It was nearly noon, but Monica and Joey were still in their pajamas. Monica was curled up under a blanket on Chandler's Barcalounger, Joey on the other. Phoebe sat between them on a barstool. Old reruns of The Brady Bunch that no one was really watching played on the television.

Chandler had been missing for three days, and he really had vanished without a trace. They had called Chandler's mom, his work, and had even managed to get ahold of his estranged father, but nobody knew where he was. The only information they got was that he had put in several vacation days with his work, but he hadn't said where he was going.

Turning up no leads, the group finally agreed to call the police, but even this effort was fruitless. An officer did come by to investigate the apartment and speak to Joey, but he came to the same conclusion that Joey had–Chandler left of his own accord. Since he didn't believe Chandler was in any sort of danger, he refused to look any further into the matter.

Monica had been through a rollercoaster of emotions over the past three days. She was worried about him, having no idea where he went or why he didn't tell anyone he was going. She was certainly angry at him for running out on her–she could only assume that she was the reason for his disappearance. But most days, she just felt sad. Sad that their relationship had failed, sad because she missed him, and sad that the group had lost Chandler just before they were about to lose Ross.

An egg timer beeped on the counter.

"Time to switch!" Phoebe announced.

Monica groaned. "Give me five more minutes," she said, pushing her face further into the chair and covering her head with the blanket.

"No way," Joey said, leaping out of his chair. "You get to sleep in his bed. It's only fair that I get time in his chair."

"That's true," said Phoebe. "You agreed to switch after an hour."

Monica sighed. There was no getting around that. She dragged herself to her feet and flopped down in Joey's chair.

Joey laid on Chandler's chair and pulled a blanket over himself. "It smells like him," he said.

Joey had taken Chandler's disappearance just as hard as Monica had, if not harder. The two of them spent most days together moping around in the boys' apartment, hoping that Chandler would walk through the door. Ross, Rachel, and Phoebe worried about them, and the three took turns keeping them company when they could. While Joey was perpetually unemployed and Monica had taken a few sick days from work, Ross and Rachel still had to be at the office during the day.

Phoebe's hours were more flexible, which is how she ended up watching daytime television with them at noon on a Wednesday.

It was nice to have Joey to commiserate with, even if she did have to share custody of the chair. It was true that Monica had also been sleeping in Chandler's room each night, although that was only partially for the comforting smell. The main reason was that she hoped he would return in the middle of the night, and if he did, she wanted to be there to see him.

She didn't know what she'd do when–if–he came back. She wanted everything to be okay, for them to talk through their issues and make up. But simultaneously, how could she forgive him for abandoning her like this?

The phone rang, but nobody moved to pick it up.

"Want me to get that?" Phoebe asked.

"Nah," said Joey. "Let it go to voicemail."

"Here comes the beep. You know what to do," said Joey's voice on the answering machine.

The promised beep followed, and a man's voice came over the phone.

"Hello, this is John Harlan from Visa. I'm calling for Chandler Bing. I'd like to discuss some unusual activity on Mr. Bing's card–"

"Pick it up!" Monica demanded, sitting bolt upright.

"What?" said Phoebe, dazed.

"Pick it up!" Monica repeated. "They know where Chandler is spending money! They can tell us where he is!"

Phoebe's eyes lit up in understanding and she immediately picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she said frantically, putting it on speaker.

"Hello," said the voice. "This is John Harlan from Visa. I'm calling for Chandler Bing."

"Um, yes," Phoebe said, improvising. "You've reached… Regina Phalange, his secretary. Please tell me about his unusual credit card activity. I'll pass it along to him."

"I'm sorry," said Harlan apologetically. "But I can only disclose that information to Mr. Bing himself. Could you please put him on the line?"

"Oh… um, yes, of course! I'll transfer you in." Phoebe placed her hand over the mouthpiece and pushed the phone toward Joey. "Be Chandler!" she hissed.

Joey's eyes widened as he took the phone.

"Um, hello," he said in a very deep voice. "This is Chandler Bing."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bing," Harlan returned. "I'd like to discuss some uncharacteristic expenses on your account."

"Yes," said Joey. "I'd like to discuss this as well."

"Excellent. I'll read off the charges and you can tell me whether or not they're legitimate."

Monica held her breath. Now they'd know exactly where Chandler had been.

"But first," Harlan continued. "I'll need to verify your identity. Can you please tell me your date of birth?"

"April twelfth, 1968," Joey returned promptly.

"Very good… and your social security number?"

Joey froze. He looked wide-eyed at Monica and Phoebe, who shrugged helplessly.

"Uh…" said Joey, "four?"

"Four…?" said Harlan, prompting for the next digit.

"Yes," said Joey, more confidently this time. "Four."

"...just four?"

"Yes….?" said Joey hopefully.

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but I doubt that you are Chandler Bing," Harlan said severely. "I am now more certain than ever that there is some sort of fraud going on with Mr. Bing's account. We will be freezing his credit, effective immediately. Good day."

There was a click and the line went dead.

"Four?" Monica shouted in disbelief. "You went with four?"

"Well, I didn't know his social security number!" Joey said defensively. "I thought maybe he would have picked his favorite number!"

"You don't pick your–"

"Hey, look on the bright side!" Joey interrupted. "At least we know he's spending money somewhere, so he's definitely alive!"

"Yeah," said Phoebe. "Unless someone killed him and stole his credit card."

Monica and Joey stared at her in horror.

"But that probably didn't happen," Phoebe amended quickly.

Monica buried her head under the blanket again. With each day that passed, she became more and more hopeless.

Ross was exhausted when he walked through the door of his sister's apartment. He looked forward to a relaxing homemade dinner with his friends–even if two of them would be notably missing.

The past week had sapped all his energy out of him. In the span of only a few days, Ross had terminated the lease on his apartment, packed half his things, and sold the other half to Gunther. Emily wanted a fresh new start–a new apartment, new furniture, and a new Ross that Rachel hadn't touched.

Ross would miss the apartment where Ben took his first steps. He would miss the furniture he bought and assembled himself when he and Carol parted ways. But, he reflected, it was nice to have a new start then; it had been a relief to be in an environment that didn't constantly remind him of his ex-wife. Maybe this would be similar. Maybe it would be easier not to think of Rachel this way.

Monica was in the kitchen, completely absorbed in her cooking. She had gone all out for tonight–lasagna, salad, homemade bread, and a fancy French pudding Ross had forgotten the name of. It was the first time Ross had seen her dressed and off the couch in a few days, and he knew she probably relished the task. It certainly wasn't the first time Monica had used hard work to distract herself from her worries.

Joey and Phoebe sat at the table, chopping vegetables for the salad. They greeted him as he walked in .

"Everything smells great, Mon," Ross said, giving his sister a kiss on the cheek before settling down at the table. He took a tomato from Joey's pile and began chopping it.

His eyes swept over the kitchen again. It looked so empty. Emily would be arriving tomorrow, and this was supposed to be their last meal together as a group. But with Rachel and Chandler absent, the truth was that their last meal together had happened long ago.

"I guess this is all of us?" he said sullenly.

"Guess so," Monica murmured.

"Maybe Chandler will show up for dinner," Joey said hopefully, but nobody really believed it. It had now been four days since anyone had seen or heard from him, and all of them were losing hope of seeing him again any time soon.

"Hey." Ross turned to see Rachel standing in the doorway to her bedroom. He grunted a response.

In the days since Ross told Rachel he wouldn't see her anymore, she had kept her distance. The two had hardly spoken, and when they had, it was limited to pleasant small talk. After Rachel's outburst last week, he was surprised at how well she was taking all this. It seemed she had finally given up on him.

And that's good, Ross reminded himself.

"Hi, sweetie," Monica said sympathetically. "Will you be joining us?"

"No," said Rachel. "Emily doesn't want Ross to see me, so it's probably better to start now."

"I'll make you a plate," Monica offered.

"That's alright," Rachel said. "I'll probably go out somewhere. But… Ross, can I talk to you before I go?"

Ross looked down at his tomato. "I don't know if that's such a good idea," he mumbled.

"Please," Rachel pleaded. "Ross… this might be the last conversation we ever have. Just five minutes."

Ross's stomach twisted. The last conversation we ever have. Somehow, he hadn't considered the finality of all of this.

"Yeah," he said, standing up and wiping tomato juice off his hands. "Yeah, alright."

He followed Rachel to the entrance to her room. They stood in the doorway together, the door left open.

For several moments, the two just stood there, not speaking or even looking at each other. Finally, Rachel took his hands in her own and looked up at him.

"I just wanted to tell you… I'm really sorry," Rachel said simply.

"What?" Ross said, somewhat dazed.

"I'm sorry," Rachel repeated. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I loved you until your wedding day. I'm sorry I put you on a plane to Greece when you should have been with your wife. I'm sorry I let my anger keep us apart so long when I wanted to be with you again. I love you, and I want you to be happy, even if that means you're not with me. I'm sorry it took me so long to see that. I just… Ross, I don't want us to go out on a bad note. So much of our relationship was so good. I want to remember us for the good parts, not the bad. Do you think you can forgive me?"

Ross stared back at her in astonishment, his heart stirring. In that moment, his anger seemed to melt away, allowing for all his love for her to come rushing back. He missed her. She was one of his very best friends, and he hadn't realized what a gaping hole her absence left in his life. She was finally back, and now he had to give her up for good.

"Yeah," Ross choked out, struggling to keep tears out of his eyes. "Of course I can, Rach."

"Oh, thank you," Rachel said, leaning in and giving him a hug.

"It's not like you're the first person to have done something stupid in this relationship," Ross laughed, burying his face in her hair and taking in her familiar coconutty smell.

"That's for sure," Rachel snorted as they broke apart. "I wish I hadn't told you I loved you at your wedding. Maybe none of this ever would have happened."

They stood together in the doorway, hand in hand, just staring at each other.

"I'm really going to miss you," Rachel whispered. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"I know," Ross murmured. "But hey, who knows? Maybe Emily will cool down and forgive you in a few years."

"Maybe," said Rachel with a sad smile. Both of them knew this was just wishful thinking.

"You know what?" said Ross. "You should join us for dinner."

"No… I couldn't–"

"Please do," said Ross. "It's just one little meal, and I want to see more of you before–"

He broke off as Rachel's eyes widened and her jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Really, it's not that big a deal!" he insisted.

"No," said Rachel. "Look!"

Ross turned around to see what she was staring at.

Chandler was standing in the doorway.

Author's Note: One chapter to go! Thank you to everybody who has been reading and commenting. :)