AN: I hope you all like symbolism of the highest caliber I can provide.

Please, enjoy.

The four of them sat there, now as couples. The moonlight bounced off their skin, illuminating them like the Northern Lights. Their gazes moved from one to the other, and the heat stood by for when they shifted their positions in the slightest. It was hard not to forget any of them were there. So desperately did they want to talk about today; the day that brought new love to them all. But no words could come out; they were much too enamored with each other. It was like a Roman orgy, they were so close together.

Ross held her in his arms. She sat on him like a pedestal, her legs drooping over his side as if she were on the back of a horse, side-straddle. They smiled as one, and he pecked her cheek with a subtle passion that would only befit a queen. His hand lay faintly upon her hip, and his thumb circled around so daintily that Rachel could feel it, but just barely.

It was enough.

It was enough to show the ultimate love that Ross and Rachel shared.

They didn't need to say anything. Their eyes spoke for them, accompanied by the throes of silent ardor. It was a beautiful thing, to watch them stare at each other, clutching their hands as if holding on for dear life. Like a child, begging for his mother. So subtle, yet so apparent. So deliberate, but so natural at the same time.

A painting would not do them justice. A mural, maybe.

The true color of love was not pink or red; but blue. A cold and forsaken heart longs for warmth, and knows the true value of it. It is grateful. It does not question, therefore it is innocent. It does not reject, as it is faithful. A wandering flame catches it unfettered, and nurtures it back to health, bringing life back to the dead, and company to the abandoned.

Monica now gave that to Chandler.

Just as Rachel gave that to Ross.

None of them bothered with trying to unblur the line between fantasy and reality. It was too much to bear, risking the loss of the one you loved due to petty insecurities. Over wine and dinner, did this only make sense. Monica slowly brought the glass to her lips, and looked around the room. It was so peaceful at night, knowing that you weren't surrounded by skyscrapers. She could see why Ross loved it here, and why Rachel wanted to be here every second of every day.

Monica wanted to be here too; but only if Chandler came as well.

For so long, she had been jealous of Rachel, just as she'd been jealous of Ross. All the boys would flock to her, like pigeons to crumbs of bread. It was sickening, almost. The only reason that didn't happen to her was because she was overweight. However, the fact that Rachel was head cheerleader may have been a small factor in that as well. She'd come to Monica every time she had boy troubles; and every time, Monica would seethe at how she couldn't do the same.

It all changed, eventually.

All Monica had to do was hear Chandler call her fat.

Once Rachel moved in, things began to get easier. She became less spoiled and selfish, although this was only by a small amount. When Ross's feelings for her were revealed, Monica urged her to take them. When Rachel reciprocated, Monica was even happier. When they first got together, Monica was genuinely happy. Now, she was at the peak of that, and for herself by once. Nothing could bring her down now.

She had Chandler. She had Ross. She had Ross's soon to be wife, or at least she hoped.

Ross, on the other hand, had no time to reminisce about days gone by. The present and future were all that mattered. Everyone was happy now; everyone had exactly what they needed. The tragedies of before were irrelevant, and so were the results. It was the time of champions and heroes; it was the time of love. They didn't seek anything anymore, as they already had it; it was sitting right next to them, or on them, in his case.

It was almost midnight when Chandler and Monica decided it was time to go. They were rightfully tired, having been awake and in love, stronger than ever, for over eighteen hours. It was like watching two teenagers walk home from school. After giving a reassuring nod to Ross, Chandler took his beloved into a cab and left for the apartment, leaving the Lobsters alone together again.

"I could stay this way forever." Rachel whispered, her voice with its usual honey-like softness. Her cinnamon hair bounced off of her black wool sweater, and the stars in the sky only complimented the view for Ross.

"Me too." Ross held onto her tightly, his hand gently tugging on her beige skirt. He still could not believe that he was doing this with Rachel Green. It was literally a dream come true, along with his sentiment. Staying with her, forever, suspended in a plane of static motion would not be bad at all. He looked at her with adoration, and planted another sweet and saccharine kiss before speaking again to break the lovely calm.

"Y'know, I'm almost glad that night happened."

"What? Why?"

"It showed me a part of myself that loved you more than I loved my own life. It made me think about everything we've been through together, and how I needed to cherish it before it was too late... I don't know. It's hard to explain after that. Just know that I love you, okay?" For anyone else, it would have been impossible to say that. But this was Ross. His heart spoke for him, and the words were love, compacted and vocal. It was all real, and was all for Rachel.

"Ross..." Her body trembled at his words.

"And now, Chandler is with Monica. I'm so glad everything worked out. They're gonna be so happy." He trailed off, as to not freak her out by saying too much, too fast. However, Rachel was feeling the complete opposite.

"They will. I know they will." She did know. If things could work out well for them, it could work out perfectly with others. They were so perfect for each other, it was crazy. The six of them could see it; Joey and Phoebe even more so, having been wondrous confidantes.

"Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you stay with me?" It was a daunting question, and, when it came down to it, Ross wasn't even sure why he asked it in the first place. While the prospect seemed genuine, the suspicion was brought on by Rachel regardless.

"What kind of question is that? I love you."

"Do you really? I mean, there's not much to love." Ross tried to seem modest, and, for a second, it worked. Usually, when he was with Carol, she'd never do anything remotely close to this. It would hurt Ross; that was the only way he'd feel better about himself.

"Of course there is."

"Like?"

"Like how sweet you are." Rachel chose the most mundane; she decided that if he was fishing for compliments, she'd start at the bottom and work her way up. Ross deserved that much, and she was more than willing to raise his self-esteem, if only for a minute.

"What else?"

"How you loved me enough to fight for me until the very end." A big step up, but nothing less than the truth, at least. Ross did fight for her. He never wanted to let go, almost as much as she did. It was unbearable how they left things; and now, Rachel didn't even want to think about it.

"Anything else?"

"How you - Wait. You just want me to say nice things about you!" She chose to call him on it. It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate with the wine flowing through her veins; she wanted more of his kisses and touching and less of his talking.

"No, no, that's not true. I'm actually curious."

"Well, there are so many things, Ross. It'd take days to list them all." Like usual, it was half and half. Half of truth, and half of deception. Rachel couldn't list them all, as she couldn't even tell what time it was. All she wanted to do to was kiss him; she did just that.

"Okay. So what's the most important one?" Ross really had to know, even though he was pushing the envelope. He loved Rachel, and didn't ask much of her; or, as much as most men ask of their girlfriends. It was a question, although she began to take offense.

"I already told you."

"Well, I am a sack full 'o sugar." He shook his head as he said this, trying to brag to keep his calm. Alluding to the first compliment Rachel had given him, he wanted to come off as modest again, although Rachel saw right through it as she kissed him again. He couldn't help but relent for her.

"Uh, no, not that one."

"I said I'd die for you, Rach. I meant it."

He truly did. After their break up, Ross could not have cared less of whether he lived or died. Even as he stared into the barrel of death, his last thought was of her, and how much he loved her. He let go, just for a second, as the bullet pierced his body, effectively destroying him. He was more than ready to die at that point, having lost everything only half an hour earlier. Again, he thought of a quote he had read somewhere, but he couldn't remember exactly where.

A man who has lost everything is capable of anything.

Ross was prepared for anything. He didn't realize it until he saw his life flash before him. He accepted his own death, and watched it reel over as he stepped out of his body when the paramedics arrived, hoisting him away like a cadaver. If he had died, it would have been for Rachel, his final words being a well-thought out apology. Ross believed in her then, just as he did now.

"Besides, this'll be a great story to tell."

"What do you mean?"

"Hey, I took a bullet and lived. I'll be the toughest hombre in the museum." Again, his machismo fired up like a solar flare. Whether it was the alcohol or the compliments, or both, it didn't matter. It worked. He was feeling better about himself, and he could say that with a smile and a kick in his step, if he could step.

"Okay, but you know the second Chandler walks in there that's all gonna change, right?" Joey had told Rachel all about it; and now, whenever Rachel needed a favor, Chandler was putty in her hands. It wasn't very moral, but then again, was anything truly right?

"Oh, please. He's got nothing on me. Neither does Joey. Well, Joey maybe." Ross didn't need Joey breathing down his back at that. Despite him not being as close to Ross as Chandler, he thought of him as his best friend, who would do anything for him. Ross didn't want to betray that.

"It doesn't matter, anyway. I love you no matter how tough you are." Rachel buried herself into his cold neck, giving it life once more. She loved him just the way he was; all of his faults were never permanent, as they turned into positives in so many different circumstances.

"See? That's why I don't deserve you."

"Oh, of course you do. Stop it." Rachel believed that she was the one who didn't deserve Ross; something she thought from the very beginning of their relationship. He was always so sweet and thoughtful, while she didn't feel like she was contributing at all.

"If you say so, Rach."

A long silence. However, it was easily remedied as Rachel began chomping on Ross's lips like a hungry piranha. It was blatant that she wanted him, as he wanted her. Ross had always enjoyed making out under the stars; it was such a turn on to do such naughty things where God himself could not see. When the sun rose, even, they would go at it like dogs. It was one of the many perks of being in love, they claimed.

"Would you uh, like to go to the bedroom?"

"Sure."

Rachel stood up while Ross finished off his glass, and as she rounded the arm of the couch, she almost tripped on her own boots, to which both of them nearly fell over laughing. Rachel soon made her way to the corner of the room, and began looking through a pile of what can only be described as 'crap'.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting your crutches." Rachel fished them out of the pile, but dropped one as she stood up. There was really no easy way to grip these things. While Ross insisted that he either use a chair or just walk, the hospital would have none of it. So, they issued him crutches.

Joey thought they were weapons.

"Don't."

"What?"

"Just go wait in there. I'll walk in, by my own." Ross had absolutely no idea as to why he said that like a robot; again, there was the alcohol, but it had to be more than that. Something up above compelled him to test his limits again, despite the current circumstances. While he was somewhat brave now, this bordered on insanity.

"No, Ross, come on-"

"Please? Do it for me?" Begging didn't help him at all. He was actually about to attempt walking again, this time inebriated. However, like most things still, it did not make sense. And it was not as if he had much to lose, anyway.

"That's stupid, Ross."

"Trust me. I'll be fine."

"Oh yeah? How do you know?" Rachel was worried for him, although not as much as she would be if she were sober. She knew that she would probably attempt the same thing if she were in his hospital-issue socks.

"Hey. I survived being shot."

After rolling her eyes, Rachel relented and stormed into the bedroom, her gaze fixed on Ross, ready to help him when he failed at his foolish stunt. She didn't know why he had to prove himself like this. Maybe, it was just a guy thing. Maybe, he wanted show off for her. Either way, he was going to do it, because Ross would never listen to something that would demean him or his pride.

However, that's what Rachel loved about him. He had such passion.

Now, he had to formulate that passion into leg strength. He had to prove that he could surpass his limits. Also, he wanted to gain a little confidence before having sex with Rachel. What better way than to use all of your remaining energy to walk ten feet? It wasn't the smartest decision, nor would anyone actually gain from it. But, it was all Ross had. He loved Rachel. He loved her more than anything. Not a single lie was told that night; he would die, if it meant she would live. He would cry, if it meant he could wipe her tears away.

Also, he was fairly drunk.

So, with all of his diminished strength, he lifted himself up. It was easier than he thought it would be. His balance was kept by some unknown force, and he gained footing within seconds. It wasn't scary because he was in pain; it was scary because he couldn't feel anything. The blood rushing to his head made him cry inside. It was so forceful, more than it should ever be. There was no headache, nothing to mask the river of blood that came with such a simple task like standing up.

He took a step toward the bedroom, using the couch for support. Ross obviously bit off more than he could chew, and he was willing to compensate. Rachel watched from beyond the door, a look of hope glazed across her face. Her hand gripped the metal handle, ready to help her beloved at a moment's notice. The sight of him struggling brought tears to her eyes, but of what, she did not know. He had his reasons, and Rachel knew that the only person he cared about being hurt was her.

Another step. This time, he rounded the corner of the couch. However, it was less about stepping and more about swinging his leg around. It was a challenge, as the pain was beginning to kick in. He cringed a bit as the stinging sensation shot up from his foot to his hip. The feeling was almost mutual with Rachel. The look on Ross's face was indescribable. It was pure masochism. He frowned at the pain, but smiled for whom it was for. He slowly looked up, ready to fall to his knees in agony, but as he caught the angel of his heart in the doorway, his mortal body held out.

That was when it became hard, instead of impossible.

Rachel smiled at him, and he became immediately flustered, which he hated. He didn't need blood in his cheeks; he needed them in his legs, desperately. To negate this, there was only one thing and one thing only to think about: Chandler. Chandler kissing his sister.

That flushed it down with extreme prejudice.

Another toilsome step. Almost there. He looked towards his feet, it felt like he was looking at the bottom of a canyon. The alcohol and darkness only hindered it, as he was reminded of that dream he had; the feathers, the ice, and Rachel, who saved him from death. All of that came back with a vengeance, striking the very center of his soul. As much as he wanted to forget everything, he could not. Too many regrets came, and he was ready to fall again. All he needed was one thing, but he was unsure if it would be enough.

Rachel.

Thinking about her brought a waterfall of emotions down, both good and bad. He didn't need to think about the first time they made love or how they ate food off of each other. It was too cute. He needed to focus. Not on her, this time. The hardest trial of his life might be enough. After all, walking wasn't so much of a challenge compared to so many other things.

Holding back tears, Ross took one more step. There was nothing to support him this time. His legs were like stone being rocked by an earthquake; a gruesome sight for Rachel. She debated on whether just opening the door and ending it, but she was sure Ross would appreciate that much less than falling to the ground, having at least kept some of his pride.

After all, no one had any right to ask him to do more than his best.

It wasn't until he took his final step did he recover; a light shining in the darkness awaited him beyond the glass door. Ross knew that if he could triumph this, he could do anything. It wasn't worth it to think that walking was easy; it wasn't, anymore. Not for him. He knew that his problems were his own; he had reserved rights to complain.

Plus, he was about to get laid.

He reached his hand out, and gripped the smooth aluminum handle. It was cold, almost freezing. However, that would change if his palm kept sweating. In an almost futile attempt to keep his balance, Ross sluggishly pulled the door open, making sure that Rachel didn't move - at all. As his feet began to pick up, he nearly fell into her, exhausted.

Not too exhausted, however.

"Honey, I am so proud of you!" She kissed him multiple times, happy that he was able to overcome his greatest obstacle. It was surreal, almost, that such a thing could be accomplished in his current state. But it was never the time for disbelief. It was the time for celebration.

"Thanks."

"It's okay, I gotcha." As he caught his breath, Rachel planted him on the foot of the bed. His breathing was slow and wheezy, and Rachel did not even want to think about how much pain he was in. All that mattered was that he was okay and that he surpassed his limits.

"I-I love you."

"I love you too. You're so brave."

"...I did it for you." Ross whispered to himself more than her, as it seemed that she didn't even hear him; he was not going to repeat himself, as she already knew for whom he did it for anyway. Rachel wasn't stupid, although she was a bit of a ditz.

"Come on. Lay down."

As he rested his head on the pillow, Rachel stood by, almost like a nurse awaiting a command. After a minute of fluffing his pillow, she leaned down. Ross could smell her perfume, and it was the scent of the gods. Seductively, she whispered back to him.

"Do you still want to, uh, y'know, have sex?"

"Yeah. Although a bullet sounds p-re-tty good right now too, I hope you know."

"Oh, shut it. Come on."

They kissed once more. It was beautiful. Each kiss they shared was better than the last, and it was a credible asset to the affirmation of their love. Now, they were not the only ones to experience this. Monica and Chandler had finally found each other, just as Ross and Rachel had done a year earlier. The pain and sorrow of the last fortnight have gone to the wind in droves of hated dust; it was now time to move on, and move on they shall.

Nothing will stopping them. There will no longer be tears to wipe from the cheeks of the forgotten. The innocence of many will be protected by the few, once more. It is time for healing, for laughing, and for loving. Only in the darkest times is the heart tested to its limits.

And, if the love locked within is strong enough, it shall prevail.

Even when the last shred of hope is lost, the dusk shall always fall before the dawn. Ross and Rachel could prove this, with something so minuscule as a kiss; the complexity of love is rendered to nothing under them.

Now, it could fall by a different sword.