HELLO ONCE AGAIN, MY FELLOW FANFIC PEOPLES! I HOPE EVERYONE WHO SAW IT LIKED THE WEDDING! I MUST ADMIT THAT I'M ACUTELY ANNOYED, BUT HEY... WHAT WOULD "FRIENDS" BE WITHOUT AN IRRITATINGLY SHOCKING SEASON FINALE? OKAY, WELL, MOVING RIGHT ALONG... HERE IS PART THREE OF "THE POWER OF WONDERING." SORRY THAT IT'S TAKEN AWHILE... THIS FIC, FOR SOME REASON, TAKES MUCH MORE THINKING AND BRAINSTORMING THAN THE OTHERS, WHICH IS WHY IT TAKES LONGER TO ACTUALLY GET WRITTEN. :-) I'LL TRY TO BE BETTER ABOUT IT, THOUGH, I PROMISE! SOON I HOPE TO HAVE THIS SERIES DONE AS WELL AS "FEAR" AND "A LOVE AGAINST ALL ODDS" BECAUSE I'M GETTING MORE IDEAS, BUT I KNOW I CAN'T WRITE THEM UNTIL I FINISH SOME OF THESE, LOL! ANYWAY, PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! ENJOY!

OH, AND DON'T FORGET -- THE REASON THIS DOESN'T SUCK IS BECAUSE I HAVE AN AWESOME STORY CONSULTANT! LOL. :-) YOU CAN SING NATCHOU'S PRAISES IN THE REVIEWS!!

As she tossed and turned that night, Monica found herself helplessly lost in a labyrinth of disturbing dreams. As she drifted from one scenario to another, she found that all of her dreams kept returning to the same one. She saw herself scrubbing on her hands and knees, not such an unfamiliar idea except for the strange surroundings. She was in an enormous kitchen, one that most definitely was not her own and was not in a restaurant. Suddenly she heard Chandler's voice from above her and she looked up. It was as though a light was behind him, so all she could see was his silhouette hovering above her.
"You missed a spot." She squinted into the light, trying to focus on his face, but suddenly he was gone and Kathy's sneering face was in his place.
"He's mine now, you know. You'll never be anything more than our maid, so get over it." She laughed, and although Monica couldn't see Chandler, she could hear his laugh from somewhere nearby. She felt her cheeks flush and her eyes burn with angry tears as she dropped her head once more and focused on the floor that swam before her as her eyes filled. As she scrubbed, there suddenly appeared a horde of children, all of whom looked like miniature Kathys and miniature Chandlers. "Scrub the floors, Monica... Clean my clothes, Monica... Make me a snack, Monica..." As the demands escalated to a deafening level, Monica dropped the brush she had been cleaning with and began to rock back and forth with her hands over her ears as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Stop, please, just stop, I can't handle this..." Suddenly she jolted awake, and although she saw that the children and the happy couple were gone, the dampness on her cheeks remained. She sat up in bed and hugged her knees to her chest as she resumed the rocking that she'd been doing in her dream. "I really CAN'T handle this," she whispered as she buried her face in her knees, too afraid of her own dreams to go back to sleep. She longed for Chandler's arms to hug her and his soothing voice to comfort her, and her yearning was so strong that she felt as though she could literally feel it stabbing her through the heart. She'd never felt so desperate for anything in her life, and the fact that she couldn't do anything to change it made her feel as though she were being suffocated, as though someone had a pillow over her face and was oblivious to her screaming, her suffocating, and her desperation. She let herself cry, hoping that it would purge some of the anguish, but at the same time knowing that nothing could help her when she was still without Chandler.

"Monica?" Mon sighed resignedly as she heard Pete's unmistakable booming voice as he entered her apartment the next morning. After her relatively sleepless and extremely emotionally draining night, the absolute last thing she wanted was to have to deal with her supposed fiance.
"Coming," she replied from the bathroom as she dried her face and tucked her hair behind her ears. After checking her reflection quickly to make sure she had managed to lose the psycho-killer look that had resulted from her restless night, she slowly opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the apartment. "Hi," she said quietly, almost apprehensive of what he was going to do and say.
"Hey," he answered gently. They stood apart, the awkward silence mounting until Pete spoke once again. "Monica, what's going on? What was wrong yesterday, and what's wrong now?"
"What makes you think something's wrong?" Monica asked dully, knowing it was a stupid question. Pete sighed.
"Oh, I don't know, just a hunch. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my fiancee is apparently not too happy that I'm back in town. That she doesn't even want to touch me, let alone kiss me. Monica, did something happen while I was gone?" Monica remained thoughtfully silent, wondering what the answer to that would be. In a way, yes something had happened: her entire world had been not only turned upside down but thrown through a wringer, beaten like scrambled eggs, shaken like a martini, and scattered like a thousand marbles dropped from a bucket. Then again, at the same time, the answer was a resounding no. Nothing had exactly changed, not from the new alternate-world version of her life, anyway. Nothing that Pete would understand. Hell, nothing that Chandler, Rachel, or even Monica herself understood. When she realized that she'd been standing in silence for a good few minutes, she stared at him as she tried to come up with a response.
"Not exactly." She felt oddly satisfied with that. Not a lie, but not truthful enough to make her sound as bonkers as she felt. Pete's reaction, however -- a demanding stare -- implied that he was not as satisfied.
"Well, then, what the hell is going on?" While his voice was still relatively calm, she could see that he was getting irritated, and while she was generally not too pleased with HIM, she could understand his annoyance. There was really no good reason for her to be angry with him, but she found that she still couldn't help herself. His referring to himself as her fiance only reminded her of Chandler, thereby reminding her of how much she loved and wanted Chandler, as well as the fact that Pete wasn't him.
"I don't know," she said, glad once again that she hadn't had to lie. With all of the tumultuous thoughts and emotions swirling around in her head at that moment, she knew that she wouldn't be able to handle maintaining a story of lies as well. After a moment of silence, Pete spoke in a calm voice.
"Are you having second thoughts?" Monica contemplated his question for a moment. In a way, yes, she was having second thoughts because she knew she didn't want to marry him, yet at the same time she didn't think she could have second thoughts when she didn't remember ever having first thoughts. She sighed, and when she didn't answer, Pete tried a simpler question. "Do you still want to get married?" She looked at him intently, glad to finally know a straight-out answer, but afraid of how to word it.
"No," she eventually managed. His face fell, and while she was relieved that she'd said it, she felt instantly guilty. She knew how it felt to lose a fiance, and while their situations were extremely different, she felt saddened at knowing she'd caused him at least some of the same pain that she herself was dealing with. "Pete, I'm so sorry."
"Is it something I did?" he asked quietly, moving his gaze between her apologetic face and the floor.
"No," she said again. "You didn't do anything. It's not you, it's me. I just... I'm going through some stuff, and I... I just can't marry you. I'm sorry," she repeated.
"Is there someone else?" he asked after a moment. She stared at him for a few seconds as she pondered his question.
"Sort of," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. When he looked at her, his face an expression of both surprise and hurt, she elaborated. "I'm not seeing someone else or anything... I'm not cheating on you. It's more... it's an unresolved situation from the past that I haven't dealt with." There. Another truth. Not an entire truth, but a truth all the same. "I'm sorry," she said again, knowing that although it didn't help, she somehow couldn't stop apologizing. Pete took a deep breath and straightened slightly.
"It's okay," he said quietly. "I mean, it's not okay, but... well, you know." He paused. "If there wasn't someone else..." He trailed off, turning his gaze to the floor. "Forget it." He took another breath and looked up once more. "So long, Mon."
"Goodbye, Pete," she said softly as he turned and walked out, closing the apartment door quietly behind him. As she stood in the middle of her apartment, she tried to determine what she was feeling. While there was, without a doubt, a certain relief at knowing she no longer had to pretend that she was engaged to Pete, there was also the expected remorse at having probably broken his heart. In the long run, though, she knew that she would have eventually hurt him anyway, given that she was in love with Chandler, and so she tried to tell herself that it was best to do it sooner rather than later. She sighed as she stared at the door, suddenly feeling very alone. She realized that she had barely spoken to Rachel since the morning she'd flipped out, and the rest of the gang had more or less gone AWOL. Not that she was entirely upset by their minimal presence. While they were, of course, her best friends, she almost felt as though they were impostors and that her real friends and her real Chandler were off living in some parallel universe with an impostor Monica. She sighed. "You're losing it," she muttered to herself as she half-heartedly straightened the couch cushions. "Then again," she thought, "nothing in this world seems real all of a sudden." She tried to push the thoughts out of her mind as she wandered into the kitchen to make something to eat.

"Hey." Monica looked up from her magazine and turned around as she sat on the couch, surprised to see Chandler standing in the doorway. She'd been suspecting that he'd been avoiding her for the past couple of days, but at the same time she couldn't prove it, given that she didn't know what their relationship was supposed to be like, now that he was engaged to someone else and she was back to being just his friend who lived across the hall.
"Hey," she replied warily as she put her magazine on the coffee table.
"How's it going?" he asked awkwardly as he closed the door behind him. He looked at her carefully, wondering if she'd gotten over whatever it was that had made her act so wacko.
"Okay," she replied shortly, wondering what he was doing in her apartment. He cleared his throat nervously as he walked over and sat in the chair next to her couch.
"I, uh... I saw Rach at Central Perk this afternoon," he said uneasily. "She, uh, she said that you and Pete broke up?" Monica nodded, tired of trying to explain things to people. When she'd told Rachel that things with Pete were over, she'd been grilled for what seemed like hours for an explanation and for details. After that, she'd decided to simply give everyone minimal explanations. She was tired of trying to describe to other people the emotions and situations that she didn't even understand herself. "Are... are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said quietly. She sensed that he wanted to ask what had happened, but at the same time he didn't want to be nosy. Any other time she probably would have opened up to him, but once again she found that she simply didn't have the energy, so she let him wonder. He nodded.
"Anything I can do?"
"You can remember what we were, you can take me and hold me in your arms and kiss me and make love to me and marry me," she thought. But she was painfully aware that if she said anything like that, he'd think she'd reverted back to delirious Monica, and while she hated living in a constant state of confusion, she hated it even more when her friends treated her like a schizophrenic. "No, I'm okay. Thanks, though." Chandler nodded again, and as they sat in uncomfortable silence, Monica suddenly had a thought.
"Where's Kathy?" Chandler thought he detected a touch of disdain in her voice when she said Kathy's name, but he dismissed it as his own ears playing tricks on him.
"Poughkeepsie," he replied. "She went with her mother to pick up her wedding dress up there. They're staying overnight with a cousin of hers and aren't coming back until tomorrow." Monica nodded, suddenly having an idea. She knew it was a long shot and would probably never work, but she knew that it was the best idea she'd had since she'd landed in this alternate universe.
"In that case, yeah, there's something you can do." He nodded warmly, encouraging her to continue. "Want to have dinner tonight? I mean, Rachel's got a date, as usual, and I wouldn't mind the company." Chandler smiled kindly and she grinned back.
"Sure," he said. "What time and where?"
"Well, I was going to make a chicken casserole, so if you want to just come over around seven or so..." she trailed off, suddenly nervous.
"Sure," he repeated. "Sounds good. Want me to bring anything?" Monica shook her head.
"Just come on over."
"Okay. See you at seven, then."
"Okay," Monica replied, smiling as he rose from the seat and left the apartment.
As he stepped outside her apartment and closed the door behind him, Chandler sighed. He'd been worried about Monica for the past couple of days, and was relieved to see that she was at least over the frantic dementia that had seemed to occupy her personality. He wondered why she'd been so insistent that they'd once been together and why she'd made up such an elaborate story. While the explanation that she'd simply had a vivid dream seemed inadequate and almost impossible, he couldn't think of anything better and so he simply accepted it, not allowing himself to question it. He sighed once more and walked into his apartment, hoping that Monica was finally returning to normal.

Monica bent to check the chicken casserole that was baking in the oven and then rose and smoothed the front of her dress nervously. After much deliberation, she had decided to wear the same dress she'd worn on the night of their anniversary celebration -- a night that seemed to have taken place so long ago, but in reality was in the relatively recent past. She gave the kitchen table the once-over, satisfied when it looked exactly as it had not thirty seconds ago -- impeccable. She looked at the candles skeptically, wondering if they were a bit too much. As she heard a knock at the door, she quickly grabbed the candles and the holders and hid them behind the couch cushions as she quickly moved toward the door.
"Hey," she greeted him, smiling.
"Wow... now I feel underdressed," he said, noticing the nice dress she was wearing and the fact that her hair was tied up in a clip -- the same way it had been not a week earlier.
"Oh, don't worry about it," she assured him. "I just... you know... any reason to get dressed up," she stammered, desperately searching for a valid explanation.
"Oh," he said simply, nodding and accepting it as a "girl thing."
"Come in," Monica said hurriedly, suddenly noticing that they were still standing in the doorway.
"Thanks," he replied, entering the apartment. As he walked past her, Monica felt a pang in her heart as she caught a trace of the scent that she'd become so attached to, one that she hadn't even realized she was missing until she recognized it once again. The combined scents of his aftershave, soap, and shampoo brought the memories of that Chandler-smell rushing back, along with it the recollection of how many times she'd buried her face in his neck and breathed in the smell of him, feeling safe and happy in his embrace. It amazed her how something as simple as a smell could cause such a deep ache and longing.
"You okay?" His voice interrupted her thoughts, and Monica realized with a start that she was still standing by the door, lost in her own mind. She blushed, aware of how ridiculous she must have looked.
"Yeah, sorry, just thinking. Um, dinner's almost ready."
"Cool," he said affably. "It smells great."
"Thanks," she said, suddenly nervous. She felt ridiculous at feeling nervous around him -- after all, they had been engaged. "Then again," she reminded herself silently, "this is a different Chandler. This is my friend Chandler. The friend with whom I've never been romantically involved." She realized that was exactly the problem -- she didn't know how to act around him, because this wasn't the Chandler she'd gotten used to. It was as if she were expected to act like she acted around him four years ago when they were simply friends and neighbors and nothing more. She hastily pushed those thoughts away and forced herself to smile at him. "Want something to drink? I have some wine."
"That sounds good," he agreed. "Want me to open it?"
"Sure. Thanks." She watched out of the corner of her eye as he opened the bottle, feeling silly at how sad it made her. The more she was around him, the more she realized that she missed those little things like the way he opened the wine bottles and the pickle jars. The way he drummed his fingers impatiently while he waited for the coffeepot to boil in the mornings and the way he reached across her every morning to shut off the alarm clock so that she wouldn't have to. The way he would absently run his fingertips over her shoulder when he had his arm around her while they sat on the couch. The way he'd come in after work and grin at her, a special smile, it seemed, that he reserved just for her. Then, of course, there were the bigger things: the way he kissed her, the way he made love to her, and the way he existed as the center of her world and her rock of solidarity.
"Mon?" Once again jolted back to reality, Monica blushed slightly and silently reprimanded herself for allowing her mind to run away with her again. If she kept losing touch with the present, he was going to start thinking she'd really lost it. He held the bottle toward her, his expression slightly concerned. "Want me to pour?" She nodded quickly and watched as he poured the wine, determined not to drift away again. He held her glass out toward her and grinned.
"So..." He looked around the apartment uneasily, wondering if he should approach the subject of the past week or simply try to act normal. "You look great, by the way."
"Thanks." Mon blushed and forced herself not to take his comment to mean more than it did. "You too." Chandler looked down at his khakis and black v-neck sweater skeptically.
"Oh, yeah, I'm a real stud over here." Monica laughed and he grinned, pleased that he'd been able to make her laugh. He'd become increasingly worried about her over the course of the past few days, largely in part to her bizarre behavior, but his concerns eased when he noted that she seemed to be acting much more like the levelheaded and collected Monica that he knew so well.
"So, um, dinner's about ready if you want to sit down..."
"Sure." Chandler took a seat as Monica placed her glass on the table and proceeded to take the casserole out of the oven. She quickly dished up two servings and placed them on the table, one at each setting.
"Wow, this looks fantastic," Chandler complimented her as he placed his napkin in his lap.
"Thanks," Monica said, blushing. "It's just a casserole... it's not gourmet dining."
"Mon, you're talking to a guy who LIVES on takeout... your cooking is the only food I ever get that doesn't come in cartons or a big, flat box." Mon laughed as she took a forkful of her dinner. They ate in relative quietness, Monica wanting to savor the feeling of being alone with him again and Chandler not wanting to say something that would upset her again.
"Well, that was delicious. Thanks, Mon. I swear, it's a good thing I don't live here, I'd be about thirty pounds heavier, at least." Monica's face clouded slightly when she remembered that he DIDN'T live there, and it was becoming increasingly possible that he never would again.
"My pleasure," she managed, suddenly remembering the next part of her plan. The only real part she had left, given that nothing had even come close to being resolved so far. "Hey, how about some music?"
"Sure," Chandler agreed, moving from the kitchen table to the couch. "Hey, if I forget to say it later, thanks a lot for dinner and for keeping me entertained tonight. We haven't hung out in awhile... this has been fun." Monica tried to send him a genuine smile, but she was fairly certain that she failed, given that the friend Chandler was only making her miss her fiance more and more.
"Well, thank you for coming over. I've had a good time, too." He grinned at her and she turned hurriedly to the stereo, putting in the CD and skipping it forward to the track she wanted. She smiled nervously as the words filled the room, the same lyrics she and Chandler had danced to on the evening of their anniversary.

Every time our eyes meet,
This feeling inside me,
Is almost more than I can take.
And baby when you touch me,
I can feel how much you love me,
And it just blows me away.
I've never been this close to anyone
Or anything,
I can hear your thoughts,
I can see your dreams.

"Wow, this is a good song," Chandler said thoughtfully as he took another sip of his wine. "It sounds familiar." Monica felt her heart leap into her throat as she looked at him hopefully, not daring to believe that he was finally remembering.
"Really? It does?"
"Yeah..." He looked at her thoughtfully, trying to remember where he'd heard it before. It was hazy, but he was fairly certain that he recognized both the lyrics and the melody. But from where?

I don't know how you do what you do,
I'm so in love with you,
It just keeps getting better.
I wanna spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever.
Every little thing that you do,
Baby, I'm amazed by you.

"Who's the band?" he asked as he spun his glass around between his fingers, trying hard to place it.
"Lonestar," Monica answered quietly, hoping against hope that her plan was working. She stared at him as his brow furrowed in concentration as he listened to the lyrics.
"Hmm... man, where the hell do I know this from?" He was suddenly irritated as he tried to place the song. "I KNOW I've heard this before. I'm sure of it." Monica wanted to jump up and tell him where he'd heard it before, but she wanted him to remember for himself. She didn't want him to think she'd done her nut again.

The smell of your skin,
The taste of your kiss,
The way you whisper in the dark.
Your hair all around me,
Baby you surround me,
Touch every place in my heart.
Oh, it feels like the first time every time,
I wanna spend the whole night in your arms,
I don't know how you do what you do,
I'm so in love with you,
It just keeps getting better.
I wanna spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever.
Every little thing that you do,
Baby, I'm amazed by you.

Suddenly Chandler's face took on a funny expression as he leaned back into the couch. "I remember." Monica felt her heart skip a beat.
"You do?"
"Yeah." He turned and smiled warmly at her. "It's the song Kathy wants to dance to at the wedding reception." Monica felt her hopes come crashing down as she stared at him in disbelief. She had thought that it was finally working... that he was starting to remember and that there was hope after all. She could feel the threat of the onset of tears, and she quickly rose from the couch, taking her glass to the sink.
"Oh. She likes this song, huh?" She quickly wiped the few tears that had fallen as she stood over the sink and took a deep breath, trying desperately to stop any more from falling.
"Yeah. I KNEW I'd heard it before." He rose and joined her at the sink, placing his glass next to hers after he had rinsed it out. "I can't believe I'm getting married." Monica turned her face away from him, blinking furiously to prevent the tears that she knew weren't far.
"Yeah. Can't believe it," she repeated quietly. She heard Chandler chuckle slightly as he gazed out the kitchen window.
"Me. Married. I never thought it would happen. Bet you guys didn't see this coming either, huh?"
"Not exactly," she replied truthfully. She hadn't seen it coming. Not like this. Not in a million years.
"I'm actually in love," Chandler whispered as he stared out the window, oblivious to Monica's pained expression. "Finally. I love someone and she loves me back." He paused. "It's the best feeling in the world."
"Yeah," Monica said quietly. "That it is." Suddenly Chandler seemed to return to reality and he looked at her profile carefully.
"Mon?"
"Yeah?"
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Suddenly his eyes flickered and he sighed.
"Oh, God, Monica, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I was that insensitive. Going on about Kathy and the wedding when you and Pete just broke up. I'm so sorry... I feel like the biggest jerk."
"Don't," she said simply. "I'm not upset about Pete." She knew he wouldn't believe her, but she also knew it didn't matter. She was upset about something, and since she couldn't tell him what, she was perfectly willing to let him believe whatever he wanted.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, silently scolding himself for rambling on like he had. He placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her to face him. Looking into her eyes, he could see that she was hurting, and although he didn't really understand why, he could recognize the pain nonetheless. He'd known her for years and she was practically his best friend. As he gazed at her, he found himself wishing that he could fix whatever was wrong. "Monica, is everything okay?" She shrugged as she felt her eyes welling up again and she looked at the floor, wishing she could simply curl up and be left alone. "What is it?"
"I just wish you remembered," she whispered after a moment. She knew that she was probably going to freak him out again, but she was tired of pretending that she belonged in this strange new situation.
"Remembered?"
"Yeah."
"Remembered what?" She looked up at him, her eyes brimming and begging.
"Remembered us." Chandler looked at her in confusion for a moment before he registered what she was saying and sighed.
"I thought you were over that," he said quietly, suddenly concerned once again about her. He really had thought she'd gotten over whatever it was that was wrong with her.
"I could never get over you," she whispered, looking at the floor once again. He sighed again.
"Monica..."
"Forget it," she said, quickly cutting him off. She knew that if he didn't remember for himself, no amount of convincing was going to suddenly enlighten him. He looked down at her skeptically, wondering what he could say or do to make her feel better but at the same time realizing that there didn't appear to be anything he COULD do.
"Mon, hon, are you going to be okay?" She looked up at him, a mixture of resignation and sad surrender in her eyes.
"I'll have to be." She tried to smile, but knew that she had failed. "Listen, I'm kind of tired, so..."
"Yeah, I'll head home. Thanks again for dinner." Monica simply nodded and he tried to think of something comforting to say to her, but couldn't come up with anything. "Well... goodnight."
"'Night," Monica replied as she walked him to the door, saw him out, and closed it behind him. "Goodnight and goodbye, Chandler Bing." She allowed the tears to roll silently down her cheeks as she walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

YAY! PART THREE DONE! PART FOUR WILL BE UP SOON... PROBABLY A LOT QUICKER THAN IT TOOK TO DO PARTS ONE THROUGH THREE, LOL. THAT'S WHAT I'M AIMING FOR, ANYWAY! THANKS FOR READING... PLEEEEEEEASE LEAVE A REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! THANK YOU!!! :-)