Disclaimer: I still do not own Friends. Dang it.

A/N: I've got the entire thing, I figured, why not update once a day? You all seem to be liking it, so I don't think anyone's complaining :) Thank you so much for the reviews, and for sticking with me.

This chapter was one I had always planned on writing when I first thought of this whole idea, because this is an important and sometimes life-changing situation people go through. I admit, I used some ofthe emotion I felt, myself, ina similar situation.

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"So they liked his idea, decided to use it, and he got the promotion," Monica explained in the Geller's kitchen on a crisp fall day, her face beaming as she told of her husband's achievements at work.

"Well, that's great!" Rachel said enthusiastically. "I always knew Chandler would do well in advertising."

Monica's expression changed to disbelief. "When he first told you he was going to be an intern at the company, you laughed your ass of for an hour and then sarcastically wished him luck."

"Okay, that's… true," Rachel admitted sheepishly. "But I mean, seriously, he made up the stupidest line for a chair!"

The back door opened and both women turned in their seats at the kitchen table to watch Emma, Sean, and Jen troop into the house, all three throwing their backpacks on the floor and jackets on a chair, their cheeks pink from walking home from school in the chilly wind. There was a chorus of, "Hi Aunt Monica", before each began doing separate things.

"Hey, guys, how was school?" Rachel asked, as she did every day, while both Sean and Jenny immediately went to the refrigerator and Emma grabbed a cookie from the jar on the counter.

"Fine," they all replied at the same time.

"Erica and Jack went home," Sean informed his aunt.

"Oh, well, then I better head over there," Monica said, and stood up. "Thanks for the coffee, Rach."

"Thanks for coming over to talk," Rachel returned, giving her friend a meaningful look. Monica nodded with a smile, said goodbye to the kids, and left.

All of her friends had been very supportive lately, and she had gladly accepted all they were willing to give. Leonard Green's sudden passing the month before had hit everyone hard, most of all his eldest daughter- and granddaughter.

Jen took a sip from her juice box and then declared, "I'm gonna go watch TV."

"Don't forget to do your homework!" Rachel reminded her as the young girl left the kitchen. She turned back to her two oldest children; Sean was absorbed in a book, and Emma was skimming the front page of the local newspaper on top of the counter.

Both siblings had been withdrawn since the passing of their grandfather, while Jen had bounced back quickly, not having known 'Poppy' as well as the other two. However, Sean, much like his father, had kept trying to find the goodness in the situation, and talk about fond times. Emma, though, had begun keeping to herself, and refused to speak to anyone about the death of her grandfather. Rachel had been the same, at first, but had then found that she felt better leaning on her husband and friends instead of keeping everything inside.

"What time is Dad gonna be home?" Sean asked as he glanced up from the book. "He finally got his old bug collection from Grandma and Grandpa's house and said he'd show it to me."

Rachel glanced towards her daughter, who normally at this time would say something along the lines of 'bugs are gross' or 'you're such a dork' to her nearly-twelve-year-old brother. However, Emma stayed quiet.

"Uh, his last class finishes at three-thirty, but he has a meeting and is then gonna pick up some Chinese for dinner, so probably not until seven," Rachel answered him.

Sean sighed and closed his book. His dark eyes roamed about the kitchen, and Rachel knew he was in search of something to do, as it seemed he always was. His look brightened suddenly. "I'm gonna head down the street to Henry's house. He told me at school he caught a frog."

Rachel squirmed a little. "All right. Just remember to… wash your hands after you touch it. And to not bring home a frog of your own."

"Gotcha!" he affirmed, and was out the door in a flash.

Standing, Rachel wandered over to the counter, where Emma seemed to have found an interesting article in the newspaper. "Didn't the high school distribute progress reports today?" she questioned after a moment.

Emma didn't respond immediately, but Rachel noticed her bright blues eyes halt from scanning the paper. She tensed a little, and then raised her head. "Oh, uh… yeah."

Rachel rested her arms on the counter and smiled at her daughter. "May I see yours?"

"Uh, yeah, sure…," the fifteen-year-old said tentatively, and took her time going to her backpack, unzipping it, and getting out the envelop that contained her mid-term grades. She seemed to move as slowly as possible.

Emma had always received good grades, her smarts a trait Rachel always insisted she (quite luckily) inherited from her scientist father. In fact, all three children were very bright, and always passed their classes with A's and high B's. None of them had ever come home with anything below an eighty-five average in a class (not that it really counted yet for Jen, who was only in third grade).

So what a shock it was when Rachel opened Emma's ninth grade progress report to find that her oldest daughter was failing two classes- one of them being science, the teen's best subject.

As if knowing her mother's thoughts, Emma avoided all eye-contact and focused on breaking apart the second cookie she had been eating.

"Uh… Em, you do know you have a 'D' in science and history, right?" Rachel asked cautiously, lifting her eyes to examine her daughter's pained expression.

Emma sighed noticeably and tucked some stray hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear. "Yes," she said in a small voice that was quite unlike her normal loud and outspoken tone.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Emma admitted honestly, her shoulders sagging, as if saying what she was feeling was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. "I feel like I can't focus."

Rachel softened. "Honey, why didn't you tell me sooner that you were having trouble with schoolwork?"

Rubbing her left arm with her right hand, Emma shrugged. She vacated the counter and began making her way towards the table, and sat down in her normal seat. "You've had a lot to deal with," she murmured sadly.

Rachel followed her daughter and sat down beside her. "Yeah, but so have you. We all have, with Poppy's passing. It's okay to talk about it, sweetie," she said softly, placing her hand over Emma's.

"I knew I was failing," Emma confided. "My teachers warned me a week ago. But I just couldn't… explain to them why I wasn't doing as well. And I didn't want to disappoint you and Dad."

"Emma, the only reason we would have to be disappointed in you right now is because you didn't let us know. We could've helped you. We can still help you." Rachel felt her eyes water, understanding her daughter at this moment more than she could ever know.

"It's just after he died and I went back to school, everyone knew. And I mean it's hard enough adjusting to high school, but this on top of it just put more and more pressure on me, and I felt like I wouldn't be able to meet up to everyone's standards they have for me, because I've never gotten below a 'B' in anything before, and when I started getting these tests and quizzes and homework back with low grades, I didn't know how to react," Emma explained, her voice quivering. "I can't stop thinking about him," she added, a tear managing to slip down her cheek.

"Oh, Emma, none of us can," Rachel said, and she held out her arms. Emma fell into them willingly and burrowed her head into her mother's shoulder. She stroked the fifteen-year-olds head soothingly. "I know you've been having a much harder time with this than Sean or Jen. And the fact that it's taking a toll on your schoolwork is something you really should've just told Dad and I."

"It's been over a month," Emma said, her words muffled. "I've never lost anyone close to me before. When is it going to stop hurting so much?"

Rachel considered her choices. She could lie and say that it was going to all get better very, very soon, and that before she knew it, she'd be able to get on with life and think of her grandfather fondly. But Rachel knew that telling her daughter those things wouldn't be fair to her.

"I don't know, sweetheart. I honestly don't. For some people, it's a matter of days. For other people, weeks, months, maybe even years. It all depends on yourself."

"Are you okay now?" Emma asked, sitting back and wiping her eyes.

Rachel sighed and replied, "Sometimes I think I am. But then other times I just… I miss him so much that I want to scream."

"Well, of course, he was your father, and you were his favorite," Emma nodded in understanding. "You were the closest person to him in the entire world."

Recalling Leonard Green, who seemed harsh and gruff to the outside world, but was a sweet, caring man to his oldest daughter and grandchildren, made Rachel smile just a little. "I was a Daddy's girl, through and through."

Both were quiet for a moment, lost in their separate thoughts, until finally Emma said, "I don't understand why it had to be him."

"I don't either," Rachel agreed dolefully. "We had all thought… after he had had that heart attack when you were little, that he was okay. But apparently… not."

"I miss visiting him," Emma revealed. "Whenever we went he'd always have a gift for each of us, y'know? He'd always give me a bracelet or a necklace, or just something that made me feel special."

"My father did love to spoil you guys," Rachel agreed. "He loved you all so much."

"I was making him a scrapbook before he died," Emma said. "For his birthday."

Rachel frowned slightly. "You never told me that."

"It was a secret thing. I had only just started it anyway…"

Rachel nodded and stared at her daughter. The girl in front of her had obviously been through a lot in the past month, and for a moment, Rachel felt like a failure as a parent. She hadn't even noticed that something bigger than just being withdrawn had been consuming Emma. She was her mother, she should be able to see these things from a mile away, damnit!

Emma had never dealt with the death of a loved one before; the passing of someone you were closer to than most. And, Rachel realized quite suddenly, she herself never really had either.

"So what are we gonna do about these bad grades?" Rachel questioned after a long silence.

"I've already started trying to get some extra credit," Emma said. "My teachers know that I'm a good student; they're willing to give me a few chances to bring my grades back up before the term ends."

"Okay…" Rachel nodded. "And what are we going to do about your mind?"

"What?" the teen asked incredulously.

"You're gonna have to start talking to somebody if you're ever going to feel better," Rachel said kindly. "May it be me, or Dad, or Monica or Chandler or Sean or Jen or the school counselor or maybe just one of your friends. That's how I'm dealing with all of this."

Emma picked at the table. "How would I even start?"

"Just start by saying what you're feeling," Rachel advised.

Considering this, Emma brought her gaze back to her mother and cracked the first smile Rachel had seen on her face in a long time. "Okay."

"Okay," Rachel repeated with a smile of her own, and the two hugged.

"We hug a lot in this family," Emma groaned as they pulled apart, and Rachel laughed in spite of herself, already seeing the old version of her daughter shining through.

"You know, your dad is going to want to see these grades," Rachel reminded her as they both stood.

"Well, maybe we could just… wait until he asks," Emma suggested.

Rachel rolled her eyes and lightly yanked Emma's ponytail, a familiar action she hadn't done since before Leonard had passed away. "Uh huh. Do your homework."

"I will. But right now I'm gonna go see what Jenny-Bean's watching on TV," Emma decided, and she shot one more smile towards her mother before leaving the kitchen.

Rachel stared at the doorway for a long time after she had left, before collapsing back into a kitchen chair.

Death was one of the hardest things a person would ever have to deal with in life, and Rachel knew that she couldn't have shielded her children away from it forever.

She prayed that (God forbid) the next time a situation like this arose, Emma would recall their conversation, and find the strength to keep going.

And that she would get her grades back up.

XXX