Authors Notes: Hello sweethearts, it's me here again with chapter number two for you all. Now, in this chapter not much 'action' happens really. I'm trying to set up Monica's side of the story too, as well as Chandler's.

Before I begin the actual story, I just wanted to say a massive, long overdue thank you for all of your support, you're very, very sweet people and I can't say how much it means that you are very kind people. So once again, thanks.

Also, I don't like the title of my story anymore, it's a little bit rubbishy in my opinion. Does anyone have any ideas that will make the story better?

Disclaimer: Do I own friends? No, I don't, sorry for anyone who was under the impression I did own them.

Chapter Two.

It seemed that despite the vast amount of money that had been spent when purchasing the bed, its soft and comforting mattresses and silky smooth covers would not allow Monica to drift off into the land of dreams that night. Where most people were sleeping blissfully, Monica simply could not relax. The cogs and wheels in her mind were frantically turning like clockwork, showing absolutely no signs of slowing down either. So whilst the rest of America had been taken by the sandman to the land of pleasant dreams, Monica was left behind with only her thoughts as company.

Sighing softly to herself, she rolled over in the bed, pulling her scarlet coloured quilt around herself. Her eyes flickered open again and she exhaled slowly at the sad emptiness beside her.

This time three months ago she was happy, more than happy actually. She thought that she had the 'perfect' life. A wonderful, handsome and intelligent husband living with her in a beautiful, big, red-bricked house in a good part of town, they were talking of starting a family together and had begun to try and get pregnant, she worked in a small, moderately successful restaurant just a stones throw away from where she lived whilst her husband commuted to work in New York. She had friends, family and love in her life; two steady incomes were allowing them to buy the best of everything that they wanted. She may have been a little naive to think so, but she was sure she was heading towards perfection.
Little did she know, though, that her life was far from perfect and the husband she loved beyond words wasn't really who he said he was. It was all lies, her life was a lie. And she hated it.

A tear rolled down her face as she touched the space where he used to sleep, she missed him greatly, well, not the man who was revealed to her three months previous, but the man she had fallen for.

Michael Long was her first ever boyfriend, her high school sweetheart turned husband. After meeting him in her junior year at college, Monica fell flat on her face in love with him. Michael was the living representation of the phrase 'tall, dark and handsome'. He was tall, with russet, tanned skin and brown, smouldering eyes, his body was strong and muscular. He was charming, polite and intelligent; his friends adored him too, though, now Monica knew why. Being two years older than her, he graduated whilst she was still in education, he got himself a 'job' in a large corporate office in New York- or, that was his cover up story, anyway.

Monica felt stupid and played when she found out what he really did, she couldn't, wouldn't love anyone who was that nasty. He imported and sold drugs in one of America's busiest cities, he would attack men along with his 'friends' when someone owed him money. His charming side was a front, underneath he was cruel and bitter, with Monica as the 'trophy wife' he thought he'd 'sealed the deal'.

Groaning loudly, Monica kicked back the covers and walked out of bed, betrayal and misery hanging over her like a thick and suffocating cloud.

She loved him and thought he loved her too, unknown to her, though, she was simply a person to return home to, to plan the parties he loved to host for his clients and bare his children one day. He claimed he still loved her, but if you loved someone, could you stand by and watch a gang of your so-called friends beat that person up? Could you stand by whilst they threaten them with knives and guns, telling her not to give evidence against her husband? Could you stomach the thought of seeing your loved one lying on the floor helplessly, and kick her again? No, that wasn't love. If you loved someone, you wouldn't continue to order your friends to 'make her see sense' whilst in prison.

Her faith in love was no more, she would never fall again.

Monica began to clean her apartment, head-to-toe, room by room, trying to tire herself out before tomorrow when she was to meet the officer who will be protecting her from that gang.

At around 3am, she fell asleep downstairs, she couldn't lie in the bed she shared with Michael anymore. Tears lined her face as she drifted off finally, into a pitiless and haunted dream.

...

After a very unsettled and difficult sleep, Monica woke bright and early the next morning, feeling miserable, sick and groggy. Depressed, she got showered, dressed and packed the last of her stuff into her bag ad waited for the officer with mixed emotions. She really didn't want to leave, she wasn't in the wrong after-all, but then again, she didn't want to endure another merciless beating from her husbands old friends, her old friends. She knew the wives of these men, she even knew a few of them, yet, her husband getting out of prison was more important to them. She wasn't fighting for just herself anyway.

When the knock at the door finally came, Monica slowly unlocked her door, peering around it to check that it wasn't more of Michaels 'buddies' at the door.

"Hi, I'm officer Chandler Bing," the man introduced himself, flashing his police badge at her and smiling reassuringly. He extended his hand to her politely and slowly, almost hesitantly, she shook it in hers.

"Hi, I'm Monica," Monica said quietly.

Chandler casually tucked his FBI police identity badge into the top pocket of his dark pinstriped blue suit and smiled kindly once again at the startled young woman in front of him, even with the patchwork of multicoloured bruises over her face, he could tell she was very beautiful indeed.

With a polite and civil nod, Chandler side-stepped into her narrow, but pristinely cleaned hallway, the moment that he was inside, she skirted passed him and quickly shut the door, in an almost desperate manner, he noticed, like she was afraid of something. Most probably the people who covered her in those bruises, now he thought about it.

Monica looked closely at the stranger, inspecting him with her dazzling eyes. He was tall, with soft and curly light brown hair and piecing blue eyes, he was dressed impeccably in an undoubtedly expensive dark suit with a crisp plain white shirt, he was very handsome and cute as he stood there, his professional manner faltering slightly as he smiled at her, he looked too young and too innocent to be a policeman. She frowned at the thought, she of all people should know to never judge a book by it's cover. You never really know someone.
She shook her head slightly before plastering a fake smile on her face again.

She cleared her throat "would you, erm," she stammered quietly "would you like a drink?" she asked.

"No, thank you, ma'am," Chandler declined courteously "the safe house is quite a distance," he said.

"O-okay," Monica nodded, shuffling her feet on the cream coloured carpet "I'll just, go get my bags then," she said.

Chandler nodded again and watched as she half-walked, half-ran up the staircase, leaving Chandler deep in thought as he admired the small suburban home. It looked too quiet and homely to be the place where one of the biggest drug dealers lived, everything from the peach coloured walls to the silver framed photos that lined them screamed out innocence, not villainous like he would expect. Then again, Monica Geller didn't seem like the type of girl to marry a thug with keen disciples, ready to kill her to stop her giving evidence in court.

As she re-emerged with her suitcase he was left pondering how she ended up in this situation.

"Are you all ready to go, ma'am?" Chandler asked her.

Monica sighed softly, glancing around what was once her peaceful home. She was almost reluctant to leave this place, her home. Could she even trust this man, a badge and smart suit doesn't always mean they're not lying about themselves? She made a mental note to herself to question him in the car.

"Yeah," she sighed "I'm all set."

"Okay," Chandler clapped his hands together "let's go."

Monica paused, taking a long look around, knowing she wouldn't be returning in a while.

She'd miss this place and her friends too, who were not allowed to know her whereabouts.

But, she had to do this.

"Let me take your bag for you, ma'am," Chandler said before grabbing her brown suitcase from the floor.

"Thanks," Monica murmured before following the officer out of her house.

...

Chandler pulled the car into the parking space outside the safe-house and from his briefcase he took out a small green folder. He cleared his throat slightly.

"Okay, ma'am," Chandler stammered with nerves, he hadn't ever done this alone before "there are a few, errm, things I need to go through with you."

"O-okay then," Monica said, shifting her weight slightly to face him.

"Firstly, for your protection you aren't to go anywhere without me," Chandler said "you aren't to contact your friends or family until the court proceeding have finished, if you see or suspect anything, tell me, if your contacted by anyone, tell me."

"That, errm, sounds fair," she nodded shyly.

"That's all good, ma'am," Chandler smiled.

"Just one thing," she sighed "don't call me 'ma'am' anymore, please."

...

So I don't feel that this was my best work, but my mind has been else where lately and I really should have tried harder but, I already wrote out chapter three, I just need to change it around a little, so it shouldn't be more than a week, and hopeful to a better standard as well.

Please let me know what you think about this story- and does anyone have any ideas how Monica and Chandler will get together? I have an idea, but y'know, you're a pretty creative bunch! Oh, and don't forget about a new title.

Thank you for reading. x