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Xxxxxxx

The air was cold and a light drizzle was falling gently over New York as I limped slowly down the grave-lined path with my eyes to the ground and my hands in my pockets. I shivered despite the layers of clothing I had on. I felt weak and vulnerable, like I'd fall sick any minute, but I kept on going, walking where my feet would take me. My head was spinning and I really wasn't sure where I was headed, but in the back of my mind I knew where I was supposed to go. I just hoped my feet knew where that somewhere was.

"What we need is closure…You guys need to accept what's happened. Let yourself be happy again. Joey won't mind," Phoebe had told us during Thanksgiving dinner. Nobody had commented of course. Everyone knew she was right, nobody just knew how exactly to move on, including me.

I watched as my breath came out as little clouds and toyed with the thought of going home to my mother to rest. Long Island's where I can get my much-needed rest most definitely, but the idea that my mother and her countless lovers would be my constant companions was enough to make me reject the scheme almost straight away. No way. My mother isn't anyone to be counted on when it comes to things like these.

I came to a stop. I felt my cheeks burning and my eyes watering from the cold, plus my nose was starting to run. I was out of breath, even though I'd only been walking for a little while, and I was feeling sort of confused. It was nearing 1:00 by my watch and none of my friends knew where I was. I'd snuck out of the house while Monica was asleep in bed, tired from cleaning up the whole night last night, and left my cellphone in the apartment. I didn't plan on getting anywhere specific. All I wanted was a little air to clear my head. Then, suddenly, I was in a taxi, heading straight for the place I didn't think I would set foot in anytime in the near future.

Something in what Phoebe had said struck me and I was determined for closure. I was bent on getting my own peace as well as for Joey's, but there was something holding me back. Somehow, the farther I walked from the cemetery gates, the more I felt that I was in the wrong place.

No. I had to do this.

I forced myself to start walking again, my ears starting to feel quite numb from the chill. My eyes were stinging from the cold and were actually already starting to water. I wanted to puke. My body was already yelling at me to stop and go home. I didn't listen to it. I just kept on going.

"Agh!" I suddenly tripped on a fallen branch I didn't notice was there and almost completely lost my balance. I made windmills with my arms to keep myself on my feet as I lunged forward. If I had fallen, I would have landed face-first on a gravestone.

"Hey hey, watch it, son," somebody placed a firm grip on my arm and helped me stay up. The first thing I saw of him was his hand, which was all veined and splotched, but he sure had a strong grip. "Careful there,"

I looked up and saw who the person was: a middle-aged man in an old brown jacket, a faded cap, jeans, boots and a plaid shirt. He was looking at me as if he expected me to collapse any second.

"Thanks," I said as I straightened up and brushed imaginary dust off my own coat.

"You all right? What are you doing here? You look like you should be in bed," he said, taking off his cap and brushing back the silver hair underneath it, even though it didn't look messed up.

"I'm great, I'm okay," I tried to assure him. "I just tripped on a branch…"

I shook my head to clear it. The cemetery started to come into clear view again.

"That's better," I commented, mostly to myself.

"Take it easy…You don't look too well. Do you have someone with you?" the guy asked.

"No, I'm alone…I'm…I'm visiting a friend," I told him. I didn't really know why I was even noticing him, but it wasn't really like I had a choice. I was still feeling too dazed to walk. For a second, I didn't even know where I was or where I was going.

"A friend, eh?" the guy looked at me with an expression of sympathy. "Yeah, well, we're all here to visit someone, aren't we?"

I wanted to ask him whom he was there for, but decided against it. I barely even knew the guy. I'd met him by tripping on a tree branch, for crying out loud.

The wind whistled past my ears. Again, I regretted not bringing along a hat to keep my freezing head warm.

"I'm visiting my son and my grandson," The guy's eyes suddenly became cloudy as he started to talk, as if he was gripped by some sad memory. He avoided my gaze. "They were run over by some son of a bitch on their way home for Thanksgiving dinner. It's been fourteen years…" He drew in a breath, but he looked really upset all of a sudden, with his lips held tight. I suddenly felt uncomfortable. "But I still can't take that they're not here anymore, y'know? That some son of a bitch took them both away…the guy wasn't even caught,"

I heard the roughness and anger in his voice and felt myself back away a little, suddenly threatened. He looked darkly at the ground, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his jeans. He looked as though he was going to hit something any minute. I was surprised when he kept his composure.

"I'll kill that son of a bitch when I find him…I've been grieving for fourteen years…" his voice shook as he spoke. "Fourteen years…"

I fidgeted uncomfortably. I felt as if I was the mysterious murderer of his son and grandson. I actually felt guilty, then was overcome by the feeling that Joey's father was probably thinking the same things of me, only it's worse because he knew that I was to blame for the accident.

I wanted to leave.

"What happened to your friend?" asked the man, turning to me. I gulped.

"He…It was an accident…he was run over too," I said, my voice trembling.

"Did you get the guy?" said the man, his eyes narrowing, as if he'd get satisfaction if I answered positively.

I couldn't speak. How could I admit that I was the murderer of my own friend?

"It was an accident…" I pressed on. "Anyway, I have to go…nice talking to you…"

I was about to walk away when the man put a hand to my shoulder and gripped it.

"Take care of yourself, son. And I hope you find your peace. I hope whatever son of a bitch caused your misery rots in hell,"

His gray eyes shone as he spoke. I nodded uncomfortably. I had to get away from him.

I managed to walk away as quickly as possible, still freaked out by the guy I'd just encountered. He had affected me, though. My heart was beating faster than it had a while ago, and a sinking feeling was settling in my stomach.

Was Joey's father thinking the same way about me?

I gulped again and again as I kept walking, and my paranoia got worse. I felt terrible. It was only now that I realized that I couldn't see any member of the Tribianni family again. Yesterday, I was just beginning to think that if I met any of Joey's sisters on the street, I could manage a wave or a glance or whatever. Any sort of contact.

Now I finally realized that they will always be hurting and whenever they see me, they'd probably just want to lunge at me and kill me. I shuddered. I'd never felt so hated before. And by my best friend's family. It was like my arm or leg had been severed off.

It hurt, really, but it wasn't like it was their fault. They had a right to be angry. They had a right to hate me. They had a right to wish that I die a slow, painful death to even out what I did to Joey. My only right was to accept it.

I had to accept that, in their eyes, I would always be a murderer. That was how it's going to be for the rest of our lifetimes. Never mind what Joey's mom said; she probably wished that I'd die in the most tragic way possible every morning she wakes up and remembers that Joey's dead.

I wanted to throw up.

XXXXXX

The rain fell slowly at first, then it came in sheets. I was soaked by the time I made it to Joey's grave, but I wouldn't have chosen any other kind of weather to accompany my visit. Water dripped from my nose and the other parts of my face, accompanying the tears that were almost invisible. I was glad it rained because no one would be able to tell I was crying out in the open. I stood like a statue in front of his gravestone, almost not believing what I was seeing:

Joseph Francis Tribianni

The best son, brother and friend

We love you, honey

I let out a small sob. It was a simple slab of marble with words that fit him perfectly. Surrounding it were all sorts of knickknacks that the others must have left behind: candles, flowers, another daisy crown. After reading the words written on the marker, I felt pain somewhere deep inside me.

I really missed the guy.

"Hey Joe," I managed to choke out, sniffling back my tears. My voice came out like a whisper. "It's me… I know you might be mad at me because this is the first time I visited you…but you should be pretty proud of yourself, man. Is there anyone else I'd stand out in the freezing rain for on a day I should be working?"

I tried to smile, even a little, but the sight of the gravestone staring back at me with no words to say was too much. I shut my eyes and bowed my head.

"I-I…I'm so sorry, Joe…Shit…Im s-s-so sorry…"

I'd gone down on my knees as if I was begging for forgiveness. I grasped at the grass, eager to get some sort of answer. I felt the rain as it pounded on my back and the cold as it seeped into my skin, but I didn't care.

I missed him so much, it hurt. I missed telling him off, I missed not seeing him whenever I came out for breakfast every morning, I missed how he whined, I missed how he said so much stupid stuff that sometimes I just wanted to hit him to shut him up.

"Wh-Why'd you leave, man?" I croaked. "You should've l-let me die…Goddamnit you sh-should've let me die…"

I gripped the grass tightly, wanting to shake the ground and force Joey into answering me back. I hit the soil with my fist, hard, causing rainwater to splash all over the place. My teeth were chattering, my noise was running, my legs were too weak to support me but I didn't give a damn. I wanted an answer. I wanted someone to tell me why things had happened the way they did. I wanted someone to tell me that Joey was okay. I wanted someone to be angry at.

I wanted someone to bring my best friend back.

XXXXXX

This is Chandler's attempt for closure, btw, if you didn't get what he was doing in the graveyard. He fails, obviously. Tell me whachoo guys think, and I'll come up with the next on as soon as I can! :D