Hey kids! The song in this is by Maroon 5, and half of it is in this chapter and the other half will be in the next chapter....and don't worry if you are slightly confused. I will clear everything up. Just for the record though, Monica's parents were divorced and she lived with her mother and stepfather. Her father will come up later. But please review and tell me what you think. Thanks!


Disclaimer: Neither the song nor the characters belong to me....damn.



She showed up at his door soaking wet. He opened the door and there she stood. Water dripping from her hair and her clothes stuck to her body.

"I don't know.....I don't know why I'm here," she said softly. He hadn't asked. He wouldn't ask. All that mattered was that there she stood in front of him.

"Would you like to come in?" He asked.

"I should go," she turned around and hurried down the stairs pulling her coat closer to her body.

"Please don't go," he called after her. There she was, the most beautiful girl that he had ever seen. Of course, he couldn't do this. He would have to tell her to go. She was his roommate's sister. And you didn't date your friend's sister. Not even his incredibly beautiful sister. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders, strands falling down into her face. Making no move to push it back, it just hung there in front of her face, covering one of her intense blue eyes.

At eighteen, she looked as if she carried the weight of the world. And only he knew the truth behind that.

"I can't stay here," she repeated again.

"You have to stay here," he told her ignoring the fact that she was moving towards the door.

"Ross...." Her brother. But he wasn't home. He wouldn't be home all weekend.

"Isn't here." She knew where he was. He was exactly where she should have been, except that she had ran out of her mother's house and walked in the pouring rain until she had found a bus and took it downtown to NYU's campus.

"But...." Striding over to her, he placed a finger in front of her mouth.

"No." That was it, she caved. She gave in completely. He wrapped his arms around her shivering body and pulled her close to him.

He knew that she was shivering from the rain, but he also knew that she was shivering because she was terrified. Of where she would go, of going back, of things that he couldn't fix.

And for the first time in his twenty years on the planet, he truly and honestly felt helpless.




Beauty queen of only eighteen

She had some trouble with herself

He was always there to help her

She always belonged to someone else




Just as that night she had showed up to his door, he had no idea what he was doing now. Ten years. Ten years since that night that they had slipped into his dorm room and she had forgotten about her problems and life for a while. Not that it had lasted, he heard her wake up in the middle of the night sobbing into her pillow.

"Hey," he had run his hand over her back. "You okay?" Vainly, she tried to hide the traces of tears.

"Fine," she had said. He hadn't pushed. He wondered now if he should have. He wondered now if he should have demanded that she tell him what was going on. What was going through her mind. But he didn't.

Fine.

That's what she had tried to convince him that she was. What she tried to convince everyone that she was.

Of course, she wasn't. She knew that. He knew that. But they had both been under the impression that if they just pretended, if they didn't talk about the things that they shouldn't talk about, that things would be fine.

And that theory got torn to shreds when her stepfather had burst into the room as she lay with Chandler, and pulled her up by her arm. That theory got shattered when he had slapped her across her face and called her a slut. When Chandler had stood between Monica and her stepfather trying at all costs to protect her.

"Don't come home. You aren't welcome," her stepfather had shouted at her. It had been Chandler who had caught her when her legs refused to hold her any longer and she collapsed. It was Chandler who had talked Ross into going back to their parent's house and getting all of her stuff. It was Chandler who helped her fill out all the scholarship and college forms to get her out of that house as soon as possible. To get her as far away as possible.

Northwestern University. Full ride. She had ran as fast as she could away from New York. Away from her mother and stepfather.

But consequently, away from Chandler.

And now he was going to find her. Ten years later. He had heard that she ended up in Chicago. That she had just stayed in Chicago. Chandler had driven all night to find her.

And here he was. Standing in front of her door. Trying to summon up the courage to knock.



I drove for miles and miles

and wound up at your door

I've had you so many times, but somehow

I want more



Was she married? Did she have children? He had no idea, he hadn't talked to her in about eight years. Eight years. God, that was a long time. They had tried to stay together when she had left for Chicago. They had tried to make something work. But of course, it couldn't work. She wanted nothing to do with New York, and he couldn't keep flying to Chicago.

So they broke up. Had a long and emotional conversation before they both had hung up.

"Bye, Mon," he had said softly into the phone.

"No."

"What?"

"No goodbyes. I hate goodbyes."

"Then what should I say?"

"Just say goodnight. And leave it at that." And so he had left it at goodnight.

Until now. Now he wanted to see her again. As he reached his hand up to knock, the door to flew open and she came bustling out nearly running straight into him.

"Oh I'm sorry," she apologized hastily. She looked beautiful. As beautiful as she had at eighteen. Her once long hair was now shoulder length, and she wore sunglasses over her eyes, but he was sure that they were still that brilliant shade of blue.

"Monica?" Looking up, she finally slid the glasses off.

"Chandler?" It was as if she was staring up at a ghost.

"Hi." That's all he could get out.

"What...I...haven't.....eight years.....what are you doing here?" It came out in a jumble and he picked through to figure out what exactly she was saying.

"I came to see you."

"Why?"

"Because." Why had he come? He didn't know really. He had this overwhelming urge to see her. Wanted to see her and hold her and talk to her.

The look on her face said that maybe she didn't want to do the same.

"Do you uh, want to come in?" She finally spoke up.

"You're leaving," Chandler pointed out.

"It's not.....it's okay," she reopened the door and let him step inside. It was impeccably decorated. He glanced around noting the photographs on the wall. None of her family, not surprising....but none of him either.

"Do you want some coffee?" She offered.

"Are you married?" He hadn't wanted to blurt it out like that. But there it was. Hanging in the air between them.

"I....yes...." She was married, he felt like he couldn't breathe. She gave him a small, sad, broken smile. "Did you expect me to wait for you for eight years?"

He didn't know how to answer that question, so he turned and ran from her townhouse, ran just as she had run so very long ago.




I don't mind spending everyday

Out on your corner in the pouring rain

Look for the girl with the broken smile

Ask if she wants to stay awhile

And she will be loved

She will be loved




~Are you confused yet? Yay! Okay, no, don't worry I will clear everything up. Just review and I'll write the next chapter as fast as I can....thanks!