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Rachel is horny - and soon Monica joins her.

For some reason she seemed to think he was the best memory and one she would never manage to shake.

As they stood waiting for the tram, she tried to make sense of the look on his face.

"I don't know what to say," he said.

She'd seen that look before back at the hotel room... She had looked into his eyes, and he into hers. Locked gazes weren't enough to change anything, and this she knew. Locked gazes were like threats that were never followed through... when you both had a clear understanding of what each other felt though it wasn't necessarily where they stood. She didn't know what to say either, she'd said it so many times she didn't have it in her to say it anymore.

Short of pulling a Glenn Close, there was nothing left to be said.

He pocketed the letter and she felt a moment of panic trying to recall precisely what it was she had written. The context had changed dramatically since she first put the pen on the paper, determined that she'd leave him with herself intact. Or at least, with all the cracks covered up until he could not see them anymore.

Without the typical nastiness or blunt rejection that goes hand in hand with the average break up, the choice had been a tough one to make. In the end she made him make it so she could hate him a little... but hate doesn't work when there is nothing more than good feelings about someone. He made it as she knew he would... she knew she would never love someone who could make the other choice. When he chose his child, or so she wanted to believe, she knew she could never regret a moment of what they had shared. Yet she had to tell him that they were over and done for, no further discussion. She wouldn't have made him make the choice in normal circumstances until he pointed out that the strength of their relationship was based on the weakness of her other one.

"You let me in," his eyes pierced her heart as they looked over her face.

If she'd ever literally felt cracks appear on her china heart that would pinpoint the time.

"Of course I let you in!"

She wanted to scream those words at him, but she felt a tenderness towards him that was beyond description. His sweet smell was enough to quell her strongest anger. She had such emotion for him that no matter how much walking away would hurt her, she knew she could never seek revenge.

Every time she ran the numerous alternative outcomes through her mind it always had reached the fact that he was with someone else, she was with someone else. If those 'someone else's' were to just fade away, then maybe they could have had something that was not only special but also socially acceptable. Something that wouldn't rip the roof off from over their heads if found out or hurt people that they cared about, even if their actions seemed to say the contrary.

But now it didn't matter whom they were with, he was going to be a father. She recalled when she had thought she was going to be a mother and so she'd struggled. The conclusion she drew was that it didn't matter how much she loved him, her baby would always be first and that was how it was to be. In the bigger picture, the chemistry they shared needed to be forgotten; hidden like an Egyptian mummy in its tomb.

Their chemistry, or energy as they preferred to call it, simply couldn't be contained. For every time they had resolved to control it so they could maintain their friendship, they had increased their public displays of affection. First it was in the secrecy of her bedroom, then in dark corners of city nightlife, and later under the summer sun. Whenever they met, they would peck each other hello and goodbye. It was only someone who was watching closely that might notice his extra firm grip on her arm or her affectionate squeeze below his ribs. They often joked about how platonic they were trying to appear.

The stolen moments of affection were a large source of her anger and frustration.

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