I don't own Friends and I never will.
Phoebe Buffay sat on the step, listening the the sirens all around her and her sister arguing with the policeman. She felt completely numb.
Someone, she wasn't sure who, had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and she was greatful for the warmth it provided. She felt like she should be crying at this moment- hell she'd been crying when that stupid deer's mother died just a few days before, but no tears were falling.
In her field of vision she could see the snowman she had made, maybe two hours previously. Ursula thought herself too old and mature but Phoebe had enjoyed herself.
Randy, who hadn't even looked in her direction for months had came and helped, I had been a good day.
Until she went inside to get a glass of water, she would have liked something warm but ther mother couldn't afford gas, even with both her and Ursula having a part time job. They had a little but their mother had insisted in saving it.
Now she knew what for.
In a rare display of twin telepathy she and Ursula had entered the kitchen at the same time, her through the backdoor and Ursula from their small living room.
Inside the kitchen her mother had sat in front of the oven, unmoving, a strange smell of burning had filled the air. Ursula had screamed but she just stood there, her curly hair falling into her eyes as if to protect her.
They hadn't got a working phone in the house, after their stepfather went to prison all the money went to rent so there wasn't electric, but Phoebe had went to the telephone box almost right opposite and called the police.
She felt movement on her left side and she turned to see Ursula, a weirdly serious expression on her face. "They're going to take us into foster care. We don't have any living family," she said. "They've found a temporary place for us,"
She didn't offer Phoebe any words of comfort and Phoebe didn't offer any back. What really was there to say. "I'm sorry our mom shoved her head in the oven?"
Slowly, it began getting dark, all around her people were moving but Phoebe just sat there, as unmoving as the house itself. She didn't know how many hours had passed when someone tapped her on the shoulder. "It's okay for you to fetch all your stuff now," an older, unsympathetic policeman said.
She walked into the house, avoiding the kitchen, and went across the hall to her and Ursula's shared bedroom. She didn't know why but she put her mother's skull in her bag. Maybe it wasn't an appropriate message at this time but she could think rationally enough to know she'd want it later on.
She was distantly aware that Ursula was also in the room, packing up her own clothes but her brain refused to let her say anything. She licked her dry lips but no words came out.
It felt dreamlike but a sharp pinch on her wrist told her this wasn't a dream. This was her life now.
Together, the twins left the house and walked into the police car.
Tomorrow, there would be interrogations, but tonight they were allowed to sleep.
Phoebe looked at the bacon and began to eat it. It was the morning and somehow, after lying awake for hours, she had gotten to sleep. It was the first time in her life she and Ursula had slept in different rooms and it had been too silent. She was left with only her own thoughts to keep her company.
It was 8 am and in 10 minutes they would be packed out into the car and taken to the police station and asked questions like a criminal on trial. She still hadn't been able to say a word, which was unlike her. Normally she wiukd always be talking, singing or humming.
"How old are you?"
Phoebe wasn't sure. Somewhere along the line her age had gotten muddled up. The year she was born was never important and her school year had been messed up from the years she had been homeschooled on the barge. There had been about 5 other kids, some a few years younger and others a few years older.
"13," she finally said. It was the best guess she could give. Her throat felt sore, it may have only been a day, maybe not even 24 hours, but it felt like a lifetime. She wanted so badly to grieve but she didn't know how to.
"What is your birthdate?" The man barely achknowledged her falter. He likely got the same answer from Ursula.
She purposely omitted the year, not sure how to answer.
"Were you aware that your mother was dealing drugs?"
That felt like a kick in the stomach. Phoebe leaned over, and threw up. She knew that was what her stepfather had gone to prison for but she hadn't realised her mother was selling them too. She stared at the partly digested bacon and began to feel nauseous again.
Someone walked her her out of the room to who knows where and with a swimming mind, Phoebe vowed to never eat meat again for as long as she lived.
"Thank you for coming."
She had said that phrase what seemed like a million times. Over the last two weeks she and Ursula had planned their mother's funeral. Lily's ashes were on the pedestal.
Finally it seemed like everyone had arrived. She sat down next to Ursula and the service began.
"They've found a care home able to take on two teens at last. you'll be leaving in the morning." their social worker told Phoebe and Ursula. Ursula gave the woman a tense smile and she left the room.
Phoebe knew she couldn't stay in one of those places. There were kids at school that lived in one and they always looked so defeated. She couldn't let that happen to herself.
She began to quickly pack her bag again, she hadn't unpacked it knowing that the place was only temporary. Everything seemed to be temporary.
Ursula watched her with a strange look on her face- the face that looked identical to her own. She had often hated Ursula, for breaking her things, for stealing her friends, and even if it was an accident, for breaking her collarbone.
But she couldn't feel hate anymore.
"Phoebe?" She turned around to see Ursula looking like she was going to say something. To persuade her to stay.
Ursula looked conflicted, her hand reached out to her pocket.
Phoebe waited in the bathroom until she was quite sure everyone was asleep. She went into the pot of change they kept and stole about 20 dollars. She felt bad about it but she needed the bus fare.
She didn't know what would happen, just that she had to leave. Something in her head told her and her mother always told her to follow her intuition.
She waited for for the bus, thankful there was still one going this late at night and stepped on.
"Single to New York please."
Hey! So I probably have some errors as I am neither American nor from the 1980's. I also have never lost more than a Grandparent.
I love Friends and Phoebe is my favourite character. I feel that this plotline is an interesting one that's rarely explored. I've already started to plan out exactly what will happen and whilst for now it will just focus on when she began living on the streets to when she moved in with Monica I may change it to going to where the series begins. I'll try to make it as canon compliant as possible but if I miss anything out or contradict anything, I do apologise.
To get the review rolling (pause for canned laughter.) I'll ask a question: Who is your favourite of the main 6 and why?