A/N: The only change from the storyline presented in the Friends sitcom is that, as you may have guessed from the title, Rachel didn't get off the plane at the end of the finale.

The obligatory disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters contained in this story. Friends and all characters contained therein are property of Bright/Kauffman/Crane. All copyrights and/or trademarks of Warner Brothers and/or NBC are assumed to be honored as well. The only thing herein created by me is the story..

Ross sat alone on his couch with his chin resting on his hands. He put two fingers to his temple in a feeble attempt to massage the tension that had now become apparent by the furrowed brow that all-but-rested above his dark brown eyes. The eyes, semi-bloodshot and weary with exhaustion, seemed emptier than they had in a long time. As he presently rose from the couch, the weight on his shoulders was overwhelmingly perceptible. With strenuous footsteps he made his way to the sink, turned the faucet, and splashed cold water on his face.

If anyone had endured their share of harsh tribulations in 10 years, it was Ross Geller. And yet, a lot of it had been surprisingly easy for him to deal with. In his opinion this was because he was such a smart and practical man and that he was able to rationalize things so well. This ordeal, however, was different. There was nothing about this situation that was easy to deal with at all. There was nothing rational about the way Rachel had rejected him and, while he could justify his current emotional vulnerability, he didn't want to accept that it was getting the better of his practical side. So it was time to be Responsible Ross. Things to do tomorrow. People are counting on me. Ross let these thoughts take over, the ones that had been so natural to him for so long. He looked at the clock on his VCR. It was almost 2:30 in the morning. Next to the VCR, an infomercial about some miracle product danced on the TV screen. The volume was turned down, and Ross had almost forgotten that he had turned the TV on a few hours ago as a feigned distraction from everything that was going on. He couldn't even remember what channel was on, or what show he was watching when he stopped flipping through (which he figured, in his state of mind, couldn't have lasted very long).

With a sigh, Ross conceded to his fatigue and decided it was time to get some sleep. He turned off the television set and started towards his bedroom. Suddenly he stopped, as if some magnetic force had taken hold of him. He found himself paralyzed in front of his window. His jaw trembled slightly as he fought not to turn his head. The old apartment was so close. It was true that she hadn't lived there in quite some time. Nevertheless, the association was never broken in Ross's mind. Many of his happiest memories of he and Rachel were set in that apartment. Maybe...

He sobered. Get a hold of yourself! There's nothing to see out there and you know it! Ross decided immediately not to even entertain the thought of looking out. He pushed himself onward without the smallest of glances. "C'mon, dummy, it's not like she's magically going to be there," he scolded himself. He lumbered into his bedroom, put on his pajamas and was fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Ross awoke in shock to the sound of someone banging on his door. He looked over at his alarm clock and saw that it was only 3:30 am. Stunned, he shook the sleep from his face as best he could and walked groggily to the door, wondering all the while who could possibly be waiting on the other side. He put his eye to the peephole then recoiled in shock at the identities of his visitors.

"Yeah I'm okay, why wouldn't I be?" Ross inquired. "Now come in and tell me why you're at my door so late."

Joey and Monica didn't answer. They looked at each other, agreed on something, and walked somberly into the apartment, stopping at the couch. Joey sat down and Monica gestured for Ross to do the same. Not having the slightest clue as to what chain of events had driven his friend and sister to his door, Ross complied. Normally he would have been far more irritated by their intrusion at such an hour, but tonight was different. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. He was awakening faster now and observed the countenance on his visitors' faces as they looked at each other, some non-verbal exchange taking place that he now desperately wanted to be a part of.

"Guys I don't know what's going on but please tell me," Ross entreated.

Joey looked pleadingly at Monica, a silent signal asking her to take the responsibility of telling her brother the news. She gave a nearly indiscernible nod to show her assent.

"Ross," she started, her words nearly a whisper, "there's no easy way to tell you this. Joey called me a couple hours ago and I turned on the news to confirm it for myself."

"What?" begged Ross, the accents of concern and confusion growing more apparent in his voice, "What happened?"

Monica took a deep breath and fixed her tear filled eyes on Ross's.

"Rachel's plane went down."