All I want right now is to see Monica. She's the only thing in this world that can make me feel better.

Despite the day, I can't help but smile a little.

She loves me. Monica loves me. I've bared my soul to her, told her the worst of me, and she still loves me.

I don't know what I did to deserve her; all I know is that I'm going to do everything in my power to do right by her.

I just need to hold her. I need to feel her arms around me, her heart beating against her chest, her lips on mine…

I shiver a little and pull the collar of my coat up around my ears, even though the chills running down my spine have more to do with that tiny little woman than anything else.

Maybe it was naïve of me, but I wasn't expecting her to feel so…right. I didn't expect her to fit against me so perfectly, as if we were made for each other. She's better than anything I possibly could have dreamed of, and all we've done is kiss.

I feel like I never truly kissed anyone before her. I know that sounds absurdly romantic, but that's how it feels. It almost makes me sorry that I fought my feelings for so long, but maybe we needed that time to fall in love.

Though maybe if I'd told her sooner, it wouldn't feel as if every moment could be the last one.

We're going to war. The President said so today. He said yesterday is "a day that will live in infamy." I feel that's truer of today because now I know that at any moment, I will be receiving my orders to ship out and…that could be that.

My hands start to shake as my stomach ties into a knot.

I could die.

No; I will likely die.

I'm going to be sent overseas to some war-torn country and fight a battle I don't understand or even know if I believe in and maybe die.

Monica's idea to run away together sounds really good right about now.

I know it's fast, but I just want to spend my life with her. I want to find some little house somewhere and marry her and have a dozen babies and just be happy.

Maybe if I make it through all this, we can have that.

I don't know if my mother entirely thought the terms of her conditions through—I know she wanted me to learn discipline and respect and that I needed to clean up my act, but I don't think she understood that enlisting meant that I could die.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to fight, I don't want to do any of it. I know horrible things are going on in the world and I know we should try to stop it, but that doesn't mean I have to be comfortable with any of it.

The world is a cruel place sometimes, and not just because of the obvious reasons, but also because the day the woman I love more than anything else in this world tells me she feels the same way, Japan decides that killing a bunch of our people is a swell idea.

I know that it's self-centered of me to think this way; truly, there are things going on right now that are much worse than falling in love with an amazing girl only to know you have to leave her soon. That doesn't mean I can't be angry at the circumstances.

I pick up my pace a little as I realize I'm in her neighborhood, the abandoned building we've spent so much time hiding in just a few blocks ahead. I have no idea if she'll even be there right now, but I have to find out. If not, I'll track her down at her grandmother's apartment or at Phoebe's or wherever I have to. I just need to see her right now.

I walk a little faster, my feet taking the lead, all of me eager to see Monica.

My girlfriend.

I can't help but grin a little at that.

She's my girl.

I turn into the doorway and all but run up the stairs.

"Chandler!"

I skid to a halt, Monica's voice ringing through the stairwell. I look around and see that, in my haste, I ran right past her. She smiles up at me from two floors down.

"What're you doing down there?" I ask as I try not to break my neck getting to her.

"The roof is too cold. I brought all the blankets down here so we wouldn't freeze to death."

I nod, only half-listening. As soon as I can, I reach for her, our arms going around each other. I bring one hand up to her face, stroking her cheek for a moment before she stands on tiptoe, pressing her lips to mine.

She's really good at this. She told me yesterday that it's not something she's ever done before, but…she's really good at kissing. Her fingers run through my short hair, sending a new set of shivers down my spine and I pull her closer. I feel like I can't get her close enough.

I feel her slowly sink down, her feet coming to rest on the floor, but I chase her lips, not ready to stop kissing her. I feel her smile against my lips and I grin in response. Despite all the horror in the world right now, we have this. It may just be a few moments at a time, but I'll take what the world will give me.

I finally pull my lips from hers, breathing heavily, her warm breath just as uneven against my cheek. "I love you," I whisper.

She looks up at me, smiling even though her eyes are sad. "I love you, too."

I slide my hands down her arms, lacing our fingers together. "You heard?"

I see tears fill her eyes and my heart breaks. "I heard."

"War," I say softly, disbelievingly.

Her fingers squeeze mine and she steps closer, resting her forehead against my chest. "It doesn't feel real," she whispers. I feel myself begin to shake and I take a few deep breaths. I don't want to panic in front of her.

I give her a gentle nudge and guide her into the empty office she emerged from, most of the furniture long-since scavenged. Our chairs and blankets are piled in a corner. I sit down on one of them and she follows me, curling onto my lap. Together, we pull one of the blankets around us and I breathe her in deeply. She buries her head in my neck, close enough so I can feel her eyelashes tickling my jaw. Tentatively, I rest my hand on her thigh, waiting to see if she'll push me away. Instead, she sighs and wraps her arms around my middle.

Today we should be celebrating. We should be off doing something to let the world know how we feel about each other. We should be out to dinner or at a movie or anything but this right now.

The world had other ideas.

What's that saying? The surest way to make God laugh is to make plans?

I know it's selfish, but I don't care. I just want the world to stop for a little while so I can concentrate on this girl in my arms. And maybe it's not selfish at all to wish that war wasn't happening. Maybe it's the best thing anyone could wish for.

"I'm scared," I whisper, the words escaping me before I can help it.

She nods against my neck, her arms tightening. "Me, too."

"I don't want to die."

"I don't want you to die, either," she answers, her voice choked. A moment later, I feel her tears against my skin and I rest my cheek on the top of her head.

"I'm sorry; I don't want you to cry. I'm sorry."

"Chandler, it's all right. I'm an emotional mess right now. The love of my life and my brother are going to be shipped off any day now; I'm going to cry. It's inevitable. I don't want you to think that you can't tell me that you're scared, though."

I grab her leg gently, pulling her closer. "I'm the love of your life? Are you sure? I mean, you just told me yesterday that you love me—"

She lifts her head, pressing a couple of fingers gently against my lips. "There are some things in this world you just know, and I just know that I will never love anyone as much as I love you. I know I'm only eighteen and maybe that's young to be so sure about something like this, but I can't help how I feel. What I feel for you…isn't small. It fills up every part of me. It's forever. I don't care how childish it sounds."

I give her fingertips a kiss and drag my hand out from under the blanket, stroking her cheek carefully. She moves her fingers from my mouth, softly playing with the collar of my shirt. "It doesn't sound childish to me. I feel the same way about you, Monica. Like you said, it's a lot really fast, but I don't care. I don't know—maybe I haven't loved you since the first moment I saw you, but it was pretty damn close. All I want is to be with you."

"Then we can't let this hang over our heads all the time. We both know that, right now, the future is…"

"Dismal," I finish for her. "You're right. We can't stop the war from happening."

"You said it yesterday; we have to make every moment count." She gives me a small smile; I can feel her nails gently tracing against my throat. "What should we do to make this moment count?"

My breath catches in my throat for a moment—I know she's not suggesting what it sounds like she's suggesting. Even if she were, I wouldn't let it happen; not here, not now. Instead, I shift in my chair a little, pulling her closer. "All I want to do right now is be together. I know that's not terribly exciting—"

"It is to me. I've want to just be with you for months now."

I swear she's trying to make me melt completely. "Me, too."

She tilts her head to the side just a little. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I reach up and tuck a few strands of her hair behind her ear. "Like what?"

She shrugs a little, leaning her cheek into my hand. "Like you adore me."

I pull her face a little closer to mine. "Well, that's because I do."

Her eyes grow wide and a lovely shade of pink spreads across her cheeks. Before she can answer, I stretch up and kiss her gently. I hear her take a deep breath in surprise though she responds eagerly. "We did this for hours yesterday; aren't you tired of me?"

I pull back, looking at her in shock. "Are you serious? I don't think I could ever get tired of kissing you."

"Are you sure I'm good at it?" she asks shyly, her eyes focusing anywhere but my face. "I mean…"

"Monica, I love kissing you. It's perfect. It's better than I imagined, and I've imagined it a lot over the last few months."

She takes my hand, playing with my fingers as she looks at me from under her lashes. "What else have you imagined?"

I swallow heavily as I feel myself react in ways I shouldn't be reacting. "Oh, Monica. You don't want me to answer that."

"Why not? You can tell me anything."

I have to remind myself constantly about how young she is. Young and inexperienced and naïve. The last thing I want to do is scare her or hurt her or push her to do something she's not ready for. This is the one that matters. What I have with Monica is going to be forever, and the last thing I want to do is jeopardize my future with her. We have enough against us as it us without me resorting back to my old, horrible behaviors. "Maybe when we've been together for more than a day I'll tell you."

She sighs, linking our fingers together as she rests her head on my shoulder. "Is this what we're going to do—pretend that the war isn't happening?"

"Sounds good to me," I answer, my arm that's still around her waist tightening against her.

"Is that the smartest thing to do?"

I just shrug, kissing the top of her head. "I know I don't want to talk about it more than I have to. I also know that when I'm with you, you're the only thing that matters. I know the world is at war—we both do. And we both know that our President has said America's entering the war, too. We don't need to talk about it all the time to make it true. If we're lucky enough to have a few minutes together, I don't want to spend those moments talking about the horror going on in the world."

"Can we sometimes talk about what's going to happen after you come home?"

I squeeze her a little tighter. I appreciate that she doesn't say "if" I come home—we both know I'll be sent away, but she believes I'll be coming back in one piece.

"You mean, the part about us being together forever?"

She nods, and I can see her cheeks curve up in a smile. "Yeah; that part."

"Sure we can talk about that. But, Monica, for now…can I just kiss you? Can we just pretend that we're a normal couple and we're sneaking away for a few moments?"

She angles her head a little to look at me. "That's all we are, Chandler. Just an ordinary couple." Her arms wrap around my neck and I kiss her, gently at first, but with growing urgency. She meets me kiss for kiss, both of us knowing that we're hiding from the world, both of us scared to lose what we've just found.

*A/N...so, I don't usually do this because I could go on forever, but this is what happens when I can't PM someone, so here goes:

Anissa-Ross was there, but not nearby. He knew about the fight but not why it happened, and Chandler & Monica weren't telling. And I take it as a compliment that a 3000 word and some change chapter felt like it wasn't long enough ;)

So, seriously, thank you for all the feedback. It's really touching and moving and all those other sappy things. You're all wonderful, and never worry about "repeating" yourselves because, and I think I speak for every writer here, that no one can hear the same compliment enough. If you happen to think something is great and you want to say it over and over again, I will not turn that away.