Part 10! Hope you're all still enjoying this guys D

Walk Away and I Stumble

Chapter 10

Chandler practically skipped up the steps of the apartment block, his heart feeling lighter with every step he took. So things hadn't gone according to plan with Molly. No scratch that. Things had gone exactly to plan and that was the problem. But, he reasoned, it was probably best not to drag Monica into all of that. At least not yet. Now he just wanted it to be about them, and only them. At least for a few hours in Central Park. Smiling he pushed open the apartment door, knowing full well it wouldn't be locked and began calling out for her, "Mon? You almost ready?"

He walked through the living room, shedding his coat as he did so, before detouring to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was only when he rounded the sofa that he saw the figure twisted on the floor. And only when he got closer that he realised it was Monica lying there, broken and barely breathing.

X

Chandler held tightly onto to Monica's arm as they were rushed through the unusually quite ER department, determined to never let her go. He couldn't let her go, he wasn't going to lose her now, not when he'd only just found her.

Ross followed behind him, shaken from Chandler's phone call, keeping his distance, but the worry still visible on his face for all to see.

"I'm sorry!" the nurse called out as Chandler attempted to follow them into the Trauma room, Monica's hand still clutched in his, "You can't come in here". And with that she was taken from him, her body limp and still wrapped in the throw he'd wrapped around her as they waited for the paramedics, as he watched her go. Praying with all his heart that she came back to him.

He breathed a sigh of relief when, only an hour later, he was told Monica had been moved to a room, and he could see her as soon as he wanted. He shook the doctor by the hand, a wide grin on his face. Monica was awake, she was sat up in bed and that could only be a good thing. He bounded up to the ward, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached her floor and then he flung the door open, finally locating her in the end bed, her face pale and drawn, but other wise the same Monica. He sat down beside her, kissing her gently as he did so, only pulling back when he realised she wasn't reciprocating,

"Mon? What's wrong?" he asked, puzzled, only then noticing the small lines of tears snaking their way down her face.

"They've found a growth" she choked out as her blue eyes met his, "On my brain, they don't know what it is yet but they're saying …" she paused, looking for the right words, "… they think it's cancer, Chandler. They're saying I've got a brain tumour."

And in that instant his whole existence crumbled around his feet.

XXX

Molly hadn't slept. She'd lain awake all night, not even really thinking, more aware of the empty space to her right. She hated it. She hadn't slept alone for one night in the past seven years. And she didn't want to get used to it now. The space was infinite, a giant void that stretched across a bed now too large for her slight frame. She could still smell him on the pillow beside her and ached to hold it close and breathe in his scent. But she refused to let herself. She clung desperately to the anger and hate she was supposed to be feeling, to the mad desire to cut up all his clothes and throw them at him. She knew that's what she was supposed to be feeling, she knew she should be hating him. But instead all she felt was a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. Their meeting had only served to make this ache worse. Instead of walking away hating him, she'd walked away wishing he would come back to her.

Then into the darkness she heard the faint rap of a door. Her door. Reaching blindly into the darkness for her gown, she felt herself praying that this was Chandler, calling to beg for forgiveness.

"Molly?" she heard him say, his voice heavy with emotion, as she padded down the stairs "I need …" and then he was crying an ocean.

"Chandler," she asked, opening the door to find him standing there, his clothes obviously hastily thrown on and his face pale and drawn. Molly was too rocked by his tears to even begin to milk his apologies.

"I'm sorry" he choked out, "I just didn't know where else to go."

That confused her, didn't know where else to go? But he was supposed to be here begging for forgiveness, to ask to be taken back. Where else could he go?

"It's Monica"

Monica? Ross' sister? But what did she have to do with anything … and then it was clear. The other woman, the person who had destroyed their marriage. Was Monica. Was their best friends sister, was someone he had only known for a month. And he was asking her for advice about Monica? He was asking his wife for advice about his mistress? She opened her mouth, ready to launch into a tirade when he spoke again,

"She's dying Molly. They're saying she's got a brain tumour"

There was nothing else to say as his tears flowed thick and fast, and with each one a little piece of his heart began to break. It was too much for Molly, she closed her eyes and opened her arms to him. Not to Chandler her husband, but to Chandler her best friend, who had just been told the woman he loved was dying.

Half an hour later the coffee seemed to have slowed the flood of tears as he sat in what used to be his front room, there were still traces of him dotted around, an old work tie that Molly hadn't dared touch just in case he came back. But Chandler couldn't look at them, they reminded him too much of the chaos of his life.

"You want to talk about it?" Molly asked gently, as she refilled his cooling mug. He shook his head but began to speak anyway.

"I don't know what to do, Mol, I couldn't even look at her. It's just … it's so unfair" the tears began to choke out as he struggled to catch his breath, "We've only just … we were meant to be together forever Mol, how can this be? She's so young, it's not fair"

She held him in her arms, rubbing his back as her dressing gown began to absorb his tears. It wasn't fair, she knew that, but a small part of her began to enjoy a small sense of victory. Ha! She thought quickly, before banishing those thoughts, so the woman you left me for is dying? Serves you right! But those thoughts wouldn't help anybody, especially not now.

XXX

Monica was curled up in her hospital bed, the covers pulled up tightly around her chin, cocooning her from the outside world. She hadn't seen Chandler since she'd told him, and then the hospital hadn't even been sure that it was cancer. But he hadn't waited around to find out. Monica knew she had to give him time, but right now she wanted to be selfish. She wanted to be held and to be told that it would be OK, he would be there for her, do whatever she wanted.

She wondered what death felt like. In the movies people with cancer always died peacefully, surrounded by the people that loved them. She hoped it was like that for her, she didn't want to be in pain when the time came. And just like that it hit her. She was dying. She was never going to be a mother, was never going to feel a child moving inside her, she was never going to get married, she wasn't going to get to be with Chandler forever. They weren't going to raise their children in the nice house in Boston.

The tears fell silently as her list grew more and more extreme. She was never going to know who won the Oscar this year, she'd never get to read the final Harry Potter book, she'd never see The Sound of Music all the way to the end, something she'd been planning on doing for as long as she could remember. She'd never really have a life. She'd die, right now, just when things were finally going OK for her.

As she closed her eyes and fell into a restless sleep she wondered vaguely if she would ever see daylight again.