Chapter 2: Doomsday

"Emma, do you even know it's your birthday today? You're 1! One year old! That's little!"

Chandler's comment had less sarcasm than he was usually known for, and in truth, he wasn't really mocking his niece. Actually, he was really mocking her parents, who had been running around like tree shrews all day trying to find the perfect birthday cake.

Perhaps that wasn't fair. Every birthday was important. It all came down to how much emotion you put into it, particularly as you grew older. Chandler recalled how turning 30 had been a milestone for all of his friends – even if that reality had been depressing for some (namely Joey and Rachel). Why shouldn't a child's first birthday get any less attention? Certainly, more joy could be found in turning one than in turning 30.

These thoughts nearly prevented Chandler from catching what happened next, as Emma suddenly pointed at one of her stuffed toys that Monica had enthusiastically shown her how to organize. Chandler was pretty sure organization and spatial awareness weren't drop-dead developmental prerequisites for a one-year-old, but he'd let his wife have her fun.

If anything, a more crucial developmental prerequisite showed proof of existence now, as Emma opened her mouth and babbled something close to unintelligible. Or maybe she really had said her first word! Or maybe Chandler was just hearing what he wanted to. In any case, he now gawked with pride. "That's my girl!"

Monica beamed from where she was holding Emma against her. "That's how old you are…." she cooed.

"Did I teach her that? Did I just…. impart wisdom?" Chandler seemed stunned and quite pleased with himself.

Monica chuckled, though the sound turned into a small whine as she pouted her lips, longingly hugging Emma close. "…. I want one."

Chandler beamed, and though there was still a twinge of sadness to it, this had been more tempered of late by a kind of acceptance. "Me too."

…. Years ago, Chandler could remember a time when his wife had been nearly mad with jealousy whenever she saw someone with a baby. He had promised her then, in his own awkward way, that he would give her a baby, even though neither he nor Monica had viewed it as a promise at the time.

Well, now they had fallen in love and married, and Chandler was determined to keep that promise that, at the time, he hadn't even realized he had been making.

Even if that couldn't happen in the way they had envisioned. That painful truth was all the more bitter as he watched his wife playing with their niece now. Sexy didn't even begin to describe how Monica looked with Emma.

Chandler hoped she would be just as beautiful with their own baby….. even if that baby never came out of her.

They couldn't have children naturally. It was a dream they had mourned together, before dusting themselves off and considering their options. Surrogacy had been dismissed out of hand. Sperm donation had been briefly considered, but also cast aside. That left only one path to parenthood: adoption.

Unless, of course…..

"…. There's no one around. We could take this one."

Monica chuckled again.

"Why not?" Chandler grinned, keeping the bit going. "We are her godparents."

Monica smiled and shook her head. "Chandler…."

"All right, all right…." He glanced at her. "We're in a good place about it, though, right? Adoption?"

She nodded. "Yeah…."

The tranquil moment was interrupted by Phoebe, and then Joey dashing in, the latter out of breath.

"If Ross and Rachel ask, I've been here the whole time."

"Where are they anyway?" Phoebe inquired, setting down her purse as she kneeled on the floor to play with Emma.

"Getting this little princess's cake," Monica explained.

Chandler glanced at his watch. "At this rate, we should start charging billable hours. How long does it take to get a da…. Darn….." He amended himself in the nick of time at his wife's pointed look. "…. Birthday cake?"

"Maybe there's traffic," Joey offered up.

Chandler snorted. "How much traffic could there be in the middle of April?"

"The Knicks are playing tonight."

Chandler stared at Joey. "Joey, I'm pretty sure The Knicks are not why it's taken Ross and Rachel four hours to get a birthday cake!"

"Wow, that must be some pretty bad traffic…" Phoebe mused. She ignored how everyone looked at her.

"Should we call them?" Monica asked. Her mobile was across the hall, though she was reluctant to let Emma out of her arms. She started to pass the baby off to Phoebe.

Joey read her intentions and moved towards his answering machine. "Don't bother, Mon. I got it!" Monica immediately snatched Emma back, ignoring Phoebe's pout.

Picking up the phone from its cradle, Joey dialed Ross. There was a long beat before he began punching in more numbers and held the phone back up to his ear, presumably to call Rachel.

"Hey, Rache…." Everyone jerked in anticipation, but then Joey's tone shifted, making it clear he was leaving a voicemail. "…. It's us…. Just wanted to know how you guys are doing…. Pheebs says traffic is pretty bad – must be The Knicks game…."

Chandler gawked, wildly gesticulating with his hands as he mouthed, 'That was YOU!'

Joey ignored him. "Call us when you get this. Emma's fine – we'll stay with her all night if we have to…." (Monica threw up her hands). "…. Just don't let that cake melt. OK. Love you. Bye-bye."

Chandler pursed his lips in a thin, sarcastic grin. "Way to be subtle, Joe."

Monica worried her bottom lip. "I know! Let's play a game!"

The idea was more to take everybody's mind off their worry (and to take Joey's mind off of cake). Chandler couldn't really follow the game, especially since the ruthless competitor in his wife kept changing all the rules in the middle of play.

The hours ticked by. Emma eventually fell asleep in her aunt's lap. Not long after, Monica stretched out on the floor and drifted off herself, with Emma balanced on her chest.

Sometime close to midnight, Joey's mobile rang in its cradle. Chandler had to kick him awake. The struggling actor barely picked up before the last ring.

"Hello…..?" Whatever was said on the other end of the line made Joey snap to attention. "This is he….. Yes, I'm his Emergency Contact….."

Chandler frowned warily. He worriedly shared a look with Phoebe, who seemed barely able to keep her eyes open. "Come on," he nudged her, and the pair struggled achingly to their feet, gathering around Joey.

The expressions that now flickered across Joey's face seemed to happen in slow motion. "…. I understand, Officer….. Yes, they have a daughter together; his sister and brother-in-law have been babysitting…. Hold on one moment:" He held the phone away from his ear. "Do you have Jack and Judy's contact info.?"

"Ye-yeah…." Chandler stuttered. What on earth was going on? "It's, uh…. Mon has it… in her Rolodex…." He ran to fetch it. By the time he returned, Monica was awake, hovering near their friends anxiously and with Emma still dozing in her arms.

"…. We'll be down there straightaway…. Thank you, Officer. Thank you for your time." Joey hung up the phone. He looked pale and tired. Worse still, he appeared more scared than Chandler had ever seen him.

Monica laid a gentle hand – the one not balancing Emma – on their friend's arm. "…. What is it?"

Joey gulped. "….. There's been an accident." Monica drew her free hand to her mouth to hold in a gasp.

"Are they all….?"

Phoebe didn't even finish her question before Joey was shaking his head, tears streaming down his face. "They're…. They're gone….."

The world seemed to tilt off its axis. Chandler felt untethered. It hadn't happened. It could not have happened.

But it had.

Monica let out a wail that was still somehow quiet, almost like it was a physical manifestation of how she was caught between wanting to express her grief while also not frighten the baby. She nevertheless dropped to her knees and began keening, Emma swaddled against her chest. Chandler threw himself down at her side and gathered his wife in his arms, babbling out something that his own ears weren't registering. He could feel his lips moving, but he couldn't process whatever sound was coming out of his mouth, his ears were ringing so.

Above them, Joey had dropped his head into his palm and was weeping bitterly, over the loss of his best friend, as well as the girlfriend whom he had just started to date. Phoebe was standing there in a daze, looking lost.

"….. anyone have a way to reach the Greens?" Chandler's hearing finally came back sharply, his wife's tear-laced voice echoing, despite how quiet she sounded.

"I have," Phoebe nodded dully. "Dr. Green's a client at the corporate parlor where I work."

"Massage Professional?"

"That's right."

Chandler helped his wife to her feet. Phoebe was already on the phone, speaking to Dr. Leonard Green quietly.

"…. The police will try to get a hold of you…. No, sir, they didn't say exactly what happened, just that there was an accident…."

Chandler turned to Joey, his mind in a fog.

"Joey – you told the officer something about how we'd be there straightaway…."

"Huh? Oh – oh…. yeah…. They've been taken to the hospital. There's… there's a morgue there…. Have to perform an autopsy, I guess…."

Leaning against her husband, Monica was rapidly muttering something on the edge of her voice, in a language Chandler didn't recognize. It sounded as though it might have been Yiddish. He stole an arm around her, cringing at how his limb felt like lead.

"Let's go…."

The group filed out of Apartment 19, shell-shocked at how their world had been, with no warning, turned so cruelly upside down.

Chandler seemed to be the only adult who was in any kind of state to drive to the hospital. He had to wait a bit at the curb with the engine of Grandma Buffay's cab running while Phoebe and Joey crossed Bedford Street and somehow broke into Ross's apartment.

"We couldn't find an extra booster seat…" Joey panted when the pair returned. "They must have had their only one in the car with them….."

Chandler nodded. He drove at a modest speed, that speed landing somewhere between Bat-out-of-Hell and Baby-in-the-Backseat. Monica and Phoebe took turns passing Emma back and forth between them, holding the little girl on their laps.

The entire drive, no one spoke to each other. What was there to say? The only conversation occurred between Phoebe on the phone with the Gellers, when Ross's parents called her in a panic, having been notified by Dr. Green.

Chandler piloted the cab into the parking garage as carefully as he dared, yet they all still managed to get whiplash when the parking break engaged. Well – it couldn't be any worse than the emotional whiplash he was feeling right now.

The four friends with a baby hustled into the lobby, Phoebe approaching the front desk and asking after Ross Geller and Rachel Green. Sitting dazedly in chairs, Monica bounced Emma on her lap, leaning against her husband.

"What are we…. are we going to….?"

"Ssssh…." Chandler soothed her, though the same question was on his mind. "Maybe…. maybe the officer had it wrong. Maybe there's still a chance that at least one or both of them…." He couldn't finish.

In the interim, Jack and Judy arrived, followed by Leonard and Sandra Green. Jill was in tow, weeping quietly. Chandler scanned the new arrivals from a slight distance away, watching Joey greet them.

"No sign of Amy…." He muttered with interest.

Monica wrestled against the flash of hatred she had for that woman. "Maybe…. maybe she hasn't been told. Or she has, and she's on her way."

Chandler shrugged. "Maybe. She'd better the hell get here, sometime today….."

Jill finally drifted over to talk with the Bings. However reluctantly, Monica generously let Rachel's baby sister take a turn with Emma.

Scanning the waiting room, Chandler noticed Phoebe hugging someone she clearly knew. As she and the gentleman approached, he recognized:

"….. Gary…..? What are you doing here….?"

"My partner called in the accident. We witnessed the crash. Tractor trailer T-boned them just short of the George Washington Bridge." Gary ran a hand over his face. "When I recognized Rachel, I wanted to notify next of kin myself, but…." His eyes blinked with tears. "I – I couldn't…."

Chandler nodded sympathetically. He had often heard that notifying next of kin at a death was the job no cop really wanted.

Softly murmuring his condolences, Gary now presented the group of friends with what appeared to be a slightly smushed cake box. Joey accepted the ruined birthday cake, looking morose.

Chandler wasn't sure whether it was his grief making an appearance, but he suddenly and fiercely snapped at Joey, feeling the need to remind him:

"If you so much as swipe even a little icing off the top, I will personally kill you!" He himself was left shaken by how it wasn't an idle threat. Joey's eyes widened with fear. Monica turned to her husband, shocked by and reproachful at his abrupt surge of anger.

A nurse finally approached the dazed group, her eyes kind and full of empathy. "…. Would you like to visit with the deceased?"

Chandler felt like he was being branded in the chest with a hot poker when he heard that word – deceased. He and Monica glanced at each other, speaking with no words. He would not go forward with this without her, but he would also only go if she wanted to.

In the end, everyone agreed to go back to the hospital morgue except Jill, who volunteered to stay behind with the baby. The group filed back to a room with rows of cabinets piled high on either side. Two of these cabinets were pulled back, with such abruptness that no one was given ample time to prepare for the sight that awaited them.

Ross and Rachel seemed so lifeless already – grotesquely so. Pale and cold.

Behind Chandler, there was the sound of retching as someone threw up. It sounded like Jack. It was only a moment or two before Joey fled the room in tears, unable to stand the sight any longer.

As for Monica, she looped an arm around her husband's neck, turned her face into his neck, and wept.

Rainy. Gray. Overcast. Gloomy. All were apt words to describe the pallor of the day that Ross Geller and Rachel Green were laid to rest.

Even though the deceased had not been romantically involved with each other at the time, they did leave behind a child together. Jack and Judy thus generously offered to have Rachel be buried beside their son, the father of their grandchild, where the Gellers had a family plot in upstate New York. They made this decision with Joey, who seemed a little uncomfortable at being involved in the discussion. Though he had been Rachel's significant other at the time of her death, the struggling actor knew it was only right that she be buried beside Ross.

"Someday, Em will…. will want to visit them. It's best that they are together," had been how Joey explained it.

Chandler sat through the funeral in a fog of blind grief. Between confronting his own emotions, comforting his almost inconsolable wife and looking after their niece (who had been living with them since the car accident), it was difficult for him to focus. Later, he would struggle vainly to try and remember even the smallest detail from the service. His mind only started to clear on the drive back into the city.

He was careful to avoid the George Washington Bridge.

Back on Bedford Street, Chandler dropped the girls off at the apartment, while he went to return the rental car. When he arrived back at Apartment 20, he found the place darkened. His beloved Monica, her profile in silhouette, was standing over Emma's crib, holding her close and with her head bowed. From the movement of her shoulders, she was crying hard and bitterly.

Chandler crossed the room in two strides and gathered his wife in his arms, softly rubbing her back. Though in danger of being smushed between them, Emma made not a sound beyond the occasional oof or whimper.

"I…. I feel like I cheated!" Monica sobbed.

"Cheated? Where's this coming from?" Chandler glanced down at her. Monica peered up into his face, her eyes bloodshot. She sniffled.

"I got my wish….. My wish for a child…." She glanced down at a dozing Emma. "But I never wanted to get it this way…!" She broke down in bitter tears, close to dry heaving.

Chandler clutched her against him, rocking her, even as his own tears dripped from his face and into her dark hair.

None of them slept that night.