H is for Home

"Mrs. Bing?" the nurse whispered quietly, very considerate of the fact Monica's husband was sleeping off another round of antibiotics, painkillers and something-or-others. Or perhaps simply not wanting to endure him conscious. They'd taken him off the IV the night before and after a hearty breakfast (home-cooked, of course), things were starting to look up.

Monica knew hope was a very dangerous thing at this point in her life, but despite all the warnings to her, from her, a little had subconsciously crept its way into her heart.

She lifted her head from Chandler's shoulder, biting her lip as the nurse looked pointedly away, staring off curiously at the rings that held the privacy curtain up. "Yes?" she asked back, taking care to not raise her voice above a whisper.

Chandler had always been the first one up to any noises of the nights; odd or not, drugged, or not. Even though they'd both developed a second sense through the early years of when their children were in distress, it was seldom that Monica was able to beat Chandler to the punch.

"As of 2:15 this afternoon, Mr. Bing has been discharged. His fluid retention is very good and Dr. Webber feels confident that no other problems should arise. Feel free to take him home at your leisure, and I hope to not see you back here again," she smiled kindly, glancing at their position on the tiny gurney before coughing once and pulling the curtains back together.

The phrase, 'I hope not to see you back here again,' rang in her ears like silver bells and she couldn't decided whether it was meant to be a nice comment or a cleverly hidden snide. She could always tell when Chandler was being sarcastic, but Betty, Betty had a way of making you second guess yourself when it came to matters of manners.

Maybe it was due to the European in her.

That must be it, Monica decided, snuggling back into Chandler's shoulders after a moment.

It was against the rules, apparently, to be sharing the bed space with Chandler. Someone along the line must have been terrified that her 105 pound body soaking wet would be too much for the small, portable bed to handle and the additional weight would cause it to strain and buckle until it reached a point of self-destruction.

Or so Chandler thought. He invited her up a couple days ago, opening his arms and flashing that irresistible grin of his. She hesitated at first, but after a little bit of coaxing caved in to his demands. It was, in fact, as uncomfortable as Chandler complained playfully on a number of occasions, but it beat the plastic chair by a long shot, and that was good enough for her.

Chandler didn't seem to realize that her hesitation didn't come from the fact that it was against the rules, or even from fear of hurting him; it came from her understanding that this would be the final straw in regards to her hope – that this simple action would make the hospital a permanent home for them.

She quietly detangled herself from his body, sliding off the bed and slipping her feet into her shoes, knowing that Chandler would soon become aware of the vacancy in his arms and awake. Packing up the room, she could feel Chandler's eyes boring into her back and she turned around with a smile.

"What are you doing?" Chandler questioned suspiciously and for a moment Monica played with the idea of lying to him, telling him that the nurses were moving their room to somewhere where he would be less 'obtrusive'.

But the real reason was too exciting to be toyed with and she couldn't do that to him, "The doctors said that we could go home whenever you woke up honey," she smiled.

Chandler stared at her, and then cocked his head to the side. She came over and kissed him lightly on the forehead and he squirmed away, observing her face. "Are you… serious?" he asked, his tone unbelieving.

"They were very impressed with your fluid retention," Monica teased and Chandler sat up, yawning.

"So we can go home?" he asked, allowing a tiny bit of excitement to show through his face.

"We can go home," Monica smiled; happy they were leaving the wretched hospital at last. It was a good place, and the staff was nice, but it was too sad to be around all the time. There was so much despair, so many people that had already given up – it would be nice to go back to their home.

For the first time in quite a while, Monica found her self reminiscing about the past, remembering the cozy apartment with purple walls…

hHh

"What are you thinking about?" Chandler's voice interrupted her and she snapped out of her daydream, placing the blanket she'd been smoothing out for the past ten minutes into the duffel bag.

She debated whether or not to tell him, "I was so pissed off at you," she stated simply and Chandler stared up at her confused. Of course he didn't know what she was talking about, not with her head thirty-plus years in the past. "I can't believe you guessed eleven. Technically it was Joey, but still, the odds, eh?"

"What are you talking about, Mon?" Chandler asked, stroking her hand and analyzing her. "Have you gone 'round the bend?" he questioned sympathetically.

Monica laughed, shaking her head, "I was remembering our apartment. In New York. The one you stole."

"You mean the one you stole from me and Joey?" he corrected playfully, getting out of the bed, pulling a pair of pants that Monica handed to him on.

"I didn't steal it. It was rightfully mine anyways," Monica shrugged, laughing at the memory. She and Rachel were so clever sometimes.

"It's too bad we had to leave it," Chandler said softly.

Monica nodded, thinking back to that day, her eyes beginning to sting from the simple memory of it.

hHh

"That was a good home," Chandler interrupted her memory from behind and she startled slightly.

"Yeah, it was…" Monica whispered. She hadn't thought about that place for years, and didn't know what had caused her to start think about it now. "I remember me, Rach and Phoebe almost set the place on fire once," she laughed.

"Twice if you count Thanksgiving, 1994," Chandler reminded.

"That was your fault," Monica denied. "My thirtieth birthday party-" she truthfully couldn't remember much of it, other then what was on the tape Ross had given her a couple years back.

"When I finally opened the door to your secret closet. Joey was convinced Richard was hidden away in there,"

"That would be a neat trick," Monica laughed, turning around and wrapping her own arms around Chandler waist. "The adoption agency lady and Joey,"

"The free porn,"

"Rachel's two birthday parties,"

"The time I saw Rachel naked,"

"Is that all you think about?" Monica demanded, "Porn and naked people?"

"Well, when that naked person was you…" Chandler trailed off suggestively, pushing her gently towards the bed.

"Chandler!" Monica reprimanded, "You're no long thirty-one, and neither am I for that matter! Besides," she grinned, "We're in a hospital, and I really don't want to achieve giving one of the nurses a heart attack so close to our departure."

"The guy above the apartment Phoebe hooked up with," Chandler continued, his eyes twinkling.

Monica shook her head, understanding what he implied, "You weren't even there, and it was disturbing!" Chandler laughed, kissing her gently. "Or the time you came home from Tulsa for Christmas for me," Monica smiled. That one of the greatest Christmas presents he'd ever gotten her to this day.

"When Ross finally figured out we were together…"

"When we found out we were getting Jack and Erica,"

"To be fair, we only knew we were getting one at the time,"

"When we started living together…"

Chandler nodded, "The time we proposed to each other…"

"Yes," Monica agreed softly, taking his hand, "I'll never forget that one."

"You alright?" Chandler asked after a moment, aware that all the talk of the past was making Monica a little nostalgic.

"Yeah," Monica nodded, leaning into Chandlers embrace, feeling tears begin to pool at the bottom of her eyes. Those had been fun years; ten years of carefree days and next to no responsibility. Before, the close proximity had made the six of them great friends, and now, even though it seemed in some ways they had deeper ties, it was nice to remember the place where they'd grown up.

"We have a pretty good place to go home to now," Chandler reminded gently, hoping to turn her mind from what was left behind.

"I remember when Erica was little and she tried to stuff a banana down the bathtub's drain," Monica laughed, shaking her head,

"When the twins crashed into the pantry door in the middle of the night, trying to get cookies,"

"Noah and his spider collection," Monica shuddered,

"Emma, Erica and Sophie and their slumber parties,"

"Jack and Mike trying to mountain bike down the stairs,"

"The first time Erica brought a boy over," Chandler scowled,

"Erica and Noah trying to make pancakes for our anniversary,"

"C.J. getting stuck in the washing machine,"

"The kids trying to hide Ritz under their beds when he was a kitten,"

"Attempting to paint the picket fence white,"

"Christmas morning before the kids wake up,"

"Falling asleep on the swinging bench on the porch,"

"The thunderstorm when Noah was six and the twins were eight, where we played Monopoly until three-"

"And then everyone fell asleep on our bed…"

"We had some pretty good times in Westchester too, didn't we…" Monica realized with a smile.

Chandler nodded, taking the duffel bag off the bed, "How about we go home and create some more, better memories," Chandler proposed, taking a seat in the mandatory wheelchair he had to take to the hospital exit.

"Invite the Geller's, Bing's, Tribbiani's and Hannigan's over for a nice little dinner," Monica suggested and Chandler's face fell. "What?" Monica asked.

"I was hopping we could do something… you know," Chandler squirmed, "More intimate."

Monica rolled her eyes, "You really do have a one-tracked mind," she commented.

"I've been in a hospital for three weeks, what do you expect?" Chandler protested, "I am a man. But I wouldn't mind hosting," he added hastily, "Rachel, Ross, Emma, Jack, Erica, Noah, Joey, Joey Jr., Phoebe, Mike, Mike Jr., Sophie, Lou and… did I forget anyone?" Chandler asked nervously as Monica rolled him down the hall.

"To tell you the truth, I don't really know…"

They were silent for a second, until Chandler couldn't contain himself for any longer, "We're going home!" he announce, triumphantly raising his hands, getting odd glances from doctors, severe glares from nurses and envious looks from other patients.

"We're going home," Monica repeated softly, smiling to herself.

Yes, she missed the old apartment with the purple walls, but…

To her, home was where her heart was at; and for the past couple decades her heart had been stubbornly attached to Chandler.

A/N: Sorry for the long update time, but I've been up to my neck in set. I won't stop this story until it's done, so be patient, please, and reviews are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy this chapter and I have no idea when the next one will be up.

Thank you for those who reviewed last chapter, thank you.

(If anyone knows anything about politics and campaigns, message me!!)