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.

(AN: For this chapter, it's important to remember that Ross and Chandler have never formally met.)

~The Age of Aquarius~

Chapter Six: To Everything There Is a Season

North Vietnam~Three Months Later

Chandler was crouched, waist deep in the stagnant water, his finger on the trigger of his gun, and his eyes scanning the seemingly endless jungles.  He focused on the sound of his own breathing, and ignored the mosquitoes that hovered hungrily around him.

They were out there…there was no doubt in his mind.  Suddenly, he heard a rustling in the trees ahead of him; he aimed his rifle, and pulled the trigger.  More movement—and a bullet came whizzing out of the trees, and splashed the water near his feet.  He turned, and ran left, as another bullet whizzed by his head.

"Shit," he muttered, and headed for the trees.

"Chandler," he heard Joey's voice to his right, as he stumbled blindly through the thick foliage of the jungles.  A bullet hit a tree behind him; he rolled to his side and shot back.

"How many are out there?" Joey and Wilson, another soldier from their platoon, were on the ground next to him now.

"I couldn't get a full count…there's gotta be at least twenty," Chandler muttered, his eyes scanning the rice fields ahead of him.

Suddenly, and elderly woman and a donkey made their way down a small slope toward the field, unaware of the firefight that was happening ahead of her.  She had yet to come into the Viet Cong's view.

Chandler's eyes widened, and the other two followed his gaze.

"No no no no no no…" Chandler said in a low voice, his heart racing.

"Shit," Wilson muttered, "They'll shoot at her, they don't care."

"Not if we do it first," Chandler muttered, and aimed his rifle.

"What?  Chandler, what the hell are you doing?"

Chandler aimed his gun, and fired a warning shot into the ground ahead of the woman.

The woman screamed, and turned and ran in the opposite direction.

The distraction was just what they needed; they ran into the jungle, and back toward the camps.

"Bing, Tribianni and Wilson have been sent to do Recon," Sergeant Ripley reported, as Captain Harrison, his military clerk in tow, made his way through the dilapidated camp.

"And you think the Viet Cong will be back here?" the Captain replied, referring to an earlier attack on the camp.

"Here?" The clerk asked nervously.

"That's what we're about to find out," Ripley pointed toward the three soldiers that were jogging toward them. 

"There's about twenty, twenty five of them," Chandler said, as he approached.

"You think they are headed this way?"

"They know we're here…I suggest we get the hell out of here, before it gets dark," Chandler said.

"Wh-where are we gonna go?" the Captain's clerk asked nervously.

"Welcome to the jungle," Chandler smiled at the dark-haired Private knowingly, and walked toward his tent to change into dry clothes.

Ross nervously watched the soldiers walk away, then looked out into the jungle.  He looked back over at the tent that Bing had disappeared into.  How did he know that guy?

He looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place him…

~*~

New York City

Monica sat on the sofa at Phoebe's grandmothers, her right hand on her stomach, and her left holding a worn photo of Chandler.  She sighed heavily.

"Hey, Mon," Phoebe walked into the apartment, and sunk into the sofa next to her friend.

"Hey," Monica put down the photo and smiled sadly at her friend, "How'd it go?"

"Uck, it was awful," Phoebe shook her head, "there were relatives coming out of nowhere, all of them hoping that my grandmother had hidden away some small fortune.  But she only had this place, and she left that to me."

"That's good," Monica said.

"Yeah…and I was thinking, that we could be roommates, and I could help you raise the baby…you know, until Chandler comes home."

"Yeah, well, that's the thing, Pheebs…I haven't heard from Chandler since my parents kicked me out.  And I tried to talk to his parent's, but they don't want anything to do with me," Monica shook her head.  She was not going to cry again…she wasn't!

"I'm sure he's okay, Mon…he's probably just…busy!"

"Yeah," Monica muttered, "I guess I'm just…ever since my folks got that telegram about my brother, they've been…distracted.  And I can't get through to Rachel at all.  I feel like I'm losing everyone I care about, and if I lose Chandler too, I'll—"

"Oh!  I have an idea!" Phoebe smiled excitedly.

"Okay," Monica said warily.

"We should go to California!  There's supposed to be this really great commune in San Francisco, and we can kind of…start over, ya know?  No one will know us, and we can…we can—"

"Okay!" Monica smiled.

"Really?"

"Yeah!  We should try to get Rachel too…she needs to get out of here," Monica said seriously.

"Oh, yay!" Phoebe said, "I'll get the van ready, and you get Rachel!"

~*~

The day always started the same; she would sleep for hours, and wake up exhausted.  Her parents had given up any hope that she would ever come out of her shell, and for the most part, they left her alone.  She would spend a good part of the day staring out her bedroom window, and rarely ate anything anymore.

The news of Ross' death had hit Rachel hard—harder than she could have ever fathomed. She cried constantly, though the fits of tears had tapered a bit with each passing week.

"Rachel?" Rachel's mother stuck her head in the door hesitantly; nervous as to what kind of state she would find her daughter in.

"Yeah," Rachel said softly, without turning from the window.

"Monica is here, dear," Sandra announced, then let Monica into the room.

Rachel turned to look at her friend; she was heavier, Rachel thought, though it was mostly in her stomach.  Rachel fought back a pang of jealousy; she was happy that her friend was carrying a piece of Chandler with her, but deep down she wished that it were her that was pregnant.  At least that way Ross would always be with her, somehow.  Rachel straightened, reminding herself that Monica had lost her brother, and that she was in just as much pain.

"Hey Mon," Rachel smiled.

"Rachel, how are you?" Monica smiled warmly, and pulled her friend into an embrace.

"I'm okay," Rachel smiled bravely, and leaned back against the window.

"I have something I want to ask you…have you ever been to California?"

"What?  N-no…" Rachel said warily.

"Well, Phoebe's grandmother just died, and we've decided that we are going to drive to San Francisco, and we think you should come!"

"What? Monica, no," Rachel shook her head.

"Come on, Rach!  You need to get out of New York!  It's sunny there, and it's never cold and—"

"Mon, I don't want to, okay?" Rachel said, exasperatedly.

"But—"

"Promise to write me?"

Monica's shoulder's deflated, and she turned to walk out of the room.  Rachel looked back out the window, and a realization hit her—she would never be able to get over Ross here.

"Monica, wait," Rachel chased her friend into the hallway.

"Yeah?" Monica turned around.

"When are you leaving?"

"In a few hours," Monica said.

"Can you pick me up on the way?" Rachel grinned.

"Okay!" Monica smiled, and hugged her friend, before skipping down the stairs.

Rachel sighed heavily, and closed her eyes, a sad smile playing on her lips.

It was time to move on.

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die

A time to plant, a time to reap

A time to kill, a time to heal

A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down

A time to dance, a time to mourn

A time to cast away stones

A time to gather stones together

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time of war, a time of peace

A time of love, a time of hate

A time you may embrace

A time to refrain from embracing

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose

A time to rend, a time to sew

A time to love, a time to hate

A time of peace, I swear it's not too late!

"Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)," by The Byrds