Monica's POV-three months later

I rode the subway down to Rachel and Ross's apartment. I remember how back in our younger days, Joey, Phoebe, Rachel, Chandler and I would joke about which one of us would be the first one to leave the group. We always said it would be Phoebe, because she lives far away and not related. At the time, in fact, we couldn't even imagine one of us dying. And now, as we knew it was getting closer, I took my therapists advice and tried to imagine my life without Rachel.

And I did;

An empty void in her apartment where she lived with Ross.

Me crying every time I looked in Emma's eyes.

Every time I look in the sky, I'll look for her face.

Looking for signs that she is coming back; that it was all a dream.

I'll wonder everyday if there is a heaven and if she can really see me.

Phoebe not singing.

Chandler not joking.

No Rachel, if she died, there would, never in forever be another Rachel.

When I got to her apartment, Rachel was watching Chandler's favorite movie Terms Of Endearment. It was the scene where Debra Winger was saying goodbye to her children. I could picture saying goodbye to Emma, and Emma not understanding and me not understanding.

"Hi, Rachel…" I said and smiled.

She smiles sweetly at me.

"Hey, Mon…" she says.

"How are you feeling?"

"How do you think?" she almost yells in my face.

"Sorry, dumb question!"

"Monica, Dr. Jones called, about my latest test results."

"Oh,"

"He said there is no chance for survival, he gave me a week to live, at most a month…"

"Is he sure?"

"Yeah, the cancer is still growing in my breast. There is a small fingernail sized tumor in my liver and both my kidneys some how got very large cancer tumors in them also…"

I say softly, "Well, Rach, maybe there'll be a miracle…"

"I don't believe in miracles…" Rachel whispers.

She continues; "Look, Mon, they need to remove my breast. I need intense doses of chemotherapy and radiation for five months, and I need a kidney transplant…"

"We'll all get tested." I say.

"That's not the point. I'm not going to be here that long."

"Rachel! Quit saying that!"

"Five months, I might not make it until tomorrow."

"Maybe one of us could save your life…"

"Everyone's been tested. No one matches."

"I haven't"

"What type of blood are you?"

"O positive."

She blinks her eyes and whispers

"Me too."

Rachel's hand clutches her stomach and her thin legs give out. Her blue eyes over flood with tears and I could see beads of sweat break out on her forehead.

"Monica," she cries, like a helpless child, "Help me,"

I lift her up onto the couch and call 911.

I report the emergency and hang up the phone;

"Mon," her hand reaches to me, "I'm scared."

"Me too, Rach," I say sitting next to her, "Me too…"

And at this moment I realize how incredible fragile we all are.