Author: Patrick (Oops I had my last name on here before!! A habit from writing papers, I suppose! Don't stalk me!! Hehe!)

Title: She Didn't Get Off the Plane

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Chapter 15

Rachel shifted anxiously in the back seat of the black town car that was driving her, Joey, and Phoebe to their respective homes. The CAT scan had been quick, just as Dr. Harris had promised, and more importantly the scan had turned up no abnormalities. The hospital had offered to admit her if she felt the need to stay but no one had mandated it, so as soon as the 'all clear' was given, the three friends piled into the back of the vehicle that the Coast Guard had generously provided to accommodate their return them to the city.

She'd ended up getting the seat behind the front passenger's. Joey was behind the driver's seat flanking Phoebe who was riding in the 'bitch' seat. Normally Rachel would have been the one stuffed in the middle, being the smallest of the three, but the other two had rightfully shown her compassion, offering her the roomiest position the back seat had to offer. She gazed absently out the window at the multitude of passing buildings, taking occasional notice when a familiar venue came into view beyond the pane of tinted glass. She smiled nervously as the car veered right and the territory became even more familiar.

"Almost home," she sighed to herself.

She thought about the word 'home;' feeling concerned over the intense distortion the colloquial term had undergone in her mind; a big move turned disaster changing its meaning forever. And in the wake of that disaster she had to face a new challenge; she had to figure out where she belonged.

At first, there had been the idea of getting a new apartment of her own. And while Rachel knew that it wasn't unreasonably difficult to find a livable space in a bustling city like New York, something about the idea reeked of 'starting over,' a cliché she had become painfully disillusioned with.

Joey had already offered up her old room if she desired it. She hadn't given him a straight answer, asking instead for some time to sort things out. In truth, with half of her friends already married and building their own households, the idea of putzing around with the Italian womanizer had begun to lose some of its appeal. It wasn't that she didn't like Joey; that matter was never given a moment of debate. Rachel loved him as much as one friend could love another; he'd always made her feel safe and loved and made her laugh on more occasions than she could think of. Nevertheless, in spite of all those good things, Rachel had begun to experience a rapidly awakening need to feel like she was going somewhere with her life and that she was doing something to fill the void that had materialized in the depths of her soul over the past year, and living in Apartment 19 just wasn't cutting it anymore. Honestly, she'd been staring down these facts for a while, even before she lost her job at Ralph Lauren and her world turned upside-down. She never dared to share her dilemma with Joey however, knowing too well how much it would upset him. By the time all of those feelings had come to a boil, she was packing her bags and leaving the country.

And then there was that last night with Ross. It wasn't even a full night, but it was enough to cause her to doubt every certainty she'd had about moving to Paris and enough to pry loose all the neat little straps that had tightly bound the boxes of emotion she had stored away for so long. She'd worked hard at pushing those feelings aside; they were so remarkably passionate in a way that could be so amazing and yet so incredibly dangerous. It could make one's heart beat faster or stop altogether. Such was the dichotomy that had defined their entire relationship.

So sometimes she wondered if, that by moving to Paris, she'd been running away from her true feelings the whole time. Now, she'd painfully realized something, a point that fate (in the form of a plane crash) had wickedly driven home:

It was impossible to escape those feelings.

She needed Ross and he needed her, not like a plant needs sunlight or an animal needs food. Such comparisons could often find a sense of belonging interspersed in romantic clichés, but they were not even on the tip of Ross and Rachel iceberg. They needed each other like life needs death, like heaven needs hell; they were two violently opposing forces that, when combined, formed a balance among the most perfect God ever devised.

It was settled. 'Home' was with Ross, there was no fighting it. It would never be the easiest choice, but it was the right one; it was where she belonged and he knew it too. If she'd ever had doubts about that, his plea with her at the airport to stay with him had removed them all.

Rachel was shaken from her mediation as the car slowed down to a fast crawl, the relentless grip of New York City traffic closing upon them. Engines groaned impatiently and horns blared. She closed her eyes and tuned out the din. The traffic would keep them waiting for many extra minutes if not longer. Filling the idle time with rest would leave her better prepared for the challenges she would have to face when the traffic relented and the car delivered her to Bedford and Grove. Her eyes were closed for no longer than sixty seconds when Rachel got a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. The car began to speed up, its pace nearing a trot. Before she knew it, the feeling had extended up her torso, causing her heart to accelerate nervously as it proceeded to her hands and cheeks. Her eyes crept open again, weary with fatigue, but very much alive with concern.

Carsickness? After-affects of the anesthesia?

No. I've never felt anything like this before. Maybe I just need some air….

She reached down and pushed a plastic rectangular button, causing her window to begin its descent with a mechanical hum. The bustle outside grew louder, the thin sheet of glass no longer an obstacle to its sound. She took her finger off the button, satisfied that the six inches or so it had descended was enough. The car began to fill with the thick smell of urban air and then, faintly, something else. Rachel leaned her head back against the cool leather upholstery and closed her eyes again, hoping that the action would bring some relief to her mysterious condition. It didn't.

Then it happened.

Two small searing bursts of heat engulfed Rachel's left cheek; a nearby pair of eyes was bearing down on her. Her eyes snapped open, spurred by the sound of a tiny familiar voice. She'd know that voice anywhere. In fact, it seemed to be calling out to her. Her head snapped to the left, eyes searching desperately for the source of that voice that she would recognize anywhere. Through the tinted glass pane she saw the tail end of a sedan disappear as it roared off in the opposite direction.

The engine beneath her own car abruptly began to churn and the car started to accelerate. She smashed her finger down on the window button, her breaths coming in short gasps as she impatiently watched the window complete its trip to the bottom. She stuck her head out the window and looked back. The sedan was rolling away quickly, soon to become one with the ambiguous mass of New York commuters. She couldn't see a child or a car seat, but the rise of the back seat blocked any viewpoint that could confirm this absence. In the front, she could see the back of two heads, the one on the right covered by dark hair. The increasing distance made it impossible to tell, but the figure easily could've been him.

"Rachel, what is it?" Phoebe asked, having observed the bizarre actions of her friend.

Rachel fixed her eyes on her friend's before replying, her voice quivering with the accents of hushed anxiety.

"We have to turn around. Now."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Mommy!" squealed Emma Geller-Green, her eyes and a tiny finger indicating the window across from her.

"That's right sweetie," her father replied, "We're going to talk to mommy."

Ross sighed deeply to himself. Emma could never understand that they would never really talk to 'mommy' again. He didn't understand it either, but he knew that he could not go on mourning her forever. He couldn't turn his head back to offer a reassuring smile to his little girl; he didn't know why. What he also didn't know, was that the woman he was about to say his final goodbye to had just passed within feet of him.