Ross suffered beyond belief. He heard Rachel confess it all. He heard the cries of his friends. He needed to scream desperately, but couldn't. He wanted to open his eyes to Rachel's perfect face, but couldn't. He was trapped, a prisoner in his own body. Caged inside his mind, unable to move a single muscle. He couldn't even squeeze her hand.

Immediately he was reminded of one of his favorite novels, Johnny Got His Gun. A poor soldier who's doomed to only think for the rest of his life, a prisoner in the worst prison of all, his own mind. In the exact same situation, Ross could hardly believe it. Would he ever wake up?

Ross was conscious. But he couldn't even show a single sign to his friends that he was alright. Well, not exactly alright, but he was there, all of him. They were suffering too, and he would give everything for it to stop. Darkness was all that was present to him. He could feel the oxygen flow through him from the machines, but this was only a distraction. Did he deserve this pain? How long has it been since the accident? Does it really even matter? That man, the man who shot him, who was he? Was this just a random act of violence? So many questions, never enough answers.

Barely feeling Rachel's touch, the thing he needed more than anything, Ross was happy. He loved Rachel. Rachel loved him. Her voice was the finest ambrosia. Each word flowed through his mind and if he could smile, it would be the biggest grin. If and when he woke up, he would hold her in his arms and never let go. She was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. Rachel Green. Rachel Geller. Both sounded perfect. Ross loved her with everything he had.

He could never forgive himself, however. He cut a deep wound in her when he slept with Chloe. He couldn't believe it himself. How could she still love him? This seemed like a suitable punishment for his mistake, he thought. But to hear her scream, cry, shout for him to wake up, it was a dream come true. To have her love, his heart could stop beating at that moment, and he would be happy.

Of course, he wouldn't let that happen.

He had to fight this. He tried remembering his relationship with her. All those feelings from high school, that kiss in the Laundromat, their real first kiss at Central Perk, the list he made to choose between her and Julie, and that kiss after the prom video. Ingrained in his mind, he tried so hard to wake up. He knew she was right in front of him. Rachel, he attempted to speak, Rachel, Rachel, Rachel, he said to himself, over and over. Was he even awake? Or was he asleep? He couldn't tell. Maybe he was dreaming. But he had to try.

Lying there in his hospital bed, Ross screamed Rachel's name in his head, hoping it could carry into voice. He would beg even more forgiveness for what happened with Chloe, even though she told him it didn't matter anymore. He would write her poems every day, devote himself to her. Ask her to marry him. They belonged together.

Ross tried everything, attempting to move, trying to speak, but he heard no feedback from his friends. Were they even in the room anymore? How much time had passed since Rachel told him that she still loved him? Actually, how much time had passed since he was shot?

It had to have been the next day. Ross thought more to himself of him and Rachel. The first time they made love in the planetarium, meeting her father and trying so desperately to gain his favor. Meeting with Mark, and sending her dozens of roses and boxes of chocolate to her office. That fire he caused at her desk on their anniversary. That moment they he left her apartment when she told him that they should take a break. His heart sank at that moment. The next memories for him would not be so pleasant, but he figured he needed to be strong. Drinking with Chloe, dancing with her, kissing her, sleeping with her. Breaking up with her. He couldn't help but laugh inside his head at how foolish he was. If only he hadn't taken Rachel for granted. Now look where he was.

Ross wished for a rewind button. As far as he knew, he could never open his eyes ever again, or feel the soft caress of Rachel's cheek.

As Ross's mind drifted, a specific scene entered his mind. A bridge in a park, most likely Central Park, with bright yellow and orange leaves falling into the water. There stands himself on the bridge, dressed in a tuxedo. His thumbs rub the hands of his beloved. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a french braid, and mounted on top was a veil which swung down and gently hovered beyond her face. A white gown hugged her body, though not as much as Ross hugged her. He leaned to kiss her, and as their lips met, an explosion of passion and happiness surrounded them. Ross had nearly died from the pure beauty of this perfect image. It was art. Him and Rachel, married, celebrating their eternal love.

As Chandler would say: Could it BE any cuter?

Ross needed to make that dream a reality.

When he tried to speak, no words came out. When he tensed and clenched, nothing happened. Fight for her, he thought. She's an angel. Now you must be one for her. She needs you. She loves you. You can do this, Ross. This voice who talked to him, it couldn't be Rachel. But he chose to trust it. He had to. What else could he do but fight for her love.

Again, he tried to shout her name.

Rachel, Rachel, Rachel Green, can you hear me? I'm afraid and scared, but the thought of you gives me hope.

Hope.

Rachel, Rachel, like waking from a nightmare. Rachel, Rachel, I need you.

Rachel, be my lover, be my wife.

Her name burned itself hotter into his mind.

Rachel, Rachel, Rachel!

"Rachel."