Disclaimer: Oh yeah, I don't own most of the characters or the songs…

A/N: I had a different version of this chapter done back in February, but my hard drive crashed. Recently, I went through a lack of interest in Friends and combining that with a writer's block plus the aforementioned computer problem, you get the long delay for this chapter. I'd planned this as a different and separate one-shot, but I liked it so I merged the two stories. I know, it is Ross and Rachel-heavy, but again they are the heart of this story. Anyways, on with the penultimate chapter…

Six

Two days and I've not slept a wink
with these thoughts that I've been thinking.
This is the mark I aim to miss (again).

There used to be a time when Rachel could vividly picture every detail of her extravagant wedding (after all, she was, at heart, a Green) and wonderful marriage – from the color and cut of her wedding and bridesmaids' dresses to the arrangement of the table décor at the reception to, of course, the groom. His chocolate brown eyes that made her melt and her stomach churn with butterflies of anxiety, yet also filled her with a rich sense of security and serenity as he recited his compelling vows.

Rachel, naturally, would have chosen Monica as her maid of honor – and she assumed Ross would have selected Chandler as his best man. It just made sense, seeing as how they were the "core" of the group that went as far back as Thanksgivings at Jack and Judy's. A few years later, she added a few twists to those images, such as Joey officiating at the wedding after having done Chandler and Monica's. She also imagined all the possibilities: if she had not mentioned the break, if she had been less ambiguous about it, if she had the strength to tell Mark not to come over, if she hadn't written that eighteen page letter – and the list went on.

That was about nine years ago. And every now and then, those images would come back to "haunt" her like when she and Ross were "actors" for the night in Massapequa as they played the role of newlyweds and hearing his ideal proposal or when Joey had mistakenly thought Ross was going to propose after Emma's birth or when she quit Louis Vuitton to start things up again a few months after Newark or every single time she would gaze into her daughter's eyes for too long. However, all those had one similar ending, it was all for naught.

"Hey Rach," her fiancée called out to her, entering their bedroom after a long day at the hospital. A doctor: it was what she had always wanted, yet it wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Noticing she had been lost in thought, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek, which momentarily snapped her from the daze. She thought she would've learned her lesson after Barry.

You toss and turn, I lie awake,
who knows what I've been drinking.
Another cheap, meaningless kiss (to give).

"Oh hey," Rachel mumbled, finally acknowledging his company before drifting back into her reverie.

Oblivious to him being in the same bed, Rachel took a seat, staring intently at the expensive and lavish wedding dress that hung on the back of the door. Apparently, she had forgotten the groom wasn't supposed to see the dress. In a few months, she would be getting married, but counting down the days felt like those days when she was engaged to Barry. It was that feeling of an impending doom, walking towards an execution waiting to be carried out rather than what should've been one of the best days of her life. She wanted to be married, just not to this doctor. And she couldn't run out on a second wedding, the reputation of being a "runaway bride" was just about as bad as, say, three divorces.

And the time she and Ross had actually been married, she considered it to be the world's worst hangover. She had always imagined that she and Ross would be the first of their group to be married, just not in that manner. Call it selfish, but her and Ross being married just seemed and felt right, which was why it stung when Monica rambled on about the "formerly fat friend being married" before her. People often didn't think her and Ross seem to make sense. She felt Chandler and Monica didn't make much sense either (not that there was anything "wrong" with Chandler, but thought Monica deserved better), yet they somehow managed to make a marriage last five years and counting.

"Well, yeah, you know how Ross and I were on again, off again, on again, off again? I guess I just figured that somewhere down the road, we would be on again," those words flooded Rachel's cerebrum, but that road had long become deserted. The "on again, off again" door had been slammed shut and locked almost eighteen months ago. And as she wrapped herself in the comforter, she still wondered what he could be thinking right now before finally succumbing to a deep slumber.

From the beginning,
dulled down and lost with all its charm.
I just wanna wake up, wake up in someone's…

---

I've heard stories through silence and we laugh at the end
and declare that today was the best day we lived
but the end of the night draws a calm to the dark
where I dream you exist in the places you aren't.

Sitting on his couch, Ross's eyes were fixated blankly at the enveloped addressed to him, downing his fifth (or sixth?) shot of vodka, margarita or basically whatever alcohol was readily available in a three-foot radius. By coincidence, something about Rachel and alcohol went hand-in-hand like peanut butter and jelly or the World Series in the fall. He didn't even have to open the envelope to know who it was from or what were its contents. And considering the situation Rachel was in when he was set to marry Emily, Ross could say he wasn't a huge fan of irony. Like Rachel, he had debated whether he should go or not.

Just when he had convinced himself he was "over" her, she did something that would make him regress back to that lovesick fifteen year old that pined for her from across the room. After over twenty years, she still had that affect on him, which after telling her that he was done thinking about going down that road. Then again, he was actually surprised he had gotten an invitation in the first place, even after all the things he had said. It just confused him all the more.

I'm cold inside
and these pictures can't even explain what's missing in my life.
The coldest of calendars I couldn't have it any better.
Half the time I am alive just to see your smile.

Walking over to his bedroom, he grabbed a huge album, thumbing through photos of him and Rachel in that wonderful year they dated – as well as pictures of three of his best friends and his sister. It reminded him of a time before things became incredibly complicated and how young and naïve they appeared. Now, Phoebe and Mike were happily married with a fourteen month old son, Michael Joseph Hanigan, Jr. Chandler and Monica also were usually happily married with their three year old children, Erica and Jack. Of course, Rachel was on the verge of a wedding – and knew their five year-old daughter would be the flower girl. Emma, mouth and eyes aside, was all Rachel. He loved spending time with the little girl, but couldn't even answer her questions about why her mother and father weren't able to be in the same room with her. Even Joey was engaged to his next door neighbor, which her name escaped Ross at the moment.

And yet, more irony: Twelve years ago, all of his friends were the single ones while he was the one in a marriage, but now he was on the outside, looking in. He dated several women in the eighteen month span, nothing lasting more than a couple months. Every woman had some characteristic that constantly reminded him of or tied back to Rachel, inadvertently or not. Sarah, his current girlfriend, had those same sparkling blue eyes that when the light reflected off of them in a particular angle, they beamed a light shade of green. All the women still couldn't fully fill the void left by her. But eventually, he had come to a decision…

There's a letter here waiting to go in the mail.
In my head it's all there but I'm not quite prepared to fade away.
Don't fade away.
Somehow I'll try to do this right

---

Rachel's thoughts floated back to the day that she ran into Emily a couple years ago and how she thought – more like convinced – the child with her was Ross'. She was incredibly relieved, which was more than an underestimation, to find out it wasn't.

"You're pathetic," the British women spewed through her teeth, unwilling to say her brief ex-husband's name. "You actually think this is his, don't you? Well, he's not the only guy with brown eyes in this universe, Rachel. I doubt you'd care with you being self-absorbed, but it's Colin's. It still doesn't explain what you're doing here."

"Well, I work here, Emily," Rachel responded. Paris wasn't as glamorous as she thought it would've been or as described – a few months was enough for Rachel, "but knowing that you're here, it makes my decision to quit a hell of a lot easier."

"If you're quitting because of him, then you're still the same person that was crazy about him while we were engaged," she remarked, seeing Rachel's eyes widen and dilating. "Please, you don't think I didn't see it in your eyes, how depressed you were when you heard about the engagement – and it was even more obvious after you and that Josh broke up while the three of us were at dinner. I saw it, but chose to ignore it. I never should've gone through with that awful wedding. Damn him for having a way with words…"

"You know what as much fun as hearing you ramble on is," she interrupted, knowing exactly what she meant by her last sentence. "However, I've got this resignation letter to turn in and a daughter to pick up." Before Emily could say another word, she walked inside the building. If only she had known that was going to backfire…

After she had told Monica about coming back to New York, she requested her not to tell anyone, but not before finding another job in New York. It also took her by surprise when Monica told her about Joey moving to California, which meant now she'd have to find an apartment as well. The flight back wasn't as bad; the optimist in her saw how she'd be able to see and fix things with Ross, that Emma would have her mommy and daddy living together again.

She would never forget the day that would turn out to be that she and Ross could stand being in the same room and in each other's presence.

---

Six days and I can see the same
brown eyes in this reflection.
Is the man you say I'll be (become)?

"Ross," she called out in his apartment. Fortunately, she still had the key from the time she was living at his place while they both took care of Emma. She shuffled through the cluttered mess that engulfed the place: shattered glass on the floor, papers scattered across the room, and a darkness that even the brightest light couldn't enter. It looked like a hurricane had ransacked his apartment, "You home?"

You toss and turn, I lie awake,
into the sand were sinking.
Holding us back from breathing free (I'm done)

Just as those words left her mouth, she saw him sitting on his couch, turning on one of the lights. Ross didn't even flinch or turn around when the lights came on. He had evidently been zoned out in wherever or whatever thoughts were running through his mind. She didn't have enough courage to disturb him from that trance. And when he finally noticed that she was in his apartment, she looked into those same eyes that used to make her melt, but they had lost that luster and shine that once oozed of a beautiful brown. Those eyes had been replaced with dark eyes, surrounded by a bloody red mostly from the consumed alcohol and tearsthat once flowed down his face.

More than words you keep to yourself.
Like a curse that fares thee well.
One man came, one truth to tell.
All this blame, hammers your way to hell.

---

I'm cold inside
and these pictures can't even explain what's missing in my life.
The coldest of calendars I couldn't have it any better
Half the time I am alive just to see your smile

"Wh- wh- what are you doing here?" Ross stammered, getting up from his couch as if though he had just seen a ghost. "I, I thought you were in Louis Vuitton and Paris."

"Well, I was," Rachel replied, surprised by his seemingly indifferent behavior by her being there although she didn't blame him for being staggered by it, "but I decided that I was better off here, being home in New York."

"Because it's convenient… for you, right Rach?" he smugly and coldly replied. He scoffed, "At one point, I was partially right, except it's always been about you, hasn't it?"

"What?" Rachel pondered the meaning by his nonchalant and detached behavior. "Wh- what are you talking about Ross?"

"Monica was right, too – although she never would say it to your face," Ross continued, "but you know, it's one of my 'rights' as the ex-boyfriend, I'll say what I want, when I want. You're still the same God-damned selfish individual you were ten years ago, Rachel. You know that, but I should've known better. The only difference between then and now is that you don't need your asshole of a father's money to be a bitch."

Sometimes I feel cold inside.
It feels like I am sleeping outside indoors.
There's a light I can see in your eyes.

Astonished, Rachel started welling up as he continued to lash out at her, "God, Rachel. I've done everything possible to apologize for hurting you in the worst possible way when we broke up. And since then, I've wasted my time, trying to get you back when we both know it was most likely never possible. You fucking tell me to move on, but the millisecond I do, you – accidentally or not – meddle with things so that I end up getting the shaft."

"You convince Bonnie to shave her head then you write a damn letter, basically telling me to take all the blame for the break up. When I do, you rub it in my face like you've claimed victory. And you say I can't let the little things go, Rach? I'm not Chandler. There's no way I'm going to let you walk over me like Monica does. Hell, if I had known there were stipulations, I would've stuck it through with Bonnie until she grew her hair back. Or how about when you set me up with Emily? There's yet another brilliant idea. And then you happen to show up just so you could see me fuck up, again."

That was the one thing about Ross: he could say the right things to make Rachel ecstatic, but he also knew the right buttons to push that would hurt her more than anything anyone else could say in their group – and vice versa.

---

I've got a feeling it's not the safest place to start.
This heavy breathing, it seems, we're better off breaking hearts.

With tears rolling down her face and both of them breathing haggardly, Rachel replied, "You've done some pretty shitty things too, Ross. Don't act like you're the damn victim in all of this. Like when you didn't tell me about not getting the annulment or when you hide some guy's message that I wasn't planning on calling back anyways."

"That's the difference between you and me, Rach. I've claimed and taken my share of the blame, most of the time, anyways. Like I've said, you do the same – when it's convenient for you. Hell, the only damn reason you told me the Vegas wedding was your idea was because you saw that I was getting the brunt of the blame. If I hadn't let it slip about why I didn't get the annulment, you felt guilty about it. Hell, I was the last person to know about you being pregnant with our daughter, the last to know about your 'engagement' to Joey and eventual 'relationship' with Joey. If I truly meant more to you, you never would've left."

Rachel cut him off, shouting, "You think I planned it that way. It's not my fault you fucking forgot your damn sweater at Joey and my apartment. And it's not my fault that Joey had the balls to do something you never could – you know, stepping up and being a man. Waiting until the last fucking minute to tell me you still love me? You're great at 'seizing the day,' Ross. How the hell do you think I was supposed to react with what you were telling me at Newark? I didn't know how to react…"

"And by the way, it's not my fault your verbal prowess said the wrong name at that wedding; I don't control your mouth and the shit you say, Ross. Speaking of control, that is the reason we broke up, isn't it, Ross? You wanted to control me, but I wanted the control to live my own life. You got scared that I was gaining too much independence – that I wouldn't need you anymore. But God, Ross – I loved you too much to leave you, yet you couldn't trust me when I told you nothing would ever happen between me and Mark. And you know what,we're not Monica and Chandler because it's obvious who has the balls in that relationship and who doesn't."

Several hours and more words shouted later, they eventually came to a stalemate just like most of the fights before. It was almost as if they had traveled back seven years in time and switched roles. Rachel mentioned in a tired and throaty voice, choking back tears, "You know this is not why I came here. This- this can't be it, Ross…"

"Then how come it is, Rach," Ross, also through tears, verbalized the words that had the same sense of finality contained in them that night, "I'm just tired of thinking and talking about the possibility of us when it's more likely it'll end in heartbreak and hurt you again."

Ironically, it was causing her hurt and pain either way as they stood for quite some time, letting the words and tone sink in before eventually grabbing her purse and leaving his apartment.

---

From the beginning, dulled down and lost with all its charm.
I just wanna wake up, wake up in someone's.

I just wanna wake up (8x).

If it were humanely possible, Rachel, reminiscing of that last fight, had more tears flowing down her face than on that night, leaving the bed in an attempt to hide them from her fiancé. Trying to make herself happy, she went into Emma's bedroom, which was, to her, the best qualities of her and Ross. It brought back memories of the good times she and Ross had, but made her sad and depressed that none of that would ever be attainable again.

I just wanna wake up in someone else's arms.

---

I've seen nights without sleep
Days without daylight
These memories I keep won't keep me warm at night.

As Ross scanned through another photo album, he noticed how happy and delighted he and Rachel used to be. Surprisingly, he smiled at the photo and memory of when they had taken care of Ben when he had just said his first words. He wondered whether or not he would find that exact happiness again. It wasn't that he wasn't happy with Sarah because he was.

The coldest part is the heart that we share
is breaking apart and you're not even here
to say things will get better
So freezing out blanket my discontent 'til I sleep again.

I'm saving a story that won't begin 'til you're there

---

A/N II: Most of the lyrics I've used for Rachel's POV are Mae's "Someone Else's Arms," which alternates with "Coldest of Calendars" by Punchline for Ross's POV. I'm a sucker for the acoustic in general, but the acoustic version of "Coldest" is awesome. I'm thinking of starting a new story after this gets done, a happier one. Anyways, you know what to do…