A/N: Hi everyone! Here is chapter four! Thanks so much for all my reviews!
They're great! For the person that asked if this is going to be a R/R fic,
yes, it is. ( Most definitely. Just stick around and you'll see. This
chapter is looong and it too me a looong time to write it. I've worked on
this for forever, and I really REALLY hope you guys like it. It's a lot
better than last chapter, IMO, and I worked on it a lot longer.
Any references to the ocean (you'll see) blame it on where I wrote it. You have a lot of time on your hands on a cruise ship. It's so relaxing just watching the waves roll by as you write. Thanks for sticking around with me here...sorry for the delay in updating. Being a Freshman is a lot harder than being in eighth grade...
Please PLEASE review this...I really want to know what you guys think. Happy Reading!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the song...the poem is mine, though...and I wrote it in like five minutes, so it might suck...
The world around us is full of vibrant, rich, expressive colors. Colors define moods, help in times of sorrow, aid in times of need, and become all the more vivid in times of joy.
Rich reds spread across the horizon as the sun makes its descend behind the hills; glowing oranges and yellows follow behind slowly in a trance, walking in awe of the ever-burning red. Next come the many shades of blues and greens, which adorn the landscape with miles of glorious oceans and shrubbery that can be seen from the heavens above. And last, follows gray. Coming with the night, a time of despair, gray only rises above when all hope is gone, and all a person wants, wishes, and needs to see is a color that so rightly fits their mood.
Neither white nor black, some have been known to say that gray is the "happy medium". Have they yet to be told that no happiness can come out of a shade so dreadful that it makes a person want to scream?
Sometimes, situations get so dire, that a person makes the decision not to see in color. It is a decision that is not only involuntary, but sometimes is irrevocable. Colors are signs of happiness, even in the greatest times of need.
Gray is the opposite of happiness, and therefore hardly declarable a color. Everything in Rachel's world, starting the minute Ross walked off the plane attached to the arm of his new wife, had been revealed to her in the color gray.
When she opened her eyes to the world of pain surrounding her, she blocked color. Every hue of the rainbow became dull, and one color was indistinguishable from the next as they blurred together in infinite shades of gray.
The light gray that dusts the table tops and becomes apparent as its remains are found upon the cloth that seemingly sweeps it all away; the darker gray that paints the sky before a storm unleashes its unbound fury upon the ocean on a cold, windy, night; and the dark gray that is nearly black, and is found at the bottom of the earth where tortured souls wander aimlessly about the barren wasteland and are doomed for an eternity.
In her world of boundless gray, Rachel had discovered that she could ignore her feelings. It wasn't hard, really. All she had to do was close her eyes and block all the emotions that made her heart beat fast, her palms sweat, her chest heave up and down in nervous apprehension, and her blood run cold in fear of having her secret discovered.
As Rachel looked up from the gray upholstery in the taxicab, she saw the tiny rays of sunlight filter in, casting an eerily iridescent gray light on the passengers.
"Wow," breathed Emily as she peered out the window. "That light has got to be the most beautiful shade of yellow I've ever seen."
'It all looks gray to me,' thought Rachel.
"You're right, hon. I don't think I've seen anything like it." Ross gazed in wonderment at the last rays of the sun that cast dancing shadows upon its canvas-the cab. An especially dazzling ray of light struck Rachel across the face, illuminating her golden-brown hair and blue eyes, the latter which seemed to lack their usual sparkling presence that marked her love of life.
Ross knew something was wrong with Rachel, and he pondered the possibilities on the ride home in the cab.
Snugly packed like sardines in a taxi that looked identical to all the others that came barreling down the busy streets of Manhattan were Emily, Ross, Rachel, and a plethora of luggage.
The others had made it to the first taxi first, and the group needed two to make the trip back to Monica and Rachel's apartment. Even though Rachel had given Monica a pointed look that clearly expressed the feelings she had for traveling in a car with both Ross and Emily, Monica had failed to notice.
No one noticed.
In the gray world, Rachel was simply another face in the crowd, fighting for her survival as she passed through the trenches containing haunted memories of her past that she willed herself to forget, yet hung onto every last whisper that dripped from the lips of her unforgotten savior. Alas, this was only in her dreams.
'Feel gently my hand upon your face
Incandescent dream I bless upon this place.
Fear not as the wind releases my hold,
Remnants of your love forever remain in my soul.
Listen now to the beat of my trembling heart
When you are gone, it wishes not to start.
Gaze upon the essence of my unbarred soul
I give you my dreams for which to control.
Glowing ember, burning slow
Let this love my heart let go.
Pain so deep I cannot take
From a love too powerful to forsake.
Hear my cries as I let the river flow
It attempts the impossible:
To let you go...'
Between endless bouts of small talk, Rachel was careful to avoid looking into Ross's eyes. Despite her unseasonable attire, Rachel held her head as high as she could manage, and regained her briefly lost composure.
In the next few months, she would be climbing a mountain, and a treacherous one at that. On the way up, she made a secret promise to herself not to sweat as the heat became unbearable, not to scream as she misplaced her foot as she ascended, and not to cry when the wind bit through her hair and ripped her body away. Not to shed another tear.
When Ross's deep brown eyes met the light blue of her eyes, Rachel knew that Ross sensed a stir in the ocean that was her soul. The tide was mounting in a slow, steady, pattern, and a storm was rolling into shore, ready to wreck havoc upon the victims.
Ross knew something was wrong with her, yet found it inappropriate to question under the circumstances. He didn't yet know of her ailment, but soon he would take it upon himself to ask her.
In Rachel's views, he didn't even need to ask. All he had to do was look at her once, and she suddenly began to see the world in color. ****
Letting her soul drift and rise above the pounding rhythm of the music, Rachel opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings.
It had all the makings of a perfect party. Dancing music, delicious food, and most of all, happy guests.
Except for one. Rachel thought back to an old childhood game in which she had to tell, from the expressions of the faces of her fellow classmates, which was unhappy. It was a terribly childish game, yet she wondered if she could play it in preschool, why her dearest friends sensed no wrong about Rachel's demeanor.
She sat upon a gray chair in the corner by the balcony. She didn't want to love him. Really, she didn't. Loving him was harder than not. Yet if the feeling wasn't love, then what was it?
'Nothing,' she whispered to herself in a voice that would never rise above the pulsating beat.
Throughout the whole night, no one had come up to question why she wasn't dancing. Why her attire still remained fancier than others. Why she carried an expression of pain upon her delicate face.
Deep down, she knew the answer. Her pain was hidden from them.
Monica periodically encouraged her with an enthusiastic nod as Rachel made small talk with guests she didn't know.
Small talk. As if that could piece the broken parts of heart back together.
Amid her other distractions, Rachel focused mainly upon the object of her impending desire.
Rachel wrinkled her small nose in envy as she wished she could be someone else. Anyone else. Most of all, she wished she was a person who smiled at the smaller miracles in life, someone who cherished each day spent upon earth as if it would be their last.
She wished not to live with the woman she'd become: one who wished every day was the last...
Like a delicate flower before the storm, she wavered as the cool breeze passed by, bent as the blusters demanded respect, and broke in two when the gusts became unbearable. Her storm was fast approaching, and her stem growing increasingly weaker by the day.
Knowing she didn't need to be there, Rachel shook her head. Life had a cruel way of bringing you to the edge of a cliff, taunting you with the sweet tastes of the candy called desire, and then laughs you in your face as you mistakenly pick the apple from the forbidden tree and plunge over the cliff to meet your demise.
No one ever told Rachel that life would throw unsolvable situations at you and expect you to catch them in the palm of your hand with the skill and ease of professionals. 'God knows I was never good at sports...' Despite this, she still made the effort when her hardest moments met her. Sadly, her straining efforts were met in vain, and she was condemned to a life of gray.
Rachel tilted her head to the side as she watched Ross and Emily dance. The beat was pounding against the walls, and the lights were dimmed.
Her heart beat faster as she remembered a day when it was she who was his dancing partner. Rachel's memories drifted back to a time in which his arms spun her around and gave her strength...gave her a reason to dance.
A slower song began to play on the stereo. Rachel flinched as if she was in pain as she recognized the distinctive melody of a song that defined the hurt, pain, and longing desire that had become her.
It was hard to live with him. Even harder to live without him. She didn't know which situation would be the best for her to live in, but she knew one thing: she couldn't go on like she had been. 'Well, what then, Rach? You can't be with him because of Emily...you can't be without him because...' She faltered in her thoughts. 'Because you...you...you have no reason to live when you see him that happy and know inside how miserable you are.'
She buried her face in her hands as she tried with all her might to not give into the color.
Rachel glanced back up at Ross and Emily, in hopes of taking her mind off other matters. Emily leaned her head on Ross's shoulder with the greatest of comfort. Rachel shut her eyes, not wishing to witness their private moment.
Once upon a time, she was safe in his arms. Once upon a time, the fairy's twinkling lights danced upon her heart. Once upon a time was only for fairy tales.
The arms of love for Rachel and Ross were crossed, and heavily guarded by everlasting treacherous barriers that set a certain standard that could go unsaid: Marriage.
Rachel once again laid her weary head to rest in her arms. She wasn't afraid to let other people see her like she was. After all, the chances they would look were minimum and the apartment was practically black, which was another shade of gray.
She let her mind drift and imagine what it would be like to lie in his arms again. What would it be like to watch the sun rise from the dark of night until it became one with the sky: a golden halo that ruled over the majestic, sparkling waters.
The sun didn't compare to the depths of the ocean in sight and range, yet it contained a certain element of protection that the ocean wouldn't provide.
The ocean was vast, breathtaking, and hard to cross. Only the brave would cross the ocean. Sunshine was much safer to lie in.
After years of gazing at the ocean, Ross discovered what he thought was the truth. He wanted the sun. When the ocean became unruly and unpredictable, Ross felt insecure.
The ocean was his true love, his desire, his pride and joy, his treasure. However, when the slightest wave bounced upon a rock on shore, Ross retreated.
Simply put, Ross couldn't deal with the challenges his one love, the ocean, would bring.
So Ross found solace in the sunlight. Every morning, regardless of clouds, impending storms, or anything, Ross knew he could count on the sun to rise.
Sometimes the sun was painful to gaze upon, making Ross want to spend more time basking in the glory of the ocean's waters.
But always, always, he longed for the ocean...the sunlight burned the skin off of his arm. Water healed the wounds, as did his ocean that he was no longer allowed to swim in-Rachel. ***
After briefly stepping out on the balcony to get a better picture of her gray world, Rachel reentered the living room surprised to see the crowd had thinned.
Only her closely-knit group of friends, Emily, and Gunther remained. And Ross. Ross was always there.
Phoebe bumbled excitedly up to Rachel. "Hasn't this been fun? I danced with, like, all these guys I didn't know! And, I met this one guy...Chad. He's so, so nice. I think I may be in love!"
"I think you've had too much to drink, Pheebs," Rachel sputtered out, surprised at the bitterness that dripped off each word that exited her lips.
"Eh, same thing," Phoebe shrugged nonchalantly.
Chandler gently tapped Rachel on her shoulder. "Hey Rach, Monica wants us in the living room. She has some kind of activity planned."
Rachel nodded at Chandler and made herself smile. No one ever had to know as long as she worked in shades of gray.
"You better get in here," Chandler laughed and handed her another beer, "Monica's about to take role."
Rachel ambled into the living room and put a smile on her face. 'See, Rach,' she thought, 'this is fine. You can be miserable and no one ever has to care.'
Somehow, the words sounded better before they were strung together in the dismal sentence.
Monica smiled at Rachel and winked, her secret message being made very visible. "You're doing great, Rach!" Rachel could practically hear Monica shout across the room.
She wasn't so sure she was.
Rocking back and forth on his knees with the excitement of a young child, Joey blurted out, "Monica! C'mon, tell us what we're gonna do!"
Everyone else chimed in except Gunther. Rachel always wondered what went on past the barrier created by harsh-smelling chemicals and bleach that made up the essence of his hair. Gunther kept to himself, yet somehow managed to get himself invited to every social gathering.
He was quiet, serene, obedient, and never let on if he was feeling down. In a nutshell, he was as gray as the silvery drops of rain that fell from the raging clouds before the storm.
Emily placed a hand on Joey's rocking shoulder. "Calm down, Joey."
Chandler looked at Ross and laughed. "Look at that! She's good with kids!"
Kids. If Ross and Emily ever had a child, Rachel knew she would die. The very thought of the world being repopulated with lots of little versions of Emily made her upper lip curl in disgust.
Monica continued, "We're playing a game."
"Not Pictionary?" questioned a suddenly worried Chandler.
"No," Monica replied excitedly, "truth or dare!"
Ross rolled his eyes and laughed, "what are we, twelve?"
"Hey, now, you don't have to play," chimed in the ever peace striving Phoebe.
"No...I wanna..." he retreated.
Monica began excitedly explaining the rules as Rachel pondered what Hell the game could unleash as eight adults with considerable amounts of alcohol in them confided their utmost secrets and participated in tasks that were considered foolish.
"...and you have to tell the truth...no lying or else you have to do a dare, okay?" Monica finished explaining the rules.
"Who goes first?" asked Chandler.
Everyone looked around the circle, not wanting to be the guinea pig that was experimented on.
Finally, Joey stepped up. "I'll go."
Monica looked at him thankfully. "Okay, Joey. Truth or Dare?"
Joey stared off into space, deep in thought. He thought out loud. "Truth...or Dare...or truth...or dare..."
"Argghh! He'll take a dare!" exclaimed Chandler, impatient at his friend's indecisiveness.
Joey smiled at him. "Dude, you read my mind!"
Monica looked at Joey very seriously. "Joey, I dare you to...to..."
Monica was at a loss for words. She looked around helplessly. "Well, he's done everything, what am I supposed to dare him to do?!"
Phoebe smiled mischievously. "How about if you have him strip naked?"
All the men in the room immediately backed away from Joey as he began to grin and remove his shirt.
"Woah, Joe! Let's leave the clothes on, ok?" Ross was not in the mood to see a naked Italian man, and was a bit appalled at the way Emily moved in towards him upon seeing he was stripping.
Monica sensed her game was not going as planned. She spoke in a military captain voice that commanded respect. "Okay, okay. I must restore order to this situation! We're going to split up into teams. On one team will be myself, Rachel, Chandler, and Joey. Team two will consist of Ross, Emily, Gunther, and Phoebe. Is that clear?"
Rachel gulped. "Yes...sir..."
Everyone laughed as they gathered to opposite sides of the room. Monica began to speak again, "Okay, line up so you are facing a person of the opposite team. I'll face Phoebe, Rachel will face Emily, Chandler will face Gunther, and Joey will face Ross."
The teams got into position as Monica continued. "Look at the face of the person you are facing. Memorize it!" Giggles could be heard throughout the room. "This person will ask you truth or dare. Let's begin."
For the next fifteen minutes, secrets were discovered, lies were told, and Ross ate a questionable looking piece of meat lying in Joey's refrigerator. Ross left for the bathroom, and Emily followed him, wishing to nurse her husband back to health, even if a minor bout of food poisoning was what ailed him.
That left Gunther to ask Rachel. In a quiet voice he spoke to her and asked her the repetitive question. "Okay, Rachel. Truth or dare."
After seeing what happened to Ross after his dare, no one was willing to risk it. She smiled and confidently said, "Truth."
He stared at her, almost gazing into her soul, and asked her a question she knew the answer to, but wasn't willing to share. "Rachel...are you happy?"
The empathetic tone his voice carried nearly killed her. "Am I...what?"
"Are you happy?"
She wasn't ready to reveal the secrets of her soul to the entire room. "Happy with what?" "Anything."
"Oh."
"So...are you?"
"Well, yeah..."
Silence took over the room for over a minute. The clock chimed and struck midnight. Rachel took that as her signal to leave the room. She needed an excuse, any excuse. "You know what, I'm not feeling too good right now. I think I'm gonna go for a walk for fresh air."
Monica looked concerned. "Rachel, it's midnight! You can't walk the streets of New York alone at night!"
She picked up her jacket off the table as the world came bursting into color as she realized the power in the simple question, and the answer that made her whole world crumble yet again. "I'll be okay. I'll only be gone for, like, ten minutes."
She needed to get away.
~*~*~*~*
Forty minutes later, Rachel had still not returned. Ross was still sick, and Emily still relishing in her role as the comforter. Monica cleaned up the remains of a good time, and Joey and Chandler went back to their apartment, followed shortly by Phoebe who went home. Gunther remained, for reasons unbeknownst to Monica, who was still worried about Rachel.
Gunther sat alone on the balcony, not ready to leave and not wanting to stay. He wanted Rachel to return, so his heart could rest in peace for the moment. He felt like it was his fault that she left. He asked the forbidden question, and the answer was too much for her to bear.
Rachel did not know it yet, but the men who loved her were the ones that could see her pain. Ross had loved her, and maybe still did, and he had sensed the pain. Gunther had been in love with Rachel also, yet never done anything with his feelings.
Gunther was a man of few words, but many feelings. Feelings so strong for a person that had none for you in return can tear a man apart.
He was keeping watch for her, as he had his whole life. Forever watching, and never acting.
A small figure appeared underneath the light post that Gunther had been staring at. He knew her so well that he could tell who it was, Rachel, from great distances.
Being in love and not being loved in return will do crazy things to a person.
Gunther walked back into the kitchen where Monica was having fun only she could have doing the dishes.
He coughed to get her attention. "Um, Monica? I'm going to go get Rachel. I saw her outside...someone needs to talk to her."
"She's still outside? Oh, Jesus..." She dropped the dishes and headed towards the door.
Gunther gently held up his hand. "Um, no, it's okay. I'll go. I made her upset, so I should be the one to fix it..."
Monica shook her head. "Okay...I don't think anyone can fix it, though. Tell her to come up. I feel like I don't want to act like her mother, but it's hard not to. I want to tell her to come up here, but I can't. We already fought once today."
"Is that what she's upset about?" Gunther already knew the answer in his heart.
"No."
He left silently, making Monica wonder about him. None of them were close with Gunther, and she felt bad because of that. Putting herself in his shoes, she wondered what it would be like to be the quiet outsider in the group. The one that had no friends...the one that was always depressed...the one that no one talked to because of this...
She almost dropped the dish in the sink when she realized that because of her inviting Ross and Emily to stay with them, Rachel was becoming just that.
Monica wiped her head with the back of her soap-covered hand. Life was too much to bear, sometimes.
She flopped back into the chair and thought of how she masked the pain in her own life with constant activity and work. In quiet moments like these, Monica got to reflect upon her own life, which, much to her dismay, wasn't exactly working out as she had planned.
She looked at her reflection in the spoon she held as tears formed in her eyes. Why they came, she didn't even know. Sometimes, under the burden of life itself, everyone needed to cry.
Boyfriendless, husbandless, childless...tears flowed freely over the spoon as Monica's reflection became blurred and she lay her weary head down to rest upon the cool gray of the table.
Everyone needs to cry sometimes.
~*~*~*~*~
'She sits alone by a lamppost
Trying to find a thought that's escaped her mind
She says there's the one I love the most
This time's not far behind'
Gunther sighed as he approached Rachel and saw her looking a mess.
Her hair was ruffled, and eyes puffy. As she saw Gunther come nearer to her, she got up and tossed the bottle of beer she was drinking into the gutter. It hurt Gunther to see her like this. And no matter what, he resolved to himself, tonight would be the night he finally confessed his feelings.
They ate at him for far too long, and even if she responded poorly, he would tell her.
He sat down on the step by the lamppost next to Rachel.
Gunther cleared his throat, "Um...I'm sorry I made you leave."
"Don't be sorry," Rachel shook her head, "it's not your fault that I'm upset."
"Are you upset over Ross?"
She looked at him in surprise and almost whispered because she was in such a state of shock. "How did you know? I've been so careful..."
He looked at her and quietly said, "I've seen that look of sad misplacement and longing a lot. It's always the same story. Girl likes guy, but he doesn't feel the same. Or, it could be the other way around. You feel like you want to die, but also want that one last chance to see if you can make things work. Your whole life revolves around this person. It hurts worse than a knife...at least if you cut yourself the blood would eventually run out and you'd die. With this feeling, there is no end in sight...only the long, painful, road ahead."
She stared at him incredulously. "All of this you can get from one look?"
"Pretty much."
"Who did you look at?"
He stared off into space, focusing on some nonexistent object hanging above a door across the street. "The mirror."
It took a moment for his words to register, but Rachel felt them once they did.
"Oh..."
"Don't feel bad about me, though."
Her words came out before she thought them over. "Why should I?"
"Exactly."
"No, Gunther, I didn't mean it like that."
"I know." In his eyes, she could do no wrong. "It's just..."
He stopped speaking and looked her straight in the eyes, drinking in all her beauty. "...sometimes I think no one does care. I'm always there, but does anyone see me? How long would it take for someone to notice if I was gone?"
"I'd notice."
"Yeah, but what about the other people?" He spoke in a slow, soft, tone. "It'd be months before they noticed...I just serve the coffee."
Rachel wiped a lone tear off her cheek. "That's not true." In her heart, it was terrible, but she knew it was probably true.
"It'd be months before anyone said anything...I'm a person, too." He looked at her curiously. "You know, a lot of people care about you up there. Monica, Ross, and all the others. They're worried."
"The others know?!"
"No, just Monica. But they all care."
"Yeah...I know..."
Silence was louder than words between them, and the sounds of the dying nightlife drifted in the air. For minutes, neither spoke. Finally, Gunther broke the silence, or rather, the noise.
"If you really love him, you'll let him go..."
"What?" She had zoned out.
"Ross," he repeated, "If you really love Ross, then you'd let him go." She looked up at Gunther with tear-filled eyes. "I can't...it's harder than you'll ever know..."
He watched as she wiped away the tears that fell constantly.
'I do know,' thought Gunther as he decided once again to keep his secret to himself, where it most likely would remain forever. 'I know more about pain and letting go than you'll ever, ever know...'
The two lonely souls sat below the lamp post, both wishing the gray light would one day turn back into color again. Neither knew their fate...All they knew was one thing. She cried publicly; he did it in the privacy of his home, yet they both felt it together.
He embraced her in a hug and let her tears soak clear through his shirt. Never again would he wash it.
The two lonely spirits sat under the streetlight, comforting each other, and waiting for some miracle to occur that would make all their problems go away.
For now, they would just cry.
''Let her cry
If the tears fall down like rain
Let her sing
If it eases all her pain
Let her go
Let her walk right out on me
And if the sun comes up tomorrow
Let her be, let her be'
Let me stress now, this is NOT a Rachel/Gunther fic. ( I don't write them. I just thought they could relate well to each other now. Let me know if that idea was way too...out there, okay? This was one of those chapters you think about a lot in your head and when it gets on paper, it either works out really well, or not so well. I liked it, but you guys be the judge. I'm not easily pleased by my writing. So... I hope you enjoyed chapter four. If I get enough reviews I bet I'll write chapter five a lot faster! Mel
Any references to the ocean (you'll see) blame it on where I wrote it. You have a lot of time on your hands on a cruise ship. It's so relaxing just watching the waves roll by as you write. Thanks for sticking around with me here...sorry for the delay in updating. Being a Freshman is a lot harder than being in eighth grade...
Please PLEASE review this...I really want to know what you guys think. Happy Reading!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the song...the poem is mine, though...and I wrote it in like five minutes, so it might suck...
The world around us is full of vibrant, rich, expressive colors. Colors define moods, help in times of sorrow, aid in times of need, and become all the more vivid in times of joy.
Rich reds spread across the horizon as the sun makes its descend behind the hills; glowing oranges and yellows follow behind slowly in a trance, walking in awe of the ever-burning red. Next come the many shades of blues and greens, which adorn the landscape with miles of glorious oceans and shrubbery that can be seen from the heavens above. And last, follows gray. Coming with the night, a time of despair, gray only rises above when all hope is gone, and all a person wants, wishes, and needs to see is a color that so rightly fits their mood.
Neither white nor black, some have been known to say that gray is the "happy medium". Have they yet to be told that no happiness can come out of a shade so dreadful that it makes a person want to scream?
Sometimes, situations get so dire, that a person makes the decision not to see in color. It is a decision that is not only involuntary, but sometimes is irrevocable. Colors are signs of happiness, even in the greatest times of need.
Gray is the opposite of happiness, and therefore hardly declarable a color. Everything in Rachel's world, starting the minute Ross walked off the plane attached to the arm of his new wife, had been revealed to her in the color gray.
When she opened her eyes to the world of pain surrounding her, she blocked color. Every hue of the rainbow became dull, and one color was indistinguishable from the next as they blurred together in infinite shades of gray.
The light gray that dusts the table tops and becomes apparent as its remains are found upon the cloth that seemingly sweeps it all away; the darker gray that paints the sky before a storm unleashes its unbound fury upon the ocean on a cold, windy, night; and the dark gray that is nearly black, and is found at the bottom of the earth where tortured souls wander aimlessly about the barren wasteland and are doomed for an eternity.
In her world of boundless gray, Rachel had discovered that she could ignore her feelings. It wasn't hard, really. All she had to do was close her eyes and block all the emotions that made her heart beat fast, her palms sweat, her chest heave up and down in nervous apprehension, and her blood run cold in fear of having her secret discovered.
As Rachel looked up from the gray upholstery in the taxicab, she saw the tiny rays of sunlight filter in, casting an eerily iridescent gray light on the passengers.
"Wow," breathed Emily as she peered out the window. "That light has got to be the most beautiful shade of yellow I've ever seen."
'It all looks gray to me,' thought Rachel.
"You're right, hon. I don't think I've seen anything like it." Ross gazed in wonderment at the last rays of the sun that cast dancing shadows upon its canvas-the cab. An especially dazzling ray of light struck Rachel across the face, illuminating her golden-brown hair and blue eyes, the latter which seemed to lack their usual sparkling presence that marked her love of life.
Ross knew something was wrong with Rachel, and he pondered the possibilities on the ride home in the cab.
Snugly packed like sardines in a taxi that looked identical to all the others that came barreling down the busy streets of Manhattan were Emily, Ross, Rachel, and a plethora of luggage.
The others had made it to the first taxi first, and the group needed two to make the trip back to Monica and Rachel's apartment. Even though Rachel had given Monica a pointed look that clearly expressed the feelings she had for traveling in a car with both Ross and Emily, Monica had failed to notice.
No one noticed.
In the gray world, Rachel was simply another face in the crowd, fighting for her survival as she passed through the trenches containing haunted memories of her past that she willed herself to forget, yet hung onto every last whisper that dripped from the lips of her unforgotten savior. Alas, this was only in her dreams.
'Feel gently my hand upon your face
Incandescent dream I bless upon this place.
Fear not as the wind releases my hold,
Remnants of your love forever remain in my soul.
Listen now to the beat of my trembling heart
When you are gone, it wishes not to start.
Gaze upon the essence of my unbarred soul
I give you my dreams for which to control.
Glowing ember, burning slow
Let this love my heart let go.
Pain so deep I cannot take
From a love too powerful to forsake.
Hear my cries as I let the river flow
It attempts the impossible:
To let you go...'
Between endless bouts of small talk, Rachel was careful to avoid looking into Ross's eyes. Despite her unseasonable attire, Rachel held her head as high as she could manage, and regained her briefly lost composure.
In the next few months, she would be climbing a mountain, and a treacherous one at that. On the way up, she made a secret promise to herself not to sweat as the heat became unbearable, not to scream as she misplaced her foot as she ascended, and not to cry when the wind bit through her hair and ripped her body away. Not to shed another tear.
When Ross's deep brown eyes met the light blue of her eyes, Rachel knew that Ross sensed a stir in the ocean that was her soul. The tide was mounting in a slow, steady, pattern, and a storm was rolling into shore, ready to wreck havoc upon the victims.
Ross knew something was wrong with her, yet found it inappropriate to question under the circumstances. He didn't yet know of her ailment, but soon he would take it upon himself to ask her.
In Rachel's views, he didn't even need to ask. All he had to do was look at her once, and she suddenly began to see the world in color. ****
Letting her soul drift and rise above the pounding rhythm of the music, Rachel opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings.
It had all the makings of a perfect party. Dancing music, delicious food, and most of all, happy guests.
Except for one. Rachel thought back to an old childhood game in which she had to tell, from the expressions of the faces of her fellow classmates, which was unhappy. It was a terribly childish game, yet she wondered if she could play it in preschool, why her dearest friends sensed no wrong about Rachel's demeanor.
She sat upon a gray chair in the corner by the balcony. She didn't want to love him. Really, she didn't. Loving him was harder than not. Yet if the feeling wasn't love, then what was it?
'Nothing,' she whispered to herself in a voice that would never rise above the pulsating beat.
Throughout the whole night, no one had come up to question why she wasn't dancing. Why her attire still remained fancier than others. Why she carried an expression of pain upon her delicate face.
Deep down, she knew the answer. Her pain was hidden from them.
Monica periodically encouraged her with an enthusiastic nod as Rachel made small talk with guests she didn't know.
Small talk. As if that could piece the broken parts of heart back together.
Amid her other distractions, Rachel focused mainly upon the object of her impending desire.
Rachel wrinkled her small nose in envy as she wished she could be someone else. Anyone else. Most of all, she wished she was a person who smiled at the smaller miracles in life, someone who cherished each day spent upon earth as if it would be their last.
She wished not to live with the woman she'd become: one who wished every day was the last...
Like a delicate flower before the storm, she wavered as the cool breeze passed by, bent as the blusters demanded respect, and broke in two when the gusts became unbearable. Her storm was fast approaching, and her stem growing increasingly weaker by the day.
Knowing she didn't need to be there, Rachel shook her head. Life had a cruel way of bringing you to the edge of a cliff, taunting you with the sweet tastes of the candy called desire, and then laughs you in your face as you mistakenly pick the apple from the forbidden tree and plunge over the cliff to meet your demise.
No one ever told Rachel that life would throw unsolvable situations at you and expect you to catch them in the palm of your hand with the skill and ease of professionals. 'God knows I was never good at sports...' Despite this, she still made the effort when her hardest moments met her. Sadly, her straining efforts were met in vain, and she was condemned to a life of gray.
Rachel tilted her head to the side as she watched Ross and Emily dance. The beat was pounding against the walls, and the lights were dimmed.
Her heart beat faster as she remembered a day when it was she who was his dancing partner. Rachel's memories drifted back to a time in which his arms spun her around and gave her strength...gave her a reason to dance.
A slower song began to play on the stereo. Rachel flinched as if she was in pain as she recognized the distinctive melody of a song that defined the hurt, pain, and longing desire that had become her.
It was hard to live with him. Even harder to live without him. She didn't know which situation would be the best for her to live in, but she knew one thing: she couldn't go on like she had been. 'Well, what then, Rach? You can't be with him because of Emily...you can't be without him because...' She faltered in her thoughts. 'Because you...you...you have no reason to live when you see him that happy and know inside how miserable you are.'
She buried her face in her hands as she tried with all her might to not give into the color.
Rachel glanced back up at Ross and Emily, in hopes of taking her mind off other matters. Emily leaned her head on Ross's shoulder with the greatest of comfort. Rachel shut her eyes, not wishing to witness their private moment.
Once upon a time, she was safe in his arms. Once upon a time, the fairy's twinkling lights danced upon her heart. Once upon a time was only for fairy tales.
The arms of love for Rachel and Ross were crossed, and heavily guarded by everlasting treacherous barriers that set a certain standard that could go unsaid: Marriage.
Rachel once again laid her weary head to rest in her arms. She wasn't afraid to let other people see her like she was. After all, the chances they would look were minimum and the apartment was practically black, which was another shade of gray.
She let her mind drift and imagine what it would be like to lie in his arms again. What would it be like to watch the sun rise from the dark of night until it became one with the sky: a golden halo that ruled over the majestic, sparkling waters.
The sun didn't compare to the depths of the ocean in sight and range, yet it contained a certain element of protection that the ocean wouldn't provide.
The ocean was vast, breathtaking, and hard to cross. Only the brave would cross the ocean. Sunshine was much safer to lie in.
After years of gazing at the ocean, Ross discovered what he thought was the truth. He wanted the sun. When the ocean became unruly and unpredictable, Ross felt insecure.
The ocean was his true love, his desire, his pride and joy, his treasure. However, when the slightest wave bounced upon a rock on shore, Ross retreated.
Simply put, Ross couldn't deal with the challenges his one love, the ocean, would bring.
So Ross found solace in the sunlight. Every morning, regardless of clouds, impending storms, or anything, Ross knew he could count on the sun to rise.
Sometimes the sun was painful to gaze upon, making Ross want to spend more time basking in the glory of the ocean's waters.
But always, always, he longed for the ocean...the sunlight burned the skin off of his arm. Water healed the wounds, as did his ocean that he was no longer allowed to swim in-Rachel. ***
After briefly stepping out on the balcony to get a better picture of her gray world, Rachel reentered the living room surprised to see the crowd had thinned.
Only her closely-knit group of friends, Emily, and Gunther remained. And Ross. Ross was always there.
Phoebe bumbled excitedly up to Rachel. "Hasn't this been fun? I danced with, like, all these guys I didn't know! And, I met this one guy...Chad. He's so, so nice. I think I may be in love!"
"I think you've had too much to drink, Pheebs," Rachel sputtered out, surprised at the bitterness that dripped off each word that exited her lips.
"Eh, same thing," Phoebe shrugged nonchalantly.
Chandler gently tapped Rachel on her shoulder. "Hey Rach, Monica wants us in the living room. She has some kind of activity planned."
Rachel nodded at Chandler and made herself smile. No one ever had to know as long as she worked in shades of gray.
"You better get in here," Chandler laughed and handed her another beer, "Monica's about to take role."
Rachel ambled into the living room and put a smile on her face. 'See, Rach,' she thought, 'this is fine. You can be miserable and no one ever has to care.'
Somehow, the words sounded better before they were strung together in the dismal sentence.
Monica smiled at Rachel and winked, her secret message being made very visible. "You're doing great, Rach!" Rachel could practically hear Monica shout across the room.
She wasn't so sure she was.
Rocking back and forth on his knees with the excitement of a young child, Joey blurted out, "Monica! C'mon, tell us what we're gonna do!"
Everyone else chimed in except Gunther. Rachel always wondered what went on past the barrier created by harsh-smelling chemicals and bleach that made up the essence of his hair. Gunther kept to himself, yet somehow managed to get himself invited to every social gathering.
He was quiet, serene, obedient, and never let on if he was feeling down. In a nutshell, he was as gray as the silvery drops of rain that fell from the raging clouds before the storm.
Emily placed a hand on Joey's rocking shoulder. "Calm down, Joey."
Chandler looked at Ross and laughed. "Look at that! She's good with kids!"
Kids. If Ross and Emily ever had a child, Rachel knew she would die. The very thought of the world being repopulated with lots of little versions of Emily made her upper lip curl in disgust.
Monica continued, "We're playing a game."
"Not Pictionary?" questioned a suddenly worried Chandler.
"No," Monica replied excitedly, "truth or dare!"
Ross rolled his eyes and laughed, "what are we, twelve?"
"Hey, now, you don't have to play," chimed in the ever peace striving Phoebe.
"No...I wanna..." he retreated.
Monica began excitedly explaining the rules as Rachel pondered what Hell the game could unleash as eight adults with considerable amounts of alcohol in them confided their utmost secrets and participated in tasks that were considered foolish.
"...and you have to tell the truth...no lying or else you have to do a dare, okay?" Monica finished explaining the rules.
"Who goes first?" asked Chandler.
Everyone looked around the circle, not wanting to be the guinea pig that was experimented on.
Finally, Joey stepped up. "I'll go."
Monica looked at him thankfully. "Okay, Joey. Truth or Dare?"
Joey stared off into space, deep in thought. He thought out loud. "Truth...or Dare...or truth...or dare..."
"Argghh! He'll take a dare!" exclaimed Chandler, impatient at his friend's indecisiveness.
Joey smiled at him. "Dude, you read my mind!"
Monica looked at Joey very seriously. "Joey, I dare you to...to..."
Monica was at a loss for words. She looked around helplessly. "Well, he's done everything, what am I supposed to dare him to do?!"
Phoebe smiled mischievously. "How about if you have him strip naked?"
All the men in the room immediately backed away from Joey as he began to grin and remove his shirt.
"Woah, Joe! Let's leave the clothes on, ok?" Ross was not in the mood to see a naked Italian man, and was a bit appalled at the way Emily moved in towards him upon seeing he was stripping.
Monica sensed her game was not going as planned. She spoke in a military captain voice that commanded respect. "Okay, okay. I must restore order to this situation! We're going to split up into teams. On one team will be myself, Rachel, Chandler, and Joey. Team two will consist of Ross, Emily, Gunther, and Phoebe. Is that clear?"
Rachel gulped. "Yes...sir..."
Everyone laughed as they gathered to opposite sides of the room. Monica began to speak again, "Okay, line up so you are facing a person of the opposite team. I'll face Phoebe, Rachel will face Emily, Chandler will face Gunther, and Joey will face Ross."
The teams got into position as Monica continued. "Look at the face of the person you are facing. Memorize it!" Giggles could be heard throughout the room. "This person will ask you truth or dare. Let's begin."
For the next fifteen minutes, secrets were discovered, lies were told, and Ross ate a questionable looking piece of meat lying in Joey's refrigerator. Ross left for the bathroom, and Emily followed him, wishing to nurse her husband back to health, even if a minor bout of food poisoning was what ailed him.
That left Gunther to ask Rachel. In a quiet voice he spoke to her and asked her the repetitive question. "Okay, Rachel. Truth or dare."
After seeing what happened to Ross after his dare, no one was willing to risk it. She smiled and confidently said, "Truth."
He stared at her, almost gazing into her soul, and asked her a question she knew the answer to, but wasn't willing to share. "Rachel...are you happy?"
The empathetic tone his voice carried nearly killed her. "Am I...what?"
"Are you happy?"
She wasn't ready to reveal the secrets of her soul to the entire room. "Happy with what?" "Anything."
"Oh."
"So...are you?"
"Well, yeah..."
Silence took over the room for over a minute. The clock chimed and struck midnight. Rachel took that as her signal to leave the room. She needed an excuse, any excuse. "You know what, I'm not feeling too good right now. I think I'm gonna go for a walk for fresh air."
Monica looked concerned. "Rachel, it's midnight! You can't walk the streets of New York alone at night!"
She picked up her jacket off the table as the world came bursting into color as she realized the power in the simple question, and the answer that made her whole world crumble yet again. "I'll be okay. I'll only be gone for, like, ten minutes."
She needed to get away.
~*~*~*~*
Forty minutes later, Rachel had still not returned. Ross was still sick, and Emily still relishing in her role as the comforter. Monica cleaned up the remains of a good time, and Joey and Chandler went back to their apartment, followed shortly by Phoebe who went home. Gunther remained, for reasons unbeknownst to Monica, who was still worried about Rachel.
Gunther sat alone on the balcony, not ready to leave and not wanting to stay. He wanted Rachel to return, so his heart could rest in peace for the moment. He felt like it was his fault that she left. He asked the forbidden question, and the answer was too much for her to bear.
Rachel did not know it yet, but the men who loved her were the ones that could see her pain. Ross had loved her, and maybe still did, and he had sensed the pain. Gunther had been in love with Rachel also, yet never done anything with his feelings.
Gunther was a man of few words, but many feelings. Feelings so strong for a person that had none for you in return can tear a man apart.
He was keeping watch for her, as he had his whole life. Forever watching, and never acting.
A small figure appeared underneath the light post that Gunther had been staring at. He knew her so well that he could tell who it was, Rachel, from great distances.
Being in love and not being loved in return will do crazy things to a person.
Gunther walked back into the kitchen where Monica was having fun only she could have doing the dishes.
He coughed to get her attention. "Um, Monica? I'm going to go get Rachel. I saw her outside...someone needs to talk to her."
"She's still outside? Oh, Jesus..." She dropped the dishes and headed towards the door.
Gunther gently held up his hand. "Um, no, it's okay. I'll go. I made her upset, so I should be the one to fix it..."
Monica shook her head. "Okay...I don't think anyone can fix it, though. Tell her to come up. I feel like I don't want to act like her mother, but it's hard not to. I want to tell her to come up here, but I can't. We already fought once today."
"Is that what she's upset about?" Gunther already knew the answer in his heart.
"No."
He left silently, making Monica wonder about him. None of them were close with Gunther, and she felt bad because of that. Putting herself in his shoes, she wondered what it would be like to be the quiet outsider in the group. The one that had no friends...the one that was always depressed...the one that no one talked to because of this...
She almost dropped the dish in the sink when she realized that because of her inviting Ross and Emily to stay with them, Rachel was becoming just that.
Monica wiped her head with the back of her soap-covered hand. Life was too much to bear, sometimes.
She flopped back into the chair and thought of how she masked the pain in her own life with constant activity and work. In quiet moments like these, Monica got to reflect upon her own life, which, much to her dismay, wasn't exactly working out as she had planned.
She looked at her reflection in the spoon she held as tears formed in her eyes. Why they came, she didn't even know. Sometimes, under the burden of life itself, everyone needed to cry.
Boyfriendless, husbandless, childless...tears flowed freely over the spoon as Monica's reflection became blurred and she lay her weary head down to rest upon the cool gray of the table.
Everyone needs to cry sometimes.
~*~*~*~*~
'She sits alone by a lamppost
Trying to find a thought that's escaped her mind
She says there's the one I love the most
This time's not far behind'
Gunther sighed as he approached Rachel and saw her looking a mess.
Her hair was ruffled, and eyes puffy. As she saw Gunther come nearer to her, she got up and tossed the bottle of beer she was drinking into the gutter. It hurt Gunther to see her like this. And no matter what, he resolved to himself, tonight would be the night he finally confessed his feelings.
They ate at him for far too long, and even if she responded poorly, he would tell her.
He sat down on the step by the lamppost next to Rachel.
Gunther cleared his throat, "Um...I'm sorry I made you leave."
"Don't be sorry," Rachel shook her head, "it's not your fault that I'm upset."
"Are you upset over Ross?"
She looked at him in surprise and almost whispered because she was in such a state of shock. "How did you know? I've been so careful..."
He looked at her and quietly said, "I've seen that look of sad misplacement and longing a lot. It's always the same story. Girl likes guy, but he doesn't feel the same. Or, it could be the other way around. You feel like you want to die, but also want that one last chance to see if you can make things work. Your whole life revolves around this person. It hurts worse than a knife...at least if you cut yourself the blood would eventually run out and you'd die. With this feeling, there is no end in sight...only the long, painful, road ahead."
She stared at him incredulously. "All of this you can get from one look?"
"Pretty much."
"Who did you look at?"
He stared off into space, focusing on some nonexistent object hanging above a door across the street. "The mirror."
It took a moment for his words to register, but Rachel felt them once they did.
"Oh..."
"Don't feel bad about me, though."
Her words came out before she thought them over. "Why should I?"
"Exactly."
"No, Gunther, I didn't mean it like that."
"I know." In his eyes, she could do no wrong. "It's just..."
He stopped speaking and looked her straight in the eyes, drinking in all her beauty. "...sometimes I think no one does care. I'm always there, but does anyone see me? How long would it take for someone to notice if I was gone?"
"I'd notice."
"Yeah, but what about the other people?" He spoke in a slow, soft, tone. "It'd be months before they noticed...I just serve the coffee."
Rachel wiped a lone tear off her cheek. "That's not true." In her heart, it was terrible, but she knew it was probably true.
"It'd be months before anyone said anything...I'm a person, too." He looked at her curiously. "You know, a lot of people care about you up there. Monica, Ross, and all the others. They're worried."
"The others know?!"
"No, just Monica. But they all care."
"Yeah...I know..."
Silence was louder than words between them, and the sounds of the dying nightlife drifted in the air. For minutes, neither spoke. Finally, Gunther broke the silence, or rather, the noise.
"If you really love him, you'll let him go..."
"What?" She had zoned out.
"Ross," he repeated, "If you really love Ross, then you'd let him go." She looked up at Gunther with tear-filled eyes. "I can't...it's harder than you'll ever know..."
He watched as she wiped away the tears that fell constantly.
'I do know,' thought Gunther as he decided once again to keep his secret to himself, where it most likely would remain forever. 'I know more about pain and letting go than you'll ever, ever know...'
The two lonely souls sat below the lamp post, both wishing the gray light would one day turn back into color again. Neither knew their fate...All they knew was one thing. She cried publicly; he did it in the privacy of his home, yet they both felt it together.
He embraced her in a hug and let her tears soak clear through his shirt. Never again would he wash it.
The two lonely spirits sat under the streetlight, comforting each other, and waiting for some miracle to occur that would make all their problems go away.
For now, they would just cry.
''Let her cry
If the tears fall down like rain
Let her sing
If it eases all her pain
Let her go
Let her walk right out on me
And if the sun comes up tomorrow
Let her be, let her be'
Let me stress now, this is NOT a Rachel/Gunther fic. ( I don't write them. I just thought they could relate well to each other now. Let me know if that idea was way too...out there, okay? This was one of those chapters you think about a lot in your head and when it gets on paper, it either works out really well, or not so well. I liked it, but you guys be the judge. I'm not easily pleased by my writing. So... I hope you enjoyed chapter four. If I get enough reviews I bet I'll write chapter five a lot faster! Mel