Title: The Prince Of Tides- Someone I Used To Know
Author: Kaitlyn
Summary: "Man wonders and God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides"
Rating: PG-13
They did not talk on the way back home. They did not hail a cab, but rather walked the 5 blocks from the doctor's office to the apartment- all of which was covered in an irrevocable silence, despite the incessant honking of horns and screeching of tires.
When they arrived back at the apartment, Rachel headed straight for the bedroom with Ross hot on her heels in pursuit. Needless to say, she slammed the door so hard in his face that it cracked the frame. Though he had been expecting that, it hadn't made it any easier. He rested his forehead against the solid oak. He had really screwed up this time. He had been pretty uneasy and on-the-edge during this entire ordeal, but he had never let it affect his supportiveness or his attentiveness before. He had definitely botched this one big time.
He couldn't really account for what exactly had happened. His thought process had been emphatic and impulsive, and before he knew it, he was leaving work and driving to Jersey. For lack of a better phrase, he had freaked out- completely and spontaneously. One moment he had been sitting behind his desk, the next, he was doing 80 down the freeway with only one thought occupying his mind: She was dying.
Though the process was drawn-out, and the end result not yet diagnosable, she was dying. What was more, she was dying a terrifying death that was consuming everything he had ever known of her. Lately, she had been nearly unrecognizable to him. There were brief moments to break the static lullaby- moments when she would smile or kiss him or make love to him- when it almost felt like them again. Now those moments were coming fewer and further in between, and he had as much as resigned himself to believing that one would never reappear.
Three days ago, he had forfeited any remaining hope that they might once again be Ross and Rachel and he had dedicated every ounce of himself to loving the mere skeleton that remained of the woman he had once promised "I do" to.
Today, the realization that he had to consciously make that effort to love her sent him into a fit of anxiety and fear. He had never had to try and love her before- it had simply been a part of who he was. Loving Rachel was knowing Rachel, and if anyone had ever told him otherwise, he would have laughed in their face. He was not laughing today, however.
His thoughts were interrupted by a muffled sob eradiating from the other side of the door. Great, she was crying. That was the only goddamn thing that could have made the situation any worse for him, and it had happened. Of course she's crying, he thought. She married a complete asshole and she's having to find out about it on her deathbed.
"Rachel, I'm sorry. I know that doesn't even begin to make up for what I did, but...I just...I don't know what I was..." Oh hell. He couldn't even tell her how he felt now. How was he ever going to make this work?
"God, Rachel, just let me in. Please, I'm begging you. Just let me in and-" His sentence was cut off by the abrupt swing of the door and the sight of her tear-streaked face and down-turned eyes. With the light of the bedroom illuminating the doorframe, she looked like an angel... one very pissed-off angel.
"And what?! You can give me a million-and-one reasons for why you weren't there today, none of which are the truth?! Or maybe so we can sit in silence like we have been for the past MONTH and watch as our whole goddamn relationship fade away into NOTHING! Is that what's going to happen when I finally let you in here, huh? Or maybe so you can kiss me and pretend like nothing happened- like nothing's BEEN happening- like I'm not DYING and there's nothing anyone can do about it!"
He said nothing. Even if he hadn't been crying too hard to form any coherent words, he wouldn't have had anything to say. She had pretty much taken care of everything. If there had ever been even a glimmer of a doubt in either of their minds as to where they stood, it had certainly been eradicated now. There was nothing but truth now, and it hung in the air between them like damp linens on a clothing line. It was the final showdown and neither of them dared to bat an eyelash. They stood there before one another, both sobbing and breathless and less sure than they had ever been of anything in their lives.
During one nondescript moment, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it, but neither of them really acknowledged the action. It was meaningless and empty and meant more for his comfort and reassurance than for hers.
But then, in one instance, it was she who closed the space between them with a crushing assault against his lips. He had not seen it coming- perhaps she hadn't either- but neither questioned it. She braced herself with his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his flesh, and she wove his fingers through her hair. It was rushed and passionate and needy and sad and familiar all at once. It smelled and felt and tasted like them, and being the first thing that had made either of them feel in over a month, they did not allow themselves to stop.
He slid his hands down her body and stopped at her back, clasping her there and refusing to let go. The jaws of life could not have pried her from his fingers. She moved her hands to cup is face and then up into his hair, massaging his scalp. Their breaths came in an assortment of uneven moans and rough gasps until Ross finally broke the airtight seal of their mouths long enough to breath.
He stepped back, a little unsure of what had just happened and terrified that she hadn't really meant it. He became surprisingly defensive, tightening his hands into fists at his sides. The effects she had over him were frightening at times and he was afraid of doing or saying something rash in light of their recent intimate moment that, in hindsight, he would discover had been devoid of sentiment or meaning. He was still breathing heavily, though, and his eyes were still glazed with want and need for her, and she saw it...he knew she saw it. It was impossible to hide how much he loved her.
The fact that she was just standing there, poised to pounce and starring him straight in the face didn't ease his trepidation. He felt as if she was sizing him up, planning her attack. Finally he let out a puff of air that was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle.
"You've got to say something." No she didn't, he thought. She really didn't have to say anything, because no matter what she did or said, he would never leave her and he would never hurt her. He would stand there until the very Earth ceased spinning in anticipation of her next words, and they both knew it.
"What do you want me to say?" She was still testing him. Her face had loosened somewhat and her body was no longer the rigid statuette it had been when they had first begun. He knew how she operated, though, and she couldn't just give in that easily. She had to keep the distance- not for his punishment but for her sanity. He wanted her to know that he wasn't here to argue, though. He only wanted to fix this problem that he had created and to assure her that he would never be so negligent again. He stepped towards her a bit, careful not to seem challenging but rather supportive.
"Whatever you feel. Tell me whatever you feel, Rach. If you're mad at me, yell. If you're scared, cry." At this, her bottom lip began to tremble slightly and he could see that he was getting through to her. Slowly but surely, he was breaking down that concrete wall that she had erected. He stepped closer still, even daring to graze her fingers slightly yet unintentionally with his.
"Rachel, you can't even begin to understand how sorry I am for today. What I did was inexcusable, and I will understand if you can never completely forgive me...but I was just so damn scared. I know, I know, it's stupid. I'm supposed to be the supportive one through all of this. I'm supposed to be the strong one- the one who keeps it all together. But the truth, Rach? The truth is I'm scared out of my fucking mind, and I just lost it. I got in my car and I, I started driving. I didn't know where I was going- I didn't care. I just knew I had to get away from anything that resembled this nightmare we're living in right now.
"But then I realized how selfish I was being, and I was angrier with myself in that moment than you could ever be at me, Rach. The reality of it is that this is what life's throw at us. Nightmare or not, terrifying or not, this is our life right now and we're GOING to figure it out."
In the confusion of attempting to deliberate his words, he forgot about his plan of subtlety and grabbed her hand fiercely with his. He intertwined their fingers, rubbing her thumb gently and thanking God that she was squeezing back.
"Rachel, truth be told, I couldn't live without you. I mean, I've thought about it, and I truly believe that if you were to suddenly step out of my life, I would shut down and die. So losing you is not an option. We are GOING to work through this, and we're going to be okay...and that's what I decided when I was sitting outside that doctor's office today."
He was done. That was all he had to say. That was everything he had left, and if that was not enough for her, well, then he would have to come up with a new plan. For now, all he could do was wait. He soon discovered that he wouldn't be doing that for long.
She burrowed herself in his encircling arms and laid her head to his chest. Her tears stained his shirt and her broken sobs were broken and shattered on his breastbone. Her body shook with each gasping breath and she smelled faintly of the ocean.
Maybe this is what love is really supposed to be like, he mused. They had lived for so long in the sheltered utopia of Ross and Rachel that perhaps they had not experienced the full familiarity of what love actually meant. Love was an act- something you do everyday. It's a constant struggle, but it makes you better for those struggles, in the end. It's a painstaking battle. It's a bloodless, faceless war that you can't help but fighting because the stakes are higher than life itself and the enemy lives inside. Yes, this is what love is, he thought. And I love her even more for it.
Author: Kaitlyn
Summary: "Man wonders and God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides"
Rating: PG-13
They did not talk on the way back home. They did not hail a cab, but rather walked the 5 blocks from the doctor's office to the apartment- all of which was covered in an irrevocable silence, despite the incessant honking of horns and screeching of tires.
When they arrived back at the apartment, Rachel headed straight for the bedroom with Ross hot on her heels in pursuit. Needless to say, she slammed the door so hard in his face that it cracked the frame. Though he had been expecting that, it hadn't made it any easier. He rested his forehead against the solid oak. He had really screwed up this time. He had been pretty uneasy and on-the-edge during this entire ordeal, but he had never let it affect his supportiveness or his attentiveness before. He had definitely botched this one big time.
He couldn't really account for what exactly had happened. His thought process had been emphatic and impulsive, and before he knew it, he was leaving work and driving to Jersey. For lack of a better phrase, he had freaked out- completely and spontaneously. One moment he had been sitting behind his desk, the next, he was doing 80 down the freeway with only one thought occupying his mind: She was dying.
Though the process was drawn-out, and the end result not yet diagnosable, she was dying. What was more, she was dying a terrifying death that was consuming everything he had ever known of her. Lately, she had been nearly unrecognizable to him. There were brief moments to break the static lullaby- moments when she would smile or kiss him or make love to him- when it almost felt like them again. Now those moments were coming fewer and further in between, and he had as much as resigned himself to believing that one would never reappear.
Three days ago, he had forfeited any remaining hope that they might once again be Ross and Rachel and he had dedicated every ounce of himself to loving the mere skeleton that remained of the woman he had once promised "I do" to.
Today, the realization that he had to consciously make that effort to love her sent him into a fit of anxiety and fear. He had never had to try and love her before- it had simply been a part of who he was. Loving Rachel was knowing Rachel, and if anyone had ever told him otherwise, he would have laughed in their face. He was not laughing today, however.
His thoughts were interrupted by a muffled sob eradiating from the other side of the door. Great, she was crying. That was the only goddamn thing that could have made the situation any worse for him, and it had happened. Of course she's crying, he thought. She married a complete asshole and she's having to find out about it on her deathbed.
"Rachel, I'm sorry. I know that doesn't even begin to make up for what I did, but...I just...I don't know what I was..." Oh hell. He couldn't even tell her how he felt now. How was he ever going to make this work?
"God, Rachel, just let me in. Please, I'm begging you. Just let me in and-" His sentence was cut off by the abrupt swing of the door and the sight of her tear-streaked face and down-turned eyes. With the light of the bedroom illuminating the doorframe, she looked like an angel... one very pissed-off angel.
"And what?! You can give me a million-and-one reasons for why you weren't there today, none of which are the truth?! Or maybe so we can sit in silence like we have been for the past MONTH and watch as our whole goddamn relationship fade away into NOTHING! Is that what's going to happen when I finally let you in here, huh? Or maybe so you can kiss me and pretend like nothing happened- like nothing's BEEN happening- like I'm not DYING and there's nothing anyone can do about it!"
He said nothing. Even if he hadn't been crying too hard to form any coherent words, he wouldn't have had anything to say. She had pretty much taken care of everything. If there had ever been even a glimmer of a doubt in either of their minds as to where they stood, it had certainly been eradicated now. There was nothing but truth now, and it hung in the air between them like damp linens on a clothing line. It was the final showdown and neither of them dared to bat an eyelash. They stood there before one another, both sobbing and breathless and less sure than they had ever been of anything in their lives.
During one nondescript moment, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it, but neither of them really acknowledged the action. It was meaningless and empty and meant more for his comfort and reassurance than for hers.
But then, in one instance, it was she who closed the space between them with a crushing assault against his lips. He had not seen it coming- perhaps she hadn't either- but neither questioned it. She braced herself with his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his flesh, and she wove his fingers through her hair. It was rushed and passionate and needy and sad and familiar all at once. It smelled and felt and tasted like them, and being the first thing that had made either of them feel in over a month, they did not allow themselves to stop.
He slid his hands down her body and stopped at her back, clasping her there and refusing to let go. The jaws of life could not have pried her from his fingers. She moved her hands to cup is face and then up into his hair, massaging his scalp. Their breaths came in an assortment of uneven moans and rough gasps until Ross finally broke the airtight seal of their mouths long enough to breath.
He stepped back, a little unsure of what had just happened and terrified that she hadn't really meant it. He became surprisingly defensive, tightening his hands into fists at his sides. The effects she had over him were frightening at times and he was afraid of doing or saying something rash in light of their recent intimate moment that, in hindsight, he would discover had been devoid of sentiment or meaning. He was still breathing heavily, though, and his eyes were still glazed with want and need for her, and she saw it...he knew she saw it. It was impossible to hide how much he loved her.
The fact that she was just standing there, poised to pounce and starring him straight in the face didn't ease his trepidation. He felt as if she was sizing him up, planning her attack. Finally he let out a puff of air that was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle.
"You've got to say something." No she didn't, he thought. She really didn't have to say anything, because no matter what she did or said, he would never leave her and he would never hurt her. He would stand there until the very Earth ceased spinning in anticipation of her next words, and they both knew it.
"What do you want me to say?" She was still testing him. Her face had loosened somewhat and her body was no longer the rigid statuette it had been when they had first begun. He knew how she operated, though, and she couldn't just give in that easily. She had to keep the distance- not for his punishment but for her sanity. He wanted her to know that he wasn't here to argue, though. He only wanted to fix this problem that he had created and to assure her that he would never be so negligent again. He stepped towards her a bit, careful not to seem challenging but rather supportive.
"Whatever you feel. Tell me whatever you feel, Rach. If you're mad at me, yell. If you're scared, cry." At this, her bottom lip began to tremble slightly and he could see that he was getting through to her. Slowly but surely, he was breaking down that concrete wall that she had erected. He stepped closer still, even daring to graze her fingers slightly yet unintentionally with his.
"Rachel, you can't even begin to understand how sorry I am for today. What I did was inexcusable, and I will understand if you can never completely forgive me...but I was just so damn scared. I know, I know, it's stupid. I'm supposed to be the supportive one through all of this. I'm supposed to be the strong one- the one who keeps it all together. But the truth, Rach? The truth is I'm scared out of my fucking mind, and I just lost it. I got in my car and I, I started driving. I didn't know where I was going- I didn't care. I just knew I had to get away from anything that resembled this nightmare we're living in right now.
"But then I realized how selfish I was being, and I was angrier with myself in that moment than you could ever be at me, Rach. The reality of it is that this is what life's throw at us. Nightmare or not, terrifying or not, this is our life right now and we're GOING to figure it out."
In the confusion of attempting to deliberate his words, he forgot about his plan of subtlety and grabbed her hand fiercely with his. He intertwined their fingers, rubbing her thumb gently and thanking God that she was squeezing back.
"Rachel, truth be told, I couldn't live without you. I mean, I've thought about it, and I truly believe that if you were to suddenly step out of my life, I would shut down and die. So losing you is not an option. We are GOING to work through this, and we're going to be okay...and that's what I decided when I was sitting outside that doctor's office today."
He was done. That was all he had to say. That was everything he had left, and if that was not enough for her, well, then he would have to come up with a new plan. For now, all he could do was wait. He soon discovered that he wouldn't be doing that for long.
She burrowed herself in his encircling arms and laid her head to his chest. Her tears stained his shirt and her broken sobs were broken and shattered on his breastbone. Her body shook with each gasping breath and she smelled faintly of the ocean.
Maybe this is what love is really supposed to be like, he mused. They had lived for so long in the sheltered utopia of Ross and Rachel that perhaps they had not experienced the full familiarity of what love actually meant. Love was an act- something you do everyday. It's a constant struggle, but it makes you better for those struggles, in the end. It's a painstaking battle. It's a bloodless, faceless war that you can't help but fighting because the stakes are higher than life itself and the enemy lives inside. Yes, this is what love is, he thought. And I love her even more for it.