AN: I didn't want to publish this without acknowledging the unfortunate early death of Matthew Perry. He was a gifted actor and comedian, and brought a life to this character that will be forever remembered. I only know him though his work, but I'm sure his friends and family will miss him dearly.

Life is precious, brief, and we are only guaranteed the present.

One of my favorite quotes: "Love doesn't die, people do, so when all that's left of me is love, give me away."

A trip to the doctor and a hard, but necessary, conversation, and the beginnings of Chandler's plan Rachel is sad but Chandler is hopeful. Love around the corner!

--

Rachel bounced her knees, sitting in the waiting room. Eventually she relaxed into stillness, cradling her head and sinking into the cheap polyester seat with the smell of hospital in her nostrils.

She, miss irresponsible, was going to have a baby.

It was like she'd been hit with magic. Suddenly her entire future was different, because there would be someone new in it. Someone she would love, and raise, and feed, and clothe. Probably. If Bloomingdale's had a toddler line.

She groaned, wishing things were different, that the father was sitting beside her.

She wasn't tough like Phoebe, or a perfectionist like Monica. She was fragile. Sheltered. She hadn't known how to do laundry until she was 25 for Christ's sake!

She missed him.

She sighed, staring at the cheap tiles between her designer boots. One strong gust of cleaning product up her nose cleared her sinuses at least.

A small piece of her pushed back at the thought that she couldn't do this. The same small voice that had guided her to a career. The same one that had spoken to her in Joanna's office when a Nameless Man had been handcuffed there, urging her into his arms, his lap.

She blinked at the realization that even if she failed, she wanted to try. She wanted this. A weight lifted at the admission.

As if sensing the train of her thoughts, a kind hand fell on her shoulder.

"Don't worry so much. We're going to see tiny Rachel Junior, how cool is that?" Monica asked, and Rachel couldn't help answering with a smile.

"Pretty cool. But Rachel junior is an awful nickname," she said.

She froze when the words left her mouth, worried Monica would offer the obvious other 'junior' nickname.

"Monica the second is available as well," she said simply, smiling and patting her hand. Rachel's shoulders unknotted with relief.

She sank back in her chair, resting one hand over her stomach, and taking Monica's hand with the other.

She didn't let herself think about anyone or anything outside of this room. She imagined herself, trying her best not to burn grilled cheese, a mysterious little creature on her hip. She could do this.

Maybe.

"Ms. Green?"

She sat up, squeezing the life out of Monica's hand until the brunette was gritting her teeth, and subtly trying to yank her hand back.

"Y-yes?"

"The doctor's ready for you."

When Rachel and Monica finally left the office, a galaxy of explosions were going off in her brain. She had one hand on her still-flat belly, and the other held a sonogram photo. Half of herself and a piece of him. She stood a little bewildered and a little lost on the sidewalk in front of the office.

"Phoebe's going to be pissed if we're too late," Monica said. The pair of them set off down the sidewalk, Rachel floating, detached from herself.

"Birds and bees do it, but… I didn't think I would. At least not unmarried."

Monica snorted, tugging her arm, and Rachel was on the sidewalk beside her again, firmly in her own skin. Happy to not be feeling so detached.

"What? Have sex?" teased Monica, and Rachel smirked at her friend.

"No~ Fly," she said breezily, and Monica laughed, another snort surprising it's way out of her. They were both laughing when they entered the sandwich shop and Phoebe looked up from a table.

"Finally!" She waved even though they'd clearly spotted her already, and they sat down at her table. "Tell me, tell me, how did it go?"

Rachel noticed Monica eyeing her while she nonchalantly sipped a water. Phoebe was much more obvious, tilted forward on her elbows, blue eyes sparkling with curious energy.

"It went… weird. But good weird," Rachel finally said.

"I knew it! Good-weird aura is all over you," Phoebe said with a grin, and Monica seemed to exhale in relief beside her.

It was true. Rachel was feeling better and better about the piece of 'him' and her, a piece of their love that was growing into a whole person.

"Here's the peanut." Rachel passed the sonogram over, and Phoebe studied it, frowning.

"Huh…" she mused. "I do see a strong resemblance to the father."

"Pheebs!" Rachel took the photo and slid it into her purse, where it poked out like a little reminder.

"I just want to know how you, my supposedly single friend, got pregnant!" Phoebe defended, crossing her arms over her chest and letting her blonde hair swing behind her shoulders.

"Yeah, how could it possibly have happened? We were just discussing the birds and the bees before we got here, and Rachel's waiting till marriage," Monica said, her tone innocent, a twinge sarcasm poking through.

Phoebe wiggled her eyebrows.

"Come on, who is he?" Phoebe added a "please" but Rachel shook her head firmly.

"I want to tell him first. You can't know before he does. And don't tell anyone."

Rachel ordered eggs Benedict for brunch, over Phoebe's protests, and prayed she'd be able to keep it down when it arrived.

It was after breakfast, when she parted ways with Monica in front of their apartment, that she saw him.

He was inside Central Perk, reading the paper, hair askew, circles under his eyes. He was oddly twitchy, and Rachel had the urge to cross the space between them and run her fingers through his hair. But that wasn't happening.

Her hand dipped protectively over her bag before a guilty pang twinged through her. That's when she felt his eyes. She didn't turn fully toward the glass, but she traced the path back to their usual spot.

He was staring right at her, paper, down, lips parted in an 'o' of surprise. His eyes seemed to pierce her when she met them, the aching blue setting her pulse racing in spite of herself. She clenched her hand into a fist around her purse strap, letting her nails dig into her palm. He was already standing and stumbling toward her.

Well...she was weak when it came to him. She took a deep breath, and quenched the fire in her belly at the sight of him. The wintery air blustered around her, filling her nose and worming its way between the seams of her coat. She pulled the garment tighter and waited.

The door to Central Perk opened with a thoughtlessly cheery jingle. She felt irrationally angry at the noise. Like her favorite coffee shop, her first place of employment, should have had the respect to doll out somber notes for her situation. Even if she'd hated working there, she'd certainly heard wails from Gunther after she'd left.

Or maybe she was just mad at herself, because her heart gave a cheery jingle as well.

She was focused on the noise to distract herself from the man in front of her. He was still so beautiful. He pushed open the glass door and sucked in a breath, turning pink at the cool air. He was in his long grey coat, tugging on a dark pair of gloves, blue eyes on her with rapt attention.

She saw the paper abandoned on the floor inside.

"Rachel," he whispered, soft, like a prayer, or like someone calling to a beloved wild animal, not wanting to scare it off.

She tightened her grip again, admitting it was a fair point because she wanted to sprint away right now.

The smell of him washed toward her on the next cold breeze, vaguely pine, something spicy, and coffee. His cheeks had immediately flushed with the cold, lips and cheeks pink, the blue of his eyes standing out brilliantly in the panes of the well-defined face she'd memorized, eyelashes like smoke rimmed around them. She was committing him to memory all over again.

For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to turn into that jacketed chest, grip those well-loved lapels, and inhale, feel him warm against her. But she didn't think he felt the same. The depth of her love scared her, in large part because she worried it was far deeper than his had ever been.

Her stomach flipped at the reminder of why they weren't together. This was why she'd had Monica enforce the in-person ban. She was lost when he was in front of her, her resolve swept away by his presence.

She did take a step back, hoping the space would clear some of his scent away and have the added benefit of slowing her heart.

"Chandler, hi," she said stiffly, forcing herself to meet his eyes. His name burned her throat.

"You look-"

"Stop right there," she cut him off, heart panging. His blue eyes flashed and he bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"Well. Are you doing alright?" Chandler tried again, blue eyes studying her, gloved hand clutching the air like he wanted to touch her arm.

Maybe because she could barely think with all the emotions swirling around her, Rachel laughed. She laughed and it tasted broken by the end.

She wanted to tell him, but God she couldn't watch him run. The secret hung in the air between them. Hormones swirled in her brain and gut making it hard to think and feel.

"Thank you… but please don't ask about me right now." She would tell him. Later.

"What do you mean? I still care about you…even as a friend I cared," he said, voice kind and crackly.

She closed her eyes, fighting back tears, and shook her head. "Of course. I just… I need time before I can have you in my life…platonically."

She trembled, feeling small, alone, and cold, and she closed her eyes to fight back tears.

Warm arms enveloped her, and she gasped, pressing her to a familiar chest, surrounding her with his distinctive smell she'd always found mouth watering.

Well, she didn't have to tell him now, but she couldn't stop herself from clinging desperately to him, an anchor in the chaos of her life. Long arms held her close, spice and pine invading her senses, slowing her heart. It reminded her of when he held her on the balcony, right after he saved her life from killer pizza. Her breathing stopped shaking and he relaxed his grip after a long minute.

She spun on her heel, blocking out whatever else he might have to say. Fighting hope in a futile effort to protect her heart. He'd looked so like himself, so beautiful.

All this brokenness inside her, even if he had told everyone that night, if she'd said yes when he offered desperately that Thanksgiving day, how would he feel now? Why hadn't he offered again? Her hand clutched tightly at her purse where the photo of the little bomb was tucked in soundly.

She forced herself not to care as the winter wind urged her onward, buffeting against her back, the memory of warm arms following after her.

~0~0~0~

Earlier that day…

"You look better in handcuffs," Rachel's voice was warm. He could tell she was smiling. Her arms hugged him from behind.

Chandler turned to look at her, but she was walking away. He saw a glimpse of the soft curve of her cheek when she turned her head.

"Chandler?" she asked, warmth in her voice.

He smiled, opening his mouth to call her, but no sound came out. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. She was getting further and further away.

"Ross!"

She took his best-friend's hand in hers, and Ross smiled. The smug bastard was facing him.

Why was he stuck looking at Ross? He'd been aching to see Rachel's face, her sky blue eyes, smokey with long lashes, her smile.

He blinked, and Rachel was walking away again, and Ross was blocking his view while wearing a giant red lobster costume. He reached for Chandler with a claw, suddenly giant, and he was helplessly crushed between the pinchers.

He tried to shout as the air left his lungs, squeezed out by the giant crustacean, but it was no use.

Rachel was disappearing. Chandler grabbed a pincher and snapped the end in two. Ross dropped him, and Chandler chased after her, hand almost on her shoulder-

He woke with a yelp, tangled in sheets wet with nightmare sweat. He let his breathing settle, reminding himself that he was almost ready. He would be seeing her soon.

He chalked up the dream to anxiety about this morning's coffee date.

Papers lay scattered across the comforter, and he cursed when he saw an open pen had marked the sheets. He carefully folded the various letters, tucking them into envelopes, still trying to shake the dream.

Damn lobsters.

It was 8 am on Saturday, and there was no way he was going back to sleep. He needed coffee and Advil, and they were out. He cleaned up, changed, and left the letters in a neat stack on his beside table.

Before he left for Central Perk, he sat down on the couch beside a sleeping lump, and Joey rolled over.

"Hey man, you want help getting to bed?"

"Ngh…" Joey grunted.

"Come on."

Chandler lifted his friend and handed him a glass of water and the last two Advil he'd left out on their coffee table. Joey took them obediently, barely opening his eyes enough to see.

Breakups sucked. Coping with many nights out in New York, that didn't suck, but Chandler left all the women to Joey.

Joey tried to slump back down, but Chandler swung his shoulder under his and they stood.

"Thnks'man," he slurred.

"No problem."

He managed to get Joey's bedroom door open, holding him mostly upright. Without much ceremony, he dumped Joey onto the bed and tossed a comforter over him before leaving.

He had a meeting to get to.

Ross was already waiting at Central Perk when he arrived, which surprised Chandler.

"Hey, thought we were meeting at 9:30?" asked Chandler as he dropped into one of their usual chairs. Ross shrugged.

"It seemed important, and I like reading the paper," Ross set the paper he'd been holding across his knees, looking curious. "So what's up?" It made Chandler's stomach lurch.

"Um…" Chandler smoothed his sweater, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "…it's about Rachel."

Ross straightened at that, blinking at him.

"Really…?" He looked truly engaged now, and if anything that was more unnerving.

"Yeah."

"What about her?" Ross tried to sound nonchalant, but Chandler knew him too well. Ross's eyes were his signature 'wide.' He cared.

Maybe, under normal circumstances Chandler was a non-confrontational coward, but this was for the potential great love of his life. He fixed the image of her in his mind, and took a steadying breath.

"I'm in love with her. Rachel, I mean." He resisted the urge to drop his eyes, even as Ross's gaze morphed and moved with his words, darkening. "I didn't know how to tell you about it…"

He swore Ross wasn't doing enough blinking, and when he did, it was in short little spasms that were too much and too hard. Chandler waited for some verbal indication that he'd heard him, but none came.

"If you're planning to kill me, now would be the perfect time to announce-"

Ross gave him a look, and Chandler cut off his babbling, letting them stew in the silence.

"I see," was finally the response.

"Our friendship…and you mean a lot to me," Chandler said. He'd decided not to tell Ross about their secret relationship without Rachel's permission, but he did owe this much to his best friend. "I wanted to keep it to myself because I didn't want the friend group to suffer, but-"

"But-" Ross broke in with a disbelieving laugh. Chandler tensed and let out a long breath.

"But. I love her. I can't keep denying it any more. I don't know what she'll say, but I wanted to let you know I'm going to tell her. I'm sorry if that…hurts."

Silence.

"You're not together?" Ross asked slowly. Chandler felt the pang of the words.

"Not now."

More silence. Chandler rubbed his sweaty palms down his pants and sat back in the chair. He studied his hands, periodically glancing at his friend. If Ross's gaze could cut flesh and bone, Chandler would have holes in his face.

"Rachel?" he barked.

Chandler yelped, jumping a bit in his seat. He looked around, before he realized Ross wasn't calling her, he was thrusting her name at Chandler like a question.

"Yeah… I know it's unexpected…"

"Unexpected! Rachel?" Ross stood, looking lost. He circled the floor a couple times, gaze unfocused, steps clumsy. "I gotta get outta here."

He tripped on the way out, looking around red-faced, and Chandler had the decency to pretend he hadn't seen.

Once Ross was gone, Chandler got a coffee to sip while he read the paper. "Read" might be a strong word for it, the words jumbled together in his mind.

He tried to tease out the tangled web of emotions from his conversation with Ross. He kept coming back to the simple fact that, no matter how he reacted, Ross had to know. It was undoubtedly the right thing to do. There was no getting around it, and the chips had to fall where they may.

It still hurt though.

He was continually glancing at the door, and it took him a few times to realize he was waiting for a friend to walk in and distract him.

Rachel.

His breath evaporated from his lungs at the sight of her.

She was parting ways with Monica, blonde hair blowing in the wind while she walked past the glass. She looked angelic, small soft hands clutching her purse, blue coat blocking her slender frame from the blustering wind that had turned her nose and ears an adorable pink. She paused in front of the shop and their eyes locked. He dropped his paper.

Before he realized it, he was standing in front of her without remembering how he'd gotten there.

His breath fogged the air between them while her eyes traveled up and down his body, taking him in. She didn't seem happy, per se, but she didn't run.

"Rachel?" he breathed. A piece of him broke when she closed her eyes and took a step back.

Even distant, she was radiant. She clutched her pea coat closer as blistering wind swirled around them, steeling herself as if it were armor. Against him or the wind, he wasn't sure. Still, the winter set off the flush over her cheeks, pulling at the golden locks of her hair. Sadness and something he couldn't place mingled in her expression.

The conversation…well. It didn't go well. But that was alright. He had a plan.

He was almost happy to hear her golden laugh until it turned sad. Her golden freckles and sparkling blue eyes were full of a fire burning because of him. He would set it right.

In fact, he was almost ashamed to admit how much hope that sad laughter had given him.

And then for a brief moment, he'd held her, and she'd clung to him, the smell of her perfume and shampoo filling his senses, her small frame in his arms, holding him back. That had given him the most hope of all.

He watched her walk away in a scenario that felt oddly similar to his dream. Again, he wanted to chase after her, but not until she wanted him to. Right now she didn't. Not yet. But she would.

Against all odds, he smiled.

Just when he decided he couldn't watch any longer, a particularly strong gust of wind swirled past him and caught her, causing something to slip out of her purse and onto the street.

He looked around, but no one walking around the New York streets bothered to grab it for her. He sighed. He could always leave it with Monica.

He picked up the paper, frowning down at it. Slowly, the world tilted under him, and he felt like he was cut loose, floating away into the blue sky.

That explained…a lot. Actually. He would need to adjust his plan.

~0~0~0~

It was almost Christmas and Rachel had a million things to do. If she was going to see her family, she had to decide if she wanted to tell them now, and if she told them, how to do it. Her father loomed in her mind and she shuddered.

Later. Later might be best.

She looked up at her apartment door, almost too distracted to notice it. It hadn't been there when she'd left for the nail salon with Phoebe an hour earlier.

Rachel looked both ways down the hall, curious who could have left the taped envelope. Her name was scrawled across the front, tiny Santas in the corners. One of them had a speech bubble beside his head that said "Open right away!"

It was only December 7th, a little early for a Christmas card, much less a bossy one.

Rachel unlocked the door and entered her apartment, ripping the envelope open as she did. The front of the card said "From your Secret Santa".

"Secret Santa?" she asked the empty apartment. But everyone was planning on doing that the weekend before Christmas.

She opened the letter.