Chapter 2
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Rachel studied her shiny, pink fingernails. They were long, but not so long that she couldn't do anything with her hands. She'd had nails like that before, in high school. She remembered not being able to write or pick up a piece of paper or pull her keys out of her purse. And when she did manage to get something done, she just ended up having to file and touch up her nails. So, finally she'd taken the nail file and filed them down to a reasonable length. She'd loved those nails. They had been the envy of every other girl in school. The day she cut them short had been the hardest in her life.
Until now.
Well, okay. Childbirth hadn't been easy, either. Or when she watched the man she loved get married to some English twit named Emily. Or when she found out he cheated on her because they had been "on a break." On a break, her ass.
What was the common denominator in all of these instances (except for the fingernail thing), the one point that linked them? Ross. Ross, as her daughter's dad, as her boyfriend, and as her ex. And now as the man she had to admit to not loving.
"Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself. But she knew that she really meant, "Here goes everything." She lifted her closed fist and knocked on Ross's door. It promptly swung open.
"Rachel," he said, smiling.
"Hi," she replied timidly. She couldn't look him in the eye.
He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. She didn't have the heart to resist him, but she wasn't returning his affections. He noticed. "What's wrong?" There was anxiety in his voice. She could hear it. Ross was afraid of what she was going to say.
Rachel walked into his apartment, and he followed closely behind. The two sat on the couch, not looking at one another--she couldn't bear to face him, and he was afraid of what he wouldn't see. Ross fidgeted with a dinosaur model on his coffee table, and Rachel resumed staring at her fingernails. Fianlly, unable to withstand the tension a second longer, she said, voice low, "Ross."
"Mmmhmm?" he asked, eyes wide and attentive.
"Last night. It was--"
"Wait," he interrupted. "I know what you're going to say."
"You do?"
"Yes." He smiled brightly, and she took this as a sign that he certainly did not know what she was going to say. "You're going to say that last night was great. It was amazing. But did it mean as much to me as it did to you?" He took her hands in his. "The answer is yes." She opened her mouth to stop him, but he shushed her and continued, "Rachel, I love you. I love you. So, don't go to Paris. We can be together."
She sighed. Why was he making this so hard? Why was he doing this to her? She didn't want to hurt him. But she had to, she knew she had to. With renewed strength, she said, "Ross, I can't not go. I want to go. No, I need to go. For me." He looked confused. "And--" She broke off. "I had a whole speech. But, I guess it boils down to the fact that I just don't love you."He blinked and remained silent. "Ross?" she asked, hoping he would speak. But he didn't, so she looked away from him uncomfortably and said nothing.
Finally, she heard a stirring. "You don't love me?" he said.
"No," she replied. "Not in a romantic way," she amended.
"You told me I meant more to you than everyone else. That implies a romantic love," he informed her, his voice growing shrill.
"I know," she said guiltily. Miserably. "I thought I meant it. I was sure I meant it. Then. But when I woke up this morning, I knew it wasn't true."
He demanded, "Why? Why don't you love me?"
She shrugged and wiped off her cheek, which was wet with tears. "I don't know. I just don't. But, Ross, I want to. I want to love you so bad. If I could...but I can't. I can't make myself love you."
"Try," he said.
"What?" she asked, taken aback.
"Try. Try to love me."
She brought her fingers to her lips, trying to stop herself form breaking down. "Oh, sweetie, I am. I am trying." She laughed a humorless laugh. "It's not working."
"Oh." His voice echoed with disappointment.
"I'm gonna leave now," she said gently. "And...I'm sorry."
His words reached her on the other side of the door, slightly muffled: "Yeah. So am I."
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Joey bombarded her with questions immediately. "How'd it go? How'd he take it? Did you go through with it? Was he mad? Did he cry? Did you cry?" She distracted him with a sandwich she'd bought from a street vendor on her way back home, and she was allowed some quiet for fifteen minutes.
The look on Ross's face...it would haunt her. He'd been so crushed. She hated making him feel that way. She shouldn't have that power. No one should.
"Oh, Rachel, while you were gone, Chandler called."
"He did? What did he say?" she asked, thankful for a diversion.
"All of us should head down to the hospital, to see the baby. He also said something about a big surprise."
"A big surprise?" she said. "Is that a good thing, a big surprise? I mean, when it has to do with a baby?"
He smiled. "I don't know."
"So, come on," she said. "Let's go."
"First you have to tell me what happened with Ross."
She glared at him. "I don't want to talk about it."
He sensed that she was serious and said, "That bad, huh?"
"It wasn't–I don't know. I don't know. He said about three words when I told him." She groaned, frustrated. "I don't know if he forgives me, if he's confused, or if he just hates me. I wouldn't blame him if he did."
Joey approached her and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay. Everything will be okay. Okay?"
"Yeah. I guess."
"Let's go to the hospital then."
Rachel frowned. "Will Ross be there?"
Shrugging, he said, "I don't know. Probably. He is Monica's brother."
"Then I'm not going."
"Come on," he urged. "Don't you want to see the baby before you leave?"
"Well," she said, dragging the word out. "Yes, but–"
He pulled her up and guided her towards the door, stepping carefully over a half-eaten slice of pizza. "Let's go then."
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The hospital was as all hospitals are–white and clean, accentuated by the scent of sickness, death, and childbirth. Nothing special.
But Rachel barely noticed any of it. She saw it, but she did not take it in. She was too busy watching. Watching for Ross. She'd already thought she'd seen him three times, and they weren't even to the reception desk. She couldn't stand this horrible waiting.
A flash of white walked in front of her, and Joey pulled on her arm to keep her from running into the nurse. However, the girl with a name tag that read "Nurse Casey," stopped and asked Rachel if she was okay, to which Rachel responded, "F-fine, thank you."
Joey smiled at the pretty nurse. "How you doin'?"
Rachel suddenly felt relief at her friend's words. Even at a hospital, when two of his friends were getting their baby, and two of his other friends were having some major relationship issues, he was the ladies' man he always was.
It was nice to know some things never change.
Unfortunately, it was just as Rachel was calming down that a familiar voice said from behind her, "I need to talk to you."
She whirled around and saw the one person she had been hoping to avoid–Ross Geller.
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A/N: For those of you Ross/Rachel fans, this story is not going to exclude that possibility. I know some of you think that, but I already have an ending written to which I could write a R/R sequel if I wanted...I just wanted a Rachel being on her own and going to Paris like she wanted fic. Maybe I'll write a R/R sequel or alternate ending or something to it...maybe not...I don't know...
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Rachel studied her shiny, pink fingernails. They were long, but not so long that she couldn't do anything with her hands. She'd had nails like that before, in high school. She remembered not being able to write or pick up a piece of paper or pull her keys out of her purse. And when she did manage to get something done, she just ended up having to file and touch up her nails. So, finally she'd taken the nail file and filed them down to a reasonable length. She'd loved those nails. They had been the envy of every other girl in school. The day she cut them short had been the hardest in her life.
Until now.
Well, okay. Childbirth hadn't been easy, either. Or when she watched the man she loved get married to some English twit named Emily. Or when she found out he cheated on her because they had been "on a break." On a break, her ass.
What was the common denominator in all of these instances (except for the fingernail thing), the one point that linked them? Ross. Ross, as her daughter's dad, as her boyfriend, and as her ex. And now as the man she had to admit to not loving.
"Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself. But she knew that she really meant, "Here goes everything." She lifted her closed fist and knocked on Ross's door. It promptly swung open.
"Rachel," he said, smiling.
"Hi," she replied timidly. She couldn't look him in the eye.
He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. She didn't have the heart to resist him, but she wasn't returning his affections. He noticed. "What's wrong?" There was anxiety in his voice. She could hear it. Ross was afraid of what she was going to say.
Rachel walked into his apartment, and he followed closely behind. The two sat on the couch, not looking at one another--she couldn't bear to face him, and he was afraid of what he wouldn't see. Ross fidgeted with a dinosaur model on his coffee table, and Rachel resumed staring at her fingernails. Fianlly, unable to withstand the tension a second longer, she said, voice low, "Ross."
"Mmmhmm?" he asked, eyes wide and attentive.
"Last night. It was--"
"Wait," he interrupted. "I know what you're going to say."
"You do?"
"Yes." He smiled brightly, and she took this as a sign that he certainly did not know what she was going to say. "You're going to say that last night was great. It was amazing. But did it mean as much to me as it did to you?" He took her hands in his. "The answer is yes." She opened her mouth to stop him, but he shushed her and continued, "Rachel, I love you. I love you. So, don't go to Paris. We can be together."
She sighed. Why was he making this so hard? Why was he doing this to her? She didn't want to hurt him. But she had to, she knew she had to. With renewed strength, she said, "Ross, I can't not go. I want to go. No, I need to go. For me." He looked confused. "And--" She broke off. "I had a whole speech. But, I guess it boils down to the fact that I just don't love you."He blinked and remained silent. "Ross?" she asked, hoping he would speak. But he didn't, so she looked away from him uncomfortably and said nothing.
Finally, she heard a stirring. "You don't love me?" he said.
"No," she replied. "Not in a romantic way," she amended.
"You told me I meant more to you than everyone else. That implies a romantic love," he informed her, his voice growing shrill.
"I know," she said guiltily. Miserably. "I thought I meant it. I was sure I meant it. Then. But when I woke up this morning, I knew it wasn't true."
He demanded, "Why? Why don't you love me?"
She shrugged and wiped off her cheek, which was wet with tears. "I don't know. I just don't. But, Ross, I want to. I want to love you so bad. If I could...but I can't. I can't make myself love you."
"Try," he said.
"What?" she asked, taken aback.
"Try. Try to love me."
She brought her fingers to her lips, trying to stop herself form breaking down. "Oh, sweetie, I am. I am trying." She laughed a humorless laugh. "It's not working."
"Oh." His voice echoed with disappointment.
"I'm gonna leave now," she said gently. "And...I'm sorry."
His words reached her on the other side of the door, slightly muffled: "Yeah. So am I."
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Joey bombarded her with questions immediately. "How'd it go? How'd he take it? Did you go through with it? Was he mad? Did he cry? Did you cry?" She distracted him with a sandwich she'd bought from a street vendor on her way back home, and she was allowed some quiet for fifteen minutes.
The look on Ross's face...it would haunt her. He'd been so crushed. She hated making him feel that way. She shouldn't have that power. No one should.
"Oh, Rachel, while you were gone, Chandler called."
"He did? What did he say?" she asked, thankful for a diversion.
"All of us should head down to the hospital, to see the baby. He also said something about a big surprise."
"A big surprise?" she said. "Is that a good thing, a big surprise? I mean, when it has to do with a baby?"
He smiled. "I don't know."
"So, come on," she said. "Let's go."
"First you have to tell me what happened with Ross."
She glared at him. "I don't want to talk about it."
He sensed that she was serious and said, "That bad, huh?"
"It wasn't–I don't know. I don't know. He said about three words when I told him." She groaned, frustrated. "I don't know if he forgives me, if he's confused, or if he just hates me. I wouldn't blame him if he did."
Joey approached her and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay. Everything will be okay. Okay?"
"Yeah. I guess."
"Let's go to the hospital then."
Rachel frowned. "Will Ross be there?"
Shrugging, he said, "I don't know. Probably. He is Monica's brother."
"Then I'm not going."
"Come on," he urged. "Don't you want to see the baby before you leave?"
"Well," she said, dragging the word out. "Yes, but–"
He pulled her up and guided her towards the door, stepping carefully over a half-eaten slice of pizza. "Let's go then."
---------------------------------------------------------
The hospital was as all hospitals are–white and clean, accentuated by the scent of sickness, death, and childbirth. Nothing special.
But Rachel barely noticed any of it. She saw it, but she did not take it in. She was too busy watching. Watching for Ross. She'd already thought she'd seen him three times, and they weren't even to the reception desk. She couldn't stand this horrible waiting.
A flash of white walked in front of her, and Joey pulled on her arm to keep her from running into the nurse. However, the girl with a name tag that read "Nurse Casey," stopped and asked Rachel if she was okay, to which Rachel responded, "F-fine, thank you."
Joey smiled at the pretty nurse. "How you doin'?"
Rachel suddenly felt relief at her friend's words. Even at a hospital, when two of his friends were getting their baby, and two of his other friends were having some major relationship issues, he was the ladies' man he always was.
It was nice to know some things never change.
Unfortunately, it was just as Rachel was calming down that a familiar voice said from behind her, "I need to talk to you."
She whirled around and saw the one person she had been hoping to avoid–Ross Geller.
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A/N: For those of you Ross/Rachel fans, this story is not going to exclude that possibility. I know some of you think that, but I already have an ending written to which I could write a R/R sequel if I wanted...I just wanted a Rachel being on her own and going to Paris like she wanted fic. Maybe I'll write a R/R sequel or alternate ending or something to it...maybe not...I don't know...