The night screeched back, vengeance gripped in its fateful hand.

Every little detail haunted him, drifting throughout the confines of his mind. The thing about repressed memories; they're supposed to stay locked up and never found again, unable to reached by anything other than the Grim Reaper's scythe. Unfortunately, fate would not be so kind to Ross, or to Rachel, for that matter.

Anything - absolutely anything - that dared to remind them of that night brought them into tears; Rachel more than Ross, but when they had heard the full story of the mugger's death - how he held his own son, Ben - hostage in his apartment, and how he pulled the trigger on himself while his son watched, they didn't want to believe it.

Ross didn't. At all. Rachel did.

While he sat in shock, she cried at the very thought.

But, it was true. No matter how hard he tried, Ross couldn't shake the image: Ben, Ross's Ben, being in a situation like that, watching his father blow his brains out, while at the same time having high-powered assault rifles pointed at him by pseudo-soldiers. It was only right for that bastard to have a son named Ben, too; it would go perfectly well with the rest of Ross's suffering.

Then, came Rachel. She wasn't particularly happy or sad that, as Phoebe would put it, 'justice has been done'. Death was not welcome to her world, be it justified or not. Her brain riddled with the fact that an innocent child was not only an orphan, but now a traumatized orphan.

No child deserved that.

Not only could she not shake the image of Ross's son having blood spattered on him like that, but she pictured herself - as his mother, and Ross's wife - hearing about this, seeing it replay over and over in the dark theater of her own mind. It needed to be a dream, ever-so-badly, but it could not.

So, she cried, hoping it would be forgotten in those moments.

Meanwhile, Ross's eyes began focusing, slowly bringing him back to reality. Although he was still quite astray, he managed to turn his head, and register that his beloved was on the floor, crying, tears flowing down her 'borrowed' medical gown. It was painful. He literally hated every single salty tear that trickled from her beautiful, glistening eyes. As he tried forming words, the will of love managed to say what he could not.

"G-Give her to me."

With that, Joey and Phoebe motioned Rachel's weeping body over to Ross, where he took her into his lap, cradling her like a small child. Despite his immense shock and awe, and the fact that he could still barely realize why she was crying, he quietly whispered into her ear the things that would calm the most raging bull.

"It's okay, Rach. Don't cry."

"I don't get it... This is a good thing! That son-of-a-bitch got what he deserved!" Joey intruded, his voice stern.

Ross and Phoebe instantly shot him a dirty look, promptly discouraging any more remarks. The circumstances didn't matter anymore; the only thing that did was calming Rachel down, as, like for many years now, she was his first priority. He rubbed her back, telling her it will be okay. Soon, she quieted her sobs, regaining much needed composure.

Softly, with grace, Ross told the rest of the story to Joey and Phoebe, giving Rachel a tight squeeze, reassuring her that everything will be okay. Despite being more than skeptical, the touch of the man she loved managed to keep her feeling safe and secure; something she needed for a long time, being the one to give others the same. As they finally began to understand the reason behind her crying, the two of them looked at each other, finding solace in the now peaceful room. Reflecting on the events of the past two weeks, they knew what was important.

A death - any death - is a tragedy.

Especially when a child's innocence is lost in the process. They couldn't help but think that this child would grow up, wondering where his parents were, or why they didn't love him enough to stay. Although, it's not like he had much of a life; according to the police, Ben's mother drank heavily, until she passed away from alcohol poisoning. That was when his father resorted to robbing people. At first, it was for money for food, but it soon became nothing more than sport.

And Ross just happened to be his next victim.

But in this tragic turn of events, the six of them found each other.

Together, they sat on the couch, and it felt like they were in their own little world, an island, surrounded by the waters that rolled the waves of hope. In the darkest light, they persevered. It took the ringing of Phoebe's cell phone to remind them why they were here in the first place.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Pheebs!"

"Wha- Chandler?" The voice on the other end was unmistakable; it was Chandler. Not the gloomy, disillusioned Chandler they were hating at the moment, but the cheerful, happy-go-lucky one that they had grown to love over the years.

Quickly, she darted her eyes between Ross, Joey, and Rachel, who's warm face turned to shock. The three of them looked back, just as surprised, and began listening intently on their conversation, hell-bent on figuring out why Chandler would call them out of the blue.

"What's up?"

"Well, uh, Joey and I, are, um, visiting Ross. What's up with you?"

"Just uh, playin' cards."

"With?" They didn't dare mention Monica's name yet; it was still hard to wrap their heads around why Chandler was acting like this. Deciding to take the easy road, Phoebe tried to discreetly find out more, making sure that the other three in the room could hear every word.

"Myself, why?"

"Umm, no reason." She shot an unsure look to the three of them, wondering what to do. Confused, they looked back at each other, and figured that someone else should try to talk to him. Joey hesitantly volunteered by reaching out towards her, so Phoebe handed the phone over to him, cautiously.

"Hey, man."

"Joe!" Chandler yelled over the other end, his voice seeming to echo throughout the room, piercing the thick membrane of silence that lingered around the three of them. Joey almost swore Ross and Rachel could hear his uncomfortably high and squeaky voice, even though they really couldn't.

"Uh, how're ya feeling?" It was a hard question to ask, and it was smart to fear the consequences. Regardless, Chandler answered his friend, filled with glee, apparently.

"Great! I had a headache, so I took some mini Alka-Seltzer and now I'm feeling good." He slurred his words somewhat, implying that he was drunk. Again. But that was not the worst part; the worst part was that Alka-Seltzer only came in one size.

"...How many did you take?" Joey's voice became grave, shocking the rest of the group, as he was not one to take such a tone until it was absolutely necessary; something that he had picked up from Chandler. It was how they knew how serious the situation was.

"Two, like it says on the bottle."

"Okay, dude, those are painkillers from when I dislocated my shoulder!" Like a spark, he immediately knew what Chandler had done.

"I wish someone woulda told me that, 'cause I'm starting to get dizzy." His speech became harder to recognize, until Joey decided that the best thing he could do for his friend was go home and help him. Immediately. Without a further thought, he said what needed to be said.

"Alright, look, just go lay down, alright? I'm comin' home."

There was no answer from Chandler's end, so Joey decided to hang up. He handed the phone back to Phoebe, who had a dazed look on her face, wondering what was really going on, even though she had just heard it from Joey's lips. Like usual, nothing made sense to her.

A world of madness.

"You comin', Pheebs?"

"Um, I think I'll stay." She nudged her head toward Ross and Rachel. They both noticed her, but she didn't care, as Phoebe always got her point across.

"Oh, yeah, right! Sorry." Joey slapped his forehead out of his own dim wit, before holding out his hand for Phoebe to give the keys to her cab to. As he recovered, he put his coat back on and headed out of the door, waving to his friends, of whom were lucky they didn't have to do this.

"See you guys!"

"Bye, Joey."

"Okay, that's exactly why we came here in the first place. We need your help to get Monica and Chandler together." Phoebe leaned in towards her lobsters before pointing back towards Joey. Originally, this was going to be the first thing she'd bring up when they came in, but were sidetracked by the breaking news of Ross's mugger.

"Come on, Pheebs. They're gonna get past this. They just need time."

"Yeah, okay Ross, but who knows how long that's gonna take? Joey and I can't stand this anymore!" It was true. They were near their breaking points, and although they didn't have to do anything to help Monica and Chandler, they did it because it was the right thing to do. They needed help.

They needed the lobsters.

To make more lobsters.

Well, it made sense to Phoebe.

"Well, we can!"

"That's because you and Ross are here most of the time! You're not back home trying to force small-talk with -" She shook her head angrily, trying to form audible yet sensible words; something that had troubled her for such a long time. She blurted out the first things that crossed her mind. "Gloomy Gus and Mopey Maria!"

Ross and Rachel gave each other confused looks, but realized that Phoebe was nothing short of absolutely correct. It was always her and Joey on the front lines, constantly trying to cheer Monica and Chandler up, whether it be separately or as a team. It had to have been the most exhausting thing they've ever done, and they would be more than happy if Ross and Rachel traded places with them.

Maybe, they could.

But for much different reasons.

"A-Alright, Pheebs, alright. Calm down. Sorry." Ross reached his hand out to her, to which she grabbed it, feeling the bond of friendship becoming stronger and stronger with each passing second. Reluctantly, she relinquished her anger for productiveness instead.

"Good. Now, let's figure something out."

So, for the rest of the day, they laid down what Phoebe referred to as 'the grand scheme'. According to her, it would involve stealth, diamonds, and nuclear submarines. After forceful persuasion from her lobsters, however, she toned down her usual mannerisms and started a new plan; one that would simply bring Monica and Chandler together, instead of making the six of them rich and living on a paradise island while the United States Government charges them with high treason. While Phoebe declared it boring, Ross and Rachel stated it necessary if they wanted their friends to be happy.

They did. Badly.

Joey silently opened the door to his apartment, and, like the night that Monica was hospitalized, it was dark, despite it being midday. Only the golden rays of sunlight seeping their ways through the blinds shone, striping the back wall of Chandler's room. It was quiet, like usual, but there was something in the air that made everything feel tingly. It was like smoke, but not as strong. Choosing to ignore it, Joey slipped off his shoes, and, after tripping over the foosball table, turned the lights on and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. As he popped the bottle cap off, the scent of hops quickly made him forget his stress, but not his mission. Steadily, he walked toward his best friends room, and pushed the already cracked door open.

In it, he saw Chandler, arms under his pillow and head turned toward the window, sleeping like a baby. Relief then washed over him like a tsunami, and he smiled, praising whomever granted comfort to his brother.

Things were okay, for now.

Silently, Joey tiptoed over to Chandler's bed, where he sat on the edge, facing away from his sleeping friend. Quietly, to himself, he began thinking - more than he ever thought before. About life, about love, and about his friends; the most important thing in the world to him. They were all moving on in life, while he sat here, playing peacemaker, all the while without someone to show him what love really was.

It didn't matter with whom he had that experience with; he just wanted it with someone.

Good things come to those who wait.

He remembered Ross telling him that a long time ago; but he didn't listen. Joey Tribbiani was a man of action; patience was virtually all but lost to him. He was never one to think before saying or doing something; he just did it and dealt with the consequences later, as his history with women would tell him time and time again.

He set his beer down onto the floor, quietly snickering at his own fortune. Many men would kill to be in his shoes, being able to sleep with so many women and not have any ounce of commitment in his strong, macho blood, but they had no idea the loneliness that was brought along with it. A taste of love would blind him; kill him, even, but it would be worth it.

Unless he changed himself, Joey would never feel the difference between having sex and making love.

What better time than on his roommate's bed?

He smiled once more, and lifted his leg over his knee, taking another sip of Guinness. He had to be what he wanted to be; happy. While having woman after woman at his bedside almost every morning was satisfying, there was always a void left open by the fact that neither of them wanted anything to do with each other at that point.

Joey could make it happen with a bar girl, supposedly.

But it wouldn't be right.

Putting his hand to his chin, he wondered what his dream girl would be like; smart, pretty, kind, a great kisser, and independent, most importantly. She'd never, ever depend on Joey for anything other than sex and laughter.

Is it too much to ask for a woman like that?

Ross and Rachel.
Chandler and Monica.
Joey and...

Phoebe?

Wait, what?

Instantly, Joey shook his head, in disbelief that his closest friend would ever become a romantic interest. They were close, closer than most couples, but to think of her in that way almost made him sick. She was more of a sister to him than his own sisters were. It was crazy. It was foolish.

It was the truth.

But, he blew it off, blaming the beer, despite having consumed so little that it would not even bring an ant to buzz.

Hurriedly, in disbelief, he left Chandler's room, and quickly went to lie down in his own bed, hoping to drift off into sleep to forget his inappropriate revelation. Yet, all he could think about was Phoebe. How beautiful she was, how she was the epitome of everything he just thought he wanted, and the fact that he was now developing feelings for a woman of whom's sister slept with Joey only two years prior; this led to him imagining her naked.

Shutting his eyes, he tortured himself with images of her flowing, golden locks.