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Chapter Three
"Chandler, will you just-," Ross began.
"No," Chandler answered almost automatically. He knew what Ross was about to ask him. It was the same thing he, Rachel, and Phoebe had been trying to get him to do for the past three days: Go home.
But he wouldn't. He couldn't, not without Monica. He'd refused over and over again, but they just kept asking. Well, Joey hadn't, and for that, Chandler was grateful. Joey somehow seemed to understand. He would just sit there with Chandler for hours, neither of them talking.
When everyone else had gone home, and it was four in the morning, Joey was still there. Joey didn't ask any questions pertaining to Chandler and Monica's secret relationship, or what they had been doing at two o'clock in the morning, the night she had been attacked.
Chandler suspected that this was partly because Joey had known about their relationship beforehand, but nonetheless, he was glad there was someone else who didn't care about all those other details; someone who just wanted Monica to be safe.
What hurt Chandler the most was that Monica was still refusing to see him. She wasn't seeing anyone, actually, and, according to the nurses, she had barely said two words since she had been admitted to the hospital.
Oh, don't think he hadn't tried to see Monica. He had asked the nurses to tell her that he was still there. He had given them notes to give her; countless messages, all saying the same thing: "I love you," He had sent cards, flowers, even stuffed animals.
Chandler looked over and saw Joey, snoring away in the chair next to him, and almost smiled. He had scared his friends even more when he had stopped making jokes. He had always been the one to make them smile, even when they had no hope left. But that was before.
He realized he was almost jealous of Joey, who could actually sleep in the uncomfortable hospital chairs. Chandler hadn't slept in days; the only reason he was probably still alive was because of the endless coffees he had been given by his friends.
But there was another reason he couldn't sleep, and he knew it. He wished Monica would see him. More than anything, he just wanted to hold her again.
He rested his head on his arm, and willed sleep to come, even though he knew it was hopeless.
Monica sat on the corner of her bed, her head resting on her knees, which were pulled tightly into her chest. She had covered herself in blankets, unable to look at her body.
Tears were streaming down her face, and she realized she couldn't remember a time in the last three days when she wasn't crying.
You should have let Chandler come in.
He can't see me like this!
You love him.
I know, but I'm too ashamed. If I let Chandler in, everyone else will come in too, and I'm not ready for that.
You love him.
I know.
Monica slowly got out of bed, and went over to the one, small window that was in her room. It had been closed ever since she had come here, but now she opened it, tracing the rain that mirrored her tears with her fingers.
Somehow, she wasn't surprised to see that it was raining. After all, she felt terrible inside, so why shouldn't the weather be the same way?
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the door opening and a nurse walking in.
"Oh, honey, you shouldn't be out of bed," It was Ellen, the nurse that usually attended Monica. Ellen was probably in her mid-fifties, and kind of eccentric, but she was a decent person. She never tried to persuade Monica to talk and she didn't push too far.
"Come on, now, let's get you back to bed," Ellen said softly. Monica turned around and walked, on wobbly legs, back to her bed. Her confinement.
Her bed, which was surrounded by flowers, cards, presents. All from Chandler.
You love him.
I know.
And he loves you.
I know.
After seeing her to bed, Ellen left her alone. That was how she preferred it; to cry herself to sleep every night, and to wake up the next morning with tears still in her eyes. To have nightmares with creatures in them too horrible to identify. Most of the time she would wake up, screaming Chandler's name over and over in her head. But she still wouldn't let him in.
You have to.
I can't.
You have to.
That night's dream was different. There were no dark alleys or frightening creatures. The only thing she saw was Chandler. In her dream, he was pacing around the waiting room, his head in his hands. He looked stressed, and it was because of her. Chandler looked up, and kept saying the same thing over and over again.
"Let me in. Please. Let me in,"
"At least he's sleeping, Rach,"
"Yeah, but I wish we could get him to go home, Phoebe,"
Chandler opened his eyes, and saw Ross heading towards them, coffees in hand. "Oh, is he sleeping?"
"No, okay?" Chandler exclaimed, frustrated. "It's impossible to get comfortable in these chairs!" He had meant to sound humorous, but it came out bitter.
"Then go home!" Rachel said loudly, and Chandler knew he had pushed too far. "Chandler, look, we know you love her, we all do. But you're making yourself sick!"
"Just for an hour or so," Phoebe suggested. "Get some rest, take a shower, eat something,"
"No. I can't,"
"Just go," Ross spoke up. "We'll call you if anything happens,"
Chandler reluctantly agreed, knowing deep down that his friends were right.
"So, did you sleep well?" Ellen asked, coming into Monica's room, carrying a breakfast tray. Ellen always talked to Monica as if she would answer, even though it was quite obvious that she wasn't going to talk. In a way, this irritated Monica; she just wished to be left alone. But at the same time, she was grateful that someone was treating her like a human being.
Monica picked at the food that was in front of her. "Come on, you have to eat," Ellen prompted. Monica looked up, and Ellen noticed that there was a change in her face; she was clearly troubled by something. Of course, she already had many issues to deal with, both physically and emotionally. But it seemed like something else was haunting her thoughts.
"Honey, are you all right?" Ellen asked, not really expecting an answer.
Of course I'm not all right.
"Can you send Chandler in?" Monica asked quietly, her voice hoarse and almost incomprehensible.
Ellen looked up, surprised. Truthfully, Monica was surprised at herself. "I'll see what I can do," Ellen said, moving towards the door. She opened it, and was almost about to go out, but she stopped and turned around. "Now eat,"
"Why do you think she refuses to see us?" Ross asked, clearly hurt that his sister wouldn't talk to him. They were sitting in the waiting room, about fifteen minutes after Chandler had left. They had been discussing Chandler for the most part, all of them afraid to bring the subject of Monica up.
"I don't know, but it's killing Chandler," Phoebe said, and Rachel nodded in agreement. They turned to Joey for his input, and realized that he had been asleep the entire time. Rachel prodded him, and he jolted awake. "Wh-wh-where's Chandler?" He asked. "Did Monica let him in?"
"No, we finally convinced him to go home for awhile," Phoebe said.
"What?" Joey asked, still half asleep.
"Yeah, he's taking a shower and hopefully he'll eat something," Ross added.
At that moment, an elderly nurse came out of Monica's room and walked over to them. "Which one of you is Chandler?" She asked.
"Uh, Chandler's not here right now," Rachel said.
"Why? What's wrong?" Ross jumped in.
"Nothing's wrong; she wants to see him," Ellen watched as the four people sitting in front of her jumped up excitedly.
"What? Can we see her?" Rachel asked nervously, wringing her hands.
"No, I'm sorry. She only asked for Chandler,"
"But I'm her brother!" Ross exclaimed.
"Those are hospital policies. I'm sorry, there's nothing else I can do," She walked away, and the four of them sat down, disgusted.
"I can't believe this," Phoebe said. "We're her best friends,"
"And I'm her brother!" Ross exclaimed again.
Rachel took out her cell phone. "I'm calling Chandler,"
Chandler stepped out of the shower, feeling somewhat refreshed. He pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and brushed his teeth. He walked into the kitchen and saw the answering machine light flashing. He sat down on one of the barcaloungers, and pressed the button.
Hey, Chandler, it's Rachel. Um, come to the hospital as soon as you get this, okay? Okay, bye.
"Damn it," Chandler said, jumping up and running out the door.
Chandler, where are you? Monica wondered, pulling her knees tightly into her chest.
Ellen reappeared, coming to take her breakfast tray away. Monica couldn't hide her disappointment when she saw that Chandler wasn't behind her. Ellen noticed her look, and said something about him not being out in the waiting room, and then she left abruptly.
Monica found herself crying again. Does he not love me anymore? Is he fed up with me?
Chandler ran into the waiting room, and saw his four friends sitting there, looking depressed. Out of breath, he exclaimed, "What's wrong? What happened?"
Seeing that no one else was going to answer, Joey stood up and led him away from the others. "Monica wants to see you,"
Chandler's breath caught in his throat. "Okay, okay…what's with them?"
"She's still refusing to see them,"
"Oh," Chandler wondered in his head if he should go and comfort them.
Joey seemed to know what he was thinking. "Go, go. I'll take care of this,"
Chandler nodded and quickly walked to Monica's room. He gulped when he saw her sitting there, looking confused and hurt. Her eyes were read, but the rest of her face was as white as a sheet. Her hair was messy, and there were scars all over her body. Chandler slowly approached her.
"Hey,"
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