door, her blonde hair gleaming like a halo against the light from the house. She welcomed her daughter with an embrace before taking her inside the house and closing the door, leaving Ross alone in the dark.
~*~*~
"Morning," Rachel said to Monica and Chandler as she stepped out of the bathroom with a dreamy smile, her hair still damp from the shower.
"Someone woke up happy," Chandler said over his coffee cup from the big chair.
"Either that or she got too many paint fumes," Monica answered, turning to the Lifestyles section of the morning paper.
"It's not paint fumes," Rachel said over her shoulder as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "It's…" she stopped with a smile and sigh of pure bliss.
"Joey," Monica finished for her.
"We did have a pretty amazing moment last night." Rachel curled up on the end of the couch by Monica's slipper clad feet.
"I'm all for amazing moments," Monica said, reaching over to pat Rachel. "And I'm happy for you. But honey, please – don't have any amazing moments on my white couch, ok?"
Before Rachel could answer, Chandler broke in. "Why didn't you two just go across the hall?"
The simplicity of it all struck Rachel. "Why didn't we just go across the hall?" She smacked her forehead ala Joey.
"I've noticed you two don't do your best thinking when you're together," Monica observed. "Not to mention how all that blood deprivation was challenging for your brains."
"Gotta get a shower so I can get to work on that proposal," Chandler said. "Don't do anything to mess up the couch while I'm gone," he called as he shut the bathroom door.
"Since I have the morning off, you know what I'm going to do?" Rachel asked Monica.
"What?"
"I'm going to write Joey a long, long letter and tell him exactly how I feel."
"Why? You know he doesn't really like to read…"
"Because I know how I really feel about him now. Last night really opened my eyes to it. I'm ready to move forward, if he is."
"I think you already know the answer to that question," Monica smiled.
"It's like all my doubts are gone. It's worth the risks…it's worth fighting Ross, if it comes to that."
"It won't come to that," Monica assured her. "He needed time to adjust to the idea. He'll come around."
"I hope you're right."
"Even though you guys aren't together anymore, a part of him still loves you. He wants you to be happy. And deep down, he loves Joey. I know he misses the friendship they used to have." Monica folded her paper and sat up. "Why don't you just tell Joey what you've decided?"
Rachel shrugged. "The physical stuff with us is so strong that it always gets in the way. But it's not just that…I want to give him time to think it over with no pressure from me. If he feels the same way and decides it's worth the risk, we'll figure out where to go from there." Rachel walked over to the cabinet that doubled as a TV stand. "Do you have any stationary?"
"It's on the left, organized by size, color, and type of paper." Monica's words were rushed with excitement. "To the right of it, I have pens, divided by type and color. Felt tip, ballpoint, calligraphy…"
Rachel selected a few sheets of pink paper with a matching envelope and a black pen before going back to her room. "Thanks, honey," she called to Monica.
"Whatever you do," Monica muttered under her breath, "don't end the letter with the phrase 'does it?'"
~*~*~
Dear Joey,
Rachel crumpled the sheet of paper and tossed it carelessly on the floor beside her bed.
My Dearest Joey,
That's better, she told herself, scribbling furiously.
…I know that what we have will never happen for either of us again. If we miss the chance to see where this is going, we'll both regret it for the rest of our lives…
She laid the page aside, beginning another. She penned several paragraphs, words of love and commitment flowing from her like a fountain.
…I understand how scary it is to break the rules of friendship the way we have. But if we end up with something so much more, won't it be worth the risk?
Several sentences later, she stopped and reread the last thing she'd written.
The one thing I'm sure of is that I love you. I know this without a doubt. I believe that you love me just as much. I feel it every time we're together. If nothing has happened to change your mind or your feelings, I want to try again. Let's finish what we started.
She wrote on for an hour, in the end filling four pages with an outpouring of love, devotion, and an entreaty to him to defy the odds and continue what had begun in Barbados. She reread it, satisfied.
She scrawled her closing before signing her name.
Take all the time you need. You don't have to say anything right now. When you're ready, you know where to find me. I'll be waiting…remember how much I love you. I'm just sorry I didn't say it sooner.
Rachel
She folded the letter carefully and placed it inside the matching envelope before lovingly writing his name on the outside of it.
She glanced at her clock. She had just enough time to get dressed and leave it in his apartment before he got home from the studio. She didn't want to deliver it in person, she told herself. No, it would be better for him to come home and find it.
The blissful smile returned as she began applying her makeup.
~*~*~
"Going to play post office?" Monica asked from her perch on the couch as Rachel emerged from her room, fully dressed and carrying a pink envelope bearing Joey's name.
Rachel nodded, unable to remove the radiant expression from her face.
Chandler's laptop was set up on the kitchen table, nearly lost among the stacks of paper that covered the remaining surface. "Rush proposal, got to get it ready to FedEx to Philadelphia by 5:00," he grumbled.
"Wish me luck." Rachel almost sang the words as she habitually took her purse and departed for Joey's apartment.
She reached down to open his door but sounds coming from inside the apartment stopped her. It sounded like the electronic racket of a video game.
That's weird, she thought. He must have left the TV on when he went to the studio.
She shook off an uneasy feeling and pushed the door open.
The minute she stepped inside, she wondered whether or not she was in the correct apartment.
The scent of oregano, tomatoes and olive oil wafted out like a direct hit from Little Italy. But it wasn't just that. The apartment was clean – furiously clean. Monica clean. The piles of magazines that she and Joey had never managed to organize were neatly compiled in magazine racks beside the entertainment center, which had been set in neat-as-pie order itself. The bar was no longer cluttered with junk mail and pizza boxes. Everything had been sorted into in and out boxes. A vase of peppermint carnations sat in the spot formerly claimed by the pizza box.
The magnets they'd collected over the years were no longer clinging to the refrigerator door. Instead, crayon drawings done by a childish hand decorated every spare inch of its metallic façade.
Rachel's eyes fell on Jessica, who was sprawled out on the floor in front of the entertainment center. In her hands were the controls to an elaborate video game system that Rachel hadn't realized Joey owned. Jessica looked up and spotted Rachel, rooted to the floor in the doorway.
"Mom!" Jessica yelled.
Lydia, perfectly dressed and coifed as usual, appeared from around the corner obscured by the bar. "Rachel," she said in greeting. "Joey's not home yet, but come on in."
Rachel's feet found their way inside the apartment. "Wow," she stammered. "Joey really cleaned up around here." She knew that wasn't the way it had happened, but she wasn't about to admit that to Lydia.
Lydia's throaty laughed bubbled out. "Joey couldn't find his ass in a sack," she said in a caustic tone. "I can't work in that kind of mess, so I did a little organizing for him."
"Work?" Rachel repeated dumbly.
"Yeah," Lydia said. "Oh, that's right – I bet you haven't seen my new office!" Lydia strode to the corner from which she'd appeared. "Check it out."
Rachel followed her, not fully believing her eyes. In the exact spot where Emma's changing table had stood was a computer desk and swivel chair.
Gone forever was the huge pink satin "E" that had denoted Emma's status as third roommate. In its place hung Lydia's oversized memo board. The desk was replete with laptop, scanner, printer, fax machine, and countless other gadgets that the less technically minded Rachel didn't even recognize.
"Joey said we were spending too much money, having a messenger service constantly running things back and forth between us. And you know how he is…he likes to see everything before I upload it. So he set this up for me." Lydia beamed at Rachel. "Doesn't this kick ass?"
"Yeah, ass is the word I was thinking," Rachel answered. "Is that video game thing new?" She gestured to Jessica.
"Oh, that. Joey thought Jessica should have something to do since she spends so much time here. Isn't he great?"
"Would you mind if I used the bathroom real quick?" Without waiting for Lydia's reply, Rachel let herself into the bathroom and slammed the door, cursing the fact that it still didn't have a working lock.
The bathroom was as immaculate as the rest of the house. Monica herself couldn't have done better. Joey's more utilitarian toiletries had been replaced by scented soap in a pump bottle, dainty guest towels, and a tube of hand lotion.
She hadn't feminized his environment that much in all their years of living together.
A dreadful suspicion shot through Rachel. Without conceding any points to her conscience, she yanked open the door that concealed the storage space under the sink.
Her worst fears were confirmed by what was hidden under there. Lydia was making rapid inroads.
She flushed the toilet and ran the water for a few seconds to cover her tracks before stepping out of the bathroom. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Hugsy no longer resided on the yellow sofa.
Stay calm. Hold on to yourself.
Lydia was bent over the oven, examining the contents of a casserole dish. "Joey just loves my lasagna," she cooed to Rachel as she slid it back into the oven.
"You cook for him?"
"Yeah, I'm here so much that I've started throwing something together for him to eat when he gets home from work." She wiped her hands on a dishtowel before neatly folding it. "He's always so hungry when he gets home. I like things to be nice for him. He works really hard."
A pang was working its way through Rachel. Not a pang of loss, but one of self-recrimination. She never gave much thought to Joey's comfort. Had it always been the other way around? Had he met her needs while she gave thought to his only when they presented themselves? The questions hurt too much for her to even begin considering the answers.
"I picked this up for him on the way over," Lydia was saying as she held out a bag from the video store. "Do you think he'll like it? I know you guys lived together for so long, you probably know him better than anyone."
Rachel opened the bag. The latest Vin Diesel movie to be released on DVD was inside.
"Yeah…he'll love it. This is exactly his kind of movie." She handed the bag back to Lydia, shifting the forgotten pink envelope to her other hand.
"You've done a lot for him," Rachel continued. The reality of the situation was rapidly dawning on her.
"He's done a lot for me," Lydia answered passionately. "You can't imagine what it's like to have a baby alone, without the father there by your side. Joey stood in for me. I couldn't have survived that day without him."
Rachel nodded. No, she couldn't imagine giving birth without her child's father there, holding her hand.
"It's not just that, either. You should see how he is with Jessica. He's so great with kids."
Rachel's heart ached. "He is. He's wonderful."
"And you can see for yourself how much equipment he's bought for me. Most of my stuff was so outdated – he's brought me up to speed. He's the most generous man I've ever met."
"That's just who he is. He can never say no to a friend," Rachel answered, a dull pain taking up residence inside her.
"So anything I can do to make his life a little easier, a little happier, I'm gonna do it." Lydia tilted her head to the side, studying Rachel's countenance. "He seems sad a lot, and I don't know why." The question hung in the air. Lydia was waiting for Rachel to reveal herself as the cause of Joey's unexplained misery.
"I've got to go," Rachel said as she went for the door. "I need to go pick up my daughter…" It was a lie. Ross had Emma for the rest of the day and the night to come. But she had to get out of that apartment at any cost.
"What's that?" Lydia interrupted, pointing to the enveloped clutched against Rachel's damp palm. "Is that something for Joey?"
"This?" Rachel laughed with forced abandon. "Oh, this…this is nothing."
She stuffed the envelope inside her purse and disappeared inside Monica's apartment before Lydia could ask any more questions.
~*~*~
Phoebe let herself into Ross' apartment so quietly that he didn't look up from his book until she had shut the door.
"You're back," he said, getting up from the couch to hug her.
She stopped him with a hand. "Don't," she said harshly.
He backed away like a wounded animal. "Is everything ok? What happened in Montauk?"
"I came here to tell you something. I owe you an explanation before I tell the others."
"Do I need to sit down?" He tried to squelch the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach brought on by her ominous tone.
"No, this won't take long." He watched her spine stiffen as she braced herself. "We can't keep doing what we've been doing. It can never happen again."
"You told me that yesterday morning." He was puzzled by the insistence in her voice. "Pheebs, come on…all we did was kiss a few times."
"It was a terrible mistake. It can't happen again. You've got to put any thoughts of something happening between us out of your mind, ok?"
"You keep saying that, so why am I the one you call when you need help? Why is it always us, supporting each other when the rest of them are too involved with their own lives?"
"Don't make this worse than it has to be," she said, softening a little. "I don't want to hurt you, Ross. Just accept that this is the hand we've been dealt and we've got to play it."
She turned to walk out. He intercepted her before she reached the door.
"What happened in Montauk? Is this about Mike? If he hurt you –"
"Mike did nothing wrong. But it's safe to say that he and I are probably over."
"Then – then what?" He was turning up the volume on his words. "Just tell me what happened and why there's no chance for us."
"Because there isn't! You have to accept that!"
"Is it because of Rachel?"
"You know, Ross, not everything in this life is about you and Rachel. I know that comes as a shock to you."
"Just answer me. Why are you shutting me out of your life?"
"Because I have to!" She raised her voice to match his.
"That's not good enough. I want a real answer."
"That's the only answer I have!"
"Don't lie about this. Don't you feel anything for me?"
"It doesn't matter what I feel!"
"It matters to me!"
"This is bigger than the two of us."
"Nothing is too big for us to handle. Just tell me why!"
"Because I'm trapped!"
"Trapped? Why are you trapped?"
"Because I'm pregnant!"
~*~*~
Chandler was pushing the papers around on the table, frustrated to the boiling point when Rachel returned from her encounter with Lydia. He glanced up briefly, nodding an acknowledgement to her before returning to his work.
"Where's Monica?" Rachel looked at the empty couch.
"Taking a nap in our room," Chandler answered without looking up from his computer. "I don't guess you'd run down to the newsstand and buy me a pack of cigarettes?"
"Why do you need cigarettes?" She took a cold bottle of water from the fridge and pressed it against her aching head.
"I might as well start smoking again and enjoy my final hours on earth."
"Ok, spill it. Keep my mind off my own disaster."
"Because this proposal has to be sent to our offices in Philadephia and L.A., plus I have to have a copy for the head of my department. Too much to do and no time to do it."
"It looks like you have plenty of paper there," she commented, turning the bottle over and seeking a cold spot for her head.
"Plenty of paper and not enough copies. No time to make copies and get this to the FedEx drop box on time." He rubbed his furrowed brow with his hand. "Now, about those cigarettes."
"Don't be silly. Give me the stuff you need copied and I'll do it for you." She tucked the water bottle inside her purse and walked over to the table to get his papers.
"I can't ask you to do that, I know that place is nothing but a bad memory reference for you."
It was true. She still averted her eyes when she passed the copy store. But it was time to put that ghost to rest, she reasoned.
"Come on, Chandler. Chloe wasn't the most stable person – what are the odds that she still works there?"
Chandler wrestled with himself, the time sensitive nature of his project against his reluctance to send Rachel back to the scene of the crime.
"I can handle it. Let me help you with this," she said in her most persuasive tone.
He relented. "All right," he said with a sigh of relief as he gathered his papers into a stack and placed them inside a folder. "Three copies, letter size paper." He pulled a $20.00 out of his pocket and handed it to her. "And we don't tell Monica about this."
"I'll be fine," she assured him as she left. Chloe is the least of my problems, she added to herself as she passed the door to apartment #19 where Joey's new life was apparently in progress…a life without her.
~*~*~
Rachel took her place in line at the copy store, pushing off the inevitable chill that the very sight of the building always brought to her. Her mind rotated over the letter in her purse, Lydia's determination to be the perfect homemaker for Joey, and her own bitter failings to give to him what he'd always given to her.
Lydia can make him happy. All I've done is break his heart, time and time again. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't look at the clerk in front of her.
"Three copies of each, please – letter size." She shoved the folder across the counter, too blinded by her mental pain to take in her surroundings.
"Aren't you Ross' girlfriend?" The female voice addressing her was friendly but shy, hesitant.
Rachel looked up, seeing the impossible. Chloe was standing on the other side of the counter.
Barely covered by a black top that looked as if it was made from spider webs, Chloe sported a shock of hot pink hair that would have made Kelly Osbourne proud. Her face was adorned with more jewelry than Rachel wore on her entire person. A ring protruded from her left eyebrow, leading to a diamond stud in her nostril and another stud in her upper lip. Her eyes were lined with dramatic black kohl and shaded with at least 4 colors.
Chloe stretched a hand out to retrieve the folder containing Chandler's papers, her black glitter nail polish sparkling under the florescent light. "Or not," Chloe said, answering her own question.
Rachel realized that she was staring at Chloe. "I was – I used to be," she stammered, unable to recover from the shock of actually coming face to face with the woman who had torpedoed her relationship with Ross.
The sickening sense of betrayal wasn't hitting Rachel in the way she'd always envisioned when she thought of this moment. She scanned her feelings, detecting only regret and remorse that this girl who was sorting through a folder of papers had been the source of their undoing.
Why? Was she worth it to him? Rachel asked herself for the ten thousandth time, coming up with the usual blank space where an answer should be.
"Didn't you guys have a baby?" Chloe asked before looking over her shoulder to the back room of the store. "Jimmy!" she shouted, summoning a tall, lanky guy with a ponytail who took the folder from Chloe's hands with a smile. "Three, letter size," she informed him before turning her attention back to Rachel.
Rachel bit back her urge to tell Chloe that it was none of her business and answered instead with a curt "yes."
"I'm so happy for you guys," Chloe said, flashing Rachel a thumbs-up sign. "You two belong together. He loves you so much…it's really incredible."
"Ross and I haven't been together in years," she found herself saying. And you're the reason why, she thought.
"I just mean, that night that I stayed with him, he told me how much he loved you over and over. I've never seen anyone with so much…" Chloe closed her eyes dreamily, remembering. "Passion," she finished.
The phone on the counter behind Chloe was ringing. "Just a sec," she apologized to Rachel, stepping back to answer it.
Chloe, the perennial party girl, Rachel thought acidly. Chloe, who was so free with her body and her sexuality. Chloe, who was "different" in bed. Rachel glanced up and down Chloe's petite form, contrasting herself against the pixie-like girl. Chloe was dressed in black from head to toe. Chloe was…Rachel blinked and looked again. Chloe was…
Pregnant.
As she curled her shoulder up to hold the phone, Chloe rested one hand on her bulging abdomen in the unconscious but universal gesture of all expectant mothers. It hadn't been obvious when she was standing against the counter, but now that she'd stepped a short distance away, it was beyond question.
Rachel felt empathy creeping up against her will. She looked at Chloe's feet, snugly encased in a pair of Doc Marten boots. She must be on her feet all day, she thought, remembering the swollen ankles and sore feet of advanced pregnancy.
Rachel shook her head rapidly, bidding the sneaking sympathy for Chloe to leave immediately. This woman had cost her so much; she deserved no compassion.
When did Hot Topic start making maternity clothes, Rachel thought with more than a trace of hostility.
Chloe hung up the phone and smiled brightly at Rachel. "Sorry about that," she said as she leaned on the counter. "Tell me about you and Ross. How did it work out?"
Words flew out of Rachel's mouth before she had time to consider them. "It didn't work out, because he slept with someone else." Her withering scorn was shocking, even to herself.
"That doesn't sound like Ross," Chloe said in disbelief. "Who'd he cheat with?"
"With you!" Rachel sputtered. "That night you just reminded me of, with all of his passion for me – while he was going at it with you like two caged monkeys." Jimmy emerged from the back room and handed Chandler's folder back to Chloe. "All done, babe," he said before vanishing again.
"Is that what you think happened? What did he tell you?" Chloe looked around at the line of customers behind Rachel who were perking up their ears with interest.
"Cover for me," Chloe barked to the balding man beside her. "Come with me," she commanded Rachel, stepping out from behind the counter and leading the way to a door marked "Employees Only".
Chloe closed the door behind them as Rachel speaking. "I don't know what you think you can say that can change what happened."
"I'll start at the beginning," Chloe said patiently. "Ross told you about that night we spent together, right?"
"No. He didn't have the courage to tell me himself. I had to find out from Gunther." Rachel crossed her arms in front of her, repelled at being closed in a room with Chloe.
"What did Gunther tell you?"
"That you and Ross slept together. He didn't get into specific details," she spat.
Chloe shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Let me rephrase that. Did Gunther tell you that I had sex with Ross?"
"That was the general idea." Rachel said. "Then I confronted Ross and he admitted it." Chloe's face held such an expression of disbelief that curiosity began to deflate Rachel's anger.
"He couldn't admit to something that never happened." Chloe exhaled slowly and sat down on a cardboard box filled with copy paper. "Damn. I knew he was drunk. I didn't know he was that drunk."
"What do you mean, it never happened? There was a trail of people that carried the story from you to that – that Isaac guy, to Phoebe's coworker to Gunther to me. Everyone knew that it happened, and the story originated with you…so either you were lying then or you're lying now." Rachel tried for a calming breath and failed. "And my money is on the side of 'lying now'."
"Give me a few minutes to explain, then you'll understand perfectly." Chloe placed her hand on her pregnant belly again. "Ross and I hooked up at the party that night. He told me about his break-up with you. He was drinking hard."
Rachel nodded. That much she knew to be true.
"I was different back then. I had low self-esteem…I slept with married men, men who were too drunk to remember me the next morning…pretty much any guy who would notice me. Isaac and I were having this on and off again thing, and that didn't help."
Again the unwanted empathy tugged at Rachel.
"Ross was so sweet, you know? So sensitive…anyway, we went back to his place and he kept drinking, and talking about you. How much he loved you, how he couldn't face life without you. And yeah, things started happening…"
Rachel swallowed hard, reliving every minute of that fateful night as Chloe told her story.
"We ended up in bed, but he was so drunk that he didn't know who I was. All he could do was cry over you." Chloe cleared her throat and looked away. "I'm sure you know that when guys get to a certain level of intoxication, stuff quits working. Right?"
"Right," Rachel said, a tear rolling down her cheek.
"I don't think anything would have worked, but we didn't even try. So yeah, we were in bed, and yeah, the clothes were off, but I just hugged him and let him cry about you until he passed out."
The entire history of Rachel's life was rewriting itself before her eyes, second by second.
"The next morning, I took a shower and talked about stupid stuff like getting a puppy. I've woken up with a lot of guys who didn't remember bringing me home with them. It was business as usual for me."
The tears were coming faster. Chloe handed Rachel a box of tissues from the supply shelf before continuing.
"Then you called Ross and said you were coming over. I made a beeline for the door. Long story short, I told Issac that I spent the night with Ross. I never said that I had sex with him, because I didn't…and I had no idea until you told me out there that Ross thought something had happened. I just assumed he knew. He passed out before we could do anything." Chloe rumpled her pink hair with a ringed hand. "I don't think he wanted to do anything with me. He just wanted someone to listen to him."
Rachel sniffled and took another tissue. "Then why did everyone else think that something did happen?"
Chloe smiled wanly. "Maybe I wanted to make Issac a little jealous. Maybe I wasn't as clear about things as I could have been." She shrugged and looked down at the bulge that was her unborn baby. "Maybe I was young and stupid and didn't realize the havoc I would cause by letting people come to their own conclusions."
"I've hated you for so long," Rachel admitted through her tears. "I blamed you…"
"I envied you," Chloe said simply. "You had the kind of love that I thought I'd never find." Chloe's eyes began to water, threatening to smudge her ornate eye liner. "I was so hung up on Isaac back then, I didn't know which way was up."
"What happened with him?" Rachel was overwhelmed with remorse for her hatred of Chloe. "Is he the father of your baby?"
"Isaac?" Chloe laughed. "No way. He and I weren't built to last. There was always something there...we were like fire and ice, you know? We couldn't live with each other and we couldn't live without each other. It was always a struggle."
Rachel nodded. She knew something about that.
"We'd get together and then we'd break up, and rip each other to pieces every time before starting the cycle all over again. It was too passionate, too intense – we almost destroyed each other." Chloe put her hands over her eyes, remembering.
"What happened next?" Rachel asked, drying the rest of her tears.
"Jimmy happened next. We'd worked together here for years and we were best buddies…we'd drink beer and eat pizza and have fun together…but I never thought of him that way because I couldn't see past Issac." Chloe hopped off the box and walked over to the mini fridge in the corner of the supply room, taking out a can of soda for herself and one for Rachel.
"Then one night when we were locking up, he leaned over and kissed me. I have to admit, I was pretty shocked…I was angry because he was messing up this perfect friendship of ours…but he grew on me. It's like…we bring out the best in each other. I'm peaceful when I'm with him. It's easy." Chloe took a sip of her soda and continued. "When we're together, it feels like…home." She laughed at herself. "Sounds silly, huh? I don't have to try so hard with Jimmy. It just…fits."
"Is he the father?" Rachel asked, thinking to herself that it didn't sound silly. Not at all.
"Yeah. It couldn't have worked out another way." She smiled and stood up. "Are you gonna be ok?"
Rachel nodded. "I have a lot to think about." She got her purse and Chandler's folder, turning to give Chloe an impulsive hug. "Good luck with Jimmy."
~*~*~
The Rachel Green who walked out of the copy store was not the same one who had walked in a short time before. Everything she knew or thought she'd known was changing, evolving so quickly that her mind raced to process it.
She pushed her way through the crowd, taking a seat on an empty stoop.
It had all been a mistake, a misunderstanding. For a drunken lapse of judgement and a few carelessly misinterpreted words, she and Ross had lost everything that mattered.
It was a horrific price to pay.
Rachel faced the facts of her life like an accountant reviewing numbers. If not for this one calamity, she and Ross would have stayed together. There would have been no Bonnie, no Emily, and no second divorce. No alcohol induced wedding in Vegas and no third divorce. There would have been no 'Mental Geller'. Ross would have kept his job and his reputation and his sanity.
If we'd both known the truth about what happened that night, Ross and I would probably be married right now. She saw it with mind-bending clarity.
And now, now there was Emma. And it was seven years later, and countless draughts of water had passed under the bridge of Ross and Rachel, dividing them so much that reconciliation had ceased to be an option. The staggering heartbreak, the anger, everything they'd put each other through – it was all over nothing.
Standing starkly against the backdrop was the factor that Rachel couldn't ignore. She was in love with someone else. The letter declaring her feelings for him was safely hidden away in her purse.
She had her answer at last…seven years too late.
~*~*~
To Be Continued!
A/N: Honestly, did you guys see any of that coming? I'm trying to keep it surprising as we head rapidly to the climax of the action and begin the resolution after the next two chapters. And yes, Chloe's changed her look since we last saw her.
As for Phoebe's shocking news, it may not be what you think it is. I'll explain more in the next chapter. And ten points for the first reader who correctly guesses what Lydia was keeping under Joey's bathroom sink…
If you enjoy this story at all, this is the time to leave a review for yours truly. It would be greatly appreciated!
