The One With The President
Chapter Ten
By: Jana~
*****
--"How can you be so sure Chandler will talk to Phoebe?" Joey asked as they headed for Ross' office.
"Because, she is good at getting information out of him," Ross replied. "Plus, they have a history."
"What do you mean?" Joey asked. "So do the two of you, but he doesn't tell you much."
Ross half-glared, then sighed. "Different kind of history, Joe."
"What? They've known each other longer?"
"No," Ross clarified. "I've known Chandler longer than Phoebe has."
"Then. What are you talking about?"
He groaned softly at Joey's ignorance. "They were involved with each other at one point, alright?"
"What?!" Joey nearly shouted. "Phoebe and Chandler used to be an item?!"
"Yes," Ross spoke quietly, encouraging Joey to lower his voice and do the same. "Briefly, but it didn't work out. They've remained good friends ever since."
"I didn't know that," Joey whispered, shocked by what he had just heard.
"Yeah, well, they don't go around advertising it," Ross explained. "So I would appreciate it if you would just keep that bit of information to yourself."
"Oh, yeah," Joey agreed, "Of course!"
There was a long pause as they passed people in the corridors, then Joey spoke up again. "So, what do you think is bothering Chandler?"
"I think it has to do with Monica, quite frankly," Ross replied. "But other than that," he shrugged, "I just don't know."
*****
--"I'm telling you, Rache, something's wrong. Something's different."
"Well, when did you start noticing him acting weird?" Rachel asked Monica, being careful not to speak too loudly since the kitchen was full of guests and staff.
"Christmas," she replied simply.
"Did something happen?" Rachel asked. "Did you guys have a fight or something?"
"No!" Monica whispered harshly, to be heard over the banging of pots and pans. "That's just it! It was a wonderful holiday!"
"And you can't think of anything that happened, anything you or he said that could explain it?"
Suddenly, Monica's eyes grew wide. "I told him I love him," she recalled, looking at Rachel with a slightly freaked expression.
"Then what did he say?"
"He didn't say anything. Oh my God," she gasped as she realized, "I freaked him out!"
"Now, wait," Rachel said in an attempt to calm her friend. "You don't know that. Have you talked to him since then?"
"Well, yeah. That's how I knew he was acting weird."
"Maybe you should talk to Ross," Rachel suggested. "They're close. If something is wrong, Ross will know."
"Could you talk to him for me?" Monica asked.
Rachel nodded, spotting Kathy glaring at them. "Sure. Gotta go," she added, gesturing with her eyes towards their supervisor. Monica just nodded.
Kathy approached, peering over Monica's shoulder as she cooked. Monica, for the most part, ignored her.
"You know," Kathy whispered in Monica's ear, her voice thick with contempt. "Just because you're the president's girlfriend doesn't mean your job is secure."
Monica glared, staring at the food cooking in front of her. "You know, just because you're a bitch doesn't mean Nick will mount you," she retorted, mimicking Kathy's tone of voice.
She huffed loudly, obviously pissed, then stormed off, leaving Monica to smirk triumphantly.
*****~*****
--"Come in," Chandler called out to whoever was responsible for the soft yet determined knock.
Ross poked his head around the door. "Do you have a minute, Chandler?"
He nodded. "Sure, Ross. What's up?"
"I was talking with Rachel earlier," he began, approaching Chandler's desk slowly. "About Monica."
"What about her?" Chandler asked, immediately concerned.
"She thinks you're upset with her. She says you've been distant."
Inwardly, he was relieved that she was ok. "I've had a lot on my mind," he replied, trying to sound casual.
"What are you doing, Chandler?" Ross asked, half-scolding. "Monica is the best thing to ever happen to you! Why are you pushing her away?"
"I'm not!" he shot back. "I'm just… trying to do my job, alright?"
Ross shook his head. "No, it's not alright! I know you, man! I know when something is bothering you! Now, what's going on?"
Chandler sighed. "Look, I've just got some stuff to work out, ok? That's all."
"Oh, that's all?!" Ross patronized. "You're gonna blow this, Chandler!"
"Blow what?!"
"You're numbers have never been better! And like it or not, it all comes down to the fact that you've been dating Monica!"
"Is that all she is to you?" Chandler asked angrily. "Numbers on a poll?!"
"Of course not--"
"She's a person, damnit!"
"Then start treating her like one!" Ross yelled back. "Call her! Tell her you still care about her! Cause right now, she's doubting you do!"
Ross didn't wait for Chandler to respond, he just stormed out and slammed the door behind him.
--Anger made way for guilt as he stared at the door, taking in Ross' words. He was right, not about the numbers on the poll, that he could care less about. But Ross was right about Monica being the best thing that had ever happened to him.
He turned his attention to the phone, his eyes boring into it before he finally picked it up. He began to dial a number, then stopped abruptly and placed the receiver back down.
What would he say? He didn't know. He just wasn't ready to talk to her yet. He picked up the phone again, this time shuffling through his rolodex for a number he didn't have memorized.
Finally finding it, he dialed.
"Hello," he greeted cordially. "I would like to order one dozen roses, please."
*****
--Monica stepped out of the building and into the strobe light effect of all the photographer's cameras snapping away, their subject: her. She plastered on a civil smile and wiggled her way through the bodies and chaos, almost chanting her new mantra as question after question came flying at her…
"No comment. No comment."
It was becoming virtually impossible to go anywhere or do anything anymore, what with the media hounding her every time she so much as stepped out of her apartment. They followed her on jobs, to the store; one photographer even followed her into the woman's bathroom. And he was a man.
Sometimes she just felt like screaming 'get a life', but she was briefed by Phoebe on how best to deal with the press, so that is what she did.
"What is your response to the reports that the president looks to you, a simple chef, for advice on political decisions?"
"No comment."
"Any talk of marriage?"
"No comment."
"Any truth to the rumors that the president is only dating you to better his popularity amongst the voting public?"
Monica could feel herself cringe. That hadn't been the first time someone had suggested that to her.
"No comment." She announced, then unlocked her car door and squeezed inside, leaving the press outside her window, still shouting questions at her.
--Carefully, so as not to run over any of the people buzzing about her car, she backed out of the spot and headed for home, weary from her day at work, the confrontation with her witch of a supervisor, and her growing fear that she had blown it with Chandler.
--She had more press to contend with when she pulled up to her apartment building, her neighbors glaring at her for bringing the chaos to their quiet community. She smiled sheepishly at old Mrs. Janeway as she struggled her way into the lobby, where the press wasn't allowed.
"Hi, Mrs. Janeway."
The old lady said nothing as she glared, then turned and walked away.
"Give my best to the 'we hate Monica' club members," she mumbled as she checked the mailbox before heading for the elevator.
--"My day sucked!" Monica announced as she entered the apartment, slamming her purse on the counter as she removed her coat.
Rachel ran in from her room, an ear-to-ear grin across her face.
"What are you so happy about?" Monica asked curiously.
"Just thinking about how your day might just get better," Rachel said as she pointed at a gold box on the dining table.
Monica looked at it for a moment, then approached it, plucking the card off the top of the box.
"To my dearest Monica," she read aloud, "Thinking of you and missing you greatly. Will call you soon. Chandler."
"See?" Rachel chirped. "He's just been too busy to call or something! He is the president you know," she added.
Monica smirked. "Yes, Rache, I am aware of that." She looked over the card, reluctant to believe it was as simple as that.
"Stop worrying," Rachel ordered kindly. "Everything is fine, I'm sure."
"Yeah," Monica muttered softly. "I guess."
*****~*****
--"What's with you, Pheebs?" Chandler asked, noting her odd behavior.
"Nothing," she replied, her face set in a scowl.
He wasn't so sure he believed that, but Ross rushed on about their itinerary, so he dropped his concerns for the time being.
"I get it Ross, ok?" Chandler finally cut him off, stopping him from rambling on further. "How many cups of coffee did you drink already this morning?"
Ross semi-glared, "Just trying to keep you abreast of the situation."
Joey started to giggle, to himself mostly, and Ross and Chandler both shot him looks - Ross an irritated look, Chandler an amused one.
"What are you snickering about?" Ross asked.
"You said 'abreast'," Chandler replied, his smile growing wider when Joey confirmed with a nod.
"Not 'a breast', Joe," Ross explained, exasperatedly. "'Abreast', meaning to keep informed."
Joey rolled his eyes, "I know what it means, Ross. I just happen to find it to be a humorous word."
"Ok, enough of vocabulary for the demented," Chandler announced. "We have a school full of kiddos waiting to hear a boring speech by the president with the funny name, so let's say we get this show on the road!"
Phoebe shuddered, almost violently, and Chandler noticed, again. It was the third time she had done that in the last 15 minutes.
"Pheebs? Are you sure you're alright?"
She nodded at Chandler. "Fine, sir."
"Come here," he ordered, placing the back of his hand on her forehead, checking for a fever. "You don't feel warm."
"It's not physical," she stated softly, only meaning for Chandler to hear it.
"What?" he asked, inviting his friend to open up, "What is it?"
"Something's not right," she whispered.
"Is this a psychic thing?" he asked, whispering back.
She nodded. "I just-- I don't know what it is, but something is very wrong."
He scowled with concern. "Well, should I cancel the speech?"
"You can't," Ross interjected, butting into their semi-private conversation. "This is too important."
"Can't do what?" Joey asked, not hearing anything that was said before that point.
"Cancel the speech," Ross answered.
"Why can't we do the speech?" Joey asked.
"Phoebe is--"
"Phoebe is fine," she quickly replied, interrupting Chandler. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause this."
"Cause what?" Chandler asked. "You didn't do anything wrong. I value your opinion," he told her supportively. "And you never have to apologize for looking out for me."
She smiled. "Well, in my opinion, you should give the speech. The kids would be disappointed if you didn't," she reasoned. "Besides, I don't even know what it is I'm feeling. I just know something is off in the universe."
"You can feel that?" Joey asked, amazed.
"Sometimes," she replied.
"And what does that feel like?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know.
"Like, you know how when you get a piece of apple stuck in your teeth?" she asked, finding a comparison he would understand. He nodded in response. "Ok, it's like that. How it feels like all your teeth are screw-jawed?"
"Oh, right," he gestured in understanding. "It feels like that? Really?"
Ross rolled his eyes, "Sir, we need to get going."
Chandler agreed. "Come with, Pheebs," he requested of her. "That way, if whatever this is becomes clear, you'll be able to clue me in quick."
She nodded, inwardly pleased at how open Chandler was to her gift. "I can do that."
"Fine," Ross muttered. "So, now that that's all settled, can we go?"
"Yes, we can go," Chandler muttered. "And no more coffee for you!"
Everyone snickered except Ross.
*****
--Chandler waved as the kids called out their goodbyes, waving frantically and happily, the press clicking pictures hurriedly. He was vaguely aware that Ross and Joey were talking about the next meeting, vaguely aware of Phoebe several steps back and to the left.
The speech had gone well, but what Chandler found to be the best part of the day was when he was reading to the second graders. They hung on his every word as he dramatically read and acted out the story.
He could see himself having kids some day.
He stopped just before getting into the car, turning and waving back at the kids, Ross and Joey waiting patiently on his left, Phoebe standing to his right. Then, she shuddered.
It all happened so fast after that…
Chandler's blood ran cold as he looked at her ashen face. She looked scared, or like she had just seen a ghost. "Pheebs?"
"Oh my God," she muttered, her eyes wide. "Chandler?" she whispered, then utter chaos erupted.
--He only really heard the first two shots, then he was tackled to the ground by 3 secret service agents. He could hear kids screaming, and panicked voices all around him.
"Eagle is down! I repeat, eagle is down!"
"Get him in the car!"
"The shooter is down!"
"Secure the area!"
"Get the kids in the school, now!"
"Call the ambulance!"
"Was he hit?!"
"Eagle is wounded! Repeat, eagle is wounded. Secure the route!"
"We're going to get you to the hospital, Mr. President. Don't worry about a thing…"
TBC
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