A.N.  I'm back!  (Right now you're either muttering "finally" or "oh god why".  I'm hoping that it's the first one!)  If you're wondering why I've been taking sooo long to update I'll just have to apologize and point out that this is exactly why summer jobs should NOT be the all consuming, 48 hour a week nightmare that mine is.  But OH WELL, life goes on.  And so does this story.  We're nearing the end, thanks for sticking with me those of you who are still around.  Read, enjoy and PLEASE review!!!! Thanks for your comments, interest, and most of all, your patience.  LOVE YA!

-Maddy

Disclaimer: Seeing as I'm not making any money, I clearly do not own anything like Friends.

          Monica finished drying the last dish and tucked it safely away among the others in the cabinet just as Chandler came into the apartment, back from the gym. 

          "Hey," she greeted, turning around in her position next to the cabinet.

          "Hey," he responded, walking towards her.  He reached above her head for a glass, pressing her body gently against the countertop.  She looked up at him, surprised.

          "Sorry… just needed a glass of water," he said softly.  She blushed, not failing to notice that he had the glass in his hand, and yet he wasn't backing away.

          "You're all sweaty," she finally managed to say, her heart pounding.

          "You're all wet," he responded, pointing at her t shirt that had been splashed by the sink while she was washing dishes.

          "Touche," she said quietly. 

          "You're also breathing kinda heavy," he told her, still not moving.

          "You're not moving."

          "I don't plan on it," he said huskily.  "Is that a problem?"  She shook her head and their lips met quickly, passionately.  The glass he was holding slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor, but neither noticed as his hands snaked around her small frame.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and her hands raked seductively through his hair.  A soft moan escaped her mouth as he moved his lips from hers to her neck, then to her collarbone.  She ran her hands up under his t-shirt, frantically trying to remove it.  He finished getting it over his head and then removed hers, their bodies slinking down against the counter until they were on the floor.  They quickly discarded the rest of their clothes as their hands and lips roamed each other's bodies passionately. 

          "Mon?" he asked, his words muffled against her flat stomach.

          "Hmm?" she said, eyes squeezed shut.

          "Are you sure you want to do this?" he murmered, making his way back up to her lips.

          "God, yes," she responded hungrily.

          "Traffic is backed up at the Midtown Tunnel and you should expect 15 to 20 minute delays," he said.

          "What?"

          "Also, a three car pile up on the corner of 13th and Sloane has traffic stopped for blocks, so make sure to get a head start this morning," the obnoxious radio voice continued from her alarm clock, jerking Monica awake.  She lay there for a moment, confused, and then the dream came flooding back.  She groaned and pulled her pillow on top of her face, reaching out to slap the alarm off.  That was the third time this week.

          Chandler looked at Monica with a concerned expression over the breakfast table as Faith happily tossed Cheerios from her high chair. 

          "Mon, are you okay?" he asked.  "You seem kind of far away."

          "What?  Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she told him.  "Weird dream," she explained, off his disbelieving look.

          "Oh," he said, understanding.  Then he smiled.  "Was I in it?"

          "Yes, actually," she said, shifting uncomfortably.  He grinned.

          "And what was so weird about it?" 

          "You had just got back from the gym," she told him, smiling teasingly.

          "And…?"

          "That's it," she said.  He made a face at her.

          "Yeah, I guess that is a weird dream," he admitted.  "Seriously, though."

          "Seriously, I really gotta run," she said, clearing her bowl.  "I'm five minutes late already and rumor has it traffic's a bitch."

          "Okay.  See ya," he said as she grabbed her purse and jacket and left.           Outside, she took a deep breath.  Why was she having all these weird sex dreams about Chandler?  It had been, like, a hundred years since they had broken up.  Or not broken up but… whatever.  She hated not being able to define what it was that they had, but she'd gotten used to it.  This new development, the dreams, she was having trouble adjusting to.  Was it her subconscious telling her that she had made a huge mistake?  Or was it just leftover lust for her best friend, trying to find some outlet?  Or maybe she was just lonely.  Whatever it was, it was freaking her out.

          It seemed like eveywhere she went, there was something there to remind her of him.  His scent on her clothes (reason number one hundred and sixty why you don't live with your ex).  The Thai place she passed on her way to work where they used to go on Friday nights.  A gum wrapper on the ground that was the brand he liked.  A shirt in a store window that would go great with his eyes.  A man crossing the street with a baby in a Snugli.  She groaned in exasperation.  Maybe she needed to move out, she thought to herself.  Or maybe she just missed him, her less cynical side countered.

          "Phoebe?" Monica called into the girls' apartment several hours later. 

          "In here!" came her friends sunny voice, and Monica followed it, and the scent of lavender incense, into Phoebe's bedroom.

          "Hey… what's up?" Monica asked, plopping down on the bed.

          "Nothing, just trying out some new incense I'm thinking about using for work," Phoebe said excitedly, joining her on the bed.  "What's up with you?"

          "Nothing," Monica replied with a sigh.  Phoebe looked at her.

          "That was not a happy nothing.  Do you need an aura cleansing?"

          "No, no, Phoebes… actually I was hoping we could just talk for a while."

          "Sure.  Anything in particular on your mind?"

          "Kinda," Monica admitted, embarassed.  Phoebe laid down beside her.  There was a few moments of silence.

          "I could start guessing," Phoebe offered finally.

          "It's just… I've been having these dreams… and thoughts.  About Chandler."

          "Whoa, whoa whoa whoa… are we talking sex dreams here?" Phoebe practically screeched.  Monica shushed her frantically.

          "Keep it down!"

          "Sorry.  But?"

          "Yes, okay, yes.  I've been having sex dreams about Chandler.  Like a lot."

          "Okay… wow this is huge!  So what do you think it means?"

          "I don't know!  That's the problem.  I've been driving myself crazy over it, and I'm not sure if it means I want to be with him, or if I'm just confused or lonely-"

          "Lonely being lonely or lonely being a euphemism for horny?" Phoebe cut in.

          "Both, I guess," Monica admitted.

          "Wait- you said dreams and thoughts, like conscious, real thoughts?"

          "Yeah.  Like… everything reminds me of him.  Everything makes me think about it."  Phoebe shook her head and tsk-ed.

          "What?  What's that noise?" Monica asked impatiently.

          "Mon… it sounds like you're in love with him."

          "Noooo," Monica scoffed. 

          "Yesssss," Phoebe argued.  "And I have to tell you… I've been friends with both of you for a really, really long time.  And I've never seen either of you happier than when you were together."

          "Phoebe, I know, but-"

          "I'm not finished.  That wasn't my point.  My point is, that as happy as you both were, Chandler was ruined when you broke it off.  He was devestated, Monica.  And I know that on some level you were too, and that he lied to you, blah blah blah… but I really don't think he could take it again.  And even though you're my best friend… he's my friend too, ya know?  So, I guess what I'm saying is, if you're going to re-think things, if you're going to do this again… you better be totally sure about it."

          Monica looked down at her hands.  "I know."

          "So.  Are you?"

          "Completely sure?  No.  But I'm starting to think that with love you can never be totally sure."

          "I agree, I guess," Phoebe conceded.  "Just- be careful, Mon."

          "I will.  I'm not going to do anything, I just needed to talk it out.  Thank you," she added.

          "Anytime.  Now.  Lavender, or vanilla?" Phoebe asked, lighting more incense.

          "I can't believe you turned down a date, man.  I mean, what's wrong with you?  Don't you like sex anymore?" Joey asked Chandler incredulously as they walked down the street.

          "Let it go, Joey," Chandler warned.  Joey eyed him suspiciously.

          "Is this a Monica thing?"

          "No.  God, why does everything have to be about her?" Chandler asked, annoyed.

          "It doesn't, but you make it that way.  You're clearly still in love with her."

          "Well, Joey, I've been in love with her for like years.  It's not something you can just turn on and off."

          "I know.  Hey.  I'm sorry, I just thought-"

          "It's okay, I understand.  Trust me… I want to forget about it.  I just…"

          "You can't."

          "I just don't get it… I mean, we live together, we have this amazing connection, this obvious chemistry between us… I know she loves me, she knows I love her… so what is it?" Chandler asked.  Joey looked at his friend.  It was the first time in months that he was really opening up to him, or anyone, about this stuff. 

          "If it means anything, I really do think it's going to work out for you guys someday," Joey said sincerely.  Chandler shook his head in frustration.

          "Thanks.  Hey, I'm gonna run across the street to that grocery store.  Faith needs sippy cups.  We have time?"

          "Yeah, man, we're fine.  I'm gonna call my agent and see what happened with that audition," Joey said, stopping at a pay phone.  "I'll meet you right back here."

          "Okay," Chandler said as he made his way across the street.

          Joey was fumbling in his pocket for the piece of paper with the phone number on it.  He didn't see the cab run the red light.  He didn't see the driver slam into his best friend and send him flying through the air on his way to buy sippy cups for his daughter.  But he heard it.  He heard the brakes squeal, the impact of the car.  He heard the thud of Chandler's body on the pavement yards away, and he heard traffic stop.  He willed himself to look up, and when he did, he fell to his knees and vomited.

          Monica and Faith were making dinner.  Well, Monica was making dinner, and Faith was playing with pots and wooden spoons at her feet.  Monica stepped over her to get to the refrigerator.

          "What a beautiful song, Faith!" she exclaimed.  Faith grinned and banged the pot three times in succession.

          "Mon play?" she asked, extending one of the spoons toward her.  Monica quickly checked on the sauce simmering on the stove and counted that she had about six minutes.

          "Sure thing, babydoll," she said, sitting beside her on the floor and joining in the percussion concert.  Monica smiled and smoothed back Faith's hair as she watched her, little tongue hanging out the corner of her mouth and eyes squinted in intense concentration.  The phone rang just as Faith finished her last bang.

          "The perfect crescendo!" Monica said laughing, standing to answer the phone.  "Hello?"

          "Monica?" a weak, cracking voice asked from the other end.

          "Joe?  Is that you?"

          "Yeah, it's me," he said, fighting tears.

          "Are you all right?  You sound weird," she said.

          "I'm fine… I'm at the hospital."  Monica's heartbeat quickened as her mind raced, trying to place each of her friends.  Rachel was at work.  Phoebe was massaging.  Ross and Carol were on vacation.  Chandler was-

          "What are you doing at the hospital?" Monica asked shakily, squeezing her eyes closed in realization of who he was there because of.

          "Mon… Chandler got hit by a car," Joey said quietly.  "You need to get down here."  She said nothing.  Her mouth was dry, her mind was numb.  Faith started banging on the pots again.

          "Monica?"

          "What do you mean he got hit?  He's okay, right?" she finally asked frantically.  Joey didn't respond.  "Joey?  He's okay, isn't he?"

          "I think you should just come down here as fast as you can," he said as soothingly as he could under the circumstances.  

          "I'll be right there.  Don't move," she said, hanging up the phone. 

Wow that was EVIL even for me!!! Wanna know what happens?  REVIEW!