AN: Holy moly, two posts on this story within the…month! Don't get used to it, lol.
Story Summary: 1969/1970: Ross tells all about his tour in Vietnam, after he unexpectedly runs into Chandler; Joey moves into the apartment across the hall from Monica and Rachel; Monica discovers that Chandler may be dead after all; Chandler returns home to discover everything has changed.
The Age of Aquarius
Chapter Twenty-Two: Dazed & Confused
I know what it means to be alone, I sure do wish I was at home.
I don't care what the neighbors say, I'm gonna love you each and every day.
You can feel the beat within my heart.
Realize, sweet babe, we ain't ever gonna part.
(Bonham/Jones/Page)
"What's this about, son?" Jack Geller queried, as Ross ushered everyone into the living room.
"It's about Vietnam. It's about what I told you," Ross said shakily, and turned away from his parents, who were looking up at him with furrowed brows.
"Private—er—Ross, I don't think this is really necessary," Chandler stood nervously.
"No sir! No, it—it is," Ross exclaimed, and Chandler sat down slowly.
"You see," Ross started nervously, as he paced in front of the stone fireplace, "the stories I've told you…well, they're just that. Stories. Many of them I got from the soldiers that were working around me…the thing is…I was never good in the field. I was assigned to work with Captain Harrison…as his clerk. And then…and then after that, I was assigned to the Embassy in Saigon."
"I don't understand, son. Why are you telling us this now? And why did you make up all of those stories?" Jack asked softly.
"I wanted you to be proud of me! I wanted to come home a hero! But…all I ever did was push paper in an air-conditioned office.
The thing is, I met the Lieutenant on my way to Saigon. That story I told you about escorting soldiers to the border? That wasn't me—that was him," Ross pointed at Chandler, but refused to look at him.
"Ross, you don't have to do this," Chandler said slowly.
"Yes, I do. You and Joey saved my life that day. And—and I thought you were dead. I thought you died taking me to my new, boring desk job! And I think about that day, all the time. It haunts me, sir."
"Ross, please…please don't call me sir. You didn't do anything wrong—"
"I didn't do anything right, either."
"Get to the Jeeps Ross!" Chandler screamed, as the popping from the guns seemed to increase.
"Come with me!" Ross yelled.
"We're covering you—get to the border!"
"You have to come with me! You'll never get back to your Platoon!" Ross argued, as he shot into the trees once.
"Private, I am giving you a direct order. Go!" Chandler pushed Ross toward the Jeeps.
Ross ran at full speed, and could feel the whizzing of the bullets at his feet and near his head. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his leg, and he collapsed into the mud.
"Aargh," Ross cried out, and pulled himself up.
He was now only a few feet from the border. He looked back, and saw that the Viet Cong were closing in on Chandler and Joey. He felt an officer pick him up, and carry him toward the Jeeps.
"You have to help them," Ross yelled.
A sudden explosion sent the officer, and Ross to the ground. Coughing wildly, Ross sat up, and looked out into the clearing.
The field was scattered with bodies, and there was no movement anywhere.
The silence was deafening; the smell of burning flesh made him want to throw up.
He did throw up. Then he sat up, and looked up at the smoke-shielded sky, and wondered why he was the only one that was spared.
Ross relayed the true events of that day to his parents in horrifying detail. The room sat in silence for several minutes, until Ross looked down at Chandler, and asked the question that had been on his mind since Chandler's arrival.
"Sir, um, Chandler, what-what happened to Joey?"
Chandler looked up at Ross, and for a moment seemed totally vulnerable. Chandler looked back down at his hands and shook his head slowly.
"I—I honestly don't know. He—he lost his leg in the explosion. And then we were captured. We…we got out, and I…I got him to a chopper…but I never heard anything after that…I don't think I did anyway."
"Sir?"
"I…I don't really remember anything after that. I…I hardly remember coming home," Chandler laughed bitterly, and took a deep breath, "I—I should go," Chandler stood, "It was a pleasure to meet you both. You have a very brave son, despite what he says," Chandler smiled, and extended his hand to Jack.
"Th-thank you, Lieutenant," Jack shook Chandler's hand, while Judy avoided his gaze. Chandler nodded his goodbye once more, and followed Ross out the front door.
"Th-thank you, sir, for…being so understanding."
"You need to put it behind you, Ross. You really did nothing wrong," Chandler replied.
"Still…thank you."
"Ross…I know what your parents told me…about your sister. Do you know, is it true? Is Monica in California…with a family?" Chandler looked at Ross pleadingly, forcing Ross to look at his shoes.
"I…I haven't talked to her since I've been back. But my parents have a couple of postcards from her…they're signed from Monica and Jakob. I—I don't know who Jakob is, though."
Chandler nodded and smiled sadly.
"Thanks Ross. Take care of yourself, okay?"
"Yeah," Ross said distantly, and watched Chandler walk away.
"Joey? Are you here?" Rachel walked into Joey's apartment, a box of pizza in her hand.
"In here," Joey said, almost too quietly for Rachel to hear.
"Where?" Rachel opened Joey's bedroom door, to find him sprawled out on the floor, his wheelchair tipped over beside him.
"Oh God, Joey! What happened?" Rachel cried, and moved to pick up the chair and help Joey.
"I…I don't know, really. I was trying to get out of bed, and I slipped on something…I think I sprained my ankle. Can you believe that shit?" Joey laughed bitterly.
"Oh, sweetie," Rachel helped Joey into his chair, then crouched down to inspect his swollen ankle.
"How does it look?" Joey asked.
"It's sprained. Monica probably has an ice pack you can use. Honey, why didn't you call for help?"
"Because…it was embarrassing, okay? I mean, I'm a grown man for Christ sake!"
"So? Everyone needs help from time to time—"
"From time to time? Look at me Rachel? I'm a freak! I can't do a damn thing on my own! Do you think I want to live like this? I hate this? I hate that I'm alive! I hate Chandler for letting me survive! If he were any kind of friend, he would have fucking shot me in the head that day!" Joey took a ragged breath, and let his tears fall freely. He looked up at Rachel, who was crying too, and he smiled sadly.
"The only thing I have to live for—is you," Joey whispered softly.
"Joey," Rachel sobbed, and collapsed into his lap, before kissing him passionately.
"I love you, Rach," Joey managed between kisses.
Rachel pulled away and looked at Joey, tears still streaming down her face.
"I love you too," she whispered, and he pulled her toward him again. He kissed her fiercely, both of them sobbing with relief and pain.
"You're not a freak, Joey," Rachel whispered, "I love you just the way you are."
"I feel…I don't know…like I'm not a real man anymore. The way everyone looks at me—"
"Don't worry about them," Rachel interrupted, "Joey…maybe you should…I don't know—"
"What?"
"Look into some of those veteran support groups. Maybe if you saw that there were others who felt the same—"
"Other freaks," Joey spat.
"Other veterans," Rachel corrected, "then you would know that you aren't alone."
"Maybe. But I have you, right?" Joey smiled.
"Yeah, you have me…always," Rachel kissed Joey again. She pulled away, and arched her eyebrow coyly.
"What?" Joey asked, his face reddening slightly.
"I think you know," Rachel purred, and pulled at Joey's shirt.
Though aroused, Joey grabbed Rachel's wrists to stop her.
"Rach…my body…it's…been burned…it isn't—"
Rachel placed her hand over Joey's lips, and pulled off his shirt. She studied his scarred torso for a moment, then looked up at him, smiling.
"It's beautiful," she murmured, before kissing him again.
Monica curled into the corner of her sofa, her head heavy with exhaustion. Jakob was suffering from an ear infection, and had been keeping her up all night for nearly a week. Her head lolled back, and she felt sleep creeping up on her, just as her phone rang.
Groaning, she sat up and picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Monica?"
"Phoebe…what's wrong, are you okay?"
"I'm…in jail."
"Jail! Wh-why? What happened?"
"I…I don't want to talk about it over the phone. Could you…I mean, can you come get me?"
"Of course…Pheebs I'll be right there."
Monica got the details from Phoebe and hung up the phone. She quietly checked on Jakob, then walked across the hall.
"Rachel?" Monica poked her head into Joey's apartment. The lights were off, and it appeared to be empty. Monica was about to leave, when she heard giggling emanate from Joey's bedroom.
"Rachel?" Monica called louder. Moments later, Rachel emerged from Joey's bedroom, wrapped in nothing but his bed sheet.
"Monica, what's wrong? It's 3 in the morning!"
"Phoebe's in jail!"
"What?"
"I don't know why yet…but I have to go get her—can you keep an eye on Jake?"
"Of course…is she okay?"
"I don't know."
Phoebe paced the small holding cell nervously, her entire body trembling. Why had she agreed to take this job? She should have known it was shady as soon as her boss had told her that she was being paid in cash. But she was desperate for money, and she knew she didn't have skills for anything else. Who else would hire a girl with no diploma and no experience?
She heard the clanging of keys on metal, and looked up to see the guard walking through the corridor. He walked past her cell, and opened the door for one of her 'coworkers'.
"Let's go, sweetheart. Your parents are here."
The girl looked at the floor, and flushed, as the guard led her out of the cellblock. She too was trembling, and Phoebe knew that it wasn't from the cold.
Phoebe smiled supportively, as the girl left.
If only she had parents to yell at her.
But she didn't. She had nobody, and that was why she was able to do this.
It was only supposed to be a massaging clinic; but most of her clients didn't seem interested in a shoulder rub.
She never really saw herself as the type of girl who would sell herself. But after her world collapsed around her, she felt nothing but numb.
She was always numb when those greasy bastards touched her.
It was only a matter of time before the "clinic" was stormed and shut down.
And now what was she going to do? Who was going to hire a girl with no diploma, no experience…and a criminal record?
Phoebe sighed deeply, and slumped into the far corner of her cell, and awaited her fate.
