Author's Note:

I know I must be getting annoying with these every chapter but I like to talk too much to cut them out. I'm so sorry for the long wait on the chapter upload! It's been a rough draft for a long time because I wanted to do it in a good way. I don't want anything to be rushed or too forced.

Please enjoy and thank you so much for staying tuned for those of you that have.

In all of his years away from the Bing's, he'd forgotten the magic that Monica could produce with a spoon and a pan. There was a jar of jam sitting next to his fork and plate, something that he found himself inevitably drawn to. Homemade food had made his nap come ten times easier than with something that he could've found in his refrigerator. (Thank god, he didn't try to use Chandler as a cushion for his napping. It would've been history not only repeating itself but more awkward the second friend around.)

And after eating at Monica's, his food in the fridge seemed more dull as he settled into his chair and took yet another nap. Some part of his brain, that was alive while he slept, wondered how he had made it all this time without them or his other friends with him. It was like they were all becoming laced together again. And maybe the pattern would continue, maybe by running into some of them, or maybe picking up the phone to call.

After a week, he started his new job. And out of all the places he had seen himself, Joey had never seen it as a fashion designer's assistant. Sure, it was good money since he now lived in one of the fashion capitals of the world, but his dreams had never taken him here. But with this kind of paycheck, he wasn't complaining.

In the hustle and bustle of trying to make it to the back, he had to shove a lot of people, promising himself there was a meatball sub in the main eating area. That motivation alone had him knocking people over easily; by the time he reached the table, it seemed that a pack of hyenas had cleaned out the table from the food on it.

He heard a voice and turned to see his boss in front of him. "Help the girls get into their outfits, Jason," Pleet said, pointing to the models where were covered in makeup and glitter, half naked. Now he could get used to this kind of life.

"I-it's Joey, by the way," he tried to explain as she walked away.

After helping with outfit adjustments (which he couldn't have been more grateful for some of them), he found himself in a front row seat, next to his boss. He saw that there were millions of people, some designers and some assistants, just like himself. He knew there would be store representatives there, ready to write down what would sell the best.

The catwalk had been more dull than he'd expected, meaning he held a hand to his forehead and a notepad in his lap, a pen in his hand. He'd learned a few tricks to dozing off in public since he had to attend some of Ross' speeches. Following his napping, he went back stage to look at models, sampling at some of the food on the table in the middle. (There was a four food per plate limit so he picked up more food by not having a plate.)

"Joey?" a soft voice said, almost as if they were on the verge of tears. And that voice stopped Joey's heart; the kind of stop that sends one's guts down to their toes and back within the span of six seconds.

He turned around and looked to see Rachel, a hand over her mouth and her eyebrows raised in shock. She swallowed hard, as if trying to contain herself, but they both knew she wouldn't be able to manage it. She'd always been one to have a soft heart, which meant that even if she tried to contain the tears, they would still spill out before it was all over.

Before he could reply, or find something witty to say in response, she was already in his arms, her own wrapped around his torso tightly with her face buried into his neck. He could hear the soft sobbing, his hands moving to rub her back in comfort. He was, once again, reminded that he hadn't been there for her divorce. He knew he should pretend like he didn't know yet; if he'd thought about it before, he should've called her before he went to bed, just to see if she was doing okay.

"You're still here?" he asked quietly, pulling away to see her sapphire, blue eyes focused on him. She had the same fondness in them that he always remembered, the same tender smile when he hadn't understood things and he had been her roommate.

She nodded, her hands moving down to squeeze his firmly before detaching herself from him. "Ross wanted me to stay close enough to be able to see Emma whenever I wanted to."

Joey tilted his head, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion as Rachel motioned for him to follow her. They found a table away from the crowd, with two chairs, high off the ground and mimicking some art form he couldn't comprehend. "Emma went with Ross?"

"Well we're divorced now, so she went to live with him," she retorted. "We decided it was best. With all the work I've had these past few years and her interest towards dinosaurs more than fashion, she wanted to be with Ross more than me." That was when the tears actually fell and she wiped them away with an attempt to look unaffected by such a thing. "And Ross didn't want it to be like Ben with Carol and Susan. So it was best."

Joey reached his hand over the table, with genuine friendship, and took her hand, running his thumbs over her knuckles. She looked up to him, her lips trembling slightly. "I miss her. I know that I can't take her from Ross and that it's for the best, it's just hard." Her hand held on tighter to his and he knew what he had to say next. Even after all these years, he still felt that strong pang of jealousy towards one of his best friends, all over Rachel, but he knew that she needed to hear it.

"Have you ever thought that may be you two should try to work it out again? I mean, you have a family together." He felt his eyebrow raise, his chocolate, brown orbs focused on her. Like she was still the only one in the room.

She paused, her other hand moving over his, almost as if she were about to explain something to a child. "I was never able to talk to you about why Ross and I divorced. And we did still love each other, but we just decided that it was best to end it before we could get more hurt by each other." Rachel sighed, her lips pressing together in thought before she continued. "He was all I ever wanted. For all of the years apart, I thought of what we'd look like together, what it would feel like for his eyes to just be on me. But even after all that daydreaming, after we were married again, it still didn't feel the same way that I had set it out in my head.'

"And by the time I learned compromise was necessary, I had already spent so much time depending on you for whatever I needed to talk about instead of learning how to deal with it on my own." She gestured to him, giving a weak smile. "So when we stopped calling and I had a few months of dealing with just pure Ross, I realized that even though it felt like Christmas to be with him during the good times, I wanted what felt real. Christmas is nice but only for a season. And every time I tried to talk to Monica about it, it became this war of either, 'You're overreacting, Rachel' or 'Figure it out.''

"So we tried to make it work and I tried to keep us together. But you know how the story goes. We fight like cats and dogs, we got jealous at every glance in someone else's direction. Nothing changed from where we had last picked off. A relationship has to move on, evolve; two people have to grow and there was no growing for both of us in that relationship, Joey. No matter how much he understood evolution as a paleontologist, we were never able to understand it as a couple."

Joey finally understood that Chandler had been right; their patterns kept consistent and it had become "the cycle." He took a deep breath, looking about his surroundings for just a moment before an idea hit him. "Well I'm here now. You've got years to unload and I get off in about," he began, looking towards his watch for the time. His eyebrows were furrowed together; it had been a while since he'd had to tell time on a regular watch.

"It's 3:27, Joe," Rachel informed him, chuckling.

"Which means that I get off.. I get off at 5," he explained, rather than going through the embarrassment of his attempts to do the math. "And after 5, I think you should come over to the old apartment. You still get to spill as much food as you want."

From behind the blonde, he saw Pleet motioning for him to come help with the organization of outfits. "Meet me by the stage. We'll make a night of it," he promised, giving her hand one last squeeze before going back to a job he couldn't be more grateful for by the second. All he had to do now was make sure he didn't find himself in the same place he had been in when they were roommates.