A/N: I have slightly edited the amount of alcohol consumed by Rachel and Chandler in Chapter 3, because, as Exintaris pointed out, 'several bottles' probably would have killed them, and as Vikki mentioned, they sobered up rather quickly considering how much they'd supposedly had to drink.
I'd like to send a heartfelt thank you out to Earl Grey Tea and the musical stylings of Sarah McLachlan, without either of which I would never have completed this chapter, which, as you all know, I very nearly did not.
Some dialogue from this chapter taken from Episodes 423-4 and 501.
Disclaimer: [Insert your own witty comment here. Be sure to point out that I'm in no way associated with Friends or any money made on it. Or any money, period, really.]
Chapter 4:
Shall I Go On?
The morning of the wedding dawned bright and early – too early – for Rachel. Monica had been unresponsive to her prodding the night before; acting belligerent and completely unwilling to discuss whatever it was that had upset her. Rachel had pressed Monica for answers, until finally the Geller temper emerged. Clearly angry at Rachel's refusal to let the subject drop, Monica had thrown on a jacket and stormed out of the room. Rachel had considered following after her, but ultimately decided against it, afraid that it would only worsen Monica's dark disposition. Cursing her decision to leave things unfinished between Chandler and herself, Rachel had grudgingly changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed.
Not surprisingly, sleep had been elusive, and after a half hour of tossing and turning, she'd given up. Determinedly, she'd rolled out of bed, slipped her feet into her slippers, pocketed her key card and stepped out into the hallway. She'd just extended her hand to tap on Chandler's door when she heard voices from around the corner – voices that definitely belonged to Monica and Joey. Feeling as if she was about to be caught doing something against the rules, Rachel had dashed back across the hall and flung open the door to her own room. Frantically, she dove under the covers and flipped off the bedside lamp. She had squeezed her eyes shut and waited several minutes, expecting Monica to burst into the room at any moment.
But even after several long moments, nothing had happened.
Her rush of adrenaline wore off quickly, and she found herself yawning as the red numbers on the alarm clock seemed to burn into her corneas. Eventually, she'd fallen into a fitful, unsatisfying slumber, visions of Chandler parading unabashedly through her subconscious. Several times, she awoke on the verge of tiptoeing across the hall, but, frustratingly, Joey's return to the room had trapped her in her own, suddenly very lonely, bed.
More awake now, Rachel allowed herself a moment to remember the teasing sound of Chandler's voice as he'd playfully tormented her. "What's the matter, Rach?" Trying to ignore the tingle that rippled through her midsection at the memory, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself upright. The invigorating aroma of freshly brewed coffee was wafting through the room though, predictably, Monica was nowhere to be found. Rachel bent forward, stretching her fingers toward the foot of the bed, trying to shake off the exhaustion that threatened to keep her in bed for several more hours. Noting that it was already after 8, she reluctantly pushed herself to her feet and slogged over to the coffee pot.
***
Across the hall, Chandler had also awoken, less than rested, to the sight of an empty room. He'd gone immediately to the shower and stood under the scalding water, berating himself for letting things get out of hand with Rachel. His conscience was less than sympathetic. You knew you were setting yourself up for disappointment, man. Swearing under his breath, he wrenched a clean towel from the rack and dried himself roughly. A little unsure as to the schedule for the morning, he threw on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt and made his way over to the telephone to call Ross. He had just dialed the number when he heard a knock at the door, forcing him to hang up before anyone had a chance to answer.
He was shocked to find Rachel smiling at him from the hallway. "Mornin'…" She peered curiously into the room. "Is Joey here?" she mouthed, silently.
Perplexed, he shook his head in response. "I guess he went for breakfast." At her sleepy grin, he felt the corners of his mouth tugging upward against his will.
"Here," she began, a bit shyly. "I thought you might want some coffee. That is, if your night was anything like mine." He gratefully accepted the proffered cup and then moved aside, inviting her into the room. He watched, still confused, as she trudged past him, dragging her sock feet drowsily. He couldn't help but find himself charmed by the way her slightly disheveled hair floated around her head in a honey-colored cloud.
Still unable to find any words, he followed her into the room, closing the door behind him. She wandered over to the window and looked out over the London skyline. "I may as well have stayed here last night, you know. Drunk Monica got mad at me and stormed off." She sipped her coffee, deliberating about how much to say. "I started to come back over here, but she must have run into Joey. They were coming around the corner as I was about to knock on your door."
Chandler stared into his cup of coffee, unsure how to respond. At his continued silence, she turned. "Chandler? What's wrong?"
He met her eyes across the room, skeptically. "You mean, you really…you really only left last night because of…because of Monica?"
Rachel's brow wrinkled. "Well, yeah…why else would I have - ?" Realization spread across her face. "You thought I was making excuses?"
"No! Well…yes."
She chuckled at his expression. "Chandler! Were you here last night? I mean, I'm no expert, but what happened was pretty intense…there was, there was begging involved! Remember?"
The last icy chunk of his resolve melted away, and he welcomed the warm rush of relief as it settled over him. "Well, I didn't know…I mean, we'd both had a lot to drink…I would have understood if you'd, you know. Come to your senses."
She paused, watching his face closely. "Did you…ahem. Did you come to your senses?"
He set his cup of coffee down beside the television, crossed over to her in two long strides and crushed her against his chest, reveling in the scent of her shampoo as it pervaded his brain and muddied his thoughts. "I have no senses to speak of."
Rachel stared up at him for a long moment, smiling coyly, before backing away. "This would be a really appropriate moment for some kissin', but seeing as I haven't yet made use of my toothbrush, I'd better stop us now. 12 hours, um, together, is hardly long enough for you to be subjected to any non-freshness."
"We'd better change the subject, then, and fast, or else…" He grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was actually just about to call Ross, but do you happen to know what the schedule is for today?"
"Well, as a guest who isn't in any way affiliated with the ceremony itself, I personally have no schedule. But I think I heard Monica say something about you guys being at the hall by 12:00."
"Well, then, it looks like I've got two hours until I have to get ready. Wanna go get some breakfast?"
"Absolutely. Let me just go get dressed."
***
Thirty minutes later, while Chandler ordered bagels and coffee at a nearby café, Rachel found a small table outside on the sidewalk and laid Chandler's copy of the previous evening's The Times in front of his empty seat. While she waited for him, she reflected on the sudden and unexpected turn of events. She had always thought of Chandler as merely a friend; just some guy in her circle of friends. She'd never considered him in any sexual manner, and logic dictated that such a change in their relationship would feel strange, abnormal. Contrarily, she realized, it felt nothing of the sort – different, yes, surprising, definitely – but mainly, it felt natural. She had approached his door that morning nervously, apprehensively, expecting something akin to mild embarrassment or perhaps even regret. Instead, at the sight of his face, she had registered only excitement and an interesting new level of affection.
Trying not to dwell too much on her memory of the previous evening, she twisted an errant strand of hair around her forefinger and watched as tourists and Londoners alike strolled leisurely past her table. The sun had yet to burn through the clouds of early morning, and the air was still quite chilly. She pulled her jacket more tightly around herself as she noticed Chandler pushing his way through the door of the café. She smiled to herself as she watched him balance the small tray bearing their light breakfast, and stood to take the steaming mugs of coffee off for him. After he'd discarded the tray at the closest trash can, he returned to the table and separated the front page from the rest of the newspaper. With his attention focused elsewhere, Rachel took advantage of the opportunity to admire him from under her lowered eyelashes. Already absorbed in some article, he absentmindedly spread cream cheese across his bagel and raised it halfway to his mouth, pausing in mid-air as he read. She marveled at the striking azure of his eyes, the elegant line of his jaw, the slight asymmetry of his features. A longish piece of his hair had fallen forward across his forehead, and she stopped herself just short of reaching out to brush it away. In desperate need of something to occupy her hands, she ripped open a packet of sugar and emptied it into her coffee. Chandler looked up from his reading at the sound, pushed the remaining newspaper in her direction. "Here, Rach, did you want some of this?"
She pulled her bagel towards her. "No, thanks, I'm fine. I'm not quite awake enough yet to absorb anything about world events." He grinned sympathetically and turned his attention back to his article. Not wanting to be caught staring at him, Rachel feigned interest in the passersby.
Chandler moved his eyes slowly back and forth across the page and wondered if Rachel was really convinced that he was reading. He couldn't care less about Emperor Akihito's recent visit to Britain, but he didn't trust himself to carry on a normal conversation with her at the moment. So he pretended to read. After what seemed the appropriate amount of time, he flipped over a few pages as if searching for the continuance of the story.
His mind was reeling; he couldn't stop dwelling on the fact that she really hadn't left the previous night because she had become uncomfortable or changed her mind. He was having trouble focusing on any single thought – his brain leapt from one point of interest to the next: the knowledge that she, too, had lain awake after leaving his room; the way the mild bite of the morning air had charmingly reddened her cheeks and nose; the idea of what might happen later, if they had time together, alone…
Stop it! Read your paper!
***
The seats were already filling up when Rachel arrived at the hall several hours later. Her eyes darted around the space until they settled on Chandler, helping an elderly woman to her seat near the front. He turned back in her direction after completing his task; his face lit up as their eyes met, sending a rush of warmth straight down to her toes. He all but jogged back down the aisle in an effort to reach her before Joey, who was already headed back to the rear of the building. Smiling at her conspiratorially, he edged Joey out of the way and led her slowly towards her seat beside one of Ross' cousins. "Big day, huh? Can you believe it? Ross? Some British chick we barely know? Getting married?"
She grinned. "I know! It feels strange, but he seems really excited, so…" Ross noticed her for the first time and waved inconspicuously from his position beside the minister. She smiled warmly back at him and squeezed Chandler's arm. "So, I guess I'll see you after the ceremony?"
"You bet." He winked at her and returned to the rear of the hall.
***
Chandler knew he should be paying attention to the ceremony, but despite his
best efforts, his eyes kept drifting over to Rachel, who wasn't helping matters
by gazing back at him flirtatiously from behind her silky curtain of hair. The dress she was wearing plunged
dangerously low in the front, and his increasing desire to see what lay beneath
the V of the neckline was occupying more of his thoughts than it should have
been at such a time. The sound of Ross
and Emily's vows floated in and out of his realm of concentration.
Emily was repeating the minister's words. "Take thee Ross..."
God, hurry up! He knew it was selfish and disrespectful, but all he could concentrate on was the thought of the reception, and the possibility that he and Rachel could slip away, maybe with a bottle of wine from behind the open bar…
"Now Ross, repeat after me. I, Ross..."
"I, Ross…"
…Joey would almost certainly be tied up with some random girl, and he and Rachel could have the room to themselves for a while, maybe long enough to finish what they'd started the night before…
"Take thee, Emily..."
"Take thee, Rachel..."
Chandler swung his head towards Ross in mild confusion. The only immediate explanation he could come up with was that his own thoughts had become intertwined with Ross' words. He turned back to look at Rachel again, and it was only when he saw the aghast expression on her face that he realized he had not, in fact, misheard.
"Emily!" Ross looked uncomfortable and more than a little confused himself. "Emily."
The tension was palpable. The minister alternated his startled gaze between the bride and groom. "Uh...Shall I go on?"
Emily stared at Ross, cheeks aflame, eyes wide, apparently unsure about how to respond. Finally, she seemed to make a decision, and said, "Yes, yes, do go on."
The minister, clearly in unfamiliar territory, looked down at his Bible and took a deep breath. "Perhaps we'd better start again." He cleared his throat. "I, Ross, take thee, Emily…"
Ross swallowed hard. "I, Ross…" He paused. "I, Ross…"
Emily tilted her head slightly to one side, nervously, her eyes shining with embarrassment and hurt. "Ross?"
He gripped her hands tightly, seeming to battle with himself. Their eyes burned into one another for what seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke again.
"I can't. I can't do this. Emily, I – "
Without a word, Emily wrenched her hands from his grasp, pulled the hem of her dress up to mid-calf, and darted down the aisle and out of the hall. The guests all sat in a stunned silence for several seconds until Jack Geller stood and made his way to the front of the church. He and Ross exchanged a wordless look, and Ross hurried after his fiancé.
"Well, folks, ah…" Jack shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "I'm not sure what to say…"
Emily's father jumped to his feet, irate. "I do! Your son is a manipulative bastard! Look what he's done to my Emily!"
"Now, you listen here, you son of a bitch," Jack began. Before things could get out of hand, the minister intervened.
"Gentlemen, please! There's no need to argue. Mr. Geller and Miss Waltham will sort this out on their own. A fistfight between their fathers won't do them any good."
The levity of the situation seemed to descend upon the two men, and both fell awkwardly silent. The guests began murmuring amongst themselves, and then, slowly, uncertainly, started to rise from their seats and exit the hall.
Joey turned to Chandler, anxiously. "Dude…what the hell was that?!"
Chandler barely heard him. His mind was on Rachel, who hadn't moved from her seat. She locked gazes with him, unfocused, bewildered. She seemed to become aware all at once that several sets of eyes were upon her, and abruptly jumped to her feet. He took several steps in her direction, but before he could reach her, she had pushed her way through the crowd of people and disappeared into the blinding midday sunlight.
***
A/N: I know, I know it's short. I apologize for making you wait so long for such a short update, but I had to stop where I did. I promise the next one won't take as long. That is, if you still want me to continue…
