A.N.  Chapter 12 J  Sort of shorter but I posted it a lot faster this time, eh?  You guys are proud of me.  I know you are.  Seriously, though, I hope this lives up to all of your expectations.  Probably one more chapter and possibly an epilogue to go, so please read and review.

Disclaimer:  I don't own anything.         

            Joey sat in a ridiculously uncomfortable orange plastic chair, but he didn't even notice because he was numb.  He just kept staring at the elevator doors, waiting for someone, anyone, one of his friends, to come barelling through so that he wouldn't be the only one anymore.  The only one who knew what happened, and the only one there to deal with it.

            He was staring at the elevator when it opened and a striking brunette, her pretty face etched in lines of great anxiety, exited the steel doors.  Monica.  In her arms she held a baby, who was growing with each passing moment; was she eighteen months now, or nineteen?  The child was completely oblivious of her surroundings and situation, and her head was resting gently, trustingly, on Monica's shoulder as one of her hands twisted in her hair. 

            "What happened?" Monica demanded as she approached him.  He stood and hugged her tightly.

            "You brought Faith," he said. 

            "No one was home to watch her," she said.  He held her tighter.  "Joey, you're scaring me," she said, voice wavering.  He sighed and released her, sat down and patted the seat next to him.  She sat.

            "I was on the phone," he began shakily.  "Chandler was going across the street to buy something… some cup or something… for Faith," Joey said, and shook his head sadly, stroking Faith's back.  Monica took Joey's hand in hers.

            "I don't know what happened," he continued, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.  "One second he was crossing at the crosswalk, the next he was on the ground.  The paramedics and police came… the guy who hit him drove away.  Ran a red light and kept on going," Joey finished, breaking down.  Monica's hand was at her mouth, in shock.

            "Joey, please tell me he's going to be okay.  You have to tell me that," she begged, her own tears falling freely now.  Joey was silent, weeping softly.  "Joey!  You have to tell me that!  You have to tell me that!" she repeated hysterically.  Faith, finally sensing the tension, began to cry as well.  It took Monica a moment or two to recognize the child on her lap.  "Shhh, baby, shhh.  Not right now.  Please," she said, wiping her eyes.  Faith's crying quieted slightly.

            "What did the doctor say?" she asked Joey.

            "He's in surgery.  They won't tell me anything.  They said he was unconcious and lost a lot of blood on the way over," he managed to get out.

            "Why won't they tell you anything?" Monica practically screamed, starting the baby off again.

            "Because I'm not family.  They said they needed to talk to his mom, or to you.  His mom's in France."

            "Why me?" she asked.

            "You're his in case of emergency person," he said.  "Go talk to that nurse, she was the one that was with him," he pointed across the room.

            "Take her," Monica said, giving Faith to Joey and walking towards the nurse jauntily, unnaturally.  Joey looked down at the crying baby in his arms.  She was so little, so innocent… Chandler was her only parent.  The best parent she could ask for.  If he… he couldn't even bring himself to think it, but… she would be all alone.  Well, she'd have them, but… it wouldn't be the same.  He pictured her five, ten, twenty years down down the road… beautiful, successful… but in every image, she was crying, just like she was now.

            "Excuse me?" Monica said, approaching the middle aged nurse.  "I'm Monica Geller, my friend Chandler Bing was brought in-"

            "The hit and run," the nurse said in recognition.  "Yes, your boyfriend over there has been waiting for you," she said, indicating Joey.

            "He's not my boyfriend," Monica started, then realized she didn't care what this woman thought.

            "Oh, I just assumed from the-"

            "Could you please tell me about Chandler?" she interrupted impatiently.  She really didn't care what this woman assumed, either.

            "Of course, let me get his chart," she said.  She returned moments later.  "He just got out of surgery," she said.  "He was hit pretty badly, and lost a lot of blood-"

            "Is he going to be okay?" Monica interrupted again.  "I'm sorry, but… is he going to be okay?" 

            The nurse looked at this girl.  She couldn't have been more than 25 or 26 years old, and her face was so drawn, so worried.  She wanted to envelop her in a giant hug, comfort her, be her mother.  But the best and only thing she could give her was the truth.

            "He broke his leg and two ribs, and he has a moderately mild concussion.  He's still unconscious, and we won't get the CAT scan back for a few hours.  But barring any furthur complications… he should make a full recovery," the nurse said.  Monica exhaled and realized she'd been holding her breath, but didn't remember for how long.  Her face crumbled and she sobbed tears of relief.  The nurse dropped the chart and hugged her.

            "Thank you," Monica managed to get out.

            "He's going to be okay," she said soothingly.  Monica collected herself as best she could.

            "Can I see him?"

            "He really shouldn't have visitors at this junction," the nurse began. 

            "I need to see him," Monica insisted.  The nurse hesitated.

            "Okay.  Don't tell anyone," she warned.  Monica nodded gratefully.

             "I won't, thank you so much."  She hurried back to Joey and relayed the information, hugged him tightly, kissed Faith, and then followed the nurse to Chandler.

            "Is that you daughter?" the nurse asked on their way.

            "No, it's his.  Chandler's," Monica told her absently.

            "She's beautiful."

            "Yes, she is.  So is he," Monica said, tearing up again. 

            "Here we are," the nurse said, opening the door.  "Only for a few minutes, now."  Monica nodded and thanked her again, then entered the room.

            She choked back a sob when she saw him.  He was hooked up to a million machines.  His body was mangled, there was a long gash above one of his eyebrows and bruising all over his face and arms.  His leg and ribs were casted and stiff.  He looked like he had escaped death, and she realized that he had.  She sat down in the chair next to his bed and took his hand gently.

            "Oh Chandler," she breathed.  "You scared us so badly."  His breathing was labored.

            "But you're going to be okay.  You have to be okay.  I need, you, Faith needs you.  We all need and love you so much," she said through her tears.  "I've been so incredibly stupid.  I was so determined to find myself that I lost what was most important.  I was so determined to save our friendship that I destroyed what we both really wanted.  And worst of all," she choked, "I pretended I didn't want it at all.  When you wake up- and you will, you will wake up- I'm going to repeat all that," she said, laughing a little.  "I love you, Chandler," she whispered, kissing his lips gently.  She moved to the edge of his bed gingerly and kissed his hand.  "I love you so much, and I'm just sorry it took you getting run over for me to realize how wrong I've been."  She felt a gentle pressure on her hand and looked up, surprised and wiping her eyes.

            "Ch- Chandler?" she asked softly.  His eyes fluttered, then opened.  "Chandler," she repeated, smiling, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

            "Hey Mon," he croaked out, squeezing his eyes in pain.  She giggled in relief.

            "Hey you," she whispered, stroking his cheek.

            "How am I?" he asked.

            "You're gonna be just fine," she told him.  "Any chance you heard what I was saying before?"

            "What?  No.  But I would have been listening, if I hadn't been hit by a speeding car," he said dryly.  She laughed.  Leave it to Chandler to come up with sarcasm on drugs and in pain.

            "Good to see you still have that stunning wit," she said.

            "Will you tell me it again?" he asked, drifting off to sleep.

            "Tomorrow," she told him.  "Rest now."

            "Okay.  But you're telling me tomorrow," he told her as he nodded off.  Then his eyes snapped open in panic.

            "Monica, will you stay here with me?" he asked, too loudly.  She sat on the floor and rested her head against his arm.

            "Shh.  Of course.  I'm not going anywhere."

            "You promise?" he asked sleepily.

            "Never again," she whispered as he fell asleep.