A/N:  It's hard to believe, but I can't think of anything to say here!  Except, oh!  Thanks again, Sam!  You rock!!  And thanks especially to everyone for the wonderful reviews.  You guys make my heart smile!

Disclaimer:  I don't own 'em.  I'll show you my bank statement if you don't believe me.

Chapter 5:

Suspicious Minds

Rachel tripped on a loose cobblestone and, grimacing, hopped on one foot at a time while removing her ridiculously high heels.  Ignoring the pain in her ankle, she forced her way through the obnoxiously slow lines of tourists meandering along the sidewalks of London.  With no clear destination in mind, she ran, her mind reeling at the sudden turn of events.  She knew she must look ridiculous to the faces streaking past her, but her level of humiliation was already too high to allow for any increase.

"I Ross, take thee, Rachel…thee, Rachel…Rachel…"  The words thrummed in her brain like a malevolent bass line.  I shouldn't have come, I should have stayed in New York with Phoebe…this is all my fault.  The self-berating thoughts pounded behind her eyes, heightening her sense of guilt and embarrassment.  A stitch in her side made it necessary for her to stop running, to rest for a moment, and as she stood, panting, in an unfamiliar section of an unfamiliar city, she realized that her cheeks were wet.  Oh, God, poor Emily.  She bent at the waist and clutched her stomach, a dry sob threatening to erupt from her chest.

Taking several long breaths, she swiped at her face with her hands and pushed her hair back out of her eyes.  Sniffling, she stuck out her hand as a taxi approached, but soon realized that she'd left her purse behind at the hall.  God.  Damn it.  The cab driver looked at her quizzically as she stepped back and waved him on.  She refused to return to the hall.  All those people. 

Oh, God.  Chandler.  He probably doesn't know *what* to think.

Dejected, Rachel turned back in the direction she had come, searching the crowd of faces for someone who looked like a local, dreading the long, lonely walk back to the hotel. 

***

Chandler sat in the back of the cab, squeezed tightly between Joey and the door.  He turned away from the sound of Monica's high-pitched chattering and pressed his forehead against the foggy window.  He clutched Rachel's bag and scanned the passing sidewalks, wondering where she had gone, what was going on in her head.  The memory of her brightly flushed cheeks as she fled the hall seemed to have branded itself onto his brain.  He knew, without a doubt, that whatever it was that had almost happened with them was now completely out of the question, and he felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.  The pain caused by the unspoken ending seemed somehow inappropriate, considering how brief the whole affair – if it could even be called that - had been, but there was no denying the sensation of loss in his chest.

"Chandler?  Did you hear me?  Hello?"

Dazed, he turned toward Monica's voice.  "No, I'm sorry.  What?"

"I said, did you see the look on Rachel's face?"

"Yeah, I saw."  He swallowed hard, trying not to think about it.

"She looked pretty shocked, wouldn't you say?"

Unable to bring himself to answer such a mundane question, he merely nodded and turned back to the window.  Unfazed, Monica droned on.

"I think it's for the best, really.  I mean, come on!  We all knew that Ross was being too hasty.  It's obvious that he still has feelings for Rachel.  And clearly, she still has feelings for him.  Why else would she have run off like that?"

Joey seemed unconvinced.  "I don't know, Monica.  I mean, put yourself in her shoes.  If that had been me, I woulda wanted to get out of there as fast as I could, too.  She was probably pretty embarrassed, you know?"

Joey's surprisingly logical reasoning sparked a tiny glimmer of hope inside Chandler.  Of course she was embarrassed – who wouldn't have been? 

"Yeah, maybe," Monica acquiesced.  "Still, I don't know.  I talked to her night before last about the whole Ross-getting-married thing.  She said she was okay with it, but she still seemed a little down.  Remember, she didn't want to go to dinner with us?  Said she'd rather stay in the room, by herself."  She paused.  "Chandler, you hung out with her.  Did she act upset?"

Chandler remembered bumping into Rachel in the hallway.  "I, too, find myself oddly without the urge to wander aimlessly about London for God-knows-how-long…"  He himself had immediately attributed her reluctance to go out to her distress about the wedding.  He suddenly felt tense, irritable. 

"How would I know?  We aren't that close," he snapped.

Monica shrugged and leaned back against the seat.  "Well, whatever.  I think those two will end up together.  I've always thought that."

Releasing his grip on Rachel's purse, Chandler yanked his tie loose and cursed his luck.  Thank God I still have that pack of cigarettes.

***

Rachel hobbled along a small side street, her feet aching, the muscles in her legs screaming from her earlier exertion.  According to the directions she'd gotten from a slightly dodgy street vendor, she knew she should be approaching familiar territory by now, but she had yet to recognize anything.  Being lost in the middle of London for two hours had taken her mind off of her present situation for a little while, but her exhaustion was bringing everything back in full force.  All she wanted was to take a shower and sleep for the next week.  Unfortunately, her flight back to New York first thing in the morning prevented any real chance for avoidance.  She paused to rub the bottom of her right foot and used the opportunity to shed her ruined stockings.  Stuffing them into the toe of one of her shoes, she pressed on, hoping against hope that the street in front of her would turn out to be one she knew.

Emerging from the quiet alley into another shopping district, she immediately recognized the café where she and Chandler had breakfasted that morning.  Breathing a long sigh of relief, she turned to her right and suppressed the urge to cry with joy at the sight of the hotel looming a few blocks ahead.  Just a few more minutes, old girl.  Then you can climb into the shower and weep to your little heart's content.  Straightening her spine, she tossed the discarded pantyhose into a nearby trashcan, stuffed her swollen, burning feet back into the vile shoes and pressed on toward the hotel with purpose.

***

A long ten minutes later, Rachel knocked on the door to her hotel room.  Please, Monica, be here, please….  When the door swung open, she nearly collapsed with happiness.  "Oh, thank God.  I left my purse at the…place…and I was worried you wouldn't be here and I would have to sit out in the hall and – oh!  I'm just so glad you're here."

Monica made sounds of sympathy as Rachel limped into the room and kicked her shoes off.  "I never want to see those things again."

"Where the hell have you been, anyway?" Monica inquired.  "We've been worried sick about you!"

 "Oh, you know.  Roaming the streets of London, lost, humiliated.  Just your average Saturday afternoon, really."  She resisted the urge to fling herself across the bed and rummaged through her suitcase until she found a clean pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt.  "I'm gonna take a shower.  I feel like death."  She spied her purse on the bedside table.  "Oh, good, you brought it back."

"Yeah, Chandler grabbed it."

Chandler.  She felt herself welling up and turned away so that Monica wouldn't see.  "I'll have to thank him later."

Closing the bathroom door against Monica's prying eyes, Rachel released a long, shaky breath and turned the water on full strength.  Soon the room was filled with steam as she tried to relax under the stinging spray.  Her throat was dry and her eyes burned with unshed tears, but the breakdown she was expecting failed to arrive.  Just as she was beginning to question her own sanity, she heard a tapping at the bathroom door.  "Yeah?"

Monica stuck her head into the room.  "Um, Rach?  I'm sorry to interrupt, sweetie, but Ross just called, and I'm gonna go over to his hotel for the night.  Do you need anything before I leave?"

Yeah, she thought.  My pride, or, better yet, a time machine.  She kept it to herself.  "No, I'm fine.  I'll see you in the morning."

Monica said goodbye and closed the door, and Rachel rested her forehead against the shower wall.  What a fucking mess.  She knew it couldn't be later than 5:30 or so, but her sleepless night and long trek through the city had caught up with her; she quickly lathered herself up and rinsed off, dried hastily and climbed into her pajamas.  She opened the bathroom door, releasing a puff of steam into the bedroom, and padded over to put the chain on the door.  Pulling back the covers on her bed, she exhaled blissfully as her bare feet touched the cool, smooth sheets. 

Flipping off the lamp on the bedside table, she stacked her pillows on top of one another and stared off into the unfamiliar darkness of the hotel room.  Unbidden, Ross' face floated into her mind.  She wondered what his afternoon must have been like.  No doubt he'd had to face the wrath of two sets of parents in addition to whatever Emily might have had to say to him – provided he'd been able to catch up with her.  If only I'd stayed in New York.  None of this would have happened.

You don't know that, her reasonable voice chided.  Ross is a grown man.  You can't take the blame for this.

Despite the undeniable logic, she couldn't help but remember the look on Emily's face, as she stood there, in front of her family and friends, and watched all of her plans slip through her fingertips.

Rachel could sympathize.  She herself was no stranger to heartbreak.

Feeling deflated, guilt-ridden, and very much alone, she turned onto her stomach, buried her face in her pillows, and finally wept.

***

Chandler stared at the television screen without really seeing it, listening to Joey, who was on the telephone with Phoebe, briefing her on the events of the afternoon.  "Yeah, I know, it's crazy.  No, Monica was going over to his hotel."  He paused, listening.  "I'm not sure what she's doing.  Monica said she was pretty beat.  Yeah, we'll check on her later."  He absentmindedly wrapped the telephone cord around his finger.  "So you'll meet us at the airport?  …OK, see you tomorrow, Pheebs."  He hung up the phone and turned to Chandler.  "Dude, I'm starving.  I was expecting all kinds of wedding food so I didn't eat much at breakfast.  You wanna go get some dinner?"

Chandler considered.  He wasn't the slightest bit hungry, but he didn't really want to sit in the room all night, alone, dwelling on what might have been.  Maybe Joey would help take his mind off of everything.  "Yeah, let's go."  He pulled a jacket on over his t-shirt and poked his feet into his sneakers.  Following Joey into the hallway, he found himself listening intently for any sound from Rachel's room.  None came.  Sighing inwardly, he fell reluctantly in step beside his roommate.

***

Dinner was a long, drawn-out affair, with Joey dragging his feet about every decision, from where to eat, to what to drink, to what entrée to order, to whether or not to have dessert – none of which Chandler cared about in the least.  By the time they finally exited the restaurant, it was after 8:00 and Chandler was out of cigarettes.  He found a small sort of convenience store during the walk back and bought a fresh pack, smoking two all the way to the filter before they reached the hotel.  Both men were quiet on the way up to their room, and as Chandler stuck his keycard into the lock, he heard Joey tapping on Rachel's door.  Unsure of what to do, Chandler stood in his open doorway and waited to see if she would answer.  A minute passed before the knob turned and a bleary-eyed Rachel appeared.

"Hey, guys." 

"Hey, Rach," Joey began, his brow furrowed.  "Sorry if we woke you up.  We just wanted to see if you were alright."

She sighed, running both hands through her rumpled hair.  "Yeah, I'm OK."  Her eyes sought Chandler's, unsuccessfully.  He seemed to be looking at everything except her.  "You didn't really wake me up.  I thought I could sleep, but I've just been tossing and turning."

"Can we get you anything?  Have you had dinner?"  Joey's voice was laced with concern. 

"Ah, no, I'm not hungry.  I'm gonna go ahead and finish packing and then try my luck at sleeping again."  She paused for a moment.  "Thanks for bringing my bag with you, Chandler."  She searched his face for any sign of…anything, but detected nothing there.  He nodded curtly and turned away.

Joey, oblivious to the tension, offered Rachel a hug and bid her good night.  Following Chandler into their room, Joey shook his head.  "Poor Rachel."

Chandler scoffed.  "Yeah.  Poor Rachel."

Joey frowned at his roommate.  "Are you alright?  You were really quiet all through dinner."

Sighing, Chandler replied, "No, I'm fine.  This trip has been really…bizarre.  I think I'm just ready to go home.  Aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess so…." 

Chandler turned to his suitcase, missing the strangely sad expression on Joey's face.

***

Across the hall, Rachel turned her attention toward her messy suitcase.  Absentmindedly folding her clothes and stacking them inside the bag, she contemplated whether or not she should call Ross and apologize.  It might just make matters worse, she thought.  The fact that he had stopped the ceremony was troubling; does it mean that he still has feelings for me?  The idea was hard to swallow, considering how long it had been since the demise of their relationship.  He'd given her no signs that he still felt anything, not that she'd noticed, anyway.  As for herself, she had meant it when she'd told Monica that she was fine with him getting married, that she was moving on.  She still felt the odd twinge of affection towards him, but nothing like she'd felt a year before; she certainly wasn't in love with him any longer. 

When she had gotten the invitation to the wedding, Rachel had done some serious soul-searching.  For several days, she had asked herself how she would feel watching Ross and Emily exchange wedding vows: Would it be too uncomfortable?  Would she feel jealousy?  Would she spend the entire trip being miserable, thinking about what might have been?  Ultimately, she had decided that the answer to all of those questions was no.  Then, and only then, did she accept the invitation.  She never would have come if she thought there was any chance that she still harbored feelings for Ross.  It would have been way too hard, and she knew her limits at hiding her feelings; everyone would have seen through her.  She would not have risked spoiling Ross' wedding with her own emotional hang-ups.

Pushing her concerns about Ross' feelings to the back off her mind, she zipped up her bag and wandered into the bathroom to collect her toiletries.

As she dried off each of the bottles, she puzzled over Chandler's oddly distant behavior, wondering why he was so obviously angry with her.  Everything had been fine before the wedding, which meant that the only possible explanation was that he was upset about Ross' verbal error.  She found it strange that he would be mad at her about that.  But if he isn't mad, then why wouldn't he look at me before?  Unless…. 

Rachel groaned.  It was all suddenly very clear.  *He* thinks I'm still in love with Ross!

She hurried into the bedroom, dropped the last of her toiletries into the side pocket of her suitcase and jammed her feet into her tennis shoes.  Grabbing her purse, she flung the door open and darted across the hall.  Trying not to be too obvious, she feigned nonchalance and rapped on the door.  She heard movement inside, and a moment later, a pajama-clad Joey appeared.  "Hey, Rach…what's up?"

"Hey…ah…whatcha…whatcha doin', Joe?"

He looked confused.  "Just watchin' a little television."

"With Chandler?"

Joey opened the door wider, motioning for her to come inside.  "No, Chandler's not here.  He finished packing and said he was going out for a little while."  He scratched his head.  "He seems weird tonight, I don't know what's up with him."

Rachel's heart sank.  So I wasn't imagining it.  Out loud, she said, "Do you know where he might have gone?"

Joey shook his head.  "I was in the shower, he stuck his head in and told me he was leaving.  I guess that was…fifteen, twenty minutes ago?"  His forehead wrinkled.  "He might have gone downstairs to smoke.  Maybe I'll go down there and check…."

"Oh, no, it's OK, Joey, I'll go.  I was just about to go down there anyway.  For ah, for something to eat.  I just thought I would check and see if you guys wanted anything before I went…but I just remembered, you already ate!  I'm an idiot!"  She backed towards the door.  "So I guess I'll see you in the morning?  Bright and early?"

Joey yawned.  "Sure thing, Rach.  See ya."

Rachel barely heard him.  In less than three minutes, she had changed into jeans and a t-shirt and was pressing the "down" button beside the elevator.  It seemed to take forever to arrive, and the ride down seemed even longer.  Hurriedly, she made her way across the lobby to the small hotel bar and pushed open the double doors.  Please be here, please be here, please be - she stopped short.  His back was turned to her, and a large cloud of smoke surrounded him, but it was definitely Chandler. 

She took a deep breath and approached him from behind.  "Hey, Smoky…"

He turned immediately, clearly surprised.  For a brief moment she saw something akin to relief in his eyes, but just as quickly, it disappeared.  "Hello."  He turned back to his drink, lit another cigarette.

She tossed her bag onto the bar and leaned against the stool beside him.  "Do you, ah, do you mind if I sit down?"

He shook his head, avoiding her gaze.  "Be my guest."

She swallowed hard, hoisted herself up onto the stool.  The bartender looked questioningly in her direction.  "Can I get you anything, miss?"

"Just an ice water, thanks."  She drummed her fingers on the bar top and waited for the drink, buying time, wondering what to say.  Chandler seemed determined to make her speak first.

The bartender delivered her water, eyeing the two of them curiously, sensing the tension.  She sipped the drink nervously as he walked away, unsure how to begin.  "So.  Earlier…that was crazy, huh?"

Chandler sneered.  "That's an understatement."

She smiled wanly.  "Yeah.  It is." 

He puffed on his cigarette.  "I thought you were going to bed."

Rachel exhaled shakily.  "I was.  But then I started wondering why you were upset with me.  It took me a while, but…"  She paused.  "Listen, Chandler.  I don't have any feelings for Ross."

He grunted, clearly unconvinced.  "Right."

"I'm serious, Chandler.  I wouldn't have come to London if I wasn't positive about that."  She toyed with the strap on her purse, twisting it around and around her index finger.  "I wouldn't have…kissed you, last night.  I swear."

He spun his head to gape at her.  "So you're telling me, that even after everything that's happened between you both, with the two of you going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth; after you debated for an entire extra week before you bought your ticket for the flight over here; after all the 'We were on a break!!', 'No, we weren't!' stuff, that if Ross came to you, right here, right now, and said he loved you more than life itself, that you wouldn't consider taking him back for even a second?  Am I supposed to believe that?  That there are absolutely no feelings left there?  After the way you ran out of the hall today?  Come on, Rachel.  I'm not an idiot."

She frowned.  "Well, from where I'm sittin', you sure as hell look like one!"

He stubbed his cigarette out violently, glaring at her.  "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!?"

"Chandler – last night, last night was…it was amazing.  And we didn't even do anything.  I haven't felt anything that intense sincemaybe ever!  And you think, what, that I was using you?  That I was faking it??!  I can't believe you would think that about me!!"  She stopped, suddenly afraid, and stared down into her glass.  "Unless…unless it didn't really mean anything to you."

Chandler sat ramrod straight, staring directly ahead.  "My feelings aren't the issue here."

Rachel slammed her glass down.  "Then please, tell me, what is the issue here?  Because I really don't understand!  Chandler, the last thing I was thinking about today, when I was wandering around this city, lost and alone and humiliated, was whether or not I'm still in love with Ross!  And if you can't take my word that I'm not, then that's your fucking problem!  If you don't trust me on this now, then you never will!"  Rachel threw her purse over her shoulder and slid off of the barstool.  "I'm going up to my room.  That's where I'll be, if you decide that you want to talk about this like two civilized adults.  Otherwise, I'll see you in the morning."  Seething, Rachel turned on one heel and strode from the bar. 

Chandler hesitated for only a moment before following suit.

***

A/N:  You know the drill.  I'm waiting!!