A/N: So I'm introducing Ross and Rachel into the story. Why? You may never know. =) Many thanks to Erin, who's my beta, and to that one kind soul who left me a comment. I am touched. Oh, and also James, because he was my stand-in beta for this chapter and because he said so. J

Rating: Eventually R

Paring: Chandler / Phoebe, Ross / Rachel

Disclaimer: If I had any connection with Friends, do you REALLY think I'd be writing this story?

Chapter Two – The Shoebox

The door to the apartment opened and Monica passed a glance in Ross's direction as he entered the room. He was distracted as he made his way through the open space; eyes roaming from one place to the next - in search of what, Monica had no idea. Finally stopping in front of Rachel's room, he turned with purpose towards his sister.

"Do you remember that puzzle I bought about three years ago, and I left it here because I was moving…" He made a gesture with his hand. "I never got it back."

Monica set down her sponge, facing him. "The one with the rocks on the cover?"

Ross paused. "Yeah."

"That's still in Rachel's closet. I'll get it." She began to move towards him, but he stopped her with a raise of his hand.

"No, I'm right here, I can get it." Turning into the bedroom, he quietly closed the door behind him.

The room smelled fresh, and sweet, like a perfect balance of Rachel's body wash and her apple scented shampoo. Ross could still remember what it felt like to run his fingers through the honey colored silk that veiled her perfect head, and even now he could hear the quiet moans that she would elicit when his fingers worked their magic.

With a sigh, he snapped himself from his reverie and resumed his puzzle mission. Absently humming the Mission: Impossible theme song under his breath, he opened Rachel's closet and knelt in front of it.

The area was filled with a sea of shoes that far outweighed the number of outfits Rachel owned. He began to shuffle through the endless abyss of imitation leather and suede until he finally reached the back of her closet, where a stack of shoeboxes awaited him. As his eyes roamed in search of the puzzle, something else caught his attention. Scrawled on top of one of the shoeboxes was the word Ross in plain black ink.

Even though he knew snooping would be wrong, his curiosity got the better of him. With nimble fingers, he pulled the shoebox out of the closet, sat cross-legged on the floor, and set it down in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he pulled it open.

To anyone besides Rachel, everything in the shoebox looked like crap, from the dinosaur bone that she had taken from the museum, to an eggshell that sat alone in the corner of the box.

He was looking at a box of memories that Rachel had kept. Memories of him, of their relationship. Why she didn't burn it the night she discovered his unfaithfulness, Ross would never know, but here it was, in his lap, mocking him. Reminding him of his failure, reminding him of the one good thing he had let slip through his fingers.

Shaky hands returned the lid to its box and he slid it back to its home. Returning the shoes as best he could, he grasped the side of the bed for support and stood on faltering legs. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his nerves. Opening the door, he made his way swiftly through the apartment, ignoring Monica's curious enquiries as he slipped out of the door.

[[---]]

"And so, like, there he was just standing there, so I sort of just threw a robe on him and ran out."

Phoebe stabbed her salad with a fork and lifted a scoop of leafy green vegetables to her mouth. Chandler sat across from her, completely ignoring the chicken in front of him, his leg bouncing in a constant rhythm against the carpeted floor. 

How can she be so calm?! We just made out!

He reached for his water glass and downed half of it in one gulp, tongue lapping at the dew that clung to his upper lip.

"CHANDLER!"

"Huh, what?" His head jerked upwards, eyes immediately finding Phoebe's face. "Oh, I'm sorry Pheebs, I was listening."

That was convincing.

"Chandler." She slid forward in her seat, elbows rest on the table, chin propped in her hand. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Everything is just fine. Except for the fact that, you know, I just made out with one of my best friends who now want to pretend it never happened! No, I'm great, I'm just peachy."

"Whoa, calm down there cowboy." She held up her hand, slumped back in her seat. "I don't want to pretend it never happened."

"Then why are you telling me stories about naked accountants?"

She rolled her eyes. "He wasn't an accountant! He was a teller. Teller!"

Chandler picked up a napkin and began to tear it into tiny little shreds. "This… isn't really helping."

"Oh, okay, alright. Look, Chandler." She slid closer again, reached across the table, and grabbed his hand. "You are one of the most important people in my life. I love you. You were sad. I wanted to distract you."

He smiled a little, squeezed her hand. "Well, thanks Pheebs. It's worked, I mean, I haven't thought about Janice all afternoon."

"And that kiss was pretty damn hot too, huh?"

He laughed. "That's an understatement. I never knew you could kiss like that."

"Oh, well, that's not even the thing I do best."

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Well, if you're still sad, maybe you could find out." She winked, reached for her purse, and pulled out her wallet, speaking absently as she pulled out her credit card. "You know, I've always had a thing for you, Chandler."

She motioned for the waiter and he claimed the bill and the credit card. The second he returned with the small plastic card, Chandler jumped from his seat, grabbed Phoebe's hand, and ran for the door.

[[---]]

Phoebe's fingers were wrapped through Chandler's hair as his lips skated across her neck, tongue occasionally flicking against the sensitive skin. Chandler's heart beat quickly inside his chest as his hand slowly slid along her body, exploring this new territory, hand guiding his fingers up her side and slowly cupping her breast, finding her nipple through the thin cotton of her shirt to pinch it between experienced fingers.           

Phoebe's head fell against the arm of the couch with ease as his lips made their journey downward. She felt his goosebumps rising to meet her fingers as they ghosted down his neck and dipped beneath the collar of his shirt. His back was completely smooth to her touch, and that sent her hands lower, wanting to explore more of him, feel every part of him that she could. It didn't feel weird that this was Chandler – instead, it felt warm and raw, and the more she lie here with him on top of her, the more needy they both became. She could feel him hardening against her thigh as her legs wrapped around his waist, hips pushed against her own with animal need.

And then the doorknob twisted, and a disgruntled Ross called from the other side: "Chandler! I need to talk to you! I know you're in there!"

Phoebe frowned. "Oh, no."

Chandler's movements above Phoebe stilled and he groaned, eyes finding her face. She gave a slight, sympathetic nod and he slowly stood, adjusting his shirt over the obvious tent in his pants as Phoebe sat up and smoothed her own shirt down, tucking hair behind her ear.

Ross's fist pounded the door. "CHANDLER!"

"I'm coming! Jesus Christ…" He pulled the door open, scowling at the mere presence of Ross on the other side of his door. "What is it?"

To say that Ross looked upset would have been an understatement. His fingers were clenched into fists at his side as he came into the apartment, barely noticing Phoebe's presence on the couch.

"It's Rachel."

Chandler rubbed the back of his neck, pushed the door closed. "Of course it is. What else is it, ever?"

Ignoring the sarcasm, Ross lowered himself onto a stool and leaned against the counter. "I found this shoebox of stuff in her closet."

"Oh!" Phoebe piped in, "Was it full of sand? Did it have a crab in it?"

Ross blinked. "No…"

She shrugged. "That's what would have been in my shoebox."

Scowling, Ross turned back to Chandler. "I think… I think she may still have feelings for me. Why would she have kept it otherwise? And I know we just broke up, but…"

Chandler silenced Ross with a raise of his hand. "Ross. Come on, man. There are probably a million reasons why she kept that box." Softening his voice, he added: "Don't do this to yourself."

Ross sighed, eyes averting downwards as his fingers slid back and forth across the cool counter, and when he finally spoke, the tone in his voice was sad, heart wrenching. "I still love her."

The remaining two faces in the room fell, and an awkward silence hung like a conspicuous chandelier. Slowly, Phoebe stood, glancing first at Ross, then towards Chandler. "I have um, I have to go, cause it's kind of uncomfortable in here right now."

Chandler nodded, and found himself wishing he had the boldness that Phoebe possessed, to say exactly what was on her mind. She bit her lip, sliding out of the door and into the hallway, leaving the two men alone.