A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I don't really have much to say - shocking, I know. Sorry if this chapter is poo, but thanks for reading it anyway. This chapter takes place several weeks after Monica finds the rose petal. Hugs and kisses to all! ;)

Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Somebody please do my biology homework. That had nothing to do with a disclaimer.

CHAPTER 3

Monica awoke slowly, in a daze. The first thing that registered was that her head was pounding as though someone was beating it with a hammer. The second thing was that it was much, much too bright. She always kept the shades drawn in her room, so the early morning light couldn't get in.

She opened her eyes one by one, rubbing the sleep from them. She blinked, staring at the ceiling, then the walls. The light filled her eyes, making her head hurt worse and nausea fill her stomach. As she looked around, she realized she was in the living room of her apartment. A pillow was under her head, and a blanket covered her body.

But she didn't know how she had gotten there. She had no idea why she was on the couch, who had put her there, or what had gone on the night before. It was all so fuzzy.

She pulled the blanket off her body and stared down at her clothes. She was wearing a knee-length black skirt and short purple top. She groaned and buried her face in the pillow. Slowly, slowly, the night came back to her. She and Rachel had gone out for drinks....

The Night before

Monica sat at the small table self-consciously. She was the only person in the whole place who was sitting alone - she knew it. She tapped her foot and bobbed her head, looking around as if for a friend who was coming to meet her.

But no one was coming. Rachel had dragged her out of the apartment earlier, still in a pit of self-pity, with only four days left until Ross's wedding. In just thirty minutes, Rachel had downed her fourth drink and was dancing wildly with her third man. Monica, meanwhile, was sipping a watery margarita and feeling very much alone.

That's it, she decided. She stood up, picked up her jacket and purse, and headed for the door.

"Going so soon?"

Monica turned to see a man leaning against the bar, looking her up and down. He was slightly taller than her, and wearing a light blue shirt that fitted nicely around his muscular build. His obnoxious line did not please her. She raised one eyebrow.

"Yes, well, places to go, people to meet," she said coldly.

"It's only 8:30! C'mon, lemme buy you a drink," he said kindly. "I won't let you go until you say yes."

Monica sighed. "Fine. But just one."

"So what's your name?"

"Monica," she said shortly.

"Nice to meet you, Monica. I'm Jason. Now, before I go and make a fool of myself, there's no boyfriend coming back the bathroom to kick my ass, is there?"

"Nope," Monica replied. She glanced at Jason. He was cute; probably about her age; charming, and only slightly over-confident. The kind of guy who was perfect for a random hook-up. Maybe, she thought, she needed to have some fun for once in her life. It wouldn't hurt anyone; Pete would never know, and tomorrow she could go back to her boring, safe lifestyle. She replied saucily, "In fact, there's no boyfriend at all."

"Y'know, teguilash not really that badsh," Monica slurred an hour later. The bar was pulsating with loud music, and her bart stool seemed to be shaking beneath her.

She was wasted. So was Jason. And so, presumably, was Rachel, who'd Monica last seen half an hour before playing tonsil tennis with a guy who looked like he should've been home studying for a midterm.

"Two more shots, please!" Jason called to the bartender. A moment later, two more tiny glasses of tequila were placed in front of them. Grinning stupidly, Monica downed the bitter liquid, slamming her glass back on the table with vigor. She felt great. Her heart was lighter than it had been in ages.

"Douwandans?" Jason yelled over the loud chatter and extreme music.

"What?" Monica screamed back.

"Do you want to dance?" Jason called.

"Sure!" Monica replied exuberantly. She jumped off her seat and, swaying slightly, followed Jason out to the dance floor. As soon as they got there, a slow song started up. Smiling sheepishly, Jason wrapped his arms around Monica's waist and began to rock back and forth.

Caught off guard for a moment, Monica put her arms around his neck. They stayed like that for a minute before Jason said, "You know, Monica, you're the prettiest woman in this room." The scent of alcohol was strong on his breath.

"Thank you," she said awkwardly.

"You're also the smartest, and the sweetest, and the sexiest," Jason drawled, his hands sliding down from Monica's waist and resting on her butt.

"Um, Jason - " she began. This was getting out of hand - his hands shouldn't be there, they shouldn't be on her ass, she thought through a haze of alcohol. She had a boyfriend.

"Come on, Monica," he whispered. He bent down and began to kiss her exposed shoulder softly. She shivered as his lips ran up her neck, his hands still on her backside. His lips caught hers in a gentle, then demanding kiss. She was on fire as his tongue explored her mouth roughly. Pete never kissed her like this. It made her toes curl.

But even as she relaxed into the kiss, into his arms, she knew it wasn't right. Not only because she was cheating on Pete - that wasn't her biggest concern - but because she'd thought only one man could make her feel this way, even when he wasn't touching her.

The thought made her sad. She wiped it away quickly and looked up at Jason, who's hands were now slipping under her blouse. "Let me take you home, Monica," he said breathily.

Monica only nodded as he pulled her out of the bar.

***************

Monica sat up, her face burning in shame. Had she really let that scum take her home? But she hadn't slept with him - she knew that. What had stopped her?

She turned over and glanced at the coffee table. A glass of water and three aspirin were sitting there. Who had put the glass there? It would leave a ring! she thought angrily. Then she noticed the magazine underneath it - and the rest of the night came flooding back.

***********

They continued to make out during the cab ride home, his hands groping under her shirt. Monica started to come down from her teguila-induced high as New York sped past. She was dizzy and seeing double. As Jason paid the driver, grabbed her by the ass, and pulled her into her apartment building, she lost her footing and stumbled. Jason laugh loudly and pulled her up, kissing her again. "Come on, baby, just a few more steps."

Monica groaned. She wanted to go home and go to sleep - but she couldn't say no to Jason now, could she? As they stumbled into her hallway, Monica started to laugh that drunken laugh where she didn't know what was so funny. She fell against a corner and Jason started to kiss her, his pelvis pressed against her thigh. Somewhere to her left, she heard a door open.

"What the hell?" The voice was familiar. "Monica?"

Monica opened her eyes and looked up blearily. Two Chandlers stood in a doorway. Both has his brow furrowed and was looking disgusted as he took in the scene.

"Fuck off, man," Jason said rudely. Monica opened her mouth to tell him not to be mean to Chandler, but he covered it with his lips. His hands reached up and grabbed her chest.

"Dude, get the hell off her," Chandler said, and Jason's body was pulled from hers. He fell against the opposite wall. "She's drunk off her ass."

"Hey," Monica said weakly.

"It's none of your business," Jason slurred.

"Actually, it is. Now get the hell out of here before I call the police and report you for sexual harassment," Chandler spat. He grabbed Monica under her arms and pulled her upright as Jason slunk away. He reached into her purse, grabbed her keys, and unlocked the door, pulling her inside.

Chandler helped her to the couch and took off her shoes. "Dammit, Chandler, I was gonna get laid," she grumbled in irritation. The world was spinning around her, and blackness was threatening to edges of her pupils.

"You'll thank me tomorrow," he replied, laying her back gently. "Now, Mon, I'm gonna put some water and aspirin here, which you should try to take tomorrow morning before you throw up everything in your stomach. But don't worry, I'll put a magazine under it so you don't get a ring on your coffee table." His voice wasn't mocking or scathing, but gentle and respectful.

"Thanks," she said weakly, her head nodding. "For everything," she added with the only non-drunken part of her head.

"No problem," he said quietly. He fluffed the pillow under her head and tucked a blanket under her.

Monica smiled and closed her eyes, almost unconscious. Somewhere, in that not-yet-asleep but hardly-even-awake stage where reality and dreams blur together, she heard a far-off voice whisper, "I love you", and felt the softest lips in the world brush against her forehead.

She knew who had said the words. She must be dreaming, she thought, because that man only told her those words while she was sleeping. "I love you too," she murmured back.

But she wasn't sure if she'd said them out loud or just thought them.

******************

Chandler stared at Monica's smiling, sleeping face, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I love you," he whispered without thinking, letting his lips linger on her pale skin.

But just as he'd expected, there was no response.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Becca Boo - I didn't forget you! But your not online right now *sobs* Love you like a monkey doing... stuff! *Pinches Bec's little finger* Pa-HA!

*Yen*