AN: Thank you, again for your feedback!  One note; I have absolutely no idea what all of the crazy adoption laws are, and really, I made up all of that crap with Ross' son so that I could play out my intended storyline.  Let's call it creative license, eh?

Also, I'm gonna stop posting Story Summaries, unless you all really want them.  My original intentions for the summary were to give historical information, and to refresh people's memories, since it takes me eighteen million years to update this stupid story.  Let me know either way.

The Age of Aquarius

Chapter Twenty-Five: You Belong to Me

One Week Later

Phoebe shuffled down the steps of the police station, her meager belongings stuffed under her arm, her gait shaky and hesitant.

She shivered, as the winter wind bit through her threadbare sweater sharply.

She'd only spent a month in jail for her crimes, but she'd also been charged a hefty fine, and as a result, had few possessions she could call her own.

Her first intention had been to go to Monica's, but as she stood in front of the apartment building, she felt her nerve seep out of her.

She'd never gone back after her blow out with Monica and the others, and now so much time had passed, she wasn't sure she'd be able to.

Would they forgive her for her sins?  For the way she'd stormed out of their lives?

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she turned and walked down the street, and into a small bar on the corner.

The bar was musty, dark, and empty, save for a heavy set bartender, who barely looked up as Phoebe walked in.  In the corner, sat a beat up baby grand piano.  A young man was sat at the piano, playing a tune Phoebe only vaguely recognized.

"What can I get'cha?" the bartender asked gruffly, as he set down the pint glass he had been drying.

"Rum and Coke," Phoebe muttered, and the bartender nodded and set about making the drink.  Phoebe pulled a few crumpled notes from her pocket, and put them on the bar, before sitting on a ratty red barstool.

The bartender set the drink in front of her, and took the money off of the bar with a nod.  Phoebe looked down at her drink, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Well, is my playing really that bad?" a friendly voice came from behind her, and Phoebe started and turned.

The dark-haired piano player was standing before her, a wide grin on his face.

"Huh?" Phoebe asked, then sniffled audibly.

"You were crying…I thought maybe you hated my playing," the man winked, then took a seat on a barstool next to her.

"Oh…no…I'm just…"

"All alone in the big crowded city?" the man smiled sympathetically.

"You could say that," Phoebe mumbled, and looked down into her drink.

"My name's Mike," the man extended his hand, and Phoebe took it hesitantly.

"Phoebe," she said quietly.

"Phoebe, it's nice to meet you…and look at that…now you have a friend!"

Phoebe laughed, and shook her head; Mike smiled.

"You're laughing, and I'm not even singing…that's a good sign for both of us."

"So, Mike…"Phoebe started, then shook her head.

"What?" Mike cocked his head to the side.

"No…nothing…I was going to ask you what you do for a living but…"Phoebe gestured toward the piano.

Mike looked over his shoulder, then back at Phoebe.

"Oh…yeah, this is just a part-time, kinda thing…I'm a law student."

"Oh," Phoebe mumbled, and tensed slightly.

"So you like piano players, but not lawyers, huh?" Mike laughed.

"No…I mean…it's just—" Phoebe shook her head, her eyes tearing up again.

"Oh, no, please don't cry…I was just kidding," Mike handed Phoebe a napkin, and she smiled gratefully.

She sighed shakily, and looked up at Mike, who was still eyeing her curiously.

"The thing is, Mike…you seem like a nice guy, but…I'm not exactly the type of girl that a law student should be…even talking to, ya know?" Phoebe shrugged.

"Well, I've been talking to ya for about ten minutes, and other than me making you cry, I think it's going pretty darn well."

"You…you don't want a girl like me," Phoebe said sadly.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that," Mike smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"So that's it," Phoebe sighed, suddenly exhausted from telling Mike Her Story.

"That's it?  I've heard much worse," Mike sighed.

"Of course you have, you're a law student," Phoebe laughed.

"Oh, look at that, got ya laughing again," Mike grinned.

Phoebe shook her head, and sighed.

"Well, you told me your story, and I'm still here.  What do you think that means?"

"It means you're either crazy, or really desperate," Phoebe laughed.

"A careful blend of both, thank you very much," Mike said proudly, "I think we just may be the perfect couple."

Phoebe nodded, amazed at how easy it was to talk to a man she'd met only an hour ago.  She knew that it would probably never work—that she should cut her losses and just walk out of the bar, and away from Mike.

But something was keeping her rooted to her seat.  Something kept her from following her head…something was telling her that this man…could make everything right again.

*

Ross stood outside of the apartment door for several uneasy minutes, shifting from foot to foot, his head throbbing and his heart racing.  It had been a week since he had last seen Rachel, and he knew that he needed to resolve things with her soon.  No matter what ended up happening with them, he knew that he couldn't imagine not having her in his life. 

He moved to knock again, but couldn't seem to get his hand to connect to the door.  He sighed in frustration, and turned away, just as the door swung open.

"Can I help you?"

Ross turned, and smiled uncomfortably.

"Hey Mon."

"Ross?  Oh my God!  What are you…I mean…I thought you—" Monica stammered, her eyes wide and glassy.

"I…I thought Rachel would have told you…I saw her last week and—"

"Last week?  I can't believe she didn't tell me," Monica looked deflated, but quickly shook it off and ushered Ross into the apartment.

"Where have you been?  How long have you been back?"

"I…for a while, I guess.  Mom and Dad told me you were in California."

"I was…for a while.  After Mom and Dad kicked me out—"

"Wait, they kicked you out?  Why?" Ross furrowed his brow.

"I…"Monica looked down, her cheeks flushed.  She sighed, and when she looked up at Ross again, tears lined her eyes.

"I was pregnant," she said quietly.

"Oh," Ross said, and looked around the apartment.  It was then that he noticed the toys, and games, and coloring books scattered throughout the apartment.  He was mildly surprised that his sister had allowed her apartment to get so messy.

"I had the baby in California.  His name is Jakob…Jake.  He's…sleeping right now."

"Jakob," Ross' mind raced.  He looked up at Monica, wide-eyed.

"Mon…do you know who the father is?  I mean—"

"Of course I do…I…there's never been anyone else," Monica muttered and walked away from Ross, and toward the living room window.

"The thing is," she continued quietly, "I don't think I'll ever see him again.  I've decided that I need to move on.  He was sent to Vietnam, and a while back he was declared missing.  Everyone kept telling me I needed to move on, but I just wasn't ready to give up.  But time wore on, and I began to realize…he may never come home."

Ross watched his sister silently, all the while wondering if he should tell her what he knew about Chandler—because he knew, without ever asking, that Chandler was the one she was talking about. 

"Monica…Chandler…came looking for you."

Monica whipped around to face her brother, her eyes ablaze.

"You've met him?  When?  Where is he?" Monica asked desperately.

"I met him in Vietnam," Ross explained, "He…saved my life."

"Where is he?" Monica asked again, her voice soft, her eyes anxious.

"I…I don't know.  Mom and Dad told him you were married…that you had a family and that you were in California.  I showed him your postcard—the one you sent Mom and Dad—and I…I told him I thought you were married.  He looked hurt, but he didn't say much else.  He never told me where he was going."

Ross looked over at Monica, and saw that she was crying.  He pulled her into a hug, and rocked her slightly.

"Mon…I am so sorry.  I didn't know."

"No…I know," Monica whispered, and pulled away from Ross.  She smiled, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, "I just…I can't believe he's alive!"

Ross laughed and nodded.

"Maybe he's at his parent's old house?" he suggested.

"I don't know…his father moved away some time ago," Monica shook her head, "but it's definitely a good place to start."

"Hey Mon," Rachel said, as she walked through the front door.  She stopped, her eyes narrowing as they fell onto Ross.

"I should…I'll be in my room," Monica said softly, and retreated to her room quickly.

"Ross, what the hell are you doing here?" Rachel said coldly.

"I can't visit my own sister?" Ross asked.

"I…suppose…but she's not here now, so—"

"Rach, please, just let me talk to you," Ross pleaded, his eyes watering.

"I—" Rachel shook her head, and felt tears spring up in her own eyes.

"Rach, I know that you're mad…but I just…I need to explain.  Vietnam was…it was a different world.  I know that sounds strange, but you have to understand…I was so alone there…I had seen so many friends killed…so much suffering.  I really started to believe that I would never leave that place alive," Ross paused and looked up at Rachel slowly.  Her expression had softened, and she seemed genuinely interested in what he was telling her, so he continued.

"I never loved her…I…I honestly can't remember having any feelings at all.  She was there…when I had completely given up, and I guess…I guess I thought that if I could save her, somehow, I could save myself as well."

"Ross—"

"I know you hate me for what I've done…and I know you've moved on.  But…I'm afraid I'll never see my son…I…I just need a friend."

Rachel wiped a glassy tear from her eye, and approached Ross quickly, before pulling him into a tight embrace.

"I'll do what I can, Ross…but," Rachel pulled away from Ross and looked up at him, "I do love Joey.  I'm sorry."

Ross nodded silently, and pulled Rachel toward him again.

"Thank you," he whispered.

*

Carolyn watched with a smile, as Chandler and Claire chatted quietly at the kitchen table.  It had been a long time since she'd seen her daughter smile, and it warmed her heart.

After John's funeral, Claire had closed off the world, and Carolyn had feared the worst.

Then Chandler had stumbled into their lives, and though Carolyn had been hesitant about Chandler at first, she soon realized that he and Claire needed one another, and she was happy that Claire was finally talking to someone.

A sharp knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.  Claire moved to stand, but Carolyn stopped her.

"It's okay, honey, I'll get it," Carolyn smiled, and Claire nodded and resumed her conversation with Chandler.

Carolyn walked to the door and unlocked and opened it slowly.  On the other side stood a petite, dark-haired, nervous looking woman.

"Can I help you?" Carolyn asked softly.

"I…I hope so.  My name is Monica Geller, and I'm looking for a friend of mine…Chandler Bing.  H-His family used to live here?"

Carolyn stood motionless, her head reeling.  This was the woman Chandler had told them about—the one he thought he'd lost.  Why was she here now?  Where was her husband?  Was she ever even married?  Did she want Chandler back?  A million thoughts raced through Carolyn's mind, as the woman looked up at her with hope-filled eyes.

Then Claire's lilting laugh danced through the house, and touched her heart.

"I-I'm sorry Monica, I wish I could help but…we've never seen him."

AN:  I am really, really sorry about the delay.  This is still not what I wanted it to be, but at this point, I just want this thing finished!!

Let me know what you think!