Chapter Text
A/N: Welcome to my new fanfic! I hope you enjoy it. I wouldn't feel right publishing this fic without giving credit to 'Hope' by Mille Vera, which heavily inspired this story, as did the final episode of season four of 'Not Going Out', a British sitcom I highly recommend. So thanks to all involved in that! Without further ado, let's crack on.
Chapter 1- Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light
Ross sighed frustratedly as he drove down the highway, quickly clearing his vision from rapidly emerging tears, which were hindering his ability to see the road ahead. He was finally driving home after helping with Phoebe’s grandma’s taxi, where Rachel had given him the harshest cold shoulder he had ever been given in his entire life.
He wasn’t sure what stung more, her hurtful words, her icy demeanour, or the harsh glare she gave him from her gorgeous hazel eyes, which were once full of love and admiration when they looked his way, but were now laced with contempt, bordering on hatred.
Ross wished he could turn back time, he wished he could redo everything. He would stop himself from being so jealous of Mark, he would stop himself from being overly protective to an annoying degree, and, of course, he would stop himself from sleeping with Chloe. There were so many things he could’ve done at every turn, even just a simple apology after one of his jealous outbursts would probably have alleviated the tension. Hindsight makes us all clever, he had quickly come to realise.
Ross wiped another tear from his eye as he tried to just concentrate on the road ahead. It would be morning soon, and he had to get this car back to Carol and Susan’s. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind always wandered back to Rachel in the end.
It wasn’t fair.
Life wasn’t fair.
He’d condemned himself to a permanent state of misery, and it was all down to his own actions. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew how weak his ‘we were on a break’ argument was, like a house made of straw in a hurricane, a hurricane of Rachel’s worst emotions, the emotions he wanted never to make her feel. Despite this, his own stubbornness and pride forced him to deny, deny, deny. Perhaps it was the only thing keeping him from pulling his hair out, from being truly disgusted with every atom of his existence.
But it didn’t change the fact that, deep down, he knew he was wrong.
It ate at his every waking moment, just as it haunted his dreams. He could not shake the image of Rachel’s perfect face tarnished with tears, tears he had summoned, and her broken voice telling him it was over, that he had hurt her too badly.
It drove him to the brink of insanity.
But it was life now. They would have to come to grips with this new reality.
However painful it may be.
Exiting autopilot, Ross turned the car onto the Manhattan Bridge. Not long to go now, not long before he could rest his head and pray for a dreamless sleep. The roads were quiet at this hour, and the river was mostly illuminated by the moon, but, in the east, Ross could see the pitch black of the sky begin to morph into a dark blue, indicating the sun would begin to rise over the horizon in not too long.
A new day, but he would carry over the problems of yesterday.
Ross pulled up outside of Carol and Susan’s, slumping back in the seat for a moment, rubbing his eyes tiredly. All of this was piling up for him. Too much all at once. He was at his breaking point, and he knew it. Seeing Rachel every day, seeing her utter disdain for him, made him feel physically sick, and he could only imagine what it did to her.
“I used to think of you as somebody who would never hurt me… ever…”
Ross wished he could plug his ears to stop himself from hearing her words, but his repeated audial torture came from within.
It only affirmed his thoughts that he should leave New York. This place held too many painful memories for him. First Carol, now Rachel, God knows what would happen next, but he didn’t want to stay any longer. It would be hard, without his son, without his best friends, without her…
But he had been thinking more and more lately that it was a good idea for everyone. Rachel could move on, and he, in time, may be able to do the same.
Sighing again, he contemplated the life-altering decision. He would have to consult Carol, as they shared Ben, but, if he didn’t move too far away, say New Jersey, or Boston, or Philadelphia, he was sure they could work something out. He’d have to tell Monica as well. That wouldn’t be easy.
He’d have to tell Rachel too.
Ross undid his seatbelt, letting his last remaining drops of energy guide him. She’d probably be glad to see the back of him anyway. She couldn’t stand the sight of him, or even the mention of his name.
Throwing open the car door, Ross jumped out fast, just wanting to return the key to Carol so he could go to sleep.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
Even if Ross had been shaken from his lovesick stupor a few milliseconds faster, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. All he knew was that he was rocketing backward fast, unable to control his unexpected aerial adventure. Luckily for Ross, as quickly as it started, it stopped. Unluckily for Ross, the intense pain had begun to kick in, as, simultaneously, the world became foggy and distant. It didn’t take long for Ross to deduce what had happened, as the car, rather speedily, darted around where his body had landed and disappeared down the street, not that Ross could move his head, or any other part of his body, to observe this.
By the time the screeching of the tyres became too distant for Ross to hear, he lost track of how long he had actually been lying there. Time was quickly becoming irrelevant, as the world became cloudier around him. Surprisingly, the pain began to dull somewhat, which was scarier than it was comforting. Ross felt a tear roll down his cheek.
Life was slipping away from him, and it was slipping away fast.
He should want to fight this, fight his impending doom.
But he couldn’t. He had no energy left.
There was nothing left.
With that depressing realisation, that he would die alone on the cold streets of New York City, Ross whispered something to the world, a message only meant for one, who would never hear it.
“I’m sorry…”
The world went dark.
Rachel had been tossing and turning all night, but sleep had not graced her. The sun was now painting the clouds orange, the early morning glow penetrating the transparent blinds of her bedroom at her sister’s lodge, the sunlight catching her eye, making her feel more awake, but also more tired than ever.
She had slept so poorly ever since she had called things off with Ross. It had been a horrible breakup, as she wasn’t just losing her boyfriend, but her best friend as well. Still, it had to be done. All she could see when he tried to kiss her that night were his lips on hers, his body tangled with her body, doing the things that couples do. The things that they do.
The things that they did.
Despite it all, her anger and resentment toward him was a defence mechanism, something she had used her entire life. People are less likely to press on someone who’s angry, as they don’t seek the conflict. Ross had betrayed her, no questions asked, but giving him the silent treatment, or yelling at him uncontrollably, saying things she didn’t truly believe, was not pleasurable to her in the slightest. At first, she thought it could be, that beating him down would force him into a place of understanding of how she felt, but she quickly realised that was untrue. It hurt her because she still loved him, she loved him with everything she had. But there was too much between them now.
Too much to even try again.
She did harbour some hope, deep down inside, that, one day, when all this blew over, she and Ross could at the very least be friends again. She missed that.
Sadly, that day seemed lightyears away.
But they would, as Phoebe said, have to learn how to exist around each other, for the sake of their friends. She hated the situation she had put them in. Monica was her best friend, but also Ross’ sister. Was blood going to be thicker than water? And then there was Joey and Chandler. Chandler was Ross’ college roommate, and they had been best friends for years. Joey would stick to Chandler, and therefore to Ross. Phoebe was the only one who was potentially a true neutral, but, counting against her was the fact that she had known Ross for years longer. Rachel, despite being in the pocket of the group for nearly three years, was still the newcomer… and perhaps the most detachable.
They wouldn’t do that to her, would they?
No. Of course not.
This would be okay, in the end.
Flopping out of bed, her posture reflecting her mood perfectly, Rachel trudged down the stairs and began making herself some tea. She would need something to wake her up, but her sister hadn’t left any coffee. There was a town not too far away from the lodge, so they could go there for groceries before hitting the ski slopes.
“Morning.” Rachel was startled from her thoughts by Chandler, who too had emerged into the kitchen, and began poking around the cabinets.
“What’re you doing up this early?” Rachel asked, her voice coming out as a croak, which betrayed her inner sadness to her outside stoniness.
“Well, sharing a bed with Joey there are only so many times you can stomach being poked by something that isn’t his hand while he giggles in his sleep. It’s like sharing a bed with my parents all over again.” Chandler shuddered as he recalled something he wished to bleach from his brain. “How about you?”
“Can’t sleep.” Rachel barely tried to contain her emotions at this point. It was Chandler, he’d understand.
“Wanna talk about it?” he offered, resting a hand on her back awkwardly before he rapidly shifted it to her shoulder. Rachel couldn’t help but smirk at his gaucheness. She looked up at him, smiling sadly.
“Not really.” It was no lie, she couldn’t talk about it now. She just wanted some time to relax, detach from the pressures and stresses of life, feel the snow beneath her skis, and hang out with her friends, no matter how strange the group would feel with Ross’ absence.
“I could offer you an inappropriate joke? Or a self-deprecating remark?” Chandler offered, making her smile genuinely.
“Thank you, Chandler. Now come on, I wanna make tea and you’re standing in front of the teabags.”
In a few hours’ time, the gang was all up and eating some breakfast they rustled together from the depths of the kitchen.
“So, I was thinking, I know skis are designed for the feet, right? But what if they weren’t?” Joey rambled, as everyone watched him with interest, not unlike a puppy who was chasing its own tail.
“Well, where else would they be used?” Monica asked, worried about the contents of her friend’s brain.
“I was thinking, what if we strapped them to our hands!” Joey had a look of pride on his face that had absolutely no right to be there. “We could also give it a try today, and, if it works, we could send the idea to the next Winter Olympics!”
“Well it’s very tempting Joe, but I don’t think the hardworking athletes at the Winter Olympics would really plan on being decapitated.” Chandler slapped Joey on the back.
Rachel was aloof from the conversation, not that she’d missed much. Her mind was elsewhere. She felt a shiver run down her spine every now and then. Something felt wrong. Terribly wrong.
She was probably just upset. Her emotions were everywhere, after all.
“Oh Rach, what’s the number for this place? Oh and can I go into my voicemail and leave this place’s number for people to call on?” Monica asked, throwing Rachel back to Planet Earth.
“Sorry Mon, there’s no phone here. My father got rid of it last time he was here, that and the TV, said people should only be skiing and talking while they’re here.”
“You mean there’s no TV?” Joey whined.
“Yes Joey, and maybe my father has a point.” Rachel responded icily, and Joey knew better than to respond.
“Well, let’s get moving. We should go get groceries first, then we can go up top and have some fun?” Monica proposed, ever the organiser.
Everyone either nodded or made sounds of agreement, so they got ready to leave for the day’s activities.
Rachel still couldn’t shake the niggling feeling from the back of her mind, but did her best to suppress it. She was going to be happy today. She was with her friends, doing one of her favourite things.
But it still felt so wrong.
Carol paced around the apartment, checking her watch again and again.
“A watched pot never boils, honey.” Susan stated. “What’re you waiting for, anyway?”
“Ross. He borrowed the car last night, but he should be back by now. He probably should’ve been back hours ago.” Carol had divorced Ross over three years ago now, but she still felt warmly toward him. She had been in love with him, once, and she still was, just in a different way. She knew how emotional and even unstable he could be, and, while he was grappling with this breakup, his no-show this morning made her worry.
She just wanted to know he was safe.
“What’re you talking about? I can see the car from here.” Susan enquired, raising an eyebrow. Carol quickly marched over to the window which Susan was looking out of, and, lo and behold, there was the car.
“Wha- what?”
“Told you.”
“But he did borrow the car! I’m not going crazy, and he didn’t drop back the key…”
“Really?” Susan placed her mug down, now starting to look concerned herself. Since Ben was born, Ross and Susan had managed to build up a friendly rapport, so much so that they could actually tolerate each other now. “Well, maybe he slept in the car? Where was he going, anyway?”
Carol explained the situation to Susan as the pair of them walked down to the car to test Susan’s hypothesis. Worryingly, Ross was not asleep in the car, and, when they checked, the car was unlocked.
“He wouldn’t just leave the car unlocked.” Carol was really beginning to panic now. “He was so neurotic about not just locking the doors but the windows when we were married…”
“Carol, sweetie, calm down. We’ll get to the bottom of this, don’t worry!”
Looking around, Carol’s eyes lay on a reddish patch of tarmac, which looked like jam had been smeared across it. Her heart started pounding.
“W-what’s that?” she pointed at the smear, which looked to have been cleaned only somewhat, in a rather rushed fashion.
“It’ll be a raccoon or something, honey, just breathe, I’ll go get Ben and we can go to his apartment and see if he’s okay.”
Carol shuddered again. Something was off. Something was very, very wrong.
How right she was.
TO BE CONTINUED
A/N: Dun dun dun! What happens now? Well, you'll have to wait and see. Once again, credit to Mille Vera's 'Hope' for giving me inspiration for this fic. Please leave a review! They help out so much. Until next time!