Contary to everything I've written, this centers around all of the girls in Friends, and it is not Rachel with Joey or Chandler. But read it. I think it's good. And leave me a review, tell me how to improve. People reading my last story... I think there is a few chapters left.

It's an odd feeling, staring at your home and knowing that in a couple hours, it won't be YOUR home anymore. It'll be someone else's. She was feeling a loss that was completely foreign to her; which could have been true of any loss. Hers was a catered life, unmarred by the worries of money, or fears of society. They had always been privileged, and this bothered her none, instead it caused a certain amount of pomposity on her part. She was gorgeous and rich, what more could she ask for in life? Now, having been completely torn out of her comfort-zone, she shuddered, wrapped in a sweater that was her sole piece of surviving clothing. The rest of it had been pawned off, or confiscated when the F.B.I. searched her home.

About two month ago, her father had been arrested for drug trafficking and was up for trial. He'd panicked, and in the face of irrefutable evidence, he was advised by his lawyer to plea guilty. Following his plea, his house had been seized along with all of his property, and his family was relocated to an apartment with much less bravado, and in a much worse corner of the city.

"Rachel." She heard her mother say, and turned, not knowing how long she'd been lost in her thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"We have to go now."

She paused for awhile before she replied, almost inaudibly, "Yeah. Fine."

"Don't worry." Her mother was saying, as she pulled Rachel into a hug, "Everything's gonna be alright."

A week later, five homicide charges were added to her father's sentence; if found guilty, he'd be behind bars for the rest of his life.

She watched as the movers took each possession out of her friend's house, and packed them into a moving van. She had been there when her parent's gossiped about the scandal, she had been there when Rachel had wailed and cried for her lost life. She had been there when Rachel lost her boyfriend because of her father. She'd been there… and then abandoned. Her calls were now in vain, and her visits yielded only a new excuse everyday: "She's sick." "She's visiting an aunt." "She's hurting." And they soon just became: "She doesn't want to see you… She doesn't want to see anybody."

She knew her friend was going through a lot, but it still hurt, especially because Rachel had been one of her only friends. She had trampled on her, and hurt her, stole any boyfriend of hers that was even remotely cute, and had used her. But she still stuck by her, and now she wasn't even doing that.

She'd also been proud to be her friend. She didn't want to admit it, but it was true. She'd enjoyed the protection that their friendship brought her, and the slightly raised status. Boys wouldn't make fun of her, because they all wanted to date Rachel. Girls would become her friend because they wanted to be Rachel. And she was above all the other nerds because Rachel Green was her friend. It was sad but true.

Rachel had her good points, she was strong willed, and would defend Monica to anyone, without fear of losing status. She was persistent, and had helped Monica lose weight, and learn to kiss. She talked about sex loosely, and would explain anything Monica needed to know. She'd set Monica up with her first boyfriend, and had paid for the dress she wore. Rachel was a friend. And soon she was going to be gone.

"Hey! Bitch! You ain't allowed to smoke in here!

"Oh no?" The blonde smirks, "What're you gonna do about it?

"Get the fuck out!" He yelled.

"You can't do that!"

"This is my fucking bar. I can do whatever I want." He said as he grabbed her by the arm.

"Hey! Let go!"

"Get out!" He said, as he dragged her across the room and threw her out the door. She landed with a thump; a few seconds latter, her lighter and a pack of cigarettes flew after her, and pegged her in the face. She picked herself up just in time to see a moving truck saunter by, not looking as if it were in any sort of hurry. And then it was followed by a green car. In it sat a woman, who was dressed in shaggy clothing, but was made up like a queen. She sat with her shoulders straight and her head up. She was impatiently honking her horn at the other car, but Phoebe couldn't understand why she didn't just go around it.

Her eyes moved to the other occupants of the car. Three girls, two of which, were busy yelling at each other, and the other, who was sitting on the side facing Phoebe, was staring out the window. She almost dropped her cigarettes when she saw her face. The woman was beautiful. Living on the streets didn't allow the people around her to get their teeth fixed, and their hair done, and this girl, although a little ragged now, had obviously had both. That, added with her natural beauty, had made her a knock out.

She was interrupted when the bartender behind her started shouting, "What're you still doing here? Get out!"

"Okay, Okay."

She stared out of her window. Her sisters were fighting… again. Her mother was honking madly at their moving van, and she'd lost all energy a couple of hours ago. They were nearing their destination, and the scenery was starting to devastate her. It seemed that the town had been sucked of all color. When night came it would be repainted neon, flashing the names of bars and sports joints, and illuminating the hookers camped in front of them.

She slowly became aware of a girl staring at her, and she stared right back. The girl had blonde hair, lighter then hers, and a slightly pointed chin. She was holding a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and was being yelled at by a man doning an apron. She seemed to be ignoring the man, and instead fixing her gaze on Rachel. But this didn't intimidate her. Rachel was not one for intimidation. Their gaze locked for a slight moment before the girl turned to face the man behind her, and then scrambled away. Rachel turned her gaze aside and instead examined the trees, and noticed the changing of shades in their leaves.

If she had been a philosophical person, she would have probably reflected on the representation of autumn and her situation. The leaves were changing, and so was her life. But she wasn't a spiritual person at all, so instead, her mind was swirling with dark thoughts of anger, and fear, and frustration. Why the hell were her sisters being so fucking loud? Didn't they know they'd lost everything? She sighed, and resumed feeling sorry for herself.

Monica stepped on the scale, putting herself through her weekly ritual which brought fear to her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them a slit, to see what numbers the arrow was now pointing to. She froze. In one week, she had put on four pounds. Slowly, she got off the scale, and went into her room.

And hour later, when her mother called her to come down to dinner, she would reply, "I'm not hungry Mom!" and stay exactly where she was.

Phoebe, seeing as she had nowhere to go, decided to follow the car with the beautiful girl inside. She was drawn to her somehow, through the loneliness she could sense in the girl's eyes; loneliness that matched her own.

Ever since her mother decided to stick her head in an oven and cremate herself, and her step-father stabbed a man and wound up in prison, she had been feeling slightly lonely. Not an overwhelming sense of loneliness though, loss was not foreign to her, and people died everyday in her life, or got arrested for murder, or got shot in gang warfare. It was part of her life. She'd long since accepted her fate, and had accepted the fact that she wouldn't live past twenty-five. It didn't bother her.

She made her money doing what every whore on the street did: prostitution. On weekends she would hang around the Cat-Scratch club, and would get her customers right off the street. On weekdays, she would try her luck on the subway, playing guitar for those who would listen. But eventually, when she found that she'd get more money to stop playing then to play, It didn't bother her in the least, she would just stop playing.

She wasn't easily bothered.

"Rachel, can you give the movers a hand with those boxes?" her mom asked.

She stared at her in shock, "Mother!" she protested.

Her mother took her aside, and grabbed her shoulders softly but firmly, saying, "Rachel, we're not in Long Island anymore. We don't have any power, we don't a house, and we don't have any clothing. You'll have to learn to live without that life. Suck it up. We were terrible parents to you. We spoiled you rotten. It's time to correct that."

Rachel only scoffed and turned; she picked up a box, but made a big show of lifting it, and carrying it inside, not looking back. Her mother sighed and then turned behind her to give the same talk to both of her sisters, who responded with protesting and fake crying.

An hour later, when all of the boxes had been taken in, and moved up five flights of stairs, Rachel retreated halfway down the fire escape, to a level that's corresponding apartment was empty, and sat on the flat platform.

Suddenly, below her emerged the same blonde haired girl who'd been staring at her earlier. She watched as the girl mounted the stairs and started climbing towards her. Under normal circumstances, she would have been surprised or even indignant. But now, shaken beyond caring, she only gave the girl a quick glance, and returned to her nonchalance.

The girl reached her platform and sat herself down beside her. Rachel didn't say anything, but only continued to stare out into the city. She felt the blonde beside her stare in the same direction. Eventually the girl opened her mouth to speak, and it came out in a whisper, "What's over there?"

Rachel turned to look at her, and then said, "I don't know."

"Oh. Then why you looking there?"

Rachel shrugged, "I don't know."

"What are you stupid?" she asked.

Rachel laughed but then stopped when she realized that the girl beside her genuinely wanted to know, so she sobered and shrugged, "Maybe so."

The girl beside her earnestly said, "It's okay you know. I am too."

Rachel smiled despite herself and said, "Okay."

The strange girl stuck her hand out and said, "My name is Phoebe. Phoebe Buffay."

She smiled and replied, "Rachel."

Phoebe obviously wanted more, because she looked as if she were about to burst, so Rachel carefully added, "Rachel Green."

Suddenly Phoebe's rosy smiling face was replaced with ashen gray, and fear spread across her easy features. Slowly she forced out the words, "So… would your dad be… Richard Green."

Rachel's face turned confused… "Uh… No why?"

"Oh… Nothin… I just had a Richard Green who was one of my… customers."

Confusion turned to shock on Rachel's face as she murmured, "Oh... As in…"

Phoebe looked away and nodded.

"So… you are a…"

Phoebe nodded again.

"Oh. Okay…"

She kept nodding, even after Rachel finished asking questions. Finally Rachel put a hand on her head to steady her, shock still written on both faces.

She stared at the meal in front of her; her mother had busted her ass to create her favorite meal for her daughter's birthday. Pasta, laden with thick, creamy alfredo sauce, topped with chicken and shrimp. Monica knew that by the end of the hour, all of that food would be down her system, no matter how much will power she thought she had. And it was, her family was bringing out cake, and singing happy birthday, when she stole away.

She sat herself down in front of the toilet, and stuck a finger down her throat. Five minutes latter, she left the bathroom, ghostly pale, but feeling so much better.

"So how did you two meet?" Her mom was asking them.

They exchanged glances and Rachel finally spoke, "Well… Phoebe lives around here, so…"

"Yeah, I saw your moving van and thought I'd just say 'hi.'" She said, surprisingly containing the accent that Rachel thought was permanent.

"So where do you go to school?"

"School…" Phoebe replied, hesitating, "Oh yeah… School… Um…"

"Phoebe doesn't go to school." Rachel answered, with slight malice in her voice.

Her mom said softly, "Rachel, honey, I'm not going to let you drop out of school."

"Why not? I'm stuck in this hell hole anyways! What good could school do me?"

"We are not having this discussion now."

"Fine."

"Good."

Meanwhile Phoebe sat there happily laughing, both face turned to stare at the offender, communicating a "What the hell?" expression.

"I'm sorry!" she replied, "I've never had a family fight before!" she paused then added, "Its fun!"

"Right…"

"Go on!"

"Um… I think we're done Pheebs."

"Oh goody! You know my nickname!"

"Yeah…"

"They didn't know what my nickname was... I had to tell them." she informed Rachel earnestly.

"That's great." Rachel replied with fake enthusiasm.

Phoebe stood up and walked over to Rachel and gave her a hug saying, "You are so the best thing that's ever happened to me."