Ross stared around himself, thoroughly confused. Then it came to him. He was at someone's wake. Only he couldn't remember who it was for. Baffled, he continued to gaze about. Suddenly a casket at the end of the room filled with people caught his eye, and his stomach literally turned to ice when he saw Rachel lying in it, still and waxen, like Ben had been. He screamed her name before falling into blackness...

Ross sat up in bed, breathing heavily and frantically taking in his surroundings. Rachel, having been startled awake as well, sat up and reached out for Ross, who was sobbing uncontrollably.

"Rachel!" he yelled again.

"Shh, sweetie, I'm here," she assured, holding him against her.

"Oh God, Rach, I thought...I thought..." he trailed off, crying and shaking hysterically.

"Shh, calm down, everything's fine, sweetie. I'm here," she whispered soothingly, kissing him on the top of his head. She stroked his back and tried to calm him down.

"Oh, God... Rach... it was hor-horrible. You died and..." he couldn't finish, he just clung to her body fiercely and buried his face her chest, soaking her shirt with his tears.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetie," she murmured softly. "I'm right here. It was just a dream."

Rachel held and rocked him as he cried himself back to sleep. Once he had, he lay still in her arms, yet still shuddered now and then in his sleep. Rachel held him close, taking in how perfectly he fit in her embrace. This was how she had wished for it to be. She wanted nothing more than to be the one who eased his pain and the arms he sought comfort in. She only hoped that that could be enough.

Several hours later, Ross and Rachel were both up and in the kitchen. Ross was sitting at the table, staring hauntingly ahead, while Rachel was making him coffee. After pouring some into a mug, she turned around to bring it to him. She also sat down beside him and took his hand in hers. The sight of his tear-filled bruised brown eyes made her insides ache.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" she asked, even though she knew it was obvious. Then she regretted saying anything, as her question made struggling not to cry harder.

"Come here," she whispered, drawing him into her arms and rubbing his back, trying to make amends. His cheek lay on her shoulder and arms hung tightly around her waist. She could hear his unsteady breathing as he fought to calm down. A few minutes passed before Ross spoke.

"Rachel?" he inquired in a some- what scared, child-like voice.

"Yes, sweetie?" she responded, threading a hand through his thick hair.

"I'm ready to see her." Rachel turned her head so she could see his eyes, which were staring up at her from her shoulder.

"Who? Emma?"

"Yes. I want to be a father to her, like she deserves." He sounded on the verge of tears. Rachel pulled him closer.

"Oh, baby, it's okay. Don't cry. You've always been a good father, and I have one hundred percent faith in you. Of course, I'll bring her over tomorrow. Everything will be fine." He nodded into her shoulder.

"Thank you." He barely whispered, choked-up. Rachel kissed him on the side of his forehead, and continued to hold him. Pretty soon, it would be time for the funeral of his only son, something she knew he would never truly be ready for.