A/N: Thanks for the reviews for this story so far. In response to one reviewer, don't worry, I won't be killing Ross off! As I said before, it's definitely an angsty fic, but with time it'll get easier. I'm sure some of you have already figured out exactly what's going on here, but if you haven't then this chapter will reveal the truth, and you might not like it. I'm sorry in advance – that's just the way it is, I'm afraid. Maybe I'm mad for this but hey, it's my fic and I'll be mad if I want to ;) Just don't flame, kay?

Just for purposes of imagination, I'd put this fic in around Season 3 Ross&Rachel, when they were a perfectly happy couple and before the whole Rachel quitting/Mark-the-arse trying to steal her storyline came along. And also they were so damn cute back then! None of the previous Friends storylines on the show have happened in this fic-world but in case you wanted to visualise how I was seeing the characters looks-wise, that's where I'm at. ;)

Oh and if anyone is reading my other R&R fic, Crazy Love, it'll be updated much more often than this one, as it's so much easier to write. This one always has to wait until my depressive mood has taken hold, lol.

Swiftly walk o'er the western wave,

Spirit of Night!

Out of the misty eastern cave

Where, all the long and lone daylight

Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,

Which make thee terrible and dear,

Swift be thy flight!

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Chapter Two – Delusion

Rachel giggled as Ross brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek, then travelling down to her lips. She sighed as he lightly ran his other hand down her arm, across to her breast, settling into the touch there. Nothing was as perfect as these moments they shared together, and Rachel felt nothing short of a goddess when she watched him treat her with something close to reverence. Nobody before Ross had taken the time to ask what Rachel liked, what she didn't like, what she would like, what he could do to make her happier… Rachel wanted to explain to him that HE made her happy, and she didn't want anything more, but it was so difficult to put that feeling into words, especially when he was kissing her and making her laugh, then smile, then moan, then cry.

"Rachel, you know I love you, right?" he'd ask, anxious for her answer, afraid she might have changed her mind. She never did.

"Of course I know, Ross. And you know I love you, too, don't you?" She'd lean in and kiss him gently, as if presenting solid evidence that she was telling the truth. "Because I do. I love you so much."

He'd smile and pull her closer, kissing her lips, her nose, her eyes, her forehead. She'd close her eyes as he worked his way down her body, adoring every inch as if he'd never seen it before. She never knew what she had done to deserve this, to deserve him, but she never asked.

Sometimes he asked, and she'd have to tell him. She'd feel embarrassed, because he was the smart one, and she wasn't great with words when it came to expressing stuff like complicated feelings, or at least she didn't think she was great. She wanted to tell him in a beautiful way he'd remember forever, but all she could do was blurt out a list of reasons she loved him. He always seemed satisfied, though, and she'd tell him to make love to her afterwards, to reaffirm their belief in one another.

"Promise me," she'd whisper, when they were both still flush from lovemaking, "promise me you'll never let me go."

His mouth would be close to her ear, and when he spoke it gave her shivers down her spine. "I promise, Rachel. I'll never let you go."

And she believed him.

Rachel's eyes flew open. She couldn't remember what had woken her, except that she'd been falling through a black tunnel. It took her a few moments to gather her bearings, and sitting up, she realised she had been asleep on the couch in her apartment. It took her another few moments for her mind to turn to Ross, and for her to recall what had happened to him. She immediately felt sick at the thought of him being hurt and needing her, and wondered, with increasing anger, why she was still here when everyone else appeared to have gone. She was his girlfriend! Why hadn't they waited?

Rachel got to her feet, throwing off the blanket someone had placed over her, and ran to her room, grabbing the first comfortable pair of shoes she came across. She pulled on her coat and rubbed her sleepy eyes before going back into the living room, trying to think if she needed to take anything else. Panic was starting to fill her and she felt disorientated, staring around the room as if it held the answers she wanted.

"Rach? What are you doing?"

Rachel whirled around to see Joey coming out of the bathroom, looking concernedly at her.

"I'm going to see Ross," she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "What else would I be doing? I can't believe they all went without me, how dare they." Her random anger was returning – it was better than the panic.

"Rachel, you fainted and we put you on the couch. Monica wanted to go because Ross is her brother, and Chandler went with her. I said I'd stay and keep an eye on you. No one just went without you."

Rachel sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Ok, Joey, thanks, I appreciate it, but can we go now, please? I have to see him; I need to know what's wrong."

Joey didn't look as if he agreed this was the best idea, but Rachel ignored him and dragged him towards the door. She didn't care that she'd fainted and didn't feel very good. That was hardly important when Ross was in hospital. Didn't anybody realise how much she needed him?

"Come on, then." Joey shut the apartment door behind them and he and Rachel headed off to the hospital, Rachel trembling more the closer they got.

Ross is awake, but he doesn't dare open his eyes. He hears the voices, but he doesn't want to see the faces. His mind is a blur of sound and colour, and it is making him feel dizzy, even though he knows he is lying down. Every part of him hurts like nothing he has ever experienced before, and that frightens him, especially the one part that really hurts beyond all else. It keeps changing from a sharp stab to a dull ache, and he wants so badly for it to stop. For it all to stop. He wants to shut himself off from everybody and forget he even existed. He can't speak to his sister and his friends – not now. What would they think of him? And Rachel… Rachel had always been too good for him, and now it has been proved. If he wasn't so tired, he'd consider apologising. But his brain is overloading with unpleasant sensations, and he wants to sleep, so he blocks out the noise and falls again into sweet, welcoming blackness.

Rachel practically sprinted down the long corridor, skidding as she turned into another, resisting the urge to call out Ross' name and hope he might answer back. Joey was somewhere behind her, shouting at her to slow down, but she didn't pay attention. He didn't have a clue how she was feeling.

It couldn't have been longer than five minutes, yet to Rachel it seemed like hours had passed by the time she finally reached Ross' private room. She stood outside the door, next to which his name was tacked, as if the room held him prisoner. Her hand hovered over the handle while she made a valiant attempt to catch her breath – it had been a long time since she'd done much running, unless she counted mad races in the park with Phoebe.

Phoebe. Rachel knew she'd be in there now, along with Monica and Chandler, sitting by Ross' bed and keeping him company. Maybe they would be crying. Rachel didn't want to cry. All she wanted to do was kiss her boyfriend and tell him everything was going to be ok. She was certain it would be; after all, he was the strongest person she knew.

"Rach!" Joey had caught up with her at last, and was red in the face from chasing her. "What's going on?"

She didn't even look at him, but kept staring at the wooden door, slightly apprehensive about what she might see behind it. "Nothing," she said shortly, and then opened the door, stepping inside.

The room wasn't very brightly-lit, and for this Rachel was grateful. She was developing a headache already without adding to its pressure with harsh glares. Her gaze lifted and fell upon the clinical bed in the centre of the room, in which Ross was sleeping. The drip in his arm unnerved her a little, though as she neared the bed she realised the bandages covering his head were the things she was actually freaked out by. He looked in so much pain, even though his eyes were closed and no expression crossed his face. She could just tell he wasn't right, by looking at him from a distance. There was something distinctly wrong, but she didn't know what. Lovers' intuition – she wondered if that was even possible.

"Hey." A stricken-looking Phoebe stood up from where she had been sitting in a hard plastic chair beside the bed. She walked over to Rachel and hugged her close; immediately Rachel felt a bit of her anxiety dissipate. Being with the people she loved was making things slightly more bearable. "Are you ok?"

Rachel nodded. She wanted to ask Phoebe what had happened and how she'd found Ross, but no words came at that moment. Instead, Rachel moved next to Ross and stared down at his unconscious form. He looked sore, with cuts and bruises on the visible parts of his face, and a slash down his right arm. Quietly, Rachel reached out and covered his warm hand with her own shaking one. She squeezed gently, hoping that on some level it might provide comfort for him.

"The doctor's coming to speak to us soon." Monica's weak voice broke through the silence, making Rachel look up and over at her best friend. She'd almost forgotten how much this had to be affecting Monica as well, being Ross' sister, and gave her a small smile. "We were hoping you'd be here by now."

Rachel nodded again, noticing Chandler holding Monica's hands and letting her rest against his shoulder. That was sweet, Rachel mused, selfishly glad that someone else was able to concentrate on Monica. All Rachel had the capacity to think about was herself and her true love, whose hand remained linked with hers as she sat down in the uncomfortable chair and led them all into another eerie silence.

Ross could hardly believe it when the pain ripped through him, bringing unintended tears to his eyes and forcing them to fall, unbidden. He'd considered every possible outcome to this encounter, or he'd thought he had. It turned out he had forgotten something. He didn't reckon anyone would blame him for forgetting, really. The chances of someone doing this… They mustn't be very high. What were the statistics? He ought to know, he was a scientist, this is the kind of fact he'd be boring everyone with in the coffee house. Except he knew he never would have, because he wasn't sick.

Diversion of thought wasn't working. Pain was coursing through his body with every movement. He wanted to scream, but he sternly told himself not to. He couldn't ever demonstrate a loss of control. Obviously, he'd lost control a very long time ago, but he didn't need to reinfornce that. He just had to keep thinking of other things, try his hardest to ignore the stabbing…

Rachel. Gorgeous, sweet, amazing Rachel. Rachel's hair, Rachel's eyes, Rachel's nose, Rachel's lips, Rachel's chin, Rachel's neck, Rachel's breasts, Rachel's belly button, Rachel's hips, Rachel's thighs, Rachel's ankles, Rachel's toes…

Rachel would never love him after this.

Yes, she would. Rachel would never let him go.

Ross screamed.

Rachel only stirred when she heard Monica get up and greet the doctor. Briefly, she turned her head to take in the sight of the balding man in his forties shaking Monica's hand, and then she returned to Ross, who was breathing evenly and deeply. Rachel saw this as a good sign. She wanted him to sleep and recover, and then wake up and kiss her. Their lives would go back to normal and they'd live happily ever after. Rachel wished she could believe her own rhetoric.

"Miss Greene?" The doctor had approached her, and was looking at her kindly through his half-moon spectacles. "Could I have a word with you too?"

"Sure." Rachel reluctantly laid Ross' hand back on the bed, and followed Monica, Chandler, Phoebe and Joey out of the room, along the corridor to another, smaller room. This one was termed 'Relatives' Room' and was homely-decorated with fake flowers and dusky-pink sofas. As Rachel sat down beside Joey, she couldn't help noticing how serious the doctor's face had suddenly become, and fear rose inside her like restless lava, waiting to bubble up at whatever news she was about to be told. Without thinking, she grabbed Joey's hand.

Ross knew it was safe to open his eyes, but he didn't dare. He was equally afraid of being alone as of being with people, and he had the suspicion that waking up properly might spur his body into even more pain. He didn't feel up to taking that chance, so he lay there with his eyes shut, wondering how they were all taking the news. He didn't think anyone would react well. Monica would be horror-struck and probably break down crying with the shock. Chandler and Joey wouldn't be able to say anything; they would just be thinking how they'd better stop hanging out with him, just in case. Phoebe - Ross wasn't entirely sure how Phoebe would react. She was the constant surprise. Yet even she would more than likely think how awful and disgusting it was, and maybe rethink her position as his friend. He wouldn't blame her in the slightest. And Rachel… It was too disturbing to imagine the consequences of her finding out. Ross wondered how long she'd stick around before realising he wasn't worth it any more. She was a good person, so he knew she'd try at first, but she'd never manage it. Hell, he wasn't sure he could manage it.

And the doctor would wheel out the statistics that he, Ross, should have already known, and explain how it wasn't the end of the world, and that with treatment and support and love, there was the probability of a total and full recovery. The doctor would add that this sort of crime – perhaps he'd use the word 'attack' – was extremely rare and that Ross had merely been unlucky. In the wrong place at the wrong time. Ross would have to agree with that. He'd believed it in the case of women and now he had to apply the same logic to himself. Rape was random and a bad-luck consequence.

Supposedly.

Ross wasn't so sure.

A/N: Reviews are, as always, much appreciated.