AN: You guys rock…helping me break my personal top review record, hee-hee! (148, for The Pact) I may stretch this out a bit more; as there are a couple of things I wanna try…bear with me!!
The Theory
Chapter XIII
You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss
A sigh is just a sigh
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by
It's still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by("As Time Goes By"~Herman Hupfield)
~One Week Later~
The breeze was crisp and cool, and carried with it the faint scent of hot pretzels, and fresh flowers.
Chandler loved Central Park in at this time of the morning. It was serenely quiet, yet there were signs of life emerging everywhere. Chandler took in a deep breath as he jogged past the pretzel vendor, a small smile lighting up his face as he took in the guilty pleasure. As he turned down toward the east side of the park, his mind drifted back to Monica. Dinner with her and the others the night before had been a disaster; full of uncomfortable silences and false politeness. Everything had started out okay, but Monica had seemed jumpy, and the others seemed a bit defensive, and tense. Chandler had grown increasingly uncomfortable, and had eventually excused himself and left the table. When he'd returned to the table, the conversation had suddenly stopped, and the paranoia that he'd felt at that moment was overwhelming. He asked what was going on, and when no one answered, he'd simply stood up, and walked out of the restaurant. He'd been vaguely aware that Monica had been running after him, calling his name—but he'd ignored her, and had jumped into a taxi before she could reach him.
Chandler's steady jog had intensified with these thoughts; he was now in a full run, dodging other joggers and dog-walkers as he zipped down the trail.
The behavior last night had not been unusual—but it had been worse than usual, and Chandler was tired of it. He was tired of his friends constantly walking on eggshells around him, as though he was going to blow up at them or something. He was tired of Monica acting like everything was okay, when he knew that deep down, she still doubted the role she had in his life. But more than anything else, he was just plain tired.
The nightmares that had begun to haunt him after his father's death had not ceased. He struggled to figure out what was happening to him, why he wasn't settling back into his life as easily as he'd wanted to.
He knew that part of it was fear. Fear that he would do something, or say something that would cause him to lose Monica, or the others. The fear was deep-seeded, and had been there long before Las Vegas. That fear was what drove him to give Monica that bracelet in the first place. It had been inappropriate, and rash, considering the point they'd been in their relationship. He'd been relieved when she'd declined the bracelet—he'd also been a little offended. But, as was his typical reaction, he'd buried the feelings, and moved on, forgiving her quickly when she'd come in accusing him of cheating a week ago, and letting her vague comments over the past few weeks go.
Chandler ran at full speed all the way to his building, slowing only when he was forced to cross at busy intersections. Sweating and panting heavily, he approached his apartment, and was less than surprised to see Monica sitting in front of his door.
"Monica," Chandler whispered between breaths, "what are you doing here?"
"We need to talk," Monica's voice was cold, and her words clipped and tight.
"Okay," Chandler said slowly, as he moved past her to unlock his door.
They walked into the apartment, and Chandler dropped his keys on the end table, and pulled his sweatshirt over his head.
"Do you want something to drink?" Chandler asked politely, as he moved to the kitchen.
"No," Monica said shortly, as she lingered in the doorway stiffly.
Chandler shrugged, and went into the kitchen. He re-emerged with a bottle of water.
"Have a seat," Chandler said, then took a long drink from the bottle.
"No, thank you. I just—I want to know what the hell you were doing last night?" Monica said coolly.
"What?" Chandler looked at Monica crossly, annoyed that she hadn't picked up on the tension that had been around the table the night before.
"You just—took off. Why?"
"You really don't see it?"
"See what, Chandler?" Monica sighed.
"See the way you act when we are all together. See the way Ross stumbles over his words, the way Joey glares at you…or the way Phoebe was drinking way too much, and was paying attention to anything but the rest of us…or the way Rachel stared at her plate all night. Don't tell me you didn't notice, and don't tell me I wasn't the cause," Chandler was annoyed at Monica's ignorance of everything—or her insistence to ignore it.
"You're being paranoid, Chandler. Everything is fine—"
"Everything is not fine! As much as you want it to be, it's not!"
"Well, if it's not, then it's no one's fault but yours," Monica seethed.
"What?"
"Why can't you put all of this bitterness toward us behind you? What are you so afraid of?"
"How can you ask me that? You know what I'm afraid of, I—"
"If you don't want to lose us, then you need to stop pushing us away…you need to stop keeping us at arm's length. We're your friends, Chandler."
"Maybe…maybe you're trying a little too hard. Did you ever think of that?"
"What?"
"You are holding on…so tight…your knuckles are white," Chandler's voice was suddenly filled with the exhaustion he was feeling.
"So…this is my fault," Monica stated flatly.
"It's no one persons fault," Chandler whispered sadly, "none of us are handling this well."
"But—"
"What happened in Las Vegas was a mistake. We should have never slept together—it made everything much more complicated," Chandler was staring out the living room window, and he could feel Monica staring at his back in shock. When she said nothing in response, Chandler continued.
"Things were…not normal in Las Vegas, and I'm still coming to terms with all that happened there. I think I felt the need to reach out, and I think that your reaction, and the reaction of the others, was valid. But I also think that none of us were really ready to jump back in with both feet. Last night was proof of that.
And just like you, I wanted to pretend that everything was okay, and that you and I could just jump into a relationship, because we had sex," Chandler turned to look at Monica.
"I think it's important that you and I work on more fundamental things first. We need to work on the basics of our friendship. We need to take a step backward.
You gave me time, and space, and I appreciate that. But we jumped back into something that was too intense. Before my father died, I hardly saw you guys. And suddenly, everyone wants to hang out every single day—but everything is different, and we haven't acknowledged that. We need to. I want to be with you Monica, but I've done a lot of thinking, and I think that the only way we can continue is to step out of our relationship, and get to know each other again."
Silence filled the room for a long, stiflingly uncomfortable minute. Chandler watched, as Monica's face revealed her emotions; shock, confusion, sadness, anger. She finally looked up at Chandler, and then straightened her shoulders.
"Chandler, we can't move forward if you don't trust us. You left last night, instead of talking to
us, and working out what was happening.
You are right, we need to make changes, but I refuse to take the all of
blame for any dysfunction that we have in our group now. What happened a year ago happened, and we
all need to move on. You aren't the
only victim here—all of us are hurting.
You want to step back? Fine. But I'm not going to wait forever,
Chandler. I can't."
"Monica, I never said that you—"
"I'm leaving. When you finally decide that we are worthy of being with you, call us," Monica said coldly.
"Monica, I am not blaming anyone, I—"
"No, of course you're not!" Monica yelled suddenly, her broken heart getting the better of her, "Because God forbid you should be wrong, or anything but the martyr in this ridiculous little dance here! I'm tired of feeling like I will never be able to make up for my one stupid fucking mistake! I'm tired of wondering when you are going to come around!"
"Monica, I'm making an effort…I thought you of all people would understand—"
"Why? Because I love you? Because we slept together?"
"Because you've always known me better than anyone else!"
"I feel like I don't know you at all! I feel like a fool, for telling you I love you, only to hear nothing in return…and I feel like, deep down, you know that you will never forgive me, but you don't have the heart to tell me."
Chandler stepped back, astounded by Monica's revelation. He was quiet for a long minute, and watched as Monica stifled a sob.
"Well," Chandler finally said quietly, coolly, "I'm sorry you feel that way," Chandler turned on his heel, and walked into his bedroom.
He flinched, when moments later, he heard the front door slam.