AN: This chapter is really long, so I hope that will help ease the disappointment some of you have in me for not having it up in three days. J I was also going to split this because it is so long, but I didn't want to break the song in half. (It's a great song – "Not Just Me" by Rascal Flatts.) So, anyway, I put a LOT of effort into this chapter (including completely rewriting the last part), so I hope you enjoy…
Chandler could see Monica watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he chose to ignore her concern, for now at least. He was far too preoccupied with the sense of déjà vu that accompanied his climb up the familiar staircase – and the lingering weakness in his knees, a result of his panic attack on the plane. The episode had alarmed him, until Monica reminded him that it had been only a little more than a week since the plane he had been piloting had plummeted to the ground. His behavior justified, Chandler had kept his eyes shut tightly for the duration of the short flight, grateful when Monica tentatively reached for his hand and soothingly stroked it, murmuring soft, senseless words to him until he calmed down. She'd always been good at that, he remembered wistfully, unable to avoid nostalgia with the memory of her whispering lips against his ear so fresh in his mind.
Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to come back to New York after all. It was just going to remind him of what he had once had, and how badly he wished he could have it again.
The hallway between apartments 19 and 20 appeared before them, and Monica stopped on the top step, watching Chandler's reaction as he took another few steps forward without her. His gaze went first to his own door, and she saw his throat working as he swallowed repeatedly in an effort to control his emotions. Then he turned toward the doorway across the hall – her door. She wondered what he was thinking, if he was remembering stolen kisses in the hallway and slinking from one apartment to the other under the cover of darkness. She wondered if he was envisioning himself carrying her through that door when she returned from the eventful trip to Vegas with an injured ankle…and the sound of his voice announcing "It's a four" playing repeatedly in her heart.
"What are you thinking?" she asked softly, stepping forward to place a hand on his arm. Chandler turned toward her abruptly and looked deeply into her eyes, his own shadowed with regret. Moving gently away from the touch of her hand, he leaned against the wall next to Joey's apartment and slid into a sitting position on the step, trying to sort through his thoughts enough to put them into words.
"I was thinking…that it feels like I just stepped back into another life. It…it almost feels like time just stopped here, waiting on me to come back." He glanced at Monica uneasily as she sat down beside him and quickly looked away.
"But it didn't," he concluded wistfully, his voiced edged with remorse for a life unlived. "Life here went on without me."
Monica studied his dejected face, then slowly leaned over to brush a reassuring kiss on the side of his head, a gesture she had learned from him.
Mine didn't, she thought silently, her troubled eyes following him as he pulled her to her feet and reluctantly reached for the doorknob to Apartment 19.
"Good night," Monica murmured sleepily a few hours and a "Joey Special" later, as she leaned over to kiss Chandler on the cheek. The rest of their friends had left for home an hour before, leaving Monica alone with Joey and Chandler, and she had spent the last hour desperately trying to dispel the awkward silence that had fallen between the newly reinstated roommates. Exhausted and beginning to believe she was part of the problem, she finally decided to leave them alone and let them work it out like they "big boys" they were supposed to be. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Chandler started to rise and walk her to the door of her apartment, but Monica stopped him with the tiniest shake of her head. Slightly disappointed, Chandler raised his eyebrows in response, and Monica gave him an unconvincing half-smile. For the first time since the afternoon before in his hospital room, Chandler saw the vague reflection of grief in her eyes. That made him hesitate him long enough for Monica to slip over to Joey, and as Chandler watched, Monica gave him exactly the same good night she had just given Chandler – a kiss on the cheek and a promise to see him in the morning.
Joey smiled languidly as he mumbled a 'good night' in return and gave Monica a quick, brotherly kiss on the forehead. Chandler suddenly felt jealousy surge through his body as he watched the scene and recognized the intimacy between the two. He knew he shouldn't be surprised, but…well, when had Monica and Joey gotten so close? The exchange he had just witnessed made him almost sick to his stomach.
Joey turned to Chandler as Monica pulled the door shut behind her and smiled weakly.
"So, um…Rachel made the bed up for you, 'cuz – " Joey stopped and grinned, his old self again for just a moment. "Well, you know better than to think I would do it for you."
Relieved by Joey's candor, Chandler laughed slightly, and the both of them relaxed visibly. Chandler held Joey's gaze for a moment, both of them sorting through memories of another time.
"You should get some sleep," Joey finally said, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees. "We can talk more tomorrow…if you want to."
"Yeah…thanks," Chandler agreed, suddenly longing for the days of Fireball and Baywatch, wishing he could have his easy friendship with Joey back. His heart sank with the knowledge that it would probably never be that simple again. He'd destroyed the childlike trust Joey once had in him…and Chandler knew from experience that once you lost that trust, it was hard to regain it.
Wishing Joey a good night, and hoping that he had managed to convey some of his deeply-felt appreciation for Joey's hospitality, Chandler retreated into his old bedroom and shut the door behind him. He glanced at the made-up bed, wondering if the forced feeling of familiarity in the apartment tonight had been any indication of how his friends really felt about him being back in New York. He hated the feeling of being just outside the circle, but he had no one to blame but himself.
He forced the thoughts from his mind as he took a single pill to help him forget his aching ribs and throbbing wrist, then slid between the sheets of the bed, his body fitting perfectly into the familiar mattress. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, hoping that the drugs would help him fall asleep quickly.
The clock on his nightstand told him it was 2 am when he woke up in a cold sweat, the sheets Rachel had provided for him crumpled at the bottom of the bed, thrown off sometime in his sleep. Chandler retrieved his pillow from the floor beside the bed and balled it up under his head as he lay back down, shivering.
He'd been dreaming again. Nightmares like the ones he'd had in Boston - the ones about Monica.
Tell me you've had trouble sleeping…
That you toss and turn from side to side
That it's my face you've been seeing
In your dreams at night
(A few days later…)
Monica buried her face in her damp pillow, trying to quell the next round of tears before they started. She was beginning to see a pattern – every night she dreamed about Chandler, some good and some bad, and every morning she woke up with a lump in her chest and tears in her eyes. Frustrated with herself and her emotions, she pulled herself out of the bed and headed for the shower.
Geez, she was acting like she had when he'd first left; unable to sleep, not wanting to eat, crying into her pillow for hours on end. She reminded herself that he was right across the hall, but it didn't make her feel any better. It just made her want him more.
Some days she thought that she missed him even more now than she had when while he was 'gone'. She tried to pretend she was okay with his decision, but the truth was, she found herself holding her breath every time he walked into a room, hoping that today was the day he would change mind. So far, he hadn't shown any sign that he had, or would.
For a few days in Boston, she had thought they might actually be able to work things out. She'd had mixed feelings about the prospect, because after all, he'd done the unforgivable when he left the way he did. But all of that notwithstanding, when she closed her eyes and imagined being in his arms again, her heart beat just a little bit faster. And she had realized how much she wanted to feel that way again…just as he apparently decided that they couldn't – or wouldn't.
She understood that he thought he was doing this for her, but she didn't think he understood that this was killing her all over again. For a few blissful days, the hole he had left in her life had started to heal. She had started to feel like herself again.
But now she was just empty.
Sighing in resignation, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a bathrobe around her body. Joey would be looking for breakfast soon, and Chandler would no doubt be with him. The prospect of seeing him walk through the door made her face brighten momentarily in anticipation. Maybe today he would realize this was a hopeless exercise in misery, one that would never accomplish what he thought it would.
Or maybe it would just be another day of heartache for both of them.
Tell me that you wake up crying
And you're not sure exactly why.
Tell me that something is missing
In your life - in your life.
Baby, tell me that you live for love
That forever is never enough
That you've waited all your life to see
That you want so badly to believe
Tell me that it's not just me.
(A couple of weeks later…)
"It's not a date, Joey" Chandler insisted, already tired of the argument. "We're just going out to dinner."
"To her very expensive favorite restaurant!" Joey challenged. "And you're wearing the blue shirt!"
"The blue shirt?" Chandler asked warily as he looked down at the deep blue shirt he was wearing with his dark suit and tie, not following Joey's line of reasoning. "What does my shirt have to do with it?"
"Monica loves that shirt," Joey pointed out triumphantly, gesturing toward Chandler. "You always wear it when you're taking her somewhere special. Even before you were dating." Joey's tone implied that his last statement might as well have been "Even before the beginning of time."
"So, I – it's a good shirt," Chandler defended himself. "And I don't know why we're arguing about it. You can think it's a date all you want to, but it's not. I just…wanted to take her someplace nice to thank her – for everything. She's been amazing these past couple of weeks, and even thought I can't figure out why she still cares about me, I wanted to do something special for her. But it's not a date!" Chandler repeated, emphasizing his point as he grabbed his keys and prepared to go across the hall to pick up Monica. Just as he turned toward the door, it swung open and Monica entered the apartment, making both men stop in their tracks.
"M-mon…" Chandler stuttered, his eyes widening in amazement. "You – you, um, wow…"
"He means," Joey supplied, smirking at his awestruck friend as if Chandler had just proven his point. "You look great, Monica."
"Thank you, Joey," Monica responded, glancing at him with an appreciative smile before turning her attention back to Chandler. "I thought tonight would be a good excuse to dress up, even if it's 'not a date'."
Chandler blushed when she raised her eyebrows pointedly, embarrassed and disconcerted that she had heard his proclamation. He could see that she was slightly hurt by his insistence.
"You look beautiful," he told her softly, sincerely. She smiled in return, looking willing enough to forgive him for his indiscretion.
"I got tired of waiting," she told him, her playful grin assuring him that she was teasing. "You're already four minutes late."
"I was on my way out the door," Chandler defended himself, holding up the keys in his hand as proof. "But you're right, we should probably go."
"Have fun!" Joey encouraged them with a wink, holding the door open for the couple. "On your date," he concluded in a whisper as Chandler walked past him, closing the door before Chandler had a chance to turn around with a rebuttal.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Joey's smile faded. Yes, he had been concerned that Chandler might end up breaking Monica's heart again, but he had never expected them not to get back together. Joey didn't understand what the problem was. Anybody could see that they were pining for each other, but for some reason, neither of them were pursuing anything more than friendship.
Sometimes, especially at moments like this, he just wanted to shake both of them and demand that they put an end to whatever game they were playing.
Didn't they realize that the only time either of them smiled was when they were together?
"I love this place," Monica breathed happily as Chandler held her chair for her, and then slid into his own across the table.
"I know," Chandler said a little too loudly, trying unsuccessfully to imitate Monica's patented rejoinder. Monica smiled at his attempt and took a sip of her water, glancing around the restaurant to make sure no one was staring at them. Satisfied for the moment that Chandler had not garnered any undue attention, she turned her attention back to him, noticing that he looked relaxed, and…happy. The worry lines that had been creasing his forehead were gone for the moment, and his blue eyes were shining, made even bluer by the shirt he was wearing – her favorite. Seeing him completely at ease made something inside her click, and suddenly she was feeling less apprehensive about their "not a date". Instead, she decided to follow his lead, forget about all of the reasons this evening should be uncomfortable, and just enjoy being with him.
But suddenly, any possibility of the evening being anything but 'uncomfortable' was gone. As Monica looked up at Chandler, prepared to give him a bright smile and thank him for bringing her to her favorite place, she caught a glimpse of an all-too-familiar figure out of the corner of her eye.
"You have got to be kidding," she moaned under her breath to whoever was in charge of karma, as she looked again to be sure. There was no mistaking it – and with her second glance, the man caught her eye, his own widening in surprised pleasure.
"Monica?" he asked, already making his way over to them, dragging the woman that was presumably his date behind him. Monica's glanced at Chandler, who suddenly looked like he had accidentally swallowed a chicken bone. Giving him an "I-don't-know-what-else-to-do" shrug, she slowly stood up, praying that the confrontation would be quick and painless. Yeah right, she thought to herself, knowing there was no chance of that, not with these two particular men in the same room.
"Richard…" she greeted him, plastering a smile across her face. "Hi."
Ten minutes later, after the pleasantries had caught the attention of the maitre 'd, Richard and his date were seated at an adjoining table which - much to the dismay of both members of the Geller/Bing party - had been pulled up right next to theirs.
Richard was making a flowery toast, the kind that impressed most people and would have impressed Monica under any other circumstances. His date, Laura, was smiling at him like he was the most brilliant man on the planet, and even Chandler was nodding along pleasantly. Monica was surprised that he was able to hide his displeasure so well. Only Monica or maybe Joey would have been able to tell that he was fuming inside.
"…good friends," Richard finished, raising his glass. The other three obligingly lifted their own glasses, and Chandler felt Monica squeeze his hand as she took a sip from her glass. He caught her eye and smiled, trying to reassure her that he did not hold her responsible for this.
"So, you two have been together how long now? Two years?" Richard asked, his voice slightly strained. Two heads snapped toward him, taken aback by the comment. Richard shrugged, still maintaining his cool demeanor. If an onlooker – like Richard's date – was ignorant of the history between Richard and Monica, there was absolutely nothing in Richard's mannerisms that implied the question was anything more than polite conversation.
Chandler and Monica exchanged uneasy glances, each waiting for the other to explain that they weren't together. Silence reigned as they hesitated, until Chandler's survival instincts kicked in, prompting him to put his arm around the back of Monica's chair as he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.
"Yeah," he answered, catching a glimpse of incredulity in Monica's eyes before turning his gaze on Richard. "About two and half years."
He regretted the deceptive words instantly. He could feel Monica's eyes burning into him, but he refused to look at her. He was definitely going to pay for this impulsive little charade later.
"That's…great," Richard replied, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I'm happy for you guys."
"You make a lovely couple," Laura chimed in, oblivious to the distress of the other three members of the group. "You look like you're very much in love."
The comment hit Chandler like an eighteen-wheeler, and for a moment he found it difficult to breathe. His eyes shifted to Monica's, and he could see that she was just as affected. He swallowed hard and then nodded, never moving his eyes from Monica's face.
"Yes," he admitted, completely honestly. "I love her very much."
Monica stared at him, and Chandler stared back, trying to read the expression in her eyes. Before either of them could say anything more, Richard interrupted, obviously not wanting to see the look the two were giving each other.
"Well, the chicken looks good," he commented, opening his menu and effectively ending any talk of Chandler and Monica's love life. "Laura, did Monica tell you that she's a chef…?"
The ride home from the restaurant was silent. Monica was fuming, Chandler was meek, and neither of them wanted to have the confrontation they were about to have in the back of a New York cab, even if their cab driver didn't appear to speak or understand English.
Outside their building, Chandler paid the fare while Monica stalked into the building without him. He caught up with her at her apartment, barely escaping having the door slammed in his face as he stepped inside just in time.
"How dare you!" Monica exploded before he had a chance to say anything, throwing her hands into the air. "You had no right to do that."
"I know," Chandler began shamefully, but Monica was on a roll and not in the mood to let him talk.
"We
are not together, Chandler, and
as I recall, that was your choice. Why
would you lie about it like
that?"
"I'm sorry, Monica. It just kind of slipped out. I mean, it was Richard…"
"Don't even start with that, Chandler! I never knew why you were so insecure about him, but it doesn't matter now. You have no right to be jealous – of anyone."
"I know…"
"You told me that you wanted me to find someone else, Chandler. 'Somebody better', I think those were your exact words. So, what? Is Richard not 'good enough'? It wasn't enough that I can't have you, now you also get to choose who I can – or cannot – date?"
"Of course not – "
"And who are you to decide what is 'good enough' for me, anyway? Don't you think I can make that decision for myself?"
"I just wanted – "
"Why is always what you want, Chandler? When does it get to be what I want?"
"I
want you to have what you deserve, Monica!"
Chandler yelled, finally raising his voice. "I want you to be with someone who can give you the life you
always wanted!"
Monica shook her head in
disbelief. "Didn't it ever occur to you
that all I ever wanted was YOU??"
The revelation stunned Chandler into silence, his eyes frozen on Monica's face. She sniffed back her tears and nodded, the anger draining from her body. "All I wanted was you," she repeated softly, hugging herself with her arms as she turned away from him.
"W-why?" Chandler finally managed to stutter, genuinely perplexed. "After all I've put you through, how can you still say that?"
"Because it's true," Monica answered quietly, her back still turned to him.
After another long pause, Chandler stepped toward her and gently turned her to face him.
"You shouldn't," he told her gently, pain etched into his features. "You shouldn't want me. Don't want me, Monica. It doesn't matter how much I love you – and I do, Monica. God, I do. But no matter how hard I try, you'll only get hurt. Haven't I proven that already?"
Monica avoided his eyes, looking at the floor instead. When it became clear that she wasn't going to say anything, Chandler's eyes followed hers to the floor. Scuffing one shoe against the wood, he blinked back tears, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to make this any better.
"I should go," he finally whispered, lifting his eyes to her face. Monica kept her head down, refusing to look at him. Her shoulders were shaking as she tried to hold in her sobs. He took a step backward, then another, still watching her.
He opened the door and stepped into the hallway, half hoping she would stop him.
She didn't.
A few days later, Chandler stood outside Monica's apartment, trying to gather the courage he needed to knock. What he was about to do was going to break her heart – even more – and he knew himself well enough to know that it would break his, too. But he just didn't see any other way.
He finally knocked, and it only took her a few seconds to answer. She must have been in the kitchen.
"Hi," Chandler greeted her softly, noticing her tentative expression. "Can I come in for a minute?"
Monica nodded, pulling the door open wider for him. She closed it behind him and then turned to look at him, waiting for him to speak.
"Monica…I wanted to tell you how sorry I am, for everything. Maybe it would have been better if I had just stayed away…or maybe we both needed this, I don't know. I thought – I thought I could come back here and make it work somehow, but it's obvious now that it won't. As long as I'm here, I'll be bringing you nothing but hurt. And I refuse to do that."
Monica looked up, startled by the decisive note in his voice. Her eyes widened as she took in his expression, and suddenly she knew where he was going with this.
"Chandler, no – "
"I'm going back to Boston," he told her, his voice wavering. "It'll be better this way, Monica. I'll come and visit – I promise. It won't be like before. I…I want to be friends…"
Monica closed her eyes, tears seeping from underneath her eyelids. She shook her head slowly, trying to make her mind function well enough to come up with all the reasons he should stay. Before she could voice any of them, he spoke again.
"I love you, Monica. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish that I could have been the man to make you happy…but I'm not. And I just can't go on making you unhappy any longer. Please, please try to understand that. I have to go."
Monica swallowed and looked up at him, only able to manage one word. "When?"
"Tomorrow," Chandler answered, his face down. "Mark's flying in on a charter…I'm going to go back with him."
"So this is goodbye then?" Monica asked, choking on the words. "It's just going to end here, now?"
Chandler looked up at her and for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and never, ever let go. But that wasn't an option, not anymore.
"I…I guess so," Chandler finally answered as his own tears began to fall. "This is goodbye."
Monica woke up the next morning with swollen eyes and a determination not to let Chandler leave without a fight. She dressed quickly and walked across the hall, walking into Chandler and Joey's apartment without bothering to knock. She found Joey in the living room, staring at the tv but not appearing to see it. Chandler was nowhere in sight.
"Joey?" Monica questioned, leaning into his line of sight. "Where's Chandler?"
Joey snapped to attention and glanced at her, his eyes immediately growing sad and distant again. "He already left."
"He left? Already?" Monica repeated, feeling the last ounce of hope draining from her body when Joey nodded. "When?"
"About fifteen minutes ago. He asked me to give you this." Joey held out a piece of paper, not bothering to get up from the chair. Monica took the paper and opened it slowly, wondering what else there was to say.
"Monica," the note read. "I think about the night I met you, I swore I'd never forget you…well, I won't. I think about the way you'll live and breathe inside my dreams forever… But you'll be better when I'm gone, Mon, you'll be better when I'm gone. Because I know you're gonna fall in love again… I'm sorry this is how it has to end.**" The note was signed simply, "Love, Chandler".
Monica read the words again, then suddenly reached over and tried to pull Joey up by one arm.
"Joey, get up. We're going to the airport."
It took longer than Monica hoped to get to the airfield the charter flights used, and even longer to figure out where Mark and Chandler's plane would be sitting. When they finally managed to track it down, an attendant informed them that the plane was scheduled to take off in just a few minutes.
Desperate to stop Chandler from leaving, Monica ignored the people warning her not to go outside and headed straight for the plane that had been pointed out to her, ignoring the fact that the clouds that had been building all morning had just opened up and were drenching the world around her. There was still a crowd of people surrounding the plane, and even from a distance, she could see that they were passengers trying to hurriedly board the plane and get out of the rain. Then her eyes sought out a familiar form and her heart jumped into her throat. He was still there, just beginning to walk toward the plane.
"Chandler!" she called, breaking into a run. "Chandler!"
He heard her. She saw him stop, still facing the plane, then turn around slowly just as she reached him. For a moment, she thought she saw a smile flicker across his face, almost as if he had been expecting her. But with the rain falling in sheets around them, she couldn't be quite sure.
"Monica?" he asked, reaching out a hand to her. "What are you doing here? You're getting soaked."
"Don't go to Boston, Chandler," Monica pleaded, ignoring his question. "Please don't go. Stay with me. I need you."
"Monica, we talked about this..."
"No," she interrupted, "You talked. Well, it's my turn now. I love you, Chandler. I'm miserable without you. Please, please don't leave me again."
"Monica, I have to," he whispered. "It's for the best." Chandler gave her one last, lingering look, then started to turn toward the plane. Desperate, and knowing this was probably her last chance to make him understand, Monica took a deep breath.
"Is it just me, Chandler? Am I the only one that feels this?"
Chandler paused, and turned back to her. As Monica waited anxiously, he hesitated, then looked up at her with shadowed eyes.
"Feel what, Monica?" he asked her, though his voice told her that he already knew. She struggled for a moment to put her feelings into words and finally gave up, lifting her hands into the air and then dropping them back to her sides in surrender.
"Love."
I could've sworn I saw you smile at me
Standing in the pouring rain.
At a loss for words and running out of time
I said this crazy thing -
Crazy thing, I said
Tell me that you live for love
That forever is never enough
That you waited all your life to see…
That you want so badly to believe…
Tell me that it's not just me.
"Of course I do," Chandler said in an almost-whisper, looking at the ground. "Of course I feel it."
"Then why are we doing this?" Monica asked him, her voice strangled with tears. "I know you think that this is what's best for me, but it's not. I love you. We were meant to be together, Chandler. Soulmates. Don't you believe that?"
"I – I don't know," Chandler told her, his tone almost desperate. "I used to, but…" He paused and looked at her, unable to decipher tears from raindrops on her face. "Do you still believe it? Really?"
"Yes," Monica answered without hesitation. "I do."
Chandler frowned and lowered his gaze. "I wish it was that easy, Monica.
"Chandler,"
Monica said, stepping closer to him and taking his hands in hers. "Think about this. When you woke up that first time in the hospital, who did you
look for?"
"You," Chandler whispered
after a moment of silence, gently squeezing her hands.
"When your plane hit the ground, whose face did you see?"
"Yours," Chandler admitted with a sob.
"In your dreams, baby, the happy ones…who is with you?"
"You," Chandler said, his eyes widening in realization. "It's always you."
Smiling, Monica leaned forward, cupping his face in her hands. "Do you believe it now?"
Hold me now and tell me
That you do believe
In a soul, a soulmate.
(Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me)
Chandler hesitated for just a moment, before pulling her into his arms and pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that would definitely make their Top Ten list. Pulling away just far enough to lean his forehead against hers, he tightened his arms around her, promising himself that he would never let her go again.
"I believe it," he whispered, grinning as a smile spread across her face and she tightened her grip on him, kissing him again. Suddenly, all of the pain and uncertainty of the past year disappeared, leaving him standing in the rain with the woman he loved. The woman he couldn't help but love.
He was suddenly aware of the eyes watching them, and turned from Monica to see the eight passengers, Mark, and Joey watching them, all with matching grins. As Chandler turned, they all erupted in cheers and applause, making Chandler and Monica blush, but hold on to each other even more tightly.
"Hey Mark," Chandler called, grinning at his friend. "I think you'll have to take this flight without me."
Grinning, Mark gave him a thumbs up.
"I think that's a good decision," he called back. "I'll tell your mother than my future stepson finally figured it out."
Startled by Mark's comment, Chandler stared as Mark grinned back at him, then disappeared into the cockpit. As the plane lifted into the air, Chandler turned to Monica.
"Did he just say he was going to marry my mother?"
Tell me that you live for love
That forever is never enough
That you've waited all your life to see
That you want so badly to believe
Tell me that it's not just me.
(DeMarcus/Hummon)
To Be Continued…one more chapter, I think. And I think it might be a bit out of character for Nora to marry Mark, but that just kind of appeared on my screen while I was typing and I decided it was a good, not-way-too-sappy way to end this chapter. Trust me, I don't think I have any sap left…**I have to credit Troy James, Brett James, and Mark Wills again. The words in that last note from Chandler were taken from the title song of this story, "When You Think Of Me". My effort at continuity. ;-) They just really seemed to fit what I was trying to have Chandler explain to Monica, and well – that song was the inspiration for this whole story, so…
