"He's awake?" Rachel pushed her hands against her chest in hope, ready to see Ross in his recovered state. Despite it being midnight, this news invigorated her aching body. After Monica was admitted into the hospital, she implored her to check on Ross.

"Yeah. Come on in." Chandler led the trio in, still eager to help his friend in his time of need.

So the gang came in, sans Monica. However, that was not Ross's priority at the moment; he needed to see Rachel. See her, he did. She looked like she had just seen a corpse, or, perhaps even worse, a ghost, considering those aren't even real. Her cinnamon hair was clumped together and her mascara had been running profusely. Yet, she was still as beautiful as ever. Her eyes carried bags with them, like an omen of some sort. This brought great uneasiness to the Ross, and it appears that everyone knew what was going on other than him. Rachel walked over to him, who grabbed her hand this time. Their eyes locked in a furious onslaught of passion, not unlike Paris and Helen thousands of years before. Pulling his hand up to her cheek, which was colder than Fimbulvetr, he placed his thumb on her lip, motioning for a kiss. As the world slowed down, their lips locked in hot fury, which almost made them swoon; it felt even better than it did before. There were no words; only love. That was all that was needed. The universe was built for them at that moment; their kiss was not known to even the gods. Their hearts, that had been previously brimming with negative energy, as Phoebe would put it, were now rupturing with ecstasy. While their bodies heated up in the moment, out of the corner of his eye Ross noticed Chandler running out of the room at full speed, followed close by Joey. His thirst for knowledge was only matched by his ability to see right through people. Pulling back from Rachel, a look of concern washes over him. She noticed this, and nodded back to Phoebe, knowing the time has come.

Sighing deeply, her thumbs made small circles on Ross's hand. "Monica… hurt herself…" Rachel swallowed thickly, and looked at Ross, who was now shedding tears left and right. Taking her finger to wipe them away, he stuttered in pain.

"W-Why?" It was a soft whisper, coupled with a broken heart. Ross still had trouble doing anything, but it was better than nothing, especially after a seizure.

"I-I don't know, honey…" Rachel hugged his brittle build and pecked him on the corner of his mouth, ready to console her beloved. The group was falling apart, and now it was Rachel's job to be the glue that held them together, now that Monica was out of commission.

Ross could not speak after hearing this; he simply fell back towards the upright bed, closing his eyes, hoping the pain would go away. Why would Monica do such a thing? Was it because of Chandler? It had to be… But what did he do? The suffering was unbearable. To know that his sister was hurt, it killed him in an indescribable way. He couldn't cry anymore, either; the woe had formed a barrier in his eyes, stopping the tears, letting them crush him from the inside. As he lied in the throes of empathy for Monica's torture, he felt the familiar fingers comb through his hair. They were so soft, like cotton flowing in the spring breeze. Ross opened his eyes to her radiant face. To see those hazel beauties stare into his very soul; it was exhilarating, to say the least. Once Rachel had kissed him again, all those happy memories from their relationship came rushing back. To know that they would experience more and more as time went on, he was happy for the first time in ages. As Phoebe came over to better witness the piety between her lobsters, she saw the complete understanding and vivacity between them. It was unlike anything she had ever seen; and she had watched her own arm get blown off in two wars. They were in complete harmony with each other. Other than the bad feeling that Rachel was hiding something from Ross, they were the happiest she had ever seen them.

As they pulled from their amorous smooch, Ross dug into the drawer on his nightstand, pulling out several pieces of paper, each with a large rough sketch on them. Handing them to Rachel, her expression turned from rhapsody to astonishment. Ross was never an artist, but it was easy to tell what he had drawn. The very top paper: A man holding a woman from behind, arms wrapped around her neck, head rested on her supple virgin shoulder. They had emptiness instead of a face, but it took no time to figure out who they represented. The claws of the darkness reached for them from behind, yet could not lay a corrupt hand upon the couple.

It was obvious; this was Rachel's dream from last night. The frozen mirror that halted them in their journey, and their reflection within. The feathers that filled up the void beneath them. Finally, those wings. The wings that kept them from falling into darkness, and gave them strength to continue on their quest. To keep their spirit afloat long enough to let her walk into the light of Arcadia. To set her free, just like he was. Ross was her angel. Her guardian. To bring her to salvation.

Dropping the illustrations that were drawn by fate, Rachel collapsed on Ross, who was blissfully ignorant of the situation. It didn't matter. He was happy to be back, and in her arms. The road to full recovery was long, but with her, it would fly by.

Smiling, Rachel whispered gently into his ear. "I love you, Ross."

Struggling with the pain, Ross gingerly hummed back. "I love you more, Rachel."

AN: I know, this is mostly Lobster fluff. However, they are the main point of this story, and Ross is getting better for real this time!
As for Monica... keep reading.

Also, Paris and Helen is a reference of Paris, Prince of Troy and Helen of Sparta.
According to legend, Paris abducted Helen to appease Aphrodite; their love began the Trojan War.