AN: So I was looking at the original pub date for this story, and realized that I've been working on it for over a year!  How sad is that?  I haven't even done half of what I set out to do with this story…and let's face it; I probably won't end up doing it, because I am just too lazy, lol.  Thanks to everyone (anyone?) who has stuck by this story…I'm sorry that I am slow! 

Story Summary: 1969.  Joey befriends Rachel, and struggles to put his bitterness behind him; Ross comes home; Phoebe comes to terms with Chris' death; Charles moves to Las Vegas, leaving Monica to fend for herself; Chandler struggles to recall the fateful weeks prior to his rescue.

The Age of Aquarius

Chapter Twenty: Something In the Air

New York – Six Months Later

As much as he wanted to believe that she was here because she loved him, he just couldn't bring himself to see beyond his own bitterness and self-loathing.

She was here because she felt sorry for him.

But he loved her.  God, how he loved her…the way her eyes lit up when she was excited about something…the way she flipped her cinnamon hair with casual ease…the way she spoke to him…as though he were normal…as though he was…

As though he was the man he used to be.

Presently, Rachel was pacing the floor of his apartment, her hand firmly on her hip, her brow furrowed.  As she spoke into the phone receiver, her voice wavered between a stubborn determination, and a child-like pleading.

Joey smiled slightly, as she tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, and sighed deeply.

She was the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen.

They had become good friends, and in his heart, Joey knew that it would go no further.  She listened to him when he was down, and always reassured him that he was more than he thought he was.

Some nights, when he would look deep into those bright hazel eyes, he would see her pain, and her loneliness.

He knew that she too, was lost…a soul adrift, just like him.

He wanted to be the person that saved her, but he knew she needed more than he could ever give.

So he was content to be her friend, to love her unconditionally, until she found what she needed—found what she was looking for.

"Joey?"

He started, and looked up at her, his eyes gleaming with tears he would not shed.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her tone brimming with genuine concern.

"Y-yeah, I was just…I was just thinking, that's all," he smiled sweetly, and shook off his self-pity, "is everything okay with your dad?"

"Yeah, he just…he can be so damn stubborn sometimes, ya know?"

Joey nodded, and swallowed down a lump that was forming in his throat.  His mind went to his parents, and to his sisters, but he quickly admonished the thoughts.  He couldn't let them see him…not like this.

"Joey," her voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up at her again, a fragile mask of neutrality covering his emotions.

"I'm sorry, Rach, I guess I'm just…tired," Joey shrugged, and wheeled away from Rachel slightly.

"Well, I don't know how you could possibly sleep with all of this…noise," Rachel wrinkled her nose and scanned Joey's tiny, dingy hotel room warily.

"It's okay," Joey shrugged, and looked out the filth-filmed window.

"Look, my friend Monica…she just inherited this place from her grandmother…it's pretty big and it's clean.  It's in a great neighborhood, and—"

"Rach, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I'm fine, really.  And I don't need handouts!"

"I know that…but I also know that you can afford more than this…I saw your grant check from the Army, remember?  And what I was going to say, before I was interrupted," Rachel continued with a small smile, "was that there's an apartment available across the hall from Monica.  And I thought it would be good if you got out of this place…if you were closer," Rachel smiled warmly, and Joey's resistance faltered.

"Is there an elevator?" he asked hesitantly.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," Rachel replied quickly.

"Hmm.  I—I guess it couldn't hurt to look at it," Joey relented slowly.

"Yay!" Rachel clapped and kissed Joey on the cheek, "Okay, I'll go tell Monica…I'll come by and get you tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Sure," Joey smiled and watched, as Rachel hurried out of the hotel room.

He told himself that he was only doing this for her…because he just didn't deserve better than what he had.

**

"I just can't tell you how proud we are of our boy!  He is a true hero!" Judy gushed, as she sat down at the dinner table.  She looked at Ross proudly and sighed happily, making Ross feel even worse than he had.

The Geller's had invited their next-door neighbors over for dinner, so that Jack and Judy could brag about their son.  The Miller's were nice people, and Karen Miller had even babysat Ross and Monica several years earlier.  But lying to the Miller's the way he had lied to his parents was not something Ross was prepared to do. 

"Ross, why don't you tell Ron and Karen about the soldiers you rescued on the border?" Jack smiled proudly, then shoved a large hunk of meatloaf into his mouth.

"Oh, I don't know…" Ross shrugged, then swallowed uneasily.

"Oh, come on Ross, dear, its such a wonderful story!  He rescued not one, but two of his own men!" Judy turned to the Miller's, who were smiling politely at Ross.

"He pulled them out of the trenches and carried both men to safety!"

Ross sunk down in his chair, his stomach rolling with anxiety.

"Well that's just wonderful, sweetheart," Karen smiled.

"Yes, you're a true hero, Ross!" Ron added.

Ross smiled, and mumbled a quick thank you, before hastily excusing himself from the table, and retreating to the bathroom.  He closed and locked the door behind him, and sank to the floor, before dropping his head into his hands.

Why had he lied to his parents about that horrible day?  He'd watched two men, who were protecting him die, and he'd done nothing to help them—to save them.

"I'm a horrible, horrible person," he whispered to himself, repeating the mantra as tears streaked his face.

**

"Monica?" Rachel called, as she walked into the apartment, "are you here?"

Rachel scanned the half-empty apartment, and shook her head in disbelief.

She still could not believe that Monica had inherited this place.

The apartment was bright and airy, and had to large bedrooms and a bathroom.  It was at least twice the size of Phoebe's apartment, and was in a great neighborhood.

In her final few months, Monica's grandmother had heard that her only granddaughter was raising a child on her own, and without any support from Jack and Judy.  The idea that her son and his wife could be so cold had infuriated Althea, and so she gave her only real asset to Monica, in hopes that it would help her somehow.

"Hey Rach," Monica smiled, as she carried Jakob and a bag of groceries into the apartment, "what are you doing?"

"I just…I still can't believe you got so lucky!  You and Phoebe!  I wonder if my grandmother has an apartment to spare?" Rachel laughed.

Monica giggled, and set down the bag of groceries, "Well, you can stay here as long as you want to."

"Thanks," Rachel smiled, "Have you heard anything about the apartment across the hall?"

"I heard Treeger talking to someone about it yesterday…but I don't think he liked the person very much."

"Well I have someone it might be perfect for!" Rachel clapped excitedly.

"You mean your secret boyfriend you won't let me or Phoebe meet?" Monica teased.

"He's not my boyfriend!" Rachel sighed, "Yet," she muttered too quietly for Monica to hear, "But he's a Vet, and he's really sweet, and he needs to get out of that stinking resident hotel he's living in!"

"Okay, Rach, calm down," Monica smiled, and shifted Jakob in her arms, "Let's go talk to Treeger now, okay?"

**

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, just…staring, at the large home that stood ominously above him.  Though he'd grown up in the house, he'd never felt truly comfortable there.

His childhood was filled with memories of anger—his parents fought constantly, about everything from his mother's drinking to his father's infidelities. 

Sometimes, they fought about him.

He never saw himself coming back here, once he'd moved out…once he'd moved on.  But he had nowhere else to go, and found that even in the worst of times, the only people he had in his life were his parents.

He suddenly recalled a moment, when he was near death in the jungles of Vietnam.  His mother had been…with him, somehow.  Chandler furrowed his brow, and tried desperately to remember more, but the memory faded away again, as his unconscious defenses fought against memories that would surely destroy him.

He shook his head to clear his mind, and looked up at the large wooden door, hovering over him sinisterly.  He raised a scarred hand, and knocked heavily on the door.

There was a light, and footsteps, and Chandler held his breath.  The lock jangled, and the door swung open, to reveal a pretty young woman, about his age, with short brown-red hair and shining blue-green eyes.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice slightly revealing her annoyance.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm looking for Charles and Nora Bing," Chandler stuttered slowly.

"Hang on," the girl sighed, and walked down the long hallway, "Mooom," the girl bellowed, "there's a guy here looking for the Bing's."

An older, dark haired woman appeared, her face slightly worn, but chocolate brown eyes, and a slight smile softened her overall appearance.  She approached Chandler quickly, and ushered him into the foyer.

"I'm Carolyn Brown, and that was my daughter, Claire.  How do you know the Bing's?"

"I—I'm their son, Chandler," he replied, confusion lining his eyes.

"I figured as much," Carolyn nodded, and sighed deeply, "Chandler, won't you come in?" Carolyn led Chandler to an immaculately clean living room; filled with furniture that Chandler was sure had never been used.  It reminded him of a museum.

"Please, sit down," Carolyn said warmly, and sat down next to Chandler on the stark white sofa.

"Where are my parents?" Chandler whispered, with more desperation than he had intended.

"Oh, I hate to be the bearer of such terrible news, especially when you've just come home from fighting in that…war," Carolyn took one of Chandler's hands, and he stiffened slightly.

"Your mother is gone, Chandler.  She died quite some time ago.  And your father…he sold the house and moved soon afterward.  I think…I think he thought you were dead too.  I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

Chandler nodded robotically, and swallowed thickly, "Did…did he say where he was going?" he croaked.

"No, I'm sorry, he didn't," Carolyn sighed, "But if you need to stay here, until you can get back on your feet, we have an extra room—"

"No, no," Chandler smiled politely and stood, "I…I should go.  Thank you, for being so kind," Chandler nodded, and walked quickly out of the house.  He ran down the driveway then stopped at the curb, when he realized that he had nowhere to go.  He heard footsteps behind him, and he spun around quickly.

"Hey, my Mom wanted you to have this," Claire smiled slightly, and handed Chandler a wad of money with one hand, while she pushed her hair out of her face with the other.

"Oh.  Um, thank you, but I—"

"She won't take 'no' for an answer," Claire insisted, and shoved the money into Chandler's jacket pocket.

"Thanks," Chandler flushed, and looked at his feet.

"I…I'm sorry about your folks, Chandler," Claire said sincerely, and Chandler looked up at her.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"What was it like…over there?" Claire asked tentatively.

"It's…worse than anyone could imagine," Chandler mumbled grimly, his gaze wandering past Claire, to the empty suburban streets that surrounded him.

"Hey, do you wanna go get a drink or something?  Talk about it?" Claire ventured.

Chandler turned and looked at the girl, a small smile forming on his face.

He had nothing else to do…nowhere else to go.

"Sure," Chandler grinned, and Claire smiled back.

"I'll just get my coat," Claire said, and dashed into the house.

Chandler watched her go, his smile fading slightly.

Nothing was ever going to be the same.

Still don't know what I was waiting for

And my time was running wild

A million dead-end streets and

Every time I thought I'd got it made

It seemed the taste was not so sweet

So I turned myself to face me

But I've never caught a glimpse

Of how the others must see the faker

I'm much too fast to take that test

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

(turn and face the strain)

Ch-ch-changes

Don't want to be a richer man

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

(turn and face the strain)

Ch-ch-changes

Just gonna have to be a different man

Time may change me

But I can't trace time

I watch the ripples change their size

But never leave the stream

Of warm impermanence

So the days float through my eyes

But stil the days seem the same

And these children that you spit on

As they try to change their worlds

Are immune to your consultations

They're quite aware of what they're going through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

(turn and face the strain)

Ch-ch-changes

Don't tell them to grow up and out of it

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

(turn and face the strain)

Ch-ch-changes

Where's your shame

You've left us up to our necks in it

Time may change me

But you can't trace time

Strange fascination, fascinating me

Ah changes are taking the pace I'm going through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

(turn and face the strain)

Ch-ch-changes

Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

(turn and face the strain)

Ch-ch-changes

Pretty soon now you're gonna get a little older

Time may change me

But I can't trace time

I said that time may change me

But I can't trace time

("Changes", D. Bowie)