The One With The Digital Fairytale

Chapter Ten

By: Jana~

*****

--Chandler chewed his lip nervously as he sat at his desk, awaiting the cue to begin phase two.

He knew that at that very moment, his dad, sporting a fake mustache and using an alias was down in the lobby, trying to get past security. If his dad and associates were successful, he would be receiving a code on his beeper: 888. If they failed, he would be paged with the code 222.

If they failed, he would have to leave the building, and fast. If they failed, it would most likely mean that Peter was onto them. And if he was, Chandler could very well be in danger.

The abrupt sound of the beeper caused Chandler to jump, and he immediately grabbed it with a shaky hand, hitting the 'message received' button so as to stop the annoyingly shrill noise. After taking a deep cleansing breath, he forced himself to look at the three-digit number that would be deciding his next course of action.

Eight-eight-eight. He audibly sighed with relief.

"Stage two," he whispered, then grabbed his briefcase and opened the secret compartment, pulling out documents and information that took months to gather. He put them in an accessible pocket within the briefcase, then clicked it shut and headed for Peter's office.

--The corridor never seemed longer as he marched with false confidence towards his destiny. He could hear his father's associate talking to Alice, making small talk for the most part as they awaited word from Peter that they could go in.

Chandler approached, avoiding eye contact with his dad as he addressed Alice. "Janine in human resources says she needs to see you, ASAP," he said with an ardent tone of voice. "She says it's important."

Alice groaned as she stood, "These gentlemen are waiting for their 3 o'clock with Mr. Becker," she informed. "Please tend to them?"

"Of course," Chandler agreed easily.

He threw an intense look towards his father as the sound of Peter's voice came over the intercom, "Alice? Send Mr. Dennis and associates in please."

Charles nodded at his son, the only communication he dare risk as there was still a ways to go before their plan was accomplished and considered successful.

Chandler let everyone else file in first, then followed behind, his heart racing and his palms perspiring. He wondered how his dad could appear so calm.

"What is this?" Peter asked, sensing that something wasn't quite right. Chandler just looked back at him like a deer caught in oncoming headlights.

"This," Charles announced as he pulled the fake mustache from his upper lip, "Is the meeting you've been dreading and I've been looking forward to since the day you stole my company from me."

Peter glared, then scoffed as he moved to stand beside his desk, his finger poised over the security pager button.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Charles warned, then looked to Chandler.

Chandler took his cue and quickly removed the papers from his briefcase, handing them to his father.

"You traitor," Peter seethed, taking his hand away from the button as he glared hard at Chandler.

Chandler closed his briefcase with a dramatic click of the locks. "I'll just go clear out my office," he informed, trying to sound like he wasn't scared to death, then headed for the door.

"Thank you, son," Charles stated proudly. Chandler had never heard his father sound so proud, and he smiled as nodded in response before walking out the door.

--Wanting to be gone by the time his father and associates left the building, Chandler quickly packed his things, throwing them without concern into a cardboard box. It wasn't so much that he was worried about bodily injury, but he didn't want to be face to face with Peter, listening to him ramble on, admonishing him for being a traitor.

If I never see that man again, he thought to himself, it will be too soon.

--It was only 15 seconds later than the last time he'd checked his watch, but he was too nervous to have an accurate concept of time. The meeting would be over soon, he guessed, and he wanted to be out of the building before it ended.

As he balanced his box of belongings in one arm, he carefully reached for and closed his office door for the last time. The latch clicking shut caused an eerie echo that almost made him shiver.

He'd always hated his job, and the building he worked in, but somehow it seemed creepier now that he was an enemy within the premises.

--He headed for Peter's secretary, prepared to hand over his company cell phone to her so that he wouldn't have to hand it over to Peter personally.

"Why are you giving me this?" Alice asked, then looked curiously towards the box in his arm.

"Because," he told her, "I'm leaving."

"For where?" she asked, confused.

He shook his head, "Forever. I'm leaving the company."

She gasped in shock, "Why? What happened?"

"It's a long story," he dodged the question.

"Were you fired?" she questioned.

"If I weren't quitting I would be," he explained.

Just then Charles and his associates walked out of Peter's office, the hint of a smile on Charles' face when he saw Chandler standing there.

"Isn't that--?" Alice started to ask, noticing that 'Mr. Dennis' no longer had a mustache, and looked remarkably like Chandler's father.

The full question never made it out into the tense air, and it was never really acknowledged as Peter appeared in the doorway.

"Chandler," Peter called out, not angrily, but firmly. "Could I see you for a minute?"

"Yes, sir," Chandler's mouth answered before his brain could stop to think. He rolled his eyes when he realized that he called Peter 'sir'. He had become so accustomed to answering in that manner, it was like second nature to do so. Old habits die hard.

He hesitated before turning and facing his father, handing over to him his box of belongings. "I'll catch up with you later," he told his dad, his voice politely quiet.

Charles could tell by the expression on Chandler's face that he was ready for a confrontation.

"Be good," Charles whispered as he took the box from his son.

"I will," Chandler replied unconvincingly, then turned to face his adversary.

Peter gestured for Chandler to enter his office, then closed the door ominously after Chandler was inside.

Not knowing exactly what to expect from the conversation that was about to take place caused an adrenaline rush to surge through Chandler, making him instantly nauseous.

"I'm disappointed in you Chandler," Peter started. "And just a little bit impressed."

All the feelings Chandler had repressed for all the months he'd worked for the man in front of him was begging to be released, and for the first time ever, without considering the possible consequences, he blurted out what he really wanted to say.

"None of this was for the purpose of impressing you, sir."

Chandler's tone was thick with contempt, especially when he emphasized the word 'sir', and Peter looked at him with surprise.

"Chandler has a backbone?" he asked rhetorically. "What a surprise."

"I think I've proven today that I'm full of surprises," Chandler shot back.

Peter nodded. "I underestimated you," he admitted. "And your father. But, you know, all is not as perfect as you might think."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Did you honestly think you had me fooled?" he asked, and Chandler's brow furrowed. "Did you think I didn't know? Do you think I fully trusted you?" He laughed, "Believe me, I didn't. Not by a long shot. I had people watching you. Reporting back to me…"

"Then why didn't you stop me?" Chandler asked incredulously. "Why not call me on it? Or fire me?"

Peter shook his head. "I didn't have enough information to do that. I wasn't exactly sure what you were up to. If I continued to employ you, I could more easily watch you. Maybe find out what you had been scheming."

"That's why I gave you inane jobs and assignments," he added. "Walking my dog? Going to the dry cleaners and picking up my suits? Having my racket re-strung? How lazy do you think I am? I assigned you those jobs to keep you busy. I wasn't about to give you tasks of any real importance."

"I'll have to admit though," he continued, "I am relieved that it was just your piddly little company you were after." He chuckled, "I thought you might actually be after something worth a damn!"

Chandler glared at the man for a moment, then turned to leave.

"You're not even the tiniest bit curious?" Peter asked smugly.

Chandler stopped at the door. "About what?" he questioned.

"About who was assigned to watch you," Peter clarified.

Chandler shrugged. "Should I be?"

Peter chortled as he turned away. "If I were being betrayed by the woman I love, I would certainly want to know about it," he answered glibly. "But, that's just me."

Chandler's heart leapt in his chest. "What are you-- What are you saying?"

"You honestly thought she loved you, didn't you?" he asked as he busied himself at his desk. "Why would she want you when she could have me?" he asked rhetorically. "Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for his former assistant to hear. "Get out of my office," he ordered with a gesture of his hand as he waved him away. "I have business to attend to."

--Chandler felt like he had been sucker-punched in the stomach. Monica was working for Peter all this time?

He walked numbly out of Peter's office, only vaguely aware that his former boss was addressing Alice about finding a replacement assistant as he stumbled away.

He had expected harsh words. He expected to be ridiculed. But he wasn't expecting to have his reason for living yanked away from him.

Monica was working for Peter. The words were starting to lose all meaning as he repeated them over and over again in his head.

You're an idiot, he belittled himself. How could you be so blind? How could you be so stupid? How could she lie so convincingly? How could she be so cruel? He sighed. How am I supposed to live without her?

The questions weren't going to answer themselves, but he didn't have the strength to face her yet.

He walked along the busy New York streets, just like a thousand other pedestrians, only he had no predetermined destination.

He couldn't go see his father. Even though their plans had been successful, he knew if he told his father about Monica, he would lecture him for hours, and would likely sing a chorus or two from the 'I Told You So' song. He just knew he wasn't up for dealing with that.

He couldn't go see Monica. He wouldn't know what to say to her. Would she even want to speak to him? Would she slam the door in his face? He couldn't face those possibilities just yet.

After hours of wandering pretty much aimlessly, he found himself at Central Perk. He wasn't sure how he'd even gotten there, he certainly wasn't aiming to be there, but there he was, at the counter, ordering a coffee from Gunther.

He turned after placing his order and sat on the ugly orange couch as he waited for the waitress to bring him the drink he didn't even really want.

Chandler was so wrapped up in his misery, so consumed with thought that he didn't even realize he was being watched.

Monica approached slowly, almost as if nervous to, and she cleared her throat before calling out his name.

"Chandler?"

He looked to her abruptly, his initial reaction of being glad to see her quickly leaving when Peter's words hit him like a physical blow.

"Hello Monica," he said coolly. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," she replied, his distant demeanor puzzling her. "I came in to get coffee, why are you here?"

"I came here, to think," he answered hesitantly.

She sighed. "Did it not go well today?" she asked as she joined him on the couch. "I've been worried," she added. "I thought you were going to come to my apartment after it was all over."

"It went fine," he told her, "But, you probably already knew that much."

"What are you talking about?" she asked with a scowl of confusion.

He scoffed. "Like you don't know."

"I don't know!" she defended herself. "What's wrong? Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not in the mood for this, Monica," he shot back, then stood to leave.

"You're not in the mood for what?" she barked back, starting to get irritated by his behavior.

"For your games!" he snapped. "Haven't you played enough with me?!"

"I seriously do not know what you're talking about," she countered.

He rolled his eyes before turning away from her and heading for the door, just as the waitress approached with his coffee.

"Cancel my order," he told the woman, holding his hand up to refuse the large mug in her hand. "If you'll excuse me," he snipped at Monica, his voice low, "I need to be somewhere where you're not."

"Please, Chandler," she pleaded as she grabbed his arm, physically stopping him from leaving. "I don't know what's happened, but can we at least go back to my place to talk about it?"

He pulled his arm away dramatically and glared hard at her. She'd never seen him look so angry. "No," he replied through gritted teeth, "We can't."

Without even glancing back he stormed out of the coffeehouse, leaving Monica in stunned silence.

TBC

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