The Setup: 1966.  The US has sent over 300,000 troops to the war in Vietnam.  On the home front, tensions are mounting, as support for the War continues to diminish.  President Johnson makes his first trip to South Vietnam, and the Soviet Union announces its intentions to support North Vietnam, arousing anger among war supporters and moderates. 

As for our favorite sextet, Monica, Rachel and Phoebe are seniors in high school.  Ross, Chandler and Joey have just graduated high school (Joey and Chandler went to a different school, though).  Rachel and Ross are dating.

~The Age of Aquarius~

Chapter Two: Free as a Bird

Monica opened her eyes, and was immediately blinded by sharp, early morning sunrays, filtering through the windows of the van.  She bolted upright, when she realized that it was morning, and she had been out all night.  Her mother was going to kill her!

"Phoebe," Monica crawled over to her sleeping friend.

"Hmmph?" Phoebe, who was curled up next to Joey, moved minimally, but kept her eyes closed.

"Pheebs, I have to get home!  My parents are gonna freak out!"

"Okay, okay," Phoebe mumbled, and wiggled her way out from under Joey's limp arm.

The girls settled into the front seats of the van, and made their way to the Geller residence.

"What am I gonna tell my folks?" Monica wondered.

"Just tell them we were studying Biology and we fell asleep," Phoebe said matter-of-factly.

"Phoebe, school is out for the summer, remember?"

"Oh.  Well, just tell them that you got stoned in my van and passed out."

"Phoebe!" Monica looked desperate.

"Okay, okay," Phoebe relented, "Tell them we were watching TV and fell asleep or something."

"Okay," Monica mumbled, as the van pulled onto her street.  She suddenly felt very ill.

"Here," Phoebe sprayed Monica with a horrible smelling perfume.

"What are you doing?" Monica coughed.

"So you don't smell like pot," Phoebe smiled.

"Hey, what's going on," Chandler's head popped up between the seats, startling the girls.

"We're taking Monica home," Phoebe said.

"Oh.  Why?"

"Because, her parents are going to kill her!" Phoebe laughed.

"Not funny, Phoebe," Monica grumbled.

"Oh, well, are you gonna come out with us tonight?" Chandler asked hopefully.

"It depends on what my parents say," Monica said quietly.  The van pulled up to her parent's house.

"Groovy.  Hey, Monica," Chandler said, as Monica opened the van door.

"Yes?"

"You're alright," Chandler smiled lazily, and took Monica's place in the front seat.

"Thanks," Monica smiled, and reddened slightly.

"See ya tonight then, at the bonfire?"

"Uh, I don't—"

"I'll call you!" Phoebe said.

"Okay," Monica shrugged, and shut the van door.  She watched, as Phoebe drove away.  Taking a deep breath, she turned on her heel, and walked into the house.

~***~

"Hey," Chandler mumbled, as he made his way into his parent's three-story house.

"Chandler, get back here!" Charles boomed.

"Dad, I'm tired," Chandler moaned, rubbing his face to hammer home the point.

"We need to talk about what you are going to do, now that you are graduated."

"Dad, I told you, I want to—"

"Hang out and play your 'music'?" Charles mimicked, "You need to grow up and face reality."

"If I face reality, then I'll have to admit that my father would rather sleep with the houseboy than my own mother," Chandler seethed.

"Enough!  I've had it with your smart-ass attitude, Chandler!  You're enlisting!  Maybe a stint in boot camp will help you see clearly."

"I am not fighting in that war! It goes against everything I believe in, and—"

"Oh, Chandler, shut up!  You aren't old enough to even understand what's going on!"

"But I'm old enough to fly over there and die??"

Charles felt his anger mounting, and knew that if he didn't leave, or kick Chandler out of the room, he'd say something he'd regret.

"Chandler, get out!  Go, sleep, smoke your precious pot!  But we will talk about your future, whether you want to or not!"

"Fascist," Chandler mumbled, and stormed out of the room, ascended the broad, orange-carpeted staircase that led to the family bedrooms.

"What is going on out here," Nora came stumbling out of her bedroom, and looked at Chandler crossly.

"It's nothing, Mom," Chandler sighed, taking note of the fact that she once again smelled of bourbon.

"Fine, then keep it down," Nora growled, and retreated back into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Chandler sighed heavily, and stared at the closed door for a long moment.  He hated seeing his mother like this: he hated that she was always drunk; He hated his father for driving her to drink with his not-so-subtle affair.  Chandler quietly opened his mother's bedroom door, and poked his head into the room. 

His mother was now passed out; she was sprawled out onto her bed, her right arm dangling lifelessly off of the side of her bed, her left arm clutching an empty bourbon bottle to her chest.  Chandler's eyes dropped to the floor, and he watched his own feet as he made his way into the bedroom.  Upon reaching the bed, Chandler looked once again at his mother, before pulling the bottle from Nora.  He pulled a thin blanket over her, and sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed.  He took a deep breath, as he used his finger to pull a tangled tendril of hair from her mouth.  Choking back his anger and sorrow, he abruptly stood and left the room.

~***~

"Phoebe, is that you?"

"It's me, Grandma," Phoebe yelled, as she entered the cramped one-bedroom apartment.

"Did you get my medicine?" Came the voice from the bedroom.

"Yes, Grandma," Phoebe sighed, and dropped her bag onto the tattered brown sofa that doubled as her bed.  She pulled a small vial out of her jacket pocket, and walked it into her grandmother's bedroom.  She quickly dropped off the vial, and turned to leave.

"Are you going out again tonight, dear?" her grandmother croaked.

"Yes, Grandma," Phoebe mumbled.

"You be careful, dear."

"Yes, Grandma," Phoebe whispered, and rushed out of the room.

Phoebe's grandmother was terminally ill, with a degenerative disorder that Phoebe did not quite understand. Phoebe felt a wave of guilt flow through her, every time she brushed her grandmother off.  But Phoebe could not watch another loved one die.  It had been nearly ten years, since Phoebe found her mother dead, the result of a suicide.  Her father had left soon after Phoebe and her ever-absent twin sister Ursula, was born.  Recently, Phoebe had found solace in taking up humanitarian and anti-war causes, and constant parties.  The stale air of the apartment, combined with the looming air of death, was stifling to Phoebe, and she found herself spending more and more time in her van, or with her friends.  She had spent a few night's and Monica's parent's house, but she had the distinct feeling that Monica's overbearing mother did not like her.  Sighing heavily, she plopped down onto the dusty sofa, and repressed a sardonic smile.  She would not want to be in her friend's preppy little shoes at the moment.

~***~

Monica could hear her parents talking to Ross in the kitchen.  She did her best to sneak into the house, hoping that her parents would simply think that she was just waking up, and that she had made it home well before her curfew.

No such Luck.

"Monica Elizabeth Geller, GET IN HERE!"

Monica's shoulders slumped slightly, as she turned toward the kitchen, and prepared herself for her mother's wrath.  She kept her eyes to the floor as she made her way into the kitchen, to face two fuming parents, and one smug brother.

"Just where have you been young lady?" Judy seethed darkly.

"I, uh, was with Phoebe.  We were watching a movie, and we fell asleep," Monica stuttered quietly.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?  A girl your age, running around like some…floozy!" If Monica didn't know any better, she'd say that her mother was actually enjoying this little tirade.

"Judy, that's enough," Jack stepped in, and Monica smiled inwardly, "Monica would never lie to us, would you, honey?" Jack turned to his only daughter, and smiled hopefully.

Monica's innocent smile nearly faltered, and she fought to keep eye contact with her father.  She suddenly felt dirty and dishonest, and wondered if her father knew more than he was letting on.

"Of course not, Daddy," Monica said quietly, and turned to leave before Judy could start up again.

"But," Jack's voice stopped Monica in her tracks, "You ARE grounded for two weeks, for missing your curfew."

Monica nodded silently, and retreated to her room, deciding that it was best not to point out that Ross had missed his curfew several times in high school, and was let off with a warning.

But then, Ross could do no wrong.

And now, her "perfect" older brother was going off to War, and Monica could see her parents bursting with pride.  For her part, Monica could never compete, because she couldn't go to war, she could never be a "hero".  While Monica constantly strove, and often achieved perfection in grades and other extracurricular activities, it would never be enough in the eyes of her parents.  She could never be Perfect Ross.  And she hated him for it.

Hated Him.

A knock on her bedroom door pulled Monica out of her thoughts.

"Come in," she said flatly.

Ross poked his head in the door, and gave Monica a neutral smile.

"Hey, Mon, can I talk to you a sec?"

"Do I have a choice?" Monica retorted, as Ross walked in and closed the door.

"Where were you last night, really?" Ross asked.

"I was with Phoebe," Monica said, "And even if I wasn't, why would I tell you?  You'd just go squealing to Mom and Dad anyway."

"No I wouldn't," Ross argued meekly.

"Yeah, right," Monica said, and sprawled herself across her bed.

"Look, I was wondering if you'd talked to Rachel since yesterday afternoon.  She was kind of upset about my draft, and she won't return my calls…"

"No, I haven't seen her since our last class yesterday."

"Okay," Ross' shoulders dropped, and Monica watched as he fought back stubborn tears.  He turned to walk out of the room, but Monica's voice stopped him.

"Ross, I'll try to talk to her today, okay?"

Ross smiled gratefully, and opened the door. 

"Thanks," he whispered, and retreated into the hallway.

~***~

Rachel sat in the window seat that faced her parent's back garden, absently playing with the gold chain that was clasped around her delicate neck.  The news of Chip's death, combined with Ross' pending departure had thrown Rachel into a dark funk, and she had consequently spent the last twenty-four hours holed up in her bedroom.   The food her mother had brought to her was untouched, and attempts by any member of her family to talk to her were met with cold stares and mumbled responses.  In the end, the Green family decided that what Rachel needed, was space.

That was, of course, until Rachel's best friend arrived.

Monica's parents had allowed Monica to visit Rachel, because Ross had convinced them to.  Monica's gut reaction had been to resent Ross for having that kind of power over their parents, but she resisted: she knew that now was not the time.

"Hey, Mon," Rachel smiled sadly, as Monica walked into her bedroom.

"Hey, how are you, Rach?" Monica took a seat next to Rachel.

"Chip is dead," Rachel said flatly, and looked back out the window.

"Oh, Rach, I'm so sorry," Monica wrapped her arms around her friend slowly.

"Aren't you upset, that your brother is going over to that…place?" Rachel said bitterly, and pulled out of Monica's embrace.

"Yes…but I know he'll be okay," Monica smiled.

"How do you know?"

"Because it's Ross!  He's always okay!  And you are Ross & Rachel!  You belong together, for, like, ever!" Monica laughed.

Rachel laughed, as played with the tissue in her hand.

"It'll be okay, Rach," Monica said softly, and watched as Rachel's shoulders sank, "He's worried about you, and he wants to spend as much time with you as he can."

Rachel looked up sharply, as though that realization just struck her.

"Is he at your house?" Rachel asked softly.

"Uh huh.  C'mon, I'll take you," Monica smiled, and led her shaky friend out of the room.

~***~

Monica was cuddled into her bed, and half asleep, when she heard a small tapping on her bedroom window.  She furrowed her brow, and lazily pulled herself out of bed.  As she approached the window, she spotted Phoebe's van, parked down the street.  She pulled open her window, and peered down into the yard.  Down below, she saw Phoebe and Joey, both poised to toss another set of pebbles at Monica's window.

"Monica, c'mon!" Phoebe whispered loudly.

"Are you crazy? My folks grounded me for two weeks!"

"So?  Monica, you have a perfectly good 'sneaking out' tree in front of your window!  Don't put it to waste!"

Monica shook her head, but paused when she saw a figure approaching the yard from the van.

All of the images of her parent's death stares and harsh punishments seemed to vanish, when she saw Chandler striding toward the house, looking just as adorable as he did earlier that morning.

"Gimme a minute," Monica whispered, and disappeared into her room.

"Is she coming or what?" Chandler asked impatiently, as he approached the others.

"Yeah, she's coming," Phoebe grinned, and the three of them headed for the van quietly.

Monica did one more scan of her room, before carefully climbing out the window, and hopping onto a protruding branch.  Monica was more than familiar with the ancient Oak's knots and branches, after spending many childhood years climbing up the very tree she was now quietly shimmying down.  She often climbed the old tree to get away from the wrath of her brother Ross, who was not as adept at tree climbing, and, by the age of twelve, had adamantly refused to climb the tree, after falling out of it and breaking his arm.  Monica smiled, as her fingers ran over a small engraving she had made in the tree's bark many years ago: "Ross sucks".  The engraving was prompted after a particularly nasty spat between brother and sister that had resulted in the unceremonious beheading of one of Monica's prized dolls.

Monica made a soft landing onto the emerald green lawn, and sprinted toward the van, smiling at the idea that she was doing something her parents would not approve of.

It felt good.

*

Phoebe pulled her van into the beach parking lot, and squealed excitedly.  The bonfire was already well under way, and from the looks of it, the turnout was huge.  It was a slight hike to get to the fire, but the silhouettes of at least twenty partying hippies could be seen, even from a distance.  Chandler and Joey grabbed blankets, and Phoebe and Monica grabbed flashlights, before the group headed to the beach.

The fire was much larger than it looked from the van.  And as they approached, Monica could see that there were several logs and blankets scattered around the blaze.  The group settled in an empty spot on the east side, with their backs to the water.  Several of Phoebe, Chandler and Joey's friends walked over to introduce themselves, but it soon became evident that all anyone cared about that night was getting high.  Monica absently took a beer from Chandler, and drank half of it down as she surveyed the area.  She watched, as couples freely expressed their love for each other out in the open, her virgin eyes shocked at the sights before him.  She hardly noticed when Chandler replaced her empty beer can with a full one.

A group of women approached Phoebe, and she introduced them to Monica.

"Monica, this is Abby, and Kathy and Fiona.  Gals, this is Monica."

"Hey," the women said in unison, each of them eyeing Monica suspiciously.

"Pheebs," Abby whispered, loud enough for Monica to hear, "she kind of looks like a nark."

"Nah, she's cool," Phoebe laughed.

"Monica," Kathy called, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "you aren't wearing a bra, are you?"

"Well, uh, yeah," Monica said softly.

"Burn it!  Burn it!" the women squealed, and jumped around Monica giddily.

"What?" Monica's eyes widened, and her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest.

"It's okay Monica," Phoebe whispered, "We just do it to show that we don't need to be restrained by a man, or by authority.  But you don't have to," Phoebe grinned, and there was something about her smile that told Monica that yes, she did have to.

"You need help getting it off?" a voice whispered into her ear, and Monica nearly jumped out of her skin.  She turned around, and felt her face flush, when she saw that it was Chandler.

"I—I've got it," Monica smiled, and looked at the group of women that were eagerly awaiting the display of "independence".

Chandler shrugged non-chalantly, and plopped down on one of the blankets next to Joey, who was busy rolling joints.

Monica fumbled with the clasp on her bra, and suddenly realized how difficult it was to remove the constrictive undergarment while still wearing a shirt.  But, after quiet instructions from Phoebe, Monica was finally able to pull the offending object out of her shirt, then proudly held it in the air. 

"Burn it! Burn it!" the women squealed again, and Monica drunkenly flipped the bra into the raging inferno.  The women cheered happily, then stumbled away.  Monica sighed, and fell onto the blanket with Phoebe, Joey and Chandler.  Joey handed her a half-smoked joint, and she took it greedily, and inhaled the sweet smoke.  She'd never felt so free in her life.

Two joints, and several beers later, Phoebe and Joey (who had always insisted that they were NOT a couple) were busy making out under one set of blankets.  On the other set, Monica giggled softly, as the last of the mind-altering drugs hit her system.

"Having fun?" Chandler smiled, as he sat back down on the blanket.

Monica nodded vigorously, then looked over at Joey and Phoebe, who were now doing much more than kissing.

"I thought they were just friends," Monica said slowly.

"They are.  It's, you know, Free Love baby," Chandler laughed.

"Oh," Monica said, tearing her eyes from the scene.

"Between you and me," Chandler whispered into Monica's ear, giving her involuntary chills, "I don't know how they do it.  I could never really, you know, share."

"Me neither," Monica said absently.

"I'm happy you came tonight, Monica," Chandler grinned, "and really happy I got to see your bra!"

Monica blushed, and bit her lip.  She turned away from Chandler, embarrassed by her embarrassment, but suddenly realized that she was once again, looking at Joey and Phoebe, now in the throes of passion.

"Sorry," Chandler said softly, "if all this makes you uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable," Monica said suddenly, though it was evident by her tone that she was.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

Monica thought for a moment, and though her mind was hazy, she knew that she had never felt so free and grown up in her life.  She was determined to hold onto that feeling, no matter what.

Before Chandler knew what hit him, Monica lunged at him, and began kissing him with a clumsy desperation.  The two fell back onto the blanket, and Chandler quickly took control, slowing the kiss, and pulling himself on top of Monica.  In the back of his mind, he wondered about Monica's lucidity, but her roaming hands muted his logic.  He pushed his tongue into her mouth, and let his hormones take full control.  He grabbed at her clothes with the same uninhibited desperation that she had shown only moments earlier, and eventually found his way under her shirt.  He once again expressed gratitude at her earlier bra display, as his lips found his way to her neck.  He stopped abruptly, when he realized that she was no longer squirming, giggling or moaning.  He reluctantly pulled his face from the crevice of her neck, (but made it a point not to remove his hands from under her shirt—just yet) with visions of Monica with a deer-in-headlights look on her face.  It was quite obvious that Monica was a virgin, and Chandler cursed himself for taking it too far.

But when Chandler finally gathered the courage to look Monica in the eyes, he was relieved to see that she was not angry, or scared, or unsure.

She had simply passed out.

Chuckling lightly, Chandler pulled the blanket around them, gathered Monica in his arms, and settled into sleep next to her.

TBC…

AN: I am working on this one slowly but surely.  For those of you who are still reading "One For the Road" (anyone? anyone?) I have been debating with myself a lot over the past week on that one, and my first instinct was to put the fic on hold, because of the horrible situation back east, but then I thought "I am not going to let that cowardly bastard affect me like that!" But, in all honesty, I am really having trouble writing it under the current circumstances.  I will (hopefully) finish it, but I just can't bring myself to right now.

Reviews on THIS fic would be greatly appreciated, as I don't want to continue of there's not much interest.  There will be a LOT of chapters, as I've only touched the surface of what I want to do with it.

On a totally unrelated note: GO GIANTS!!

;)