Recovering the Satellites

Chapter Twenty-One

~.~

Well, happy birthday to you guys! I kinda meant the last part to be a bit of a teaser since it was a flashback instead of moving forward…and then I realized how busy I am the rest of this week and weekend, and since I'm finally pleased with this part… I'm posting it already.

I'm so sad to see this series end; it's a bit ridiculous.

Heeeere we go….

~.~

But we only stay in orbit

For a moment of time

And then you're everybody's satellite

I wish that you were mine

I wish that you were mine….

(Recovering the Satellites, Counting Crows)

Chandler was the first to wake up Monday morning, his stomach sinking when he did. He didn't even open his eyes, not wanting to know what time it was or how much longer he had with Rachel before she had to leave. So, he closed his eyes, trying, unsuccessfully, to get back to sleep.

"I need to start getting ready," Rachel whispered after a few moments, figuring since Chandler had now shifted his weight a couple of times, he was awake, as well.

"Kay," Chandler whispered, but pulled her closer, neither one of them making a move to get up. When Rachel finally did move, Chandler groaned in protest, feeling the warmth of her skin leaving his.

"Come shower with me," she offered softly as she stood up, heading towards the bathroom. Chandler took a few deep breaths, staring after her. He would not cry today. He wouldn't. "Coming?" Rachel asked, sticking her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush now in mouth.

Chandler nodded, forcing a smile before standing up and heading to the bathroom also, where Rachel had already turned the shower water on to warm up. He grabbed his toothbrush from the sink, as well, standing behind her brushing his teeth.

They looked like a real couple. He could get used to that.

His stomach was in knots. No, he couldn't get used to that. She was leaving. He wanted to cry. He wouldn't cry. She wasn't his to keep; he was fine.

Watching Rachel as she walked over to the shower, she peeled off the tshirt she had slept in, stepping into the shower. Chandler smiled slightly, dropping his boxers to the ground as he followed suit, stepping into the shower, as well.

The second he was beneath the hot water with her, he kissed her. Not hungry and hurried kisses. Not like this was the last time he would get to. Just kissed her. Slowly kissed her.

"I really need to shower," Rachel whispered in between kisses, but didn't object at all when he kissed her once more.

"I know. We will," Chandler replied, backing her against the wall before he kissed her once again, ignoring the scalding hot water cascading down his back as he focused on nothing but Rachel. Cupping her face, he kissed her harder, before trailing his hands down her body, first brushing past her breasts, then down across her tummy, to her hips, and finally to her butt, lifting her up. Rachel helped the best she could, wrapping her legs around his back as he pressed her up against the cold tile wall.

"Chandler," she moaned against his lips, and though Rachel had gotten her wish and they'd already had sex seven times the day before, between the position and the sound of Rachel moaning his name, Chandler knew it wasn't going to last long.

"I love you, Rach," he whispered, head on her shoulder, and after they had finished, he backed up, letting Rachel stand again. Wrapping his arms around her, he moved back under the water, where they stood entwined in complete silence until the water ran cold, at which point they finally quickly washed up.

They got out of the shower in silence, got ready and re-packed in silence, even headed to the lobby and ate their complimentary breakfast in silence. Not because they didn't want to talk, but because they both feared what would happen if they opened their mouths, that talking would inevitably lead to crying.

After eating, they headed to the airport in more silence, and even through security in silence. After checking the flight monitors, they both wordlessly headed towards Rachel's terminal, since her flight was leaving first. The silence they walked in was no longer comfortable, though, because silence left too much room to think, and all of the words left unsaid between them were absolutely deafening.

Once they arrived, the plane was already sitting at the very crowded gate, and Rachel held back tears at the realization that meant it was almost time.

"This is it, then," Chandler finally whispered as they stopped walking, and Rachel could do nothing but nod in return, trying to calm herself down and breathe. Chandler wrapped his arms around her tightly as he squeezed his eyes shut as well, unable to come up with anything to say.

"Please don't cry," Rachel whispered, feeling the tears he had blinked away on her cheek. "If you cry, I'm gonna lose it…."

"Sorry," Chandler whispered, and they stood in each others' arms for a few more seconds before pulling back slightly, both red-eyed. "Look at you, Ms. Green," Chandler finally said, smiling. "Going to work for Louis Vuitton in the fashion capital of the world. Gotta say, did not see this coming from the girl who, ten years ago, had never made a cup of coffee or done a load laundry…."

Rachel smiled at that. "Me neither," she shook her head. "Never in a million years. Never saw any of it coming. Not a thing," she added in a whisper, and he knew that she also meant him.

"How's it feel?"

"Surreal," Rachel continued to whisper, looking down for a moment, before looking back up. "Hey, if, um, if Mary comes back," she started slowly, having trouble actually saying the words she had been thinking, "you should-you should marry her…."

Chandler tried to swallow the knot in his throat. This was it; she was letting him go. "It's not really 'if'….Mary is coming home," he finally replied slowly. "Guess that kind of makes me an asshole for knowing that and not telling you that. Or completely intending on seeing her one month from today and not telling her any of this…."

"You're not an asshole, Chandler," Rachel shook her head.

"I have a few ex-girlfriends and an ex-fiancé who would probably disagree."

Rachel shook her head fiercely. "You're really not, though. Because you might screw up, but…you have a good heart. You have nothing but the best intentions…."

"I still feel like an asshole," Chandler whispered, but Rachel shook her head again before hugging him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Chandler closed his eyes, holding her tightly. He couldn't do it. He couldn't let go. Part of him wanted to beg her not to go. Or tell her that he could go with her. He can write from anywhere; he didn't need to be in San Diego. Or they could both stay in New York. Anything that meant not having to watch her walk away and get on that plane.

Rachel tried unsuccessfully to hold back tears, burying her face in Chandler's shoulder. Part of her wanted to tell him to beg her to stay. That she would cave and not go. Or to offer to go with her. To tell her not to get on that plane, and that they would figure it all out together. To get down on one knee and ask what she had just told him to ask Mary.

Standing on her toes so that she was completely eye-level with him, she started to lean in to kiss him, but he beat her, pulling her face closer to his as he kissed her. Hard and passionate, his lips crashing against hers time after time. The kind of kiss that makes your toes curl and that you can feel in the pit of your stomach. The kind of kiss that made both of their stomachs drop and hearts sink because they knew that this was it. And then the kisses were slow, as Chandler attempted to memorize her taste, her feel, her smell. And then little kisses, one after another, until they were again hugging.

"Flight number 421 to Paris is now boarding for First Class," the voice on the intercom rang out, and Rachel choked back a sob in her throat.

"That's me," she whispered as she reluctantly pulled back. Chandler nodded, trying to nonchalantly wipe at his eyes. "Fuck, this is hard," she again hugged him, and he laughed, squeezing her tightly.

"Call me when you get there?" he asked, and she nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied before pulling back. "I'll see you in a month or so when I come get Mr. Darcy from Phoebe?"

Chandler nodded. "Yea, just let me know when."

"I have to go," Rachel pulled completely away from him, the look in his eyes killing her as she pulled her fingers away from his.

"Oh, this is for you," he pulled out a large, brown envelope from the outer pocket of his bag and handed it to her. "Something to read on the plane…."

Rachel forced a smile, sticking the envelope into her purse. "I need to go now. Before I can't," she whispered, and Chandler nodded in understanding. "Bye, Chandler," she whispered, staring him in the eye for a moment before pulling her boarding pass out and heading towards the gate.

"Bye, Rachel," Chandler replied, agony almost palpable in his voice, as he watched her walk away, glancing back only once, swearing to god she was taking at least part of his heart with her.

Part of him wanted to stop her, wanted to run after her and grab her and tell her to stay. Or that he would go with her. That he would marry her. Anything that meant not having to let go of her right now.

But the majority of him, of his heart, said to let her go.

She was right. They just weren't meant to be. They had never been meant to be. He couldn't go with her. Or ask her to stay. Even if this was a relationship (who was he kidding; he knew it was a relationship), they were still in the honeymoon phase. They may have been friends for years and known each other the majority of their adult lives, but they hadn't been together long enough for either of them to give up their current life for the other. They hadn't spent more than a week in even the same time zone since they had been together.

Rachel was right. He had been right.

Chandler bit his bottom lip, hard, feeling like a small child at the fact that he was unable to get it to stop quivering.

They weren't meant to be.

Rachel was going to Paris.

~.~

Rachel quickly shoved her carry-on suitcase into the overhead compartment before taking her seat, still holding onto the brown envelope that Chandler had handed to her. Pulling out just the tops of the papers, she smiled, thumbing through them before pulling the post-it note from the top. It was his column for today, as well as the first four chapters of his book. The post-it said nothing but 'I trust that these are in good hands….'

Pushing the papers back in, other than the top of Chandler's column, she sighed, staring at his picture at the top.

"Going home, or leaving home?" the little old lady seated beside Rachel asked in the way that would be entirely too nosy had she been anything other than a little old lady.

Rachel paused; that was a hard question. "I'm moving, so…both, I suppose."

"Leaving someone behind?" she asked, motioning to the paper.

Rachel nodded. "Something like that…."

"Well, it will all work out for the best," the little old lady smiled at her reassuringly. "Life always works out for the best."

"Thanks," Rachel replied quietly, nodding as she stared down at his column still.

"You gonna actually read that, or just stare at his picture? I mean, I'm sure he's handsome and all, but…."

Rachel laughed; this old lady was going to make this flight interesting. "I'm going to read it," she nodded. "Just waiting until they close the door."

"Then you can't get off?" the old lady asked, knowingly.

"Then I can't get off," Rachel agreed with a heavy sigh.

"I'm Ingrid, by the way," the old lady reached out to shake her hand, which Rachel did.

"Rachel."

"I'm going to meet my new great-grandbaby," she smiled proudly, pulling out a string of pictures, and flipping to the last one.

"She's beautiful."

"Life always is," Ingrid smiled, looking down at the picture of the baby. "When you've been alive in nine separate decades, you start to learn that even though everything seems to change, and change is always hard, life is always beautiful," she offered Rachel a genuine smile before putting her pictures away and taking out a book.

Rachel sighed, still staring down at the envelope and top of Chandler's column. She stared at it for what seemed like forever, paying attention to nothing else, not the people brushing past her chair, or the baby crying somewhere towards the back of the plane. She didn't even think anything, just sat and stared, until she felt the plane begin to move away from the gate. Glancing up, she wished she could see inside the windows of the airport. To see if he was still standing there, watching her go, or if he had had to walk away.

No. No, it was better that she didn't have to see him watching her go. Actually leaving was hard enough; at least she didn't have to be the one being left.

This must have been at least partly how he felt when he got on the plane to San Diego, although entirely different circumstances had lead to that.

Finally pulling the paper our a bit further, she read the title. The Art of Leaving. And then the first line. 'The art of losing isn't hard to master,' or at least that's what Elizabeth Bishop wrote, anyway. Rachel closed her eyes; maybe she couldn't read it. She actually knew the poem he was referring to well, knew it by heart. It had been one she remembered having to analyze in some literature class in school, but its words had stuck with her. The poem alone brought tears to her eyes; she couldn't imagine what kind of mess actually reading Chandler's column would reduce her to.

Heart beating heavily in her chest, Rachel stole one last look out the window as the plane picked up speed on the runway, about to take off. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to watch what she was leaving behind.

Elizabeth Bishop was wrong; losing at least felt like a disaster.

~.~

Chandler stood, rooted to his spot in front of Rachel's gate at the airport. He stood and watched her get on, watched a couple hundred other people get on. He watched as parents juggled to get their kids and bags on, watched as couples in love held hands and kissed, watched as people impatiently checked their watches as they waited in line, as if that would make the line and flight move faster.

And then he watched as they began to close the door, one last straggler running to get on. When the door latched shut, he choked back tears.

He missed her already, and she was still only hundreds of feet away from him.

Taking a few deep breaths, he attempted to pull himself together. As the plane began taxiing down the runway, he took a step back, turning away from the window.

He couldn't watch her leave.

It was for the best. He kept repeating that to himself. It was for the best. It was for the best.

What Rachel didn't know was the he had ordered a cheesecake from Mama's Little Bakery in Chicago, Illinois and had it shipped to where she was staying. He hoped to god she remembered the reasoning behind that move, and that she understood why. He hoped it seemed like a gesture that he would always be her friend, because he had been her friend a lot longer than he'd been more than that, and that was one of his absolute favorite memories with her (excepting the last few months). And if she wasn't his to keep, which was now obviously true, she was at least still one of his best friends.

Taking one small step after another, Chandler pulled himself together, heading towards his own gate.

It would all be okay. It always was okay. He had loved and lost before, and it always ended up okay. Even when it felt like a disaster, it would always turn out okay in the end. Life always ended up okay.

After all that he had been through in the past few years, surely, he thought, this would be no exception.

~.~

Wipes away tears. That was exhausting. I would apologize to those rooting for a Randler ending, but, well…this is where I was heading from the beginning. I love books and movies with semi-ambiguous, beautifully sad, kind of bitter-sweet endings, and I really wanted to write something like that. Hope you guys all enjoyed the ride, at least! It was quite the emotional rollercoaster to write, and I've poured a ridiculous amount of myself into this fic.

All of that being said, I'm ridiculously proud of this entire story (am I allowed to say that without being completely full of myself?). I feel like it's so much more grown up than anything I've written in the past, and I hope that I can continue to improve as a writer, because I know that I've already just improved by coming back to writing for the past year (can you believe I've been back for a whole year?! Jeeze, time flies...).

I'm not sure what I'll have for my next major series…Mondler or Randler (opinions? Not that I'll probably listen to them, haha). We'll see, I guess. And I'm currently training to run my first half-marathon in May, so much of my extra time/energy is going to running. I will continue writing here, though, promise!

Final reviews are VERY much appreciated, since I'd love to know what all of you who haven't reviewed yet are thinking. And a HUGE thanks to my few loyal reviewers who keep me going (and the two who reviewed every single chapter—Exitaris and friendsfan101).

I don't own the lyrics to Recovering the Satellites that were used throughout this, and I also don't own One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop. You guys all know what poem I'm talking abut, right? If not, go google it. Now.

Well, after you review ;)