A/N:  Wow.  I was just reading through my original outline, and man alive have I veered off track.  This story was only supposed to run for a *total* of 8 chapters, with the possibility for an Epilogue. 

Damn.

At any rate, the story should move a little faster from here on out.  Thanks for sticking with me for so long.

Chapter 12:

Options

"Rachel Green?"

Rachel looked up from the stack of crisply starched dress shirts over which she was daydreaming to find a gangly teenage boy standing in the doorway.  "Yes?"

"These are for you."  Only when he offered them to her did Rachel notice the large bouquet of creamy lilies and deep purple irises. 

"Oh!" She blushed, pleased.  "Thank you, ah…here."  She grabbed her purse from her small, untidy desk and rummaged through it until she located her wallet.  Smiling, she pulled out several ones for the tip and gratefully accepted the flowers.  The delivery boy thanked her and disappeared down the hallway as she buried her nose in the blossoms and inhaled the fragrant scent of springtime with delight.  Tucked away amidst the sprays of Queen Anne's Lace was a small card.  Giggling to herself, Rachel placed the arrangement on the corner of the desk and slid her thumbnail under the flap on the envelope.  The tiny card was plain white, with unfamiliar handwriting scrawled across that said simply, "Dude." 

Rachel blushed again, this time all the way to her toes, as, for easily the thousandth time in the past seven hours, memories of the previous evening came flooding back to her.  She glanced at the clock and sighed heavily.  Seventy-eight minutes.  Resigned, she slipped the card into her pants pocket and turned back to her task, Chandler's candlelit face swimming through her mind. 

***

You have two new messages…First message: Today – 3:45 p.m.  Rachel absentmindedly sorted the mail as her mother's sing-songy voice bounced into the apartment.  "Hi, Rach, it's your mo-om.  I'm going to be in the city tomorrow; I was hoping we could meet for lunch.  Call meeee!  Ciaaao!"  Rachel's eyes rolled skyward.  Second message: Today – 5:37 p.m.  Her hands froze as she recognized Ross' baritone crackling out of the machine. 

"Hey, Rachel.  Um, I guess you aren't home from work yet.  I'll, ah, I'll call back later."  The machine beeped, signaling the end of the message, and Rachel dropped into one of the kitchen chairs.  She realized belatedly that she had squeezed the monthly electric bill into a crumpled paper bowtie.  Why would Ross be calling me now?  What could he possibly have to say that couldn't wait until he gets back?

There was, she knew, only one explanation.

Shit.

***

"What do you think?  Rach?" 

Rachel glanced up from the fingernail she was demolishing to find Phoebe's expectant gaze on her.  "Sounds great!"  Even to her own ears, her voice sounded falsely cheerful.

Phoebe's expression was amused.  "Wow…that's really not the reaction I was expecting."

Rachel frowned.  "I'm sorry, Pheebs…I wasn't – I wasn't exactly listening."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed."

Rachel sighed heavily.  "I'm sorry, really.  I've just got a lot on my mind."  She cleared her throat, refocused her attention.  "What were you saying?"

"Well, I asked you if you thought it was possible that I'm actually carrying three baby sea lions around inside me." 

Rachel flushed, mumbling another apology.

"What's up with you, anyway?"  Phoebe settled back against the chair cushions, propping her feet on the coffee table.  "You haven't been yourself all night."

Rachel sighed again, pulling her feet onto the couch and tucking them underneath her.  She laced her fingers through the handle of her ceramic mug and inhaled the thick citrus aroma of her Earl Grey tea.  "Can you keep a secret?"

Phoebe scoffed, rolling her eyes in disbelief.  "Can I!?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Yeah-huh!"

Rachel leveled her gaze at her friend.  "Chandler and I…we've been…well – "

Phoebe giggled.  "Is that all?  God, I already knew about that."

Rachel's eyebrows skyrocketed.  "How?!"

The blonde tilted her head, an expression of supreme patience painted across her face.  "Please.  I'd have to be an idiot to not have noticed."

Rachel was aghast.  "But – but you've only seen us together once since it all started!"

"I know!!"  She crossed her arms across her chest.  "Look, Rach, I knew about it that morning I called your hotel room, when you were so preoccupied with Monica and Joey."

"But I didn't even know about it then!  Hell - there was no 'it' then!"

Phoebe merely smiled in response.

Flustered, Rachel shoved her hair back away from her face, squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head a bit to clear it.  "Anyway.  So, we weren't going to do anything about it, you know, until Ross gets back from Greece, and then, well, then Mon called last night and left a message.  She said Ross was still in love with Emily.  So…"

Phoebe's eyes danced.  "So…?"

"So.  Ahem.  We…well, you know.  And – "

"How was it?"

"Phoebe!!!"

"What?!  You said you had a lot on your mind, and now you're telling me that you just slept with a guy we've both known for years – what?  You didn't expect me to be curious?!"  Her brow wrinkled knowingly.  "Was it not very good?"

"No!  I mean, yes, it was good!  I mean – damn it, Phoebe, that's not the point!"

Phoebe sighed, exasperated.  "Well then, what the hell is the point?  Jeez, Rachel, if you don't hurry up and get to it, you're going to be telling me this story in the presence of three full-grown sea lions!"

Rachel stared into her cup, unsure about how quite to continue.  "Well, the thing is, I think…I think whatever it is that I'm feeling for Chandler…I think it's serious.  Or it could be serious.  It's…it's more than just, you know, sex.  I think – I think…I think I could really fall hard for him."

"Soooo…what's the problem?"

Without answering, Rachel reached over and pressed 'play' on the machine.  You have one saved message.  "Hey, Rachel.  Um, I guess you aren't home from work yet.  I'll, ah, I'll call back later."

Somber, Phoebe settled her head against the pillow-back of the chair.  "Oh."

Rachel eyed her rippling reflection in the mirror of her tea.  "Yeah.  'Oh.'"

***

Chandler swung open the door to apartment 19, whistling the theme song to Gilligan's Island as he tossed his jacket across the foosball table.  "Joey?"  Dropping his keys onto the table by the door, he reached into the refrigerator and helped himself to a Red Stripe, wrenched the cap off of the bottle and pitched it into the garbage can with a dramatic basketball maneuver.  Joey wandered out of his bedroom tentatively as Chandler was imitating a roaring crowd, and settled the cordless phone onto the cradle.  Easing himself down onto one of the cushiony green stools at the counter, he surveyed Chandler with an apparent anxiety that made Chandler's stomach tighten involuntarily.  "What?"

Joey rested his elbows on the counter and eyed his roommate nervously.  "I just talked to Monica."

Chandler seemed to catch on, resting his beer bottle on the counter and narrowing his eyes in concentration.  "Is everything okay with you guys?"

Joey's face brightened ever so slightly.  "Yeah, I think so.  We talked about it a little bit; I apologized, she apologized.  Although I guess neither of us really have anything to apologize about.  Anyway, it's cool now."

Chandler clapped his friend's shoulder in congratulations.  "All right, man!  I know that's a relief for you."

Joey nodded, his face sliding back into its original melancholy.  "Yeah, it is."

Chandler took a draught of his beer.  "So…why the long face?"

Joey was the picture of discomfort.  "Well, ah…she told me something that I…well, I don't think she would normally have told me, since she and I don't really make a habit of telling each other stuff, but I guess she was trying so hard to make me see that everything was all right between us, that, well, she did tell me – not that that really matters, it's just that – "

"Joe.  What's going on?"  Chandler's nervousness was increasing.

Joey toyed absently with an abandoned bread tie, wrapping it around and around his index finger, then straightening it out and starting over again.  "It's Ross."

Chandler felt his heart flutter momentarily in his chest.  "What about Ross?"

Joey's fingers stilled as his liquid brown eyes raised hesitantly to meet his roommate's.  "He decided that this whole Rachel thing is a sign."

A muscle twitched involuntarily in Chandler's jaw.  "A sign."

Joey nodded silently.

"A sign of what?"

Joey's dark head lowered, his eyes dropping back to examine the discarded tie, now coiled tightly as a snake ready to strike.  "He talked to Emily.  They decided to…take some time.  To…explore other options."

His beer forgotten, along with his good mood, Chandler stepped away from Joey, his mind reeling.  "Other options."

Joey looked up again, his brow furrowed.  "I'm sorry, dude."

Chandler stumbled back towards the door, fumbling for his keys.

Joey pushed the stool back and hurried to his feet, concerned.  "Where you going, man?"

"Out," Chandler bit. 

Before Joey could protest, he was gone.

***

"What are you gonna do?"  Phoebe's voice was laced with concern.

Rachel plunked her coffee mug onto the table and flung herself back against the sofa.  "I don't know!  What am I supposed to do, break everything to Ross over the fucking telephone?!"

"Rachel!  Language!  Sea lions!?"  Phoebe wrapped her arms around her protruding belly protectively.

Rachel shoved herself to her feet and began pacing the living room.  "I can't do it, I can't just tell him this stuff over the phone!  He'll flip out!"

"So just put him off – tell him you really need to talk to him when he gets back here."

"I can't do that either!"

Phoebe's eyes widened.  "Well, why not?!?"

"Because, Phoebe!  What is your first reaction when someone tells you they 'need to talk'?"

"Well, I – "

"You worry – immediately – you worry," Rachel answered her own question.  "You think the worst, and then you worry yourself sick.  You can't concentrate on anything else until you find out what it is that needs to be talked about."

"But – "

"But, nothing.  Ross is on his honeymoon – well, he's on vacation, anyway – and he's not coming back here for like, six more days!  I don't want to be the one responsible for ruining his entire vacation!"

Phoebe didn't even bother trying to reply.

"And besides, you know how Ross is.  He won't leave things alone.  He'll call and call and call until finally I break down and tell him – and God knows, he reacted badly enough when he found out that I had a date with Mark – can you imagine how he'll react when he finds out that I slept with his best friend!?"

"But Rachel – four days ago, Ross was getting married!"

Rachel's pacing stopped in front of the big picture window.  "Phoebe, seriously.  When has that kind of thing ever mattered in Ross' eyes?"

"Well, it's time someone changed that.  What's he going to do to you, anyway?  He's on the other side of the planet!"

Rachel stared up into the darkening sky.  "It's not me I'm worried about."

***

Chandler thrust his hands into his pants pocket, wishing he'd thought to bring a jacket.  Nighttime was approaching rapidly, and despite the relative warmth of the day, the early May evening felt dank and chilly.  He jammed yet another cigarette between his lips and fumbled for his matches.  After pausing to strike the match, he applied flame to tobacco and resumed his brisk pace.  He had no idea how long he'd been walking, but he knew that he wasn't at all ready to turn back toward home.  He felt infused with energy, so strong was the force of his anger.  Damn you, Ross!

He pushed past a small cluster of patchouli-scented kids, nearly tripping over an enormous Labrador trailing along at the end of a knotted hemp leash.  Stepping around the animal, he turned into a small park and located an empty bench, onto which he immediately hurled himself, puffing out his fury in great acerbic, smoky bursts.

What bothered him the most was the injustice, Ross' unbelievable selfishness.  He had his chance, Chandler thought vehemently.  Hell – he had *a million* chances – and he let her go!  What gives him the fucking right, after all this time – !!  He thrust himself back against the wooden seat, filling his lungs with the acrid smoke, holding it there until he thought he would explode, then pushing it out in long, angry sighs.  Before his first cigarette was finished, he was fishing in his pocket for the pack.  After lighting the new stick with the tip of the old, he dropped the butt to the cobblestone walkway and crushed it under the toe of his loafer.

A new, less volatile voice was creeping its way into his subconscious.  Who are you really angry at?  Ross?  Or yourself?  Chandler hurriedly quelled the thought almost before it was even complete.

He had his chance, goddammit.

***

Rachel spun as the door to the apartment opened, stifling her disappointment when Joey's face appeared in the opening.  "Hey, guys," he greeted them, closing the door behind himself.  "Have you seen Chandler?" 

Rachel turned back to the window.

Phoebe's calm voice was a sharp contrast to the palpable tension in the room.  "No, isn't he with you?"

Joey faltered.  "No – he was, but he…he went out a while ago.  I thought maybe he'd ended up here."

Rachel stepped back from her vantage point and dragged herself into the kitchen.  She wrenched open the door to the refrigerator just as the telephone rang.  She snapped back to attention, meaning to let the answering machine pick up, but Joey's hand was already on the receiver.  "Joey – no!!"

"Hello?"  His expression was perplexed.  "Oh, hey, man!  How are you?"  He paused.  "Yeah, she's right – " Too late, realization dawned across his face.  " – here."  Mouthing a soundless 'Sorry' to a wide-eyed Rachel, he cautiously extended the telephone in her direction. 

Her face the very picture of panic, Rachel angrily snatched the receiver from his grip and took a deep breath before pressing it – harder than necessary – against her cheek. 

"Hello?"

***