Without You

by Ezika

New chapter is up! Contains a couple of minor swear words, but nothing major. Monica has a surprise. Slightly cliched, but hopefully, it will improve as the series goes on.

1. part 1

Without You (part 1)

The couple danced slowly in the fading light in their apartment. Their bodies moved in time with the music, but in truth, neither of them really heard it, they were too caught up in the moment. He stroked her soft, silky dark hair and sighed gently. This was the happiest he had ever been. He was with her, they were alone together, and this was their moment. And in this moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the world. He didn't want to break the magic of the moment by speaking, but he had to, he had to tell her the only thought that had been on his mind all day.

"I love you," he whispered. She squeezed him a little tighter.

"I love you too," she whispered back. She snuggled her head into his chest and breathed in his warm, familiar smell.

"I can't believe we're married," he whispered in awe.

"I know. Its like everything finally fits," she agreed.

Chandler smiled at her. Monica had put into words exactly what he was feeling; she had a way of doing that. It was one of the endless list of things he loved about her. It was like she could read his mind, and understand the jumble of thoughts and emotions in there better than he could himself. He loved that even when he was all screwed up, as he so often was, she could tell him what he knew himself, but was either afraid to admit, or looking at it in a way so he couldn't see it.

"Wanna go to bed?" he asked, half teasing, but half serious. It would be their first night as a married couple, and although he loved dancing with her, he would much rather be making love to her. Monica grinned up at him.

"After this dance," she promised. Chandler nodded and kissed her softly. "Hey, no cheating," she reprimanded him, gently pushing him away. He laughed, knowing she was only joking, and they resumed their dancing.

When the song finished, Monica broke their embrace and went over to the stereo, which she turned off. Chandler followed her and surprised her by scooping her up in his arms and kissing her. He carried her into their bedroom and laid her gently on the bed.

Some time later, the two of them lay asleep in each other's arms. Chandler, who had needed his space with every other girlfriend he had ever had, found that he couldn't sleep knowing Monica wasn't with him, or even that she was in bed with him, just on her side of the bed, she had to be touching him, he had to have an arm around her, he had to be able to feel her warm breath on his cheek, or neck or shoulder. He had to know that she would be there when he woke up. It was something that had started in London, when he had been terrified that it was all a dream, and that when he woke up, she would be gone, so that night, he had held her tightly as they slept. And Monica loved his arms around her as she drifted off. It made her feel secure in the knowledge of his love for her, she felt lucky that he was so possessive of her, that he loved her enough to overcome his need for space, and she felt honoured that her presence seemed to help him sleep.

In the morning, Chandler woke up first. He looked over at Monica and thought how peaceful she looked. Her dark hair was spread out around her on the pillow, her arm draped across his chest, her warm body pressed close to his. Chandler tenderly kissed her forehead, and then slid carefully out of their embrace, trying not to disturb her. He pulled on a bathrobe and tiptoed out into the kitchen. He wanted to make her breakfast in bed before they left that afternoon for their honeymoon in Paris. They had been planning to leave right after the wedding, but there had been a problem with the hotel, so they were booked on a flight at three forty that afternoon.

He looked in the fridge and found that there was nothing except an empty can of beer (Joey's, he guessed correctly) and a week old salad that Monica hadn't gotten around to throwing out. It wasn't like her to leave things in the fridge after they'd gone off, but he supposed she'd been too caught up in the wedding plans to think about the contents of the fridge. After dressing quickly in the first clothes he found in a pile in the guestroom, waiting to be put away (he suppose Monica had been to busy with the wedding to get round to it yet), Chandler scribbled a note to her, in case she woke up wondering where he was.

Dear Monica

Gone to get some breakfast things. Stay in bed.

Back soon

Love Chandler

P.S. I love you

The P.S. he added as an afterthought, mainly because he hated leaving her before she was awake, even if it was to do a nice thing for her like making her breakfast in bed. And also because every time one of them left, even if it was just to go across the hall, or down to Central Perk, and they would see each other in just a few minutes, they always said, "I love you" before they left. He didn't really know why. He just figured it was a sweet thing to do. Monica had once told him that part of the reason was just in case something bad happened, and they never got to say it again, wouldn't it be some comfort to know that they'd said it one last time? He had resisted the urge to laugh at that, one glance at her face told him she was serious, and he had grown used to it, and enjoyed the small, frequent reminder that he was the luckiest man alive to be able to love Monica and have her love him back. But despite the note, Chandler couldn't resist returning to the bedroom and giving her a loving kiss on her hairline and telling her aloud that he loved her.

Monica woke up shortly after Chandler left, and quickly realised that he was gone. She wondered why he'd left her alone in bed without waking her up, something he never normally did. Monica forced herself to get up out of the warm bed and got dressed. She idly wondered if maybe he was in the shower, and if he was, maybe she would join him. But when she left the bedroom, she discovered Chandler's note. She smiled, realising he probably wanted to make her breakfast in bed, and smiled even more when she read the P.S.

Obediently, she went back into the bedroom, and was just about to undress again, when the phone rang. She answered it, expecting to hear Joey's voice, asking if it was okay if he came over for breakfast (not that he normally rang, it was just that they had asked for some privacy since they had only got married yesterday), or Rachel wanting to bug her about the photos, or Ross wanting to congratulate them for the hundredth time. Or maybe even her mother calling to apologise for her father's behaviour at the reception (Jack Geller had got drunk and started calling everyone Garfield, and asking them to call him Punch), and to berate her on some minor detail concerning the wedding, or the reception, or the honeymoon, or the groom.

She wasn't expecting it to be the hospital, saying that Chandler had been in an accident. They wouldn't tell her how bad it was over the phone, but she could tell by the instruction to get down there as soon as possible that it was something serious. As the person from the hospital hung up, Monica sank down to her knees, still clutching the phone. She was crying hard. Chandler would be okay. He had to be. Chandler couldn't be seriously hurt. He couldn't. She needed him. She couldn't live without him. He couldn't be critically injured. The hospital was probably just being over cautious. Suddenly, she realised she was still holding the phone. In anger and frustration, she threw it across the room. Her hands tore at her hair; she didn't even attempt to wipe away the tears, which streamed down her cheeks, in an unstoppable torrent.

Joey chose that moment to walk in the door. He was whistling happily as he entered, but stopped instantly when he saw Monica crouching on the floor in tears. He hurried over and put his arms around her. She lent against his chest, not caring that she was probably scaring him by not offering any explanation for her tears. She just wished it were Chandler who was comforting her, not Joey. But if Chandler was here comforting her, she wouldn't be crying in the first place. Joey looked a little shocked, and didn't dare speak in case he upset her even more. So he just held her until she had calmed down a bit.

"You want me to call Rachel and Phoebe?" he asked quietly, thinking Monica would rather talk to them than him. He wondered if Monica and Chandler had had a fight, and she was upset because he had disappeared and they were due to leave for their honeymoon in just a few hours. Monica nodded miserably.

Joey tried to get up to reach the phone, but Monica clung to him still. He gently prised her off him, and told Rachel to get here as quickly as she could, and to bring Phoebe, and Ross to if they could find him. When he had finished on the phone, he noticed that Monica had moved onto the couch, where she sat, hugging her knees, staring morosely at an empty space on the wall. Joey couldn't wait until the others got there.

When they did arrive, they were as shocked as he was. Ross looked ready to vomit with shock, not only at seeing his sister so upset, but also at the thought of what could have made her this upset. She still hadn't managed to tell them. Rachel hugged her and let her cry some more. When Monica had calmed down a little, all she said was that she had to go to the hospital.

"Why Mon, what's happened? Are you okay?" Ross asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Monica said tearfully. That was the problem. She was fine, but Chandler was lying in hospital with god only knew what the matter with him.

"Is it chandler?" Phoebe asked. Monica nodded tearfully. Joey yelped in shock. His best friend, in hospital. And it must be something serious; or else Monica wouldn't be so upset.

"I'll call a cab," Rachel said quickly. She picked up the phone and did as she said, acting on auto pilot, knowing that Monica was obviously too upset to function properly. They were all upset, but Rachel could only imagine how upset Monica was. For a moment, she actually pictured what she would feel like if it was Ross, then mentally shook herself to get rid of the image, it was one she didn't want, and shouldn't even be thinking in the first place: she and Ross weren't together anymore.

In the cab on the way to the hospital, the five of them sat in a shocked silence. Monica cried quietly, and Joey stared blankly into space, wondering if Chandler would be okay. Ross had an arm around Rachel, without even realising it. Phoebe was muttering something that sounded like a prayer. When they got to the hospital it was Ross who asked for Chandler Bing.

"Are you family?" the nurse asked.

"I'm his wife," Monica stuttered. "Is he okay?" She asked the question all of them were thinking, the question whose answer she dreaded.

"If you'd like to wait in there," the receptionist said gently, pointing to a comfortably furnished relatives room. She was obviously not going to tell them anymore.

"Please, I just need to know he's going to be okay," Monica said desperately.

"Just wait in there. A doctor will be along shortly, he'll tell you what's going on with Mr Bing," the receptionist promised easily.

"I just want to see him," Monica pleaded. But the receptionist was used to dealing with distressed relatives, and simply smiled and gestured towards the relatives' room. Rachel led Monica over to it and forced her to sit down on one of the squashy chairs that sat near the window.

None of them spoke. The only sound was that of Monica crying softly to herself. After a few minutes had gone by, a doctor came in. he looked about forty years old, with greying hair and glasses. He was a little overweight, but looked experienced and kind.

"Hello, Mrs Bing?" he asked looking around. As soon as he saw Monica, he guessed that this was Mrs Bing. Her tears alone showed him that, but also the desperate look of disbelief that he saw when she looked up at him. Her eyes plainly begged him to tell her that Chandler was okay. He sighed to himself. He wished he could, but like hundreds of other wives, she would be disappointed.

"Is he okay?" she asked straight away. The doctor smiled indulgently, but ignored her question.

"I'm doctor Sullivan," he introduced himself, "I've been treating your husband Mrs Bing." He ignored the rest of the group, although he knew they were hanging on his every word. "Did anyone tell you why your husband is in hospital?" he asked, hoping someone had, hoping he wouldn't have to tell the distraught woman in front of him what had happened. But she shook her head. He sighed again. "He was hit by an ambulance," he said shortly. Monica gasped in shock.

"An ambulance? Coming to this hospital?" she demanded, then shook her head. "Forget it, it doesn't matter. Is he gonna be okay? Is he even alive?" she asked despairingly. Ross put his arm around her and hugged her, but she hardly noticed. "Please, just tell me," she begged Dr Sullivan.

"Mr Bing sustained a serious head injury when he was hit by the car, as well as a fractured collar bone and a shattered pelvis, and a considerable amount of internal bleeding," he said gravely.

"He's dead isn't he?" Phoebe asked suddenly. She was rewarded by a glare from Ross, and a look from rachel that asked why she was being so insensitive, which wasn't like Phoebe. Monica just burried her face in her hands; she didn't think she wanted to hear the answer.

"no, he's not dead," Dr Sullivan said. "But we don't think he's far off form being dead. If I were you I'd just be glad I got to say goodbye. You can see him in a few minutes, one at a time. He's unconsious, but that doesn't mean he can't hear you," he told them. His bleeper went off. "I have to go. When you're ready to see him, just tell one of the nurses, and you can go right in."

"I want to see him now," Monica said, standing up and wiping her tears away.

"Well, okay," the doctor said, a little taken aback. Its just through there, he said pointing to a pair of double doors.

"Thank you," Monica said, and made as if to go right away, but Ross pulled her back.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, nodding emphatically. She had to see him. Even if he was as much a mess as the doctor had said, even if he couldn't hear her or see her, she had to see him one last time. Before the others could protest anymore, she had gone. She paused slightly outside the doors to the room where Chandler was, but feeling the eyes of her brother and friends on her, only made her more determind.

Nervously she pushed open the door and slowly walked over to Chandler's bed. He was atatched to serveral huge machines that frightened her and made the man she adored look as small and vulnerable as a child. Monica found enough courage to sit down next to him and take his hand in hers. It was connected to a drip, but she ignored the horrible plastic tube and simply stroked his hand. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. His face was bruised but underneath the bruises she could see he was a deathly white. His skin felt unusually cold and clammy.

"I love you Chandler," she whispered, wanting him to hear it, even though she kenw he probably couldn't, and he would almost certainly never say the words to her ever again. She willed him to return from wherever he was now. "I need you so much Chandler, please don't leave me now. I miss you already, and you're not even dead yet. I can't believe you're going to die. And I can't believe I'm talking like its really going to happen. I guess I'm just in shock or something, because I can't imagine my life without you. I can't imagine living for the rest of my life, never seeing you, or holding you, or touching you, or kissing you, or making love to you. I can't believe it, and I don't want to believe it. I don't want to think that this is the last time I'll ever see you. And I hate that if it is, you're hooked up to all these machines, and if you can feel anything, its just pain. I hate that you're not here with me now, because then you would know exactly how I'm feeling, because you always do. I don't know how to put what I'm feeling into words, because words can't begin to describe such deep emotions as love, and I've never been very good at putting my feelings into words. Remember when I tried to propose? I messed that up." She paused, wondering if she should tell him. Then she thought, what the hell, he should know. "I told you that I couldn't do it because girls aren't good at proposing, but the real reason was that I wanted to hear you say the words. I never thought you'd do it as well as you did though, and I suddenly realised how much I didn't know about you. And although its only been seven months, I feel like I've learned so much about you since then, but its still not enough. I know we kept some things hidden from each other, and I wish to God we hadn't. but we did, and that's that, I guess. The past is the past, and there's no going back. so I guess all I can do is tell you that I love you." She started to stand up to leave, when she thought she felt him squeeze her hand, asking her silently to stay a little longer. "Does it hurt?" she asked him. "Does it hurt sweetie?" she imagined that he squeezed her hand again. "its okay darling. Its okay," she said, abruptly losing control and flinging herself at him. She rested her head on his motionless arm and sobbed.

She was interrupted in her grief by Ross. He stuck his head round the door to make sure Monica was okay, and also to ask if joey could go in and see Chandler. Ross hated seeing his baby sister so upset, and gently helped her to her feet and led her out of the room. She wanted to stay with Chandler, but she was too miserable to fight Ross, so she let him take her back to the relatives' room. She watched as joey went into Chandler's room to take her place.

Monica watched in silence as each one of her friends went in to see Joey in turn. Joey was the longest, but she supposed Chandler had been his best friend. When she thought about it, it was Chandler who held a lot of the group together. He was her best friend, Ross's best friend and Joey's best friend. He was the funny guy, who made smart-ass comments at his friends failings, but Monica knew, as they all knew, that Chandler was the type of guy who would be there when you needed him. But she needed him the most.

After all the others had been in to see him, Monica announced she wanted to see him again. The doctor said she would have to wait until after they had taken him for some tests, including brain scans. Monica sat impatiently in the relatives' room, fidgeting anxiously with the bracelet Chandler had given her for her birthday, and her wedding ring, and the locket which had belonged to Chandler's grandmother, but he had inherieted it and given it to her. they were the only jewelry she wore usually, and they all reminded her of Chandler.

After twenty minutes that dragged on forever, the doctor returned. He looked even more serious than last time, if it was at all possible. Monica instinctively rose to her feet when he came in.

"Is he okay?" she asked for what felt like the millionth time in the last hour or so.

"No, Mrs Bing, I'm afraid he isn't. We have the results of the brain scan here," Dr Sullivan said steadily, but Monica wouldn't let him finish.

"Will he survive? I don't care about anything else, if he's brain damaged or whatever, so long as he's alive, that's all that matters," Joey said.

"How can you say that? Would you want him to suffer for years, with no quality of life?" ross demanded, as usual making his views known to everyone else.

"ross!" Rachel reprimanded him gently. "We don't' know anything yet."

"He's going to die, isn't he?" Phoebe predicted miserably.

"Would you all just shut up!" Monica screamed. "You're all talking like he doesn't matter! Like Chandler is just some speciman or something! He's one of your best friends! And he's my husband! And I won't let you talk about him like that! He's not dead! He's not dying! He's not brain damaged! He's going to be just fine!" Monica screamed, although she didn't believe the words she was saying. She knew in her heart of hearts that Chandler was practically dead already, and she knew that if he wasn't, he was probably better off dead. But she hated that she felt like that, and she wouldn't give up on him, as she knew he wouldn't give up on her if he was in this situation, and she refused to let her friends give up on him either.

"Well, if you'll just let me explain," Dr sullivan interrupted, not agreeing with Monica, but not arguing with her either. He sensed that she was too worked up to listen to aguments. The best thing he could do was just to tell her, to tell all of them, the diagnosis straight away.

To be continued…