Past & Present
Chapter 13: With Or Without You
DISCLAIMER: I don't own "Friends", but I'm pretty happy with what the owners are doing with it at the moment.
THE PREMISE: Rachel must choose between her past and her future. Will tragedy be the result?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok. You're all going to hate me for this. I know you are. I know it's out there, and risky, and dark and morbid and depressing. Well, you were warned. Read the premise note up above. All the various threads and tangles have been leading to this very moment. When I first came up with the story, it was this chapter. I built the entire story around this moment so that all roads led here.
That's why I took so much time writing this one. It's the most important chapter in the whole story, and I am a total nervous wreck about publishing it. Please be kind in your reviews. Most of all, trust me and trust what I'm doing here, and remember – I'm the world's most diehard Joey fan. I'll always take care of him in my stories. Believe that and keep reading.
The new chapter will resolve everything and bring great happiness to all J&R fans. I know I promised to publish them at the same time, but the demand for new chapters is really high and people are impatient. The next one won't take long for me to write. This one was so, so, so hard. I'd write a paragraph and feel too drained to continue.
Anyway, as always, read, review, and enjoy. Most of all, believe in happy endings. I know I do.
~*~*~
Joey answered within seconds of her knock, almost knocking her off her feet with surprise.
She flicked her eyes up and down his body, a half smile forming as she noticed the plaid pajama bottoms he'd bought to wear when she and Emma moved back in.
So many things will remind me of us together, as long as I live.
"What's up? Are you ok?" He held the door open for her to come in.
She wrapped her hand around his wrist. "Can you come out here and talk for a few minutes?"
He nodded, brows knitting themselves together. A puzzled expression took over his features. He stepped out and closed the door behind him. Rachel steered him to the stairs by his elbow and sat down, patting the space beside her.
"What are you doing up so early?" She threw out the pointless question, stalling for a few more seconds with him before she told him the real reason for her visit.
"Treeger was here at the crack of dawn to fix my shower," he grumbled. "But tell me about you – were you sick last night?"
Rachel grimaced and examined her manicure. "You don't want to hear about that, trust me." She shook her head, repulsed at the memory getting sick on the street.
His hand found hers and brought it up to his lips for a kiss. "Poor baby." His thumb circled her palm, revving up her pulse like a perfectly tuned engine. The most innocent contact became sensually charged when it occurred between them.
She raised her eyes slowly to his face, seeing his smoldering desire for her melting in his brown eyes. This had to stop before they ended up in a clinch on the stairs.
She pulled her hand away from his, aching from the loss of his touch. "We have to talk."
He fell back on the stairs, scrunching his face and covering his eyes with his hands. "Is this about Lydia? Because what I told you last night is the truth – "
"It's not about Lydia. It's about us."
He took his hands from his eyes and looked at her, eyebrows raised like question marks. "What?"
She crossed her arms over her knees and rested her chin on them. "First – I'm sorry about last night. I was wrong to talk to Lydia that way –"
He reached across and placed a warm hand on her arm. "Hey, don't be sorry, all right? Lydia gave as good as she got. She knows how to take care of herself."
That simple touch sent a shock wave through Rachel, reminding her that all these little moments were about to come to an end. There could never be any more innocent touches, no more private jokes and sidelong glances like there had been for years. Every word and look and gesture between them would be fraught with suspicion, passing under the scrutiny of the others that would never forget that there had once been a Joey and Rachel for one brief week.
"Still – it was wrong and I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry for that…for a lot of things."
His eyes darkened with suspicion. "There's something else, isn't there? And it's a bad something." He withdrew his hand from her arm and waited, worry visible in every line of his body.
"I'm going to Florida with Ross and the kids tomorrow. For five days."
She paused, watching him absorb this.
"But you're coming back, right?"
She opened her mouth to pronounce the words that would sever their relationship. She willed herself to speak, tightening her vocal cords and trying to push out the sound that stilled somewhere inside her, refusing to cooperate.
A strangled cry was the only thing she could manage.
"Oh my God." He backed away from her, sliding to the other side of the step. "You're ending it."
She had promised herself that she wouldn't cry but it was a lost battle. She felt as if she was cutting off a limb or some essential part of herself that she required to exist. Despite her dehydration, tears spilled out of her blue eyes like a sprinkler system attempting to snuff out a fire.
He looked numb, like a man with a fatal wound who knew death was imminent but had ceased to feel pain.
"Why?" His voice was toneless. They were both aware that he already knew why and his question was a mere formality.
Finally, words released themselves from her. "Didn't we both know it had to end eventually?"
"This is about Lydia, isn't it? You know there's nothing between us. I feel like she's one of my sisters."
"It's not about her." She dragged the back of her hand over her eyes and searched her mind for a way to tell him about Ross without revealing what Chloe had told her.
He slumped down and stared at the floor. "It's Ross."
She nodded, stretching out a hand to comfort him.
He took her hand and held it like a lifeline. "You think he's going to take Emma away from you if we stay together." It was a statement, not a question.
She swallowed back a sob. "It's not about what Ross could take away from me. It's about what I've taken away from Ross."
He shook his head, confused.
"I know this doesn't make any sense now, but it will, eventually." She clutched his hand, memorizing the way it felt in hers, knowing this was possibly the last time she'd ever hold it. "Nothing with us has ever made sense, has it?" She blinked back another onslaught of tears. "Why should this be any different?"
"You know what doesn't make sense?" He leaned forward to hold her other hand. "Us not being together. You know that stuff Phoebe said last night?"
She sighed and averted her eyes. "Yeah, I remember." Too well.
"Everything you believe in all your life – that you'll find the right person someday and fall in love and spend your life with them – if we're not together, that stuff is just one big lie." He pulled her closer to him, grasping her hands so tightly that it hurt. "This is the only real thing I've ever had."
"He's the father of my child. I have to make things right with him, for her sake." She exhaled, fighting for composure. "I owe Ross something, after everything he's been through. And I owe it to Emma to give things a chance."
"Is that why you're going to Florida?"
She nodded, twining her fingers through his. "We have to see if there's anything left between us. We've got to work through this for her sake."
He was tearing up as well. "You remember rule five?" He stopped, trying to keep his voice level. "You're a mom and that comes first."
She let go of his hands and slid closer to put her arms around him.
"I told you I'd never be the guy to break up Emma's family." He held her closer, resting his chin on her hair.
"This is the hardest thing I've ever done." She didn't want to break down but she was on the verge of sobbing.
He pushed her back and tipped her face up with his hand, his eyes meeting hers. "You are going to do so many amazing things with your life – you and Ross are going to move on and have a family together, and this thing with us will be just a memory."
"No, no! This will never be just a memory. What we had was everything to me and I'm not going to forget about it."
He reached across and brushed the tears from her face. "If forgetting it makes your life easier…"
She gave him a weak smile. "We never even got to break rule three."
"Don't you think it would be harder to walk away if we had broken it?"
She shook her head ruefully. "It couldn't possibly be harder than this. Nothing could."
He slowly rose to his feet and offered her a hand to pull herself up. "You know no matter where you go or who you're with, if you need anything –"
"I know." She was standing a foot away from him now, knowing that she had to go back into Monica's apartment and pack, but realizing that the minute the door closed behind her, it would be over.
"I'm so sorry about all of this." She sighed, trying to back away from him but unable to complete the needed steps. "The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you." She heard her own voice speaking such inadequate words, words that could never tell him how much this hurt, how she wished with every fiber of her being that they could run away together and never look back.
"Don't be sorry, Rachel." He lifted his hand to brush her hair back. "I'm the one who's sorry. I mean, if I had known, the first time I saw you –"
She knew what he was about to say and tried to stop the flood of despair that came with it.
"That day in Central Perk, when you came in wearing that wet wedding dress – if I had known then that you were the love of my life, I wouldn't have wasted so much time."
A vice wrapped around her chest, suffocating any hope for this pain to become bearable.
"I don't think I'll ever be happy again." She knew saying it would only make things worse but she couldn't help herself.
"Of course you will." He lightened his tone. "You're going to be so happy with your family, and your career, and your friends…none of this will matter anymore."
"But you're the one who taught me how to be happy." The declaration burst forth from her like an explosion. "You're the person who gave me unconditional love. How can you say it won't matter?"
"Because, Rach – it can't matter anymore." His voice dropped, and she heard his unspoken plea to understand that he was suffering too.
"You're right. It can't."
There was one thing left to do. She pulled the wrinkled pink envelope bearing his name out of her purse and handed it to him.
"What's this?"
"It's yours. I wrote it a few days ago." He began to open it and she stopped him. "Wait. Don't read it now. It's going to hurt us both too much."
"You said yourself this couldn't get any worse." He put the envelope in his pocket.
"Someday when you're feeling lonely and need to know that someone –" She broke off and held back the words she wanted to say to him. "Save if for a rainy day."
She finally turned to the door and placed her hand on the knob. "So I'll see you when we get back from Florida?" She forced herself to sound natural, as if she hadn't effectively ended both of their lives within the last five minutes.
"Sure." He nodded. "Have a great trip."
She might have gone into the apartment then and there if she hadn't turned her eyes to him for one last look. His face was unguarded and she saw something in it that made her stop and rush into his arms.
"Tell me how to do this. Tell me how to lose you, because I don't think I can do it." She buried her face against his chest, listening to the painful beating of his heart.
He smoothed her hair with his hand the way she'd seen him comfort his sisters and nieces. "You can do this. We have to do this."
"I've never loved anyone the way I love you." There, she thought. It's out. I finally said it. "I don't think I can let you go."
He gripped her shoulders and pushed her back. "You can. You're stronger than anyone I know." He released her and took a step back. "Go."
Her cry of protest faded into the space between them.
"Go."
She turned and ran into Monica's apartment, her hand clamped over her mouth to keep her tortured cries from waking up the rest of the house. She went into her room and shut the door.
~*~*~
Joey lived through an hour alone in his bedroom that he never spoke of to anyone.
When he finally emerged, he helped himself to a beer from his fridge and looked around the empty apartment.
He'd been through this two other times. But both of those times he'd had reason to hope that she'd come back.
This time he knew differently. He saw his home through the eyes of detachment. It meant nothing to him now. It could burn to the ground, for all he cared.
He couldn't stay there. Not when his only reason for being there was gone forever.
The idea that been lurking in a corner of his mind suddenly stepped out of the shadows and became a fully formed plan. He trudged to his phone, picked it up, and punched in his agent's number.
"Estelle? Yeah, it's me. Look, I – I decided to read for that part after all, if it's still available. It is?" He sighed with relief. "You'll tell them I'm coming out to L.A.?"
He listened to Estelle's hoarse voice croaking out instructions about the audition.
"Hey, Estelle? Can you look into finding some other stuff for me to do out there? Like, other auditions…because I've decided to stay out there for a while."
He listened patiently to her recommendations and found himself looking at the door to Rachel's old room. "No. I'm probably not coming back to New York."
~*~*~
Rachel studied the tiny sea shell in her hand, admiring the perfect shades of pink and white pebbled across its surface. She turned it over in her hand, lost in thought until Ben's piercing scream invaded her daydreams.
She laughed when she took in the scene a few yards away. Ross, sporting tropical print swim trunks, was holding Emma above the waves. Tiny Emma screamed with excitement every time a wave came crashing in, flapping her water wing clad arms like a gull ready to take flight. Ben, strapped into a life jacket at his father's insistence, held his arms out and invited the waves to crash against him, shrieking when the sheer power of the Atlantic Ocean knocked him down and laughing when the life preserver bobbed him back to the surface like a cork.
Rachel stood up and tightened the sarong around her waist. The white sand was cool beneath her feet, and the sun was warm without being oppressive. She wandered down to the water, marveling at the pure green waves rolling endlessly to the horizon.
The place was, as Chandler would say, perfection. Almost. It would be perfection if -
She traced Joey's name in the wet sand with her toe and watched the tide sweep it away. He never left her mind for a minute. She missed him so much that his absence had become a presence – a vivid, living presence that seemed more real than the people who surrounded her.
She clutched at her sunglasses as a turbulent ocean breeze rolled past her. She had to stop this constant remembering, this continual conversation she carried on with Joey in her head.
After all, he wasn't there. She owed Ross and the kids her attention. It was pointless to waste it on something that was over.
She threw the shell into the ocean and wondered what Joey was doing at that very moment.
~*~*~
"I can't believe you're doing this." Monica carefully taped shut a box of Joey's clothes. "Can't you at least wait until she gets back and tell her yourself?"
Joey shrugged, removing his videos and dvds from the entertainment center. "It'll be too hard for us to say goodbye again. She's been through enough." He tossed the collection of movies into a cardboard box and kicked it out of the way.
"I don't understand why you think you have to leave New York. I mean, come on, Joe." Chandler put the last of Joey's posters into a mailing tube. "We've all been through break ups before. None of us left town over it."
Joey stopped and folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah, what if you two broke up? What if you guys got divorced, and Monica married Richard or Pete or somebody. You'd stick around and watch it happen?"
Chandler tapped his fingers on the mailing tube and stared at Monica. "You know, we really need to get some packing chips to cushion your videos and stuff."
"I have some across the hall in the closet." Monica stood up and brushed her hands on the front of her pants. "Be back in a minute."
Joey waited until Monica was out of earshot. "It's not just that I don't want to see her with someone else."
"Then why, Joe?"
Joey continued, cleaning out the kitchen drawer. "If one of us doesn't leave, we're never going to get past this. Every time I see her, it's going to kill me. I need to get out of the way so she and Ross can be happy. As long as I'm here, I'm like this constant reminder of –" He stopped short, staring into the drawer
"What is it?" Chandler stood up and hedged his way to the kitchen.
Joey cleared his throat, removing something from the drawer. "It's just some postcards. Rachel bought them at the hotel gift shop in Barbados."
Chandler reached out to pat Joey's shoulder.
"She was really nervous, you know…she didn't want to come out and face everyone after –" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "So we went to the gift shop and she picked out some postcards." He put them in the front pocket of his jeans. "No big thing."
Chandler nodded. "It's going to be ok."
Joey didn't say anything. He ripped the drawer out of the cabinet and emptied it into the trash before shoving it back into place.
"I know how hard it is. You'll get over this, Joey."
"Really? The way you would have gotten over it if you had to end it with Monica right after you got back from London?"
Chandler held up a defensive hand. "I didn't say it was the same."
"You're right. It's not the same. You've been with Monica for years. I only got one week." He began throwing his cooking utensils into another box. "I'm not going to get over her. That's why I have to be gone when she gets back. If I see her one more time, I'll want to stay with her."
"You know we're going to take great care of Dina when she moves in here." Chandler's eyes swept the apartment, trying to imagine Dina and her son living there instead of Joey. "I guess something good is coming out of this. At least Dina won't have to move back in with your mom and dad."
"She needs her own place, and I can afford to let her live here rent free for a while. When I get settled, she's going to send the rest of my stuff to me." Joey picked up the box of kitchen stuff and carried it to the living room. "It's all for the best, right man?"
"If you say so." Chandler fought a terrible sensation in the pit of his stomach that was telling him none of this was for the best. In fact, it felt like it was for the worst.
~*~*~
Rachel let herself back into Grandma Geller's beach house, which already felt like a second home after three days. It was part of a small, quiet beachside retirement community. All her elderly neighbors and the staff were delighted to have two children around. Everyone had welcomed the visitors like old friends.
The inside of the house was homey and familiar to Rachel. The array of framed photographs – many of Ross and Monica as children – the decorative knick-knacks, and the ever present scent of cookies made it seem almost as if she were back at Monica's.
Rachel walked into the living room where Ross' grandmother was asleep in her recliner. The television was tuned to NBC.
Good. I can watch "Days Of Our Lives" without having to explain myself. She made herself comfortable on the well-worn purple sofa and reached into the bag she'd brought back from the convenience store on the corner. With a smile of a child enjoying a forbidden treat, she extracted a soap-opera magazine. A blurb in bright yellow text announced 'Exclusive Q&A With Dr. Drake Inside!'
She flipped through the magazine, looking for the article. She could hear Ross and the kids outside on the beach, their laughter echoing above the perpetual roar of the ocean. A twinge of guilt passed over her. She should be outside with her family, not indulging in an hour of watching Joey on TV and looking at him in a magazine like a star-struck teenager.
Not that Ross seemed especially sad when she'd told him she was staying in that day. He'd readily accepted her claim of having a headache and offered to keep the children busy so she could have peace and quiet. But that was the Ross she'd discovered during the past three days of this vacation – a polite and distant stranger who was always preoccupied. She had the eerie sense that he was there in body only, that his mind and attention and desires were strongly focused elsewhere. She didn't trouble herself to wonder what he was thinking about. She'd never understood Ross or the workings of his mind. If he was content to live like two guests in a hotel, going through the impersonal motions of living together but apart, so was she.
She took the remote control from the coffee table and turned the volume up a notch, one eye on Grandma Geller. Sure enough, the first scene was Drake and Olivia. She picked up a battered throw pillow and hugged it to her chest as she watched the scene.
"That's the one you live with?" Grandma's ancient voice crackled from the recliner.
Rachel turned to her, surprised. "No, we don't live together anymore. I'm living with Monica now." She had explained this more than a few times, but she supposed that someone in her 90's shouldn't be expected to remember much of anything.
She gave Rachel a knowing smile. "He's a nice looking boy, isn't he? Monica says he has his share of lady friends."
Rachel exhaled and looked at the screen. "He's not like that so much anymore."
They were quiet for a minute before Grandma began questioning her again. "How are things with you and Ross?"
Rachel turned down the volume, surprised. "Things are fine. Why?"
"Things don't seem fine to me." She shrugged and reached into the basket beside her chair for her knitting. "I don't think you've said five words to each other since you've been here." She sighed and adjusted her glasses. "I had hoped you two might remarry. Now I see I was wrong."
Rachel was struck by the older woman's overwhelming resemblance to Monica. The physical similarities were obvious despite the enormous age difference. But it was more than that – there was a certain bluntness, a determination to set things right between the people around her, that was so like Monica it was unnerving. She was seeing a preview of Monica at 96.
"We're working on our relationship." Rachel knew this was true in theory, if not in practice. "But we're a long way from considering marriage again." She turned her attention back to the television.
"Must be a hard thing to do, when you're in love with that one." Grandma Geller pointed her knitting needles at the screen for emphasis.
Rachel felt like a thief caught with jewels in her hand. She counted to ten and collected her thoughts before answering. "What makes you think I'm in love with Joey?"
Grandma peered over her glasses at Rachel. "Honey, when you've lived as long as I have, nothing gets by you. It's in the way you look at him. I've been watching the way you stare at the TV for days now. I'm not blind yet, you know. Ross mentioned his name last night during dinner and you nearly dropped your glass on the floor."
"You must have a terrible opinion of me – I have a daughter with your grandson, and here I am, in love with his best friend." It was the first time she'd admitted her feelings to anyone other than herself and Joey. It brought a small measure of relief to put it into words.
"I don't have a bad opinion of you, honey. I just hate to see you two making such a mistake." She shook her head and returned to her knitting.
"Mistake?"
"It's a mistake to force things to work out, as you put it. Either you love my grandson or you don't. If you don't love him, let him be. Let him go on with his life."
"It's not that simple." Rachel frowned, wondering what Ross would think if he could hear this conversation.
"That's what you think." The old woman huffed. "Honey, you can't choose who you love. You love that one." She pointed at Joey's image on the screen again. "Does he love you?" Before Rachel could answer, Grandma stopped her. "Of course he does. Otherwise it wouldn't make you so miserable, being apart from him."
Rachel moved to the end of the couch nearest the recliner. "He does love me. But –"
"No buts, honey." She laid down her knitting and focused her faded blue eyes on Rachel. "Ross is a good boy. Life hasn't been easy for him. His mother – God forgive me for letting Jack marry that nut – ruined him. She put all her hopes and dreams on him to fulfill." She let out a weary sigh. "Too much for one boy to live up to. And poor Monica, well, she could do no right, while Ross could do no wrong."
Rachel nodded in agreement, having seen this for herself.
"He's still trying to be the good son, honey. If being with you to raise his daughter seems like the right thing to do, he'll do it even if you're both unhappy - if you let him."
Rachel glanced over Grandma's shoulder to the bookcase where a framed photo of Ross and Carol on their wedding day beamed back at her.
"That first wife of his was a real piece of work. He's been trying to make up for that mistake ever since. But honey, you can't fix that past by ruining the present. Life doesn't work that way."
Rachel reached across and took Grandma's withered hand in hers. "Tell me what to do. I'm at my wit's end and everyone tells me to work things out with Ross and to let Joey go. I don't know what to think or how to feel –"
"You don't need me to tell you how you feel. What you need a swift kick in the pants to make you wake up and do something about it. You know, Monica gets that from me. I was always proud of her – she tells it like it is."
Rachel looked at the photo from Monica and Chandler's wedding on the end table beside the recliner, remembering many kicks in the pants she'd received courtesy of Monica.
"I hate to see you and Ross throwing your lives away. Emma will suffer for it. Don't you think she'll realize someday that the only reason you two stayed together was for her? She'll feel responsible for your unhappiness."
"That's not what I want – I want Emma to be happy more than anything. But if -"
"No ifs, either. You think about what I said. I don't want to see Ross get hurt. But sometimes things have to hurt before they can heal." She yawned suddenly. "Honey, do something for me?"
Rachel stood up. "What?"
"Go look on the shelf behind the TV. There's a stack of home movies Jack's been sending to me for years. Would you believe I've never seen them?"
Rachel reached behind the TV and pulled out several VHS tapes. She examined the labels. 1994. 1998. 2000. 2001.
"Would you mind putting one on and letting me take a look-see? I hate fiddling with that contraption over there." She pointed an accusing knitting needle at her VCR, which was blinking 12:12 defiantly back at her.
"I'd love to watch them myself." Rachel slid the first tape into the VCR and sat down on the rug in front of the TV to watch the videos and travel back in time.
There it was - Monica's apartment, 1994. Rachel's younger self looked back at her from the screen. But she hadn't really looked like that – had she?
Wavy, untamed hair, darker then than now. Fashionable, but unsophisticated. Heavier, less polished. And so young…
Jack was barking at them from behind the camera. Rachel sat at the kitchen table between Ross and Monica, her eyes darting nervously back and forth between the Geller siblings.
Always seeking approval. Permission to be myself – I didn't even have a self at that point.
"And here's Rachel!" Jack called from behind the camera. "Say hi to Grandma, Rachel!" The camera zoomed in on her face.
"Hi to Grandma!" That wasn't her voice. Her voice was strong and decisive, not the breathy, high-pitched shake of this girl on the screen. She watched her mouth twist into a forced smile when Jack made an off-color joke. Who was this person, this nervous, insecure stranger wearing her face?
She ejected the tape and put in another with a glance over at Grandma Geller, who had already drifted back to sleep. She wiggled closer to the TV and hit play.
There they all were in Monica's living room: Chandler in the big chair, she and Ross on the couch, Joey and Phoebe on the floor, and Monica at the stove in the kitchen behind them.
She saw her hand tightly in Ross' grasp. She was looking at the camera; he was looking at her.
Phoebe was explaining to Jack that she was uncomfortable with cameras because some native people believe that photographs steal your soul. Ross was rolling his eyes at Phoebe. Chandler made a sarcastic joke. Joey laughed whenever it seemed appropriate to laugh. Rachel merely sat like a statue, her hair in that trendy choppy shag she'd come to hate, her tiny Central Perk apron tied around her waist.
Might as well have had on a sign saying "Property of Ross Geller. No Trespassing." Me and his moist-maker sandwich.
Stop. Eject. Play.
Joey was seated on the couch, lamenting the loss of a part he'd wanted desperately. She was behind him, rubbing his shoulders and telling him he'd make it someday. They weren't in the center of the frame – Jack was filming Monica and Ross as they both held up the Geller Cup and described the football game to their distant grandmother. She and Joey were relegated to the background, left alone to discuss their failings and console each other.
She went through the process again. Stop. Eject. Start another tape.
After the break-up. She was blonder and thinner. She had the job at Bloomingdales – the job Ross had resented. The job Joey had pushed her to into by urging her to quit waitressing. He'd even arranged the interview for her first post-Central Perk job.
She watched herself on screen, moving with a new confidence, beginning to look more Manhattan than Long Island. Gone was the shaky, breathless voice and skittish mannerisms. She had become a new person after beginning that job.
After ending it with Ross, she admitted to herself.
After all, she was no longer 'just a waitress'.
But if I had stayed a waitress…
Sitting on the floor of a retirement beach house in Florida, countless miles from her home, Rachel had one of those rare moments of illumination that radiate backward into the past and forward into the future, shedding the light of clarity on corners formerly left dark and unexamined.
It wasn't Chloe that broke them up. It wasn't Mark. She and Ross hadn't needed any help destroying their relationship. They had plenty of ammo of their own.
The minute I stopped being just a waitress – the minute I found my own voice – the minute I became my own person – was the minute it ended for us.
"It's just a job." She heard Ross' voice in her mind. Just a job.
There was the truth, staring back at her from the screen. Ross hadn't wanted her to become a fully developed person with a mind of her own. No, he wanted an empty vessel to hold his fantasies, a blank canvas on which he could paint the future of his choice.
He wanted the girl on top of the pyramid in a Lincoln High cheerleader's uniform. The girl in the powder blue prom dress.
The girl she'd stopped being the day she ran out of her wedding.
Stop. Eject. Play.
There they were again. She looked at her hairstyle and knew it was after she'd moved in with Joey. They were together in the kitchen behind the action as Ross and Monica exchanged blue and silver wrapped Hannukah gifts for the camera with Chandler and Judy Geller looking on.
She saw herself whispering something in Joey's ear. He whispered back and they both laughed. They moved freely about the kitchen, making sandwiches, constantly invading each other's personal space. Comfortable. Relaxed.
That's who she became with him. Someone who laughed at dirty jokes. Someone who could enjoy pizza out of the box and beer out of the can.
With him, she was no longer the princess from Long Island. She was…herself.
Stop. Eject. Play.
The camera was zoomed in on her bulging pregnant abdomen. It panned slowly out to show her in the big chair at Monica's. Ross was on the floor beside her, explaining to Grandma that she was due in two months.
Joey and Phoebe sat on the couch, barely within the frame. Ross was focused on the camera, explaining in great detail how Rachel had forced him into discovering the sex of their baby by taking a peek at the doctor's chart after they'd agreed to wait until the birth. Rachel's pregnant self closed her eyes and groaned as the story went on.
She watched Joey in the corner of the frame. He never took his eyes off her. He was in love with her. It was so evident – how had she missed it? She'd thought he was over it by that point, but now she could see that he wasn't.
Rachel-in-the-video groused that her feet hurt. Joey immediately stood up and offered her the couch to lay on, then pulled her to her feet when she accepted. Ross continued talking to the camera, listing all the "horrible" names Rachel had suggested, including Rain and Sandrine.
And then she saw it. Jack swung the camera around and asked Rachel what she wanted to name the baby. She was sprawled out on the couch like a beached whale, her puffy, aching feet in Joey's lap, snarling a reply at the camera that Ross apparently looked at tombstones to select baby names.
She saw everything now. Joey loved her when she was at her worst – pregnant, angry, bloated and fatigued. He calmed her, always knowing just what to say or do to make it better. He had become her security blanket, her safe place, her voice of reason, her comfort zone. The place she went to hide from the world. The one thing that was right when everything else was going wrong.
She stopped the tape and covered her face with her hands, wondering how to get through the rest of her life without the peaceful harbor of Joey to shelter her from the storms.
~*~*~
"How much longer?" Rachel rearranged her seatbelt and tried to make herself comfortable for the hundredth time that day.
Ross checked his watch. "An hour and a half…two at the most."
Rachel sighed and craned her neck to look into the backseat of Mrs. Geller's antiquated Buick. Both children were asleep - Ben with his head resting on the car door, Emma in her car seat, mouth open and eyes tightly shut.
"Why did I let you talk me into this?" Rachel snatched the map from the console and tried to find their location.
"You're the one who wanted to see the coastline. Maybe if you stopped complaining and tried to learn something, you might surprise yourself by having a good time."
"I didn't think that seeing the coastline would mean an entire day stuck in a car with no air conditioning, and a trip to the Florida Fossil Museum." She folded the map and jammed it inside the console, closing it with a bang.
"Is it too much to ask that we expose Emma to something other than fashion shows and Barbie dolls?"
"Is it too much to ask that we ever, just once, do something I want to do?"
Ross shook his head and pressed his lips together, forcing back a spiteful reply. He exhaled and looked out the windshield into the dark Florida night. "We're only going to be here 2 more days. Let's try to make this best of this, all right?"
"Fine." Rachel turned away and leaned her head on the window of the passenger side door, much like Ben in the backseat.
She was hot. She was tired. She was miserable. She couldn't even roll down the window to let some air in because the air brought too many mosquitoes with it. Instead of going shopping in South Beach, she'd spent yet another day on Ross' never ending quest to find science-related attractions, only to end up lost on a deserted road in the Florida backwoods. She was bored out of her mind and homesick.
Homesick for my real home, she told herself, apartment #19.
She snuffed the thought out of her mind and turned back to the window, wondering what everyone in New York was doing. She pictured Phoebe, Monica, and Chandler settling in with bowls of popcorn to watch TV. She pictured Joey in his apartment, with the unwanted shadow of Lydia lurking around beside him.
Her musings were interrupted with a jolt when the Buick came to a grinding halt.
"What happened?" She unbuckled her seatbelt and checked the backseat. Ben was stirring, but Emma slept on.
"What's wrong, Dad? Why'd we stop?" Ben rubbed his eyes and sat up. "I'm thirsty."
"Don't know." Ross hit the accelerator and tried to start the car again. And again. And again.
Nothing.
"What is it?" Rachel handed Ben a bottle of water from the bag in the floorboard. "Can you fix it?"
"I don't know. I'm going to check under the hood." Ross got out and walked to the front of the car.
Rachel tried not to roll her eyes. Asking Ross to diagnose a mechanical problem was like asking Phoebe to litter.
He came back in less than a minute. "I think it's an ignition problem."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we're stuck. We can't go any further."
"So what do we do now? Spend the night in the car with two kids?" Rachel smacked the dashboard with her hand. "I can't believe you got us into this."
"Come on, Rachel - this car dates back to the Mesozoic era. Leave it to you to find a way to make this my fault."
"Dad…Aunt Rachel…please don't fight." Ben pleaded with them from the backseat. "You're going to scare Emma. Please?"
"We're not fighting, son." Ross shot Rachel a warning look. "We're just having a serious grown up conversation." He opened his door. "Which we're going to continue outside. Watch your sister, ok?"
"Ok, Dad."
Rachel found herself standing by the trunk of the car. "If we're going to talk outside, at least get my can of insect repellent out of the trunk for me."
Ross turned the key and opened the trunk, pulling out his carefully packed emergency bag. He quickly located her can of spray. "Hold out your arms and turn around."
"I'm going to call a tow truck as soon as we're done with this," Ross said as he misted her with insect spray. "Can we please keep the arguing to a minimum in front of the kids? Carol will kill me if Ben goes home and tells her that we fought in front of him constantly."
"What else have you got in here?" Rachel pawed through his bag. "Power Bars…a radio…a flashlight…a blanket…you travel prepared, Dr. Geller."
"You have to respect the open road." Ross took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed information.
Rachel made herself comfortable and spread the blanket on the ground beside the road. While Ross spoke with the towing service, she scanned stations on his tiny portable radio, finally settling on one that promised "All 80's, All The Time!"
"They'll be here within an hour." Ross settled on the blanket next to her. "We should probably stay out here and let the kids sleep."
The awkwardness that had persisted between them during the past few days seemed like an intruder in the silent darkness. The quiet stretched between them while the minutes ticked away on Ross' watch, and still they found nothing to say to each other.
Rachel forced her mind from Joey and turned her eyes to Ross, who was staring out into the distance.
Distance. That was all there was between them anymore. Distance and the secret about Chloe she had yet to tell him.
She made an impatient sound and reached over to turn up the radio. Sting's voice blasted into the humid air.
Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light
Those days are over
You don't have to sell your body to the night
Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right
Ross moaned and covered his eyes, falling to his back on the blanket.
"Ok. Enough of this." Rachel turned the radio down a notch. "What the hell is going on with you?"
He kept his hands over his eyes. "There's nothing going on with me other than I'm trapped on the vacation from hell."
She ignored his excuse. "You're always thinking about something, you never listen to anything anyone says – it's like you're a million miles away."
He remained mute.
"Who is it, Ross? Is it Charlie?"
His tone was subdued when he answered. "No. It's not Charlie."
"Then what? If we're going to live together again, we have to be at least a little honest with each other."
"I'm – " He squirmed on the blanket. "I'm worried about Phoebe."
Rachel went blank. "Phoebe?"
His mouth turned down. "She doesn't love David. I think she's ruining her life by marrying him."
Click went the missing link in Rachel's mind. "But he's the father of her baby."
Ross pulled himself up and shrugged. "So? She's not in love with him anymore. She should be with –" He cut himself off abruptly.
"Who, Ross? Who should she be with?"
"Someone who loves her the way she deserves to be loved." He looked up as a car rumbled down the road, headlights flashing then fading away.
"Let me see if I understand you. You're saying that two people shouldn't stay together for the sake of their child if they don't love each other?"
"Yes, that's what I –" He caught himself and looked up at Rachel. "Oh, no. Don't put those words in my mouth. I'm talking about Phoebe, not about us. We have this history together…"
Rachel took a deep breath. No time like the present, she told herself.
"But what if – what if history is all we have?"
He leaned forward to tie his shoe, unresponsive to what she said.
"You know something, Ross? I've had a lot of time to think while I was here, and I've got something to tell you."
He faced her with a weary expression. "I'm listening…"
She squared her shoulders and braced herself. "Do you remember why we broke up?"
"Because we were on a break, and I slept with Chloe."
She nodded. "Yeah, that's what we told ourselves, wasn't it? But you want to know what I think? I think we broke up before that. Our relationship went on life support the day I quit Central Perk."
"What makes you think that?"
"You didn't trust me. And you didn't like the person I became when I had a job and my own identity. I make you crazy and jealous and possessive, you make me mean and angry and unforgiving. We didn't need Chloe and Mark to mess up our relationship. They just pulled back the curtain and showed us what was already there. It was over for us before they ever showed up."
"It wasn't that I didn't trust you. I didn't trust him. And –"
She stopped him. "Did you ever think that we were doomed to break up? That this thing with us wasn't meant to be?"
He let out a sigh. "Yeah, I've thought that. No matter how hard we try…it never works out."
"Maybe we fell in love with our own fairy tale." She reached across and took his hand. "It doesn't mean that what we had wasn't real…it just means that it was for a time. And that time has passed."
Tears filled his dark eyes. "It wasn't supposed to be a forever thing, was it?" He swallowed hard. "We've been trying all these years to make it forever, and killing ourselves in the process."
"I think the only way we're ever going to be ok is to let each other go." He nodded at her. "You know, Ross – the best thing we ever did is asleep right in there." She pointed at the backseat where Emma quietly slumbered.
He followed her gaze to the car. "It was worth all of this – everything we put each other through – to have her, wasn't it?"
"It was. She's the best part of both of us…of what we were together."
Rachel knew she owed him the full truth. She lowered her voice and continued. "There's something else. Something you need to know."
He raised his eyebrows, mildly alarmed. "What?"
She averted her eyes and twisted her hair around her finger. "I ran into Chloe a few days before we left New York…"
"Oh, God." Ross slumped down.
"No, it's not what you think." She said a quick prayer for serenity. "We had a long talk…there was a misunderstanding that night when you were with her."
"What the hell…" Ross leaned back and stared at her.
"You didn't have sex with her, Ross. She said you talked about me, and cried, and passed out in the bed with her. Nothing else happened."
Too shocked to speak, he sat on the blanket and searched his memory for a moment before responding. "But what about – everyone seemed to know. That Isaac guy, Jasmine, Gunther…"
Rachel interrupted. "Chloe and Isaac were having a thing, and she wanted to make him jealous. So she told everyone that she spent the night with you and let them draw their own conclusions. She assumed that you knew, and left the chips to fall where they may with the two of us."
Ross ran a hand through his dark hair, overwhelmed. "So we broke up…for nothing?"
"Don't you think it was a matter of time with us?"
He stood up and walked a few yards into the distance. Rachel sat, watching, wondering if he could ever forgive her for the mess they'd created.
He wandered back and sat down again after a few minutes. "There's no undoing this, is there? It's been too long and it went too far."
She shook her head no.
"I'm setting you free. From all the guilt you carried over a mistake you never made…you're free, Ross. Free from any responsibility over this. We both made mistakes – let's put it in the past and move on."
The song drifting from the radio startled them both.
See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you
Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you
With or without you
With or without you
"Oh my God," Rachel whispered. Ross reached over and turned the volume up.
"Dance with me…one last time." He stood up and extended a hand to her, which she took gladly. She sighed when he took her in his arms for one final dance.
Through the storm we reach the shore
You give it all but I want more
And I'm waiting for you
With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you
That was it all along, she realized. They couldn't live with or without each other. The time had come to find something in the middle.
And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away
My hands are tied
My body bruised, she's got me with
Nothing to win and
Nothing left to lose
And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away
With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you
When the song ended he released her with an expression in his eyes she hadn't seen in years – Ross, her old friend. The Ross she'd known from high school. Ross, before they'd learned to sabotage each other.
"Now I'm setting you free."
She wasn't sure she'd heard him right. "What?"
He repeated himself. "I'm setting you free. Go back to New York, fix this thing with Joey. I won't stand in your way, and I won't use Emma to punish you guys for it."
"I'm not sure it can be fixed." She leaned against the car, breathless.
"You love him, don't you?"
She could barely speak. Her heart was beating so fast. "Yes."
"And he loves you. That's why you have to go back in the morning and make things right with him. I'm not going to let you lose him."
"But we're not scheduled to go back until two days from now."
He shook his head. "No, you're going back tomorrow alone. I'll stay here with the kids. You can't let a chance for happiness slip through your fingers trying to save something that can't be saved."
"You'll never know how much this means to me." She threw her arms around him, overcome with gratitude. "What made you change your mind?"
"It's wrong for two people to end up together when their child is the only thing left between them. We're never going to be happy together, Rach…it's always going to be a struggle." He gave her a half smile. "Aren't you tired of the struggle?"
"Joey loves Emma – you know that, don't you? He'll love her as much as he would his own daughter."
Ross shook his head. "I'm not worried about that. I've learned that it's possible to love the child because you love the mother." He looked over her shoulder at Emma and Ben. "Emma will be fine…I'll be fine. We're all going to work through this."
She wanted to ask him where he'd learned this new way of seeing things but the tow truck roared to a stop in front of them.
A burly man in a hideous shirt made from parrot print fabric climbed out of the cab. "Geller?" He spat a wad of tobacco on the ground.
"That's us." Ross walked around to the driver's side.
"We'll have you going in just a minute here." His eyes shot over to Rachel, who was gathering the blanket and radio from the ground. "That is, if you guys are sure you're ready to move on."
Ross and Rachel exchanged a glance that said everything before Ross answered him. "We're ready."
~*~*~
"You'll call us as soon as you get there?" Ross took Emma from Rachel's arms, talking loud to be heard about the din at the gate.
"As soon as I've had a chance to talk to Joey, I'll call you." She kissed Emma's satin cheek one last time. "Be a good girl for Daddy…Mommy will see you in a few days."
"You better go, your flight is boarding now." Ross leaned over and hugged Rachel with his free arm. "Tell Joey…"
"What?"
"Tell him we'll get together and watch a game or something when I get back." He gave her a friendly push. "Get outta here." With one final backward glance at Ross, Ben, and Emma, Rachel went to the plane that would take her back to New York…back to Joey.
She was going home.
~*~*~
The cab driver placed the last of Joey's bags in the trunk and slammed the lid shut before getting into the driver's seat.
Monica, Chandler, and Phoebe stood outside Central Perk. They were gathered there to tell Joey goodbye.
"I guess that's everything…" Joey looked at the three faces in front of him, wondering what his life would be like without them in it every day.
"It's not too late to change your mind." Monica's voice caught. "You can stay and think this over…change your flight."
"I can't." Joey engulfed Monica in a hug. "You have any idea how much I'm going to miss you and your cooking?"
"I know." Monica patted him on the back. "I know."
"And you…" Joey turned to Phoebe, who wrapped her arms around his neck. "I always thought you and me would be the last ones standing."
"I wish you could be here for the wedding…I wanted you to do the ceremony." Phoebe let go of him and wiped her eyes with her hand.
Joey shook his head. "It'd be too soon. You understand."
She nodded. "You'll be back when the babies are born, won't you?"
"You won't be able to keep me away." He forced a smile. "You know, by then I'll be settled in L.A., and Rachel…" He couldn't pronounce her name without pain. "Rachel will be over all of this. She'll be fine."
"How will we know where to reach you?" Monica asked. "You cancelled your cell phone service, right?"
"Yeah, I did. I'll call you when I get to a hotel and give you the number. We'll always stay in touch, right guys?"
Everyone nodded reluctantly, silently acknowledging how things were about to change irrevocably.
Finally, Joey turned to Chandler. "Dude…"
"Come here." Chandler hugged Joey, glad that his friend couldn't see his face. "I think I'm gonna miss you most of all, Scarecrow."
"I thought I was the one who was supposed to say that." Joey pulled away and punched Chandler's shoulder. "You'll make sure that Rachel gets…"
Chandler nodded. "I'll see to it personally."
"That's it, then…" Joey put a hand on the car door.
"Wait!" Phoebe made a run for the coffee house door. "My ring!"
They watched through the window as Phoebe took a small pouch from her guitar case before returning outside.
"My crystal ring." She pulled it from inside the pouch. "I want you to have it."
"Because there aren't enough people wearing crystals in California," Chandler observed.
"That was your mom's ring. I can't take this." Joey held the brilliant crystal ring in his hand. Phoebe had placed it on a long chain.
"I kept that ring with me during all my years on the street. It protected me. Now it's going to protect you." She took it from his hand and placed the chain around his neck. "Keep it close to you, and you'll always be safe."
The driver leaned out the window. "The meter's running here."
"Ok." Joey hugged Phoebe again. "I really have to go now…group hug?"
The four friends came together in one giant hug. When they separated, Joey put one hand on Phoebe's stomach and one on Monica's.
"Bye, babies." He looked up at the floor where apartments #19 and #20 were situated. "Bye, house." He cleared his throat and opened the car door. "Take care of Dina for me, ok guys?"
Everyone nodded. Joey climbed in and closed the door behind him.
"Airport," he told the driver. With a nod, the driver took off into the crowded street.
Joey turned and waved at Chandler, Monica, and Phoebe through the back windshield, watching as they grew smaller and smaller until he couldn't see them anymore.
~*~*~
Rachel sat down in the back of the cab, frantic with impatience to get back home and see Joey.
The flight had been long and uncomfortable with an unexpected delay. She'd begun to wish she hadn't kept her return a secret. But then, she reasoned, the look of surprise on Joey's face would be worth the hassle.
"Where to?"
Rachel gave the driver the address and leaned back with a contented sigh. Within minutes, she'd be with Joey again and her life would make sense.
She half listened to the car radio droning on with the news. The stock market had done blah-blah-blah. Some politician had said blah-blah-blah. A movie had opened and bombed, only raking in blah-blah-blah at the box office. In local news, Flight #113 from New York to Los Angeles had crashed somewhere out west. She paused long enough to be thankful that her flight had arrived safely.
The news ended and Heather Nova sang "Nothing Heals Me Like You Do" from the radio. Rachel sang along, amusing the driver.
She was almost there. When rain began to fall from the sky, she was the happiest person in New York City.
After all, their first kiss had happened with rain pouring down outside. It was only right to come full circle.
When the cab stopped, she handed the driver a large bill and told him to keep the change. She took her bag and ran for the door.
She couldn't get up the stairs fast enough. They led to Joey.
~*~*~
The door was locked. Rachel had the uncomfortable feeling that Lydia might be in there. No matter – Lydia had ceased to be a factor. Rachel took the key from her purse and let herself into Joey's apartment.
It was dark. There wasn't a light on in the place. Rachel found the light switch from memory and turned it on.
Something was wrong. Everything looked the same, but different.
The furniture was all in place, but other things were missing. She treaded into the living room. The first thing she noticed was that Lydia's work station had been completely removed. She glanced to the entertainment center. Jessica's video games were gone. But oddly enough, so were all of Joey's movies and knick-knacks.
So were his magazines. So were all of the posters…
Rachel panicked and ran to the fridge, opening the door so fast that she nearly tore it from the hinges. Empty. She opened the freezer. Empty except for a battered copy of "Little Women".
She pulled the frozen book out with a gasp. Her mind worked frantically for an answer to what had happened but nothing came to her.
She heard the front door opening and turned with a smile, expecting to see Joey walking in as if nothing were wrong. Instead she saw Chandler, who looked as if things were very much wrong.
"You came home early." His voice set of an alarm in Rachel's head.
"Yes – Chandler, what on earth happened here? Where is all of Joey's stuff? For that matter, where's Joey?"
Chandler put his hands in his pockets and shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable. "He's gone, Rach."
"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"
"He took a movie offer in Los Angeles…he said you knew about it." Chandler stared at the floor.
"But – he didn't even say goodbye to me!"
"He said it would be too hard for you guys to say goodbye again." Chandler forced himself to meet Rachel's eyes. "He's not coming back."
"But he has to come back. Ross and I –" She stopped, too stunned to explain. Her eyes swept the apartment and she turned to Chandler with her suspicions. "If he's gone, why is all of his furniture still here?"
Chandler shrugged and sighed in a way that struck fear in Rachel's heart. "Dina is going to move in here and sublet from him. He left his furniture for her…she doesn't have much stuff of her own, and apparently Bobby doesn't help her out much."
The memory of a pizza dinner with Dina came back to Rachel in a flash. Dina's request for a place to live, should Rachel ever move out.
"But..but what about "Days Of Our Lives"?"
"They said they'd shoot around him for a while. He has time off for other projects built into his contract. If things don't work out in L.A., he'll have a job to come back to." Seeing the hope in Rachel's eyes, Chandler hurried his next words. "But Rachel, seriously, he says he's not coming back. He wants you to be able to go on with your life."
"He is my life!" She dropped the book and went into his bedroom. It had been stripped down to the bare minimum. Boxes were neatly stacked in the corner. She heard Chandler's footsteps behind her. "What's all this?" She pointed to the boxes.
"That's his stuff. He just took his clothes with him. When he gets a place out there, Dina's going to ship all of this to him."
"This is crazy. This has to be undone, somehow. I'm going to call his cell right now." She ran out of Joey's room and made a dash for the phone.
"He cancelled it." Chandler followed her to the kitchen.
"Ok, then, what's his new number in L.A.?"
"We don't have it yet."
Rachel headed for her old room. Chandler went after her. "Rachel, wait."
She opened the door. There was her old bed. The room was dark and she could almost make out the shape of something resting at the head of the bed.
"He left something for you…he trusted me with the job of giving it to you, so please let me do this right, ok?"
Rachel stood still and waited as Chandler got the item from the bed and handed it to her, flipping the light switch.
When light flooded the room, Rachel could see that the warm, soft object in her hands was Hugsy.
"Oh my God." She backed away from Chandler and sat down on the bed.
"He wanted you to give Hugsy to Emma…" Chandler looked closer. Rachel was crying.
He sat down beside her and put an arm around her. "It's going to be ok, Rachel. He did this for you. He thought this was the only way you and Ross would ever have any peace."
Rachel couldn't tell Chandler that she and Ross had found peace and that Joey was the next step in their treaty.
Chandler continued, trying valiantly to comfort her. "I bet he's getting off the plane right now. We'll hear from him tonight and you can tell him whatever is on your mind." He stopped and chuckled. "Hey, if you can talk him into coming back, I'll be the last guy to object."
An ominous feeling began to float through Rachel's mind. "You said he'd be arriving about now."
"Yeah. His flight left this morning."
"This morning." Rachel plundered her memory, terror surging through her. What had she heard in the cab? A flight from…
She stood up and shouted something incoherent. Chandler jumped to his feet. "What? Rachel, calm down! What is it?"
"What was his flight number?" She ran for the door, to what or from what she didn't know.
"I don't know. Why does that matter?"
"Chandler, what was his damn flight number? Get it for me now." It was unthinkable…it couldn't be…
Chandler was shaking. "Monica has it written down somewhere. I'll get it if you'll tell me why the hell you're shrieking like a banshee."
"There was a plane crash! For God's sake, haven't you heard about it on the news?"
Chandler bolted for his apartment, he and Rachel tumbling over each other to get through the door.
"Turn on the news!" Phoebe and Monica looked up from the couch, shocked at Rachel's wild eyes and screaming voice.
"We're watching Food TV." Monica dismissed them with a roll of her eyes.
"Monica, turn on the damn news!" Chandler knocked over the stack of notes beside the phone, tearing through the papers.
"Here it is, here it is." His hands shook so that he could hardly read the page. "Flight number 113 from New York to Los Angeles."
Rachel gripped the back of the couch for support as the news anchor spoke from the television in a smooth, undisturbed tone. A satellite photo inset showed burning wreckage. The white caption along the bottom of the screen read:
"Flight 113 From NY To LA Down Over Colorado, All Onboard Feared Lost"
As the screams of the other three shredded the air, Rachel collapsed to the floor in a pitiful heap.
A/N: Trust me! It's all going to be ok! Everything will be resolved in the next chapter! I do everything for a reason and there's a reason for this. TRUST ME!!!!
