The One With All The Pacing
Continued from: 'TOW All The Worry'
By: Jana~
*****~*****
--Chandler suddenly looked like a caged animal, his eyes wide as he paced sporadically around the room.
"Oh my God!" he exclaimed, mostly to himself but not at all quietly.
"What?" Phoebe asked as she pulled herself into a sitting position, wincing at the pain doing so caused.
He looked at her for a moment, bewildered by her state of calm, then began pacing again. "Oh my God!"
"You already said that," Phoebe muttered. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong?!" he nearly yelled, "Oh my God! We didn't--"
"Sleep together?" she cut his question off. "No. After we got married we came back here and went to sleep," she replied casually. "Oh, and you hurled at least twice," she added, then pointed at the room service cart. "Coffee?"
He grabbed a mug and poured her a cup, handing it to her, his expression a cross between absolutely flabbergasted and pained. "Oh my God!"
"Ok, you need to stop saying that now," Phoebe demanded. "What's with you anyways?"
"What?! What's with me?!" he asked as if the reason for his hysteria was obvious. "We got married!"
"I know," she scoffed. "I'm the one that suggested it."
"Why?! Why?! Why did you suggest it?!"
"To help you get over your fears," she shrugged apathetically as she sipped her coffee. "Don't you remember?"
"No I don't remember!"
She chuckled, "You really can't hold your liquor, can you?"
He scowled at her for a moment, irritated by her quip. "Oh my God!" he threw his hands in the air, "Monica is gonna kill me!"
"Why?" she questioned, "It's not like it's a real marriage."
He looked at her as if she had lost her marbles, and at the moment he wasn't entirely certain that she hadn't. "What?!"
She sighed, "Man, you really don't remember last night at all, do you?"
He gestured largely as if to say 'Duh!'
"If you get married in Vegas, you're only married in Vegas," she explained.
When she said it, he remembered. He remembered her saying it the night before. And he remembered going along with it. "Oh my God! Phoebe! That is not true! When you get married in Vegas, you're married everywhere!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yeah-huh! I'll prove it to you!" He located her shoes, handed them to her, then grabbed her hand as he headed for the door, dragging her with.
"Chandler! Where are we going?!"
"Back to the scene of the crime!"
*****
--Monica paced the floor, biting her nails to keep from running from the room, worried about Chandler's whereabouts. She tried once again to call Joey's room, but the block still hadn't been lifted. The thought of going over there entered her mind more than once, but she was concerned that if she did, they would somehow miss each other in the halls.
It was best to stay put, so that's what she did. But her mind swam with horrible thoughts. Maybe Chandler found out about her going to see his dad. Maybe Joey let it slip. Maybe he was so angry that he just left to get drunk again, or worse, leave Vegas without her.
She scoffed at the thought of that once she realized how ridiculous it sounded. After all, she had the plane tickets in her bag. Maybe he just took off with Joey to go gamble or something, she thought. Or maybe they went to a strip club. A heterosexual strip club, she panicked, with gorgeous half-naked women. And then maybe one of them would invite them back stage and they would--
--The knock at the door startled Monica out of her thoughts, and she ran to answer it, expecting to see Chandler.
"Hey, Mon," Rachel greeted cheerfully, "You and Chandler wanna come with us to grab some breakfast?" she asked, then leaned in with a smirk. "If we can leave our room, you guys can leave yours."
Monica's face had dropped at the sight of her brother and sister-in-law, disappointed. "No thanks."
It was then that Rachel noticed how down she seemed. "Hey, is something wrong?"
Monica gestured for them to come in, "Chandler stayed out all night and got drunk," she admitted, needing to talk to someone about it.
"What?" Ross asked, annoyed. "Why?"
"We had a stupid fight," Monica sighed, "Over going to see his dad."
Ross shook his head, "Yeah, well, he wants nothing to do with him."
Monica glared at her brother, "I know that, Ross. But, it's been so many years and-- I just wanted to meet him," she added sadly.
"His dad is a great source of heartache and embarrassment for Chandler," Ross explained, "It took years of friendship for him to even tell me anything about him."
"I know, but, he's not the same little boy that was devastated by a divorce, and Charles isn't the same man who abandoned his family for a whole new lifestyle."
Ross eyed Monica suspiciously. "You went to go see him, didn't you."
She dropped to the bed and put her face in her hands. "Yes," she whined. "He's gonna kill me, isn't he?"
Rachel sat beside her, "No, honey, he's not. He loves you. He'll be bent out of shape for a while, but he'll come around."
"You think?" she asked hopefully.
"Of course." Ross echoed his wife's optimism. "Just, tell him what you did--"
"Then offer yourself to him," Rachel added. "He'll forgive you anything then."
Ross rolled his eyes and headed for the door. "Coming?" he asked as he glanced over his shoulder at Rachel.
Rachel shrugged as she grinned at Monica, then stood to leave. "Good luck, Mon."
"Yeah," Ross added, "Good luck, sis."
*****
--Chandler entered the chapel a beat before Phoebe, luckily, she remembered which chapel they had gotten married in. He approached the receptionist, a forced chuckle to go with a forced smile, attempting to hide his distress…
"Hello," he greeted her cheerfully. "My friend here and I have a bet, and we we're hoping you could settle it for us."
The receptionist looked at him skeptically, her brow furrowed at the odd request, "I can try."
Chandler chuckled again, "When you get married in Vegas, it is a legally binding marriage everywhere, right?"
The receptionist nodded, "Of course."
The chuckle that followed almost sounded pained, and he nodded his thanks before pulling Phoebe aside. "We are in deep trouble here!"
"When you get married in Vegas, you're married everywhere?" Phoebe asked in shock, verifying what had just been said.
"Yes! Phoebe!" he snipped, trying to keep his voice down. "What are we going to do?!"
"I don't know!"
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, frustrated and desperate for answers. "Maybe we should ask, like, a divorce lawyer or something."
"Oh, well, I don't know," she dismissed the idea with a shake of her head.
"What?!" he asked frantically, then looked around at the attention his outburst had caused. "What?" he asked, calmer, "What don't you know?"
"I don't know if I want another divorce."
His eyes widened at her serious statement. "What?!"
"Well, I already got divorced from my gay ice dancer husband, I don't want to have another divorce before I'm even 30!"
"Phoebe!" he exclaimed, remembering to keep his voice down only after getting glared at by the receptionist, "We can't stay married!" he whispered urgently.
"I don't know. Maybe we can!" she offered brightly.
"No! We can't! I'm in love with Monica! This was just a mistake!"
"You know," she said with a slight pout, "I know I didn't think the marriage was real and all, but that was just mean."
He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Phoebe, you know I love you, but, I'm not in love with you. I can't stay married to you cause eventually, I'm gonna want to marry Monica!"
His eyes registered shock as he heard himself admit it. He wanted to marry Monica.
Phoebe's smile grew wider, prouder, "I knew that little exercise would work."
He smiled along with her for a moment, till their dilemma came screaming back into his head. "Ok, so, now what do we do?!" he asked anxiously.
"Alright, alright. Calm down, will ya?" she rolled her eyes at his actions. "Geeez! We'll go talk to a divorce lawyer, and get one of those, things."
"A divorce?"
"No, it's quicker than a divorce," she replied as she strained to remember. "It's called something else."
"An annulment," the receptionist offered, then looked away sheepishly when Chandler threw her a dirty look for eavesdropping.
"That's it!" Phoebe exclaimed. "An Annulment. We'll get one of those!"
"Ok!" Chandler seemed excitedly relieved. "We'll do that! Let's go!" He enthusiastically headed for the door.
"Where?" Phoebe asked, making no move to follow him.
He stopped dead in his tracks and spun around, "To find a lawyer!"
"Well, it's not, like, instant," she explained, "We should wait till we get home to do it. Otherwise, we won't be able to meet with the lawyer we just hired, what with him being here in Vegas and us not being here in Vegas."
"Oh. Right. Ok," he agreed. "Good point."
"Ok, so, you go see Monica, and I'll go back to my room and shower and change. Cause someone drug me out of the room before I could even change out of last night's clothes!"
The receptionist snickered, and Phoebe glared at her, "Does this conversation include you?! I don't think so!" She dismissed her with a wave of her hand, then turned back to Chandler.
"Ok, but now, we don't tell Monica!" he suggested. "Agreed?"
She nodded, "Agreed."
*****
--Monica sat on the bed, blankly watching the TV weatherman on the local news report that it was going to be hot. Yeah, well, with it being Vegas, she thought, you don't exactly need a degree in meteor science to call that one. She clicked off the television and dropped back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling.
She had moved past feeling frantic with worry, and had moved on to feeling almost numb. He'd been gone for almost 24 hours, after storming out over a fight she blamed herself for. She hated herself. She tried to hate Chandler, for being gone, for getting drunk, for causing her so much grief, but her guilt kept creeping back in, making it impossible to be angry at him for long.
She'd already chewed her nails down to the skin, paced a worn spot into the rug, and helped the maid clean the room when she had stopped by. There was nothing left for her to do but wait, so that's what she did. She sat in the room, and waited. And waited.
--Chandler paced outside the door to their room, nervous about knocking. Tense about facing Monica after all he'd put her through. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but that was exactly what he'd done. He was riddled with guilt, knowing how frantic she must've been, all the while he was out marrying one of their closest and dearest friends, drunk off his ass.
He looked down at the roses he had bought, feeling stupid for having such a lame peace offering after all he'd done, and all within a 24 hour period of time. He mentally admonished himself, knowing he couldn't put off the inevitable any longer. Finally, he knocked on the door.
--When there was a knock on the door, the hope that it was Chandler was fleeting. After so many false alarms, it was hard for her to believe that he would actually be on the other side of the door.
As she opened the door, and Chandler came into view, she gasped. He stood before her, wearing an apologetic smile and holding a bouquet of roses in his hand.
"Chandler?" she whispered, almost as if she was seeing a phantom of her imagination.
"Hey, sweetie." He extended the roses, but she didn't take them. She just walked back into the hotel room.
He closed his eyes briefly, pained, before entering the room and closing the door, placing the flowers on the dresser.
"I know you were worried. I know I caused you grief, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I was just going to have a few drinks to calm down, next thing I knew, I was plastered. I didn't want you to see me like that, so, I went to Joey's room to sleep it off."
She nodded.
"You hate me now, don't you?"
"No, I don't hate you," she informed him. "But I'm upset. And angry. I was worried about you," she looked into his eyes, "And I missed you," she sighed. "This was supposed to be our romantic getaway!" her voice rose in volume, "Not exactly my idea of romantic. Up all night pacing."
He nodded as he hung his head. "If I hadn't been so drunk, I would've called you. Everything was, distorted, last night."
"But things never would've gotten 'distorted' if you hadn't left in the first place!" she snapped. "Chandler, you can't just storm out every time we have a disagreement."
"I know that."
"You can't just go out and get plastered cause you're irritated!"
"I know that, too."
"And you can't keep using what happened to you on Thanksgiving when you were nine as an escape from responsibility! You have to get over this!"
"Easy for you to say!" he snapped, "Your parents are normal!"
She scoffed, "Have you met my parents?!"
"Hey, they're still together, right? Your dad didn't abandon you, did he? He didn't show up at your high school swim meet dressed as Carmen Miranda, complete with fruit-laced headdress, offering the fruit atop it to all your friends, as a healthy snack!"
Monica tried not to laugh at the image he painted, but it was hard not to, and a slight chuckled escaped, her hand flying to her mouth to cover it. Chandler noticed, and within a few seconds, he cracked a smile.
She smiled in return, but both their grins slowly faded as the seriousness of the moment reclaimed their attention. "At least he showed up. He was making an effort, Chandler."
"Yeah, well, too little too late."
"You need to do something about this, Chandler. You won't eat 'Thanksgiving food' because of it. You use it as an excuse for why you can't commit to a serious relationship. I really think you need to see your dad. I think seeing him would be a big step towards healing old wounds."
"I don't want to," he insisted. "I have nothing to say to him."
"Well, he has plenty to say to you," she stated after a brief hesitation.
"What?" he asked incredulously.
"He wants to apologize to you. He's sorry for everything he's put you through."
"Monica…?" His tone was scolding as he began to piece together just what it was she was telling him.
She sighed, ready to jump from the frying pan into the fire. "I went to see your dad yesterday," she finally admitted, then squinted as she recoiled, awaiting the aftermath to come.
TO BE CONTINUED…
In: 'The One With The Aftermath'