A/N: Not much to say here except thanks for the reviews! *Looks at pinched finger* MAN, I love you! And, excuuuuuse me, but your s/n is ON your PROFILE, Miss Becca Boo. Yeah, I'm glad Chuck didn't kill me too... I managed to convince him I was on HIS side. Muahaha... I'm on a side of my own!!!
BTW, everyone else, Becca and I are update buddies again!!!!! Check out the last chapter of "Between Us"!!! It's a real... a real... well, I'm not quite sure what happens in it, but read it anyways!
Disclaimer: I can never think of funny disclaimers so I give up *throws the towel in*
Chandler Bing stormed furiously away from his office building. He'd gone in on a Saturday morning - a Saturday - to finish up some paperwork for his boss. He felt slightly ill from the night before; he'd gone to a bar with his roommate Joey. Joey had gone home with a woman - he'd gone home with a hangover.
And now he couldn't get into his building. It was locked up, completely deserted, not even a janitor in sight.
I'm surprised - I mean, it's a beautiful Saturday morning in May - shouldn't the place be swarmed with bussinesspeople excitedly giving up their weekends to do their boss's bidding? he thought sarcastically. Angrily, he started walking through the city, not quite sure where he was going. Certainly not home, to his dank bachelor pad, where all he'd do was grab a beer and sit in front of Baywatch all day. And as much as he loved , he didn't think he could stand watching all those beautiful women running in the sun and saving lives while the riskiest thing he'd do was tip the pizza guy an extra buck.
Frustrated and bored, Chandler found himself making his way down the paths at Central Park. He kicked a pebble and kept his head down like a sullen kid. The sight of young couples groping each other made him sick, and he continued to a quieter section of the park. A deserted bike path wove through it. Water lapped against an embankment that led sharply down to a lake filled with dark water. Probably a breeding zone for E coli., Chandler thought in disgust. I wouldn't go in that water if Yasmine Bleeth begged me to.
Well, maybe if she were topless.
Chandler bought a pretzel from a clean-looking vendor - isn't that an oxymoron? - and sat on a bench, watching a few bikes go by. The only other people around were a teenage pair, giggling and flirting on the grass, and a little boy, perhaps a little brother, playing with a large border collie and a Frisbee.
Staring down the bike path, Chandler saw a figure roaring towards him. It was a woman with long dark hair, and, despite her wild pedaling on the bicycle, Chandler could see she had a great body. But that wasn't what caught his attention. She had an expression on her face, like she was floating on a cloud but worried she would fall, all at the same time. He watched her intently, mesmerized by the way her muscles pushed angrily at the pedals and the fierce concentration on her face.
Suddenly, the little boy threw his Frisbee across the path. The dog became confused and started chasing it. Chandler saw the accident coming before it happened.
The woman on the bike yanked the handlebars to the side, and the front wheel jerked to the side, bouncing off of the path. Suddenly, she was launched from the bike, and she screamed. She hit a light pole head-on, rolled down the embankment, and splashed into the nasty-looking water.
Chandler was up and running before he heard her cry out. He dashed towards the water and stopped at the edge, hoping to see the woman crawling to the surface. When she didn't appear after several seconds, he pulled off his shirt and jumped in.
The water was about five feet deep, and Chandler, at almost 6'1, could navigate through it easily. He wasn't paying attention to the disgusting, slimy water that was covering him, or the tiny creatures that were nipping at his arms and legs. All he could think was find the woman.
He plugged his nose, closed his eyes, and ducked under the water. With his one free arm, he felt for a body. His hands closed on something - an arm, perhaps? Terrified, he pulled upwards, sputtering as he hit the surface. He pulled the woman up with him. Her dark hair covered her eyes, and Chandler couldn't tell if she was breathing.
"Help me!" he yelled to the teenagers, who were standing at the edge of the embankment. They grabbed the woman under the arms and dragged her out of the water. Chandler pulled himself out of the repulsive water and dropped down next to her. He quickly pushed her hair away from her face. The first thing her saw was a large cut and a bruise on her forehead, right where she'd hit the pole. He flinched and put his ear to her chest. She was breathing.
"Call 911," he barked to the teenagers. The girl, who looked close to tears, hurriedly pulled a cell phone out of her purse. Chandler realized he had his too - in his soaked pants pocket.
The woman started to cough violently, and struggled to sit up.
"No, don't. Just lay there," Chandler said quickly. "It's okay."
"Who are you?" she cried, looking panicky.
"My name is Chandler. Chandler Bing. You fell off your bike and rolled into the water, but you're okay now." He hoped he was right - the cut of her head was bleeding profusely. He grabbed the shirt he'd left on the dirt and gently held it against her head. Her eyes flew open, but she just stared blankly ahead. Chandler frowned - why wouldn't she look at him?
"What're you doing?" she asked, batting his hand away.
"You've got a cut on your head, I'm putting my shirt on it," he explained, amazed at the calmness in his own voice. "What's your name?"
"Monica Geller," she said. After a pause, where her forehead creased in confusion, she asked, "Hey, is it dark already?"
Chandler stared at her, and then looked behind him at the teenagers and young boy. The girl shrugged.
"Uh - no, it's not dark," he said, staring down at her.
"But... what?" she asked, equally perplexed.
"It's not dark," Chandler stated again. "It's the middle of the day, Monica."
"But... then... wait," Monica trailed off. "Are you in front of me? Why can't I se you? Are my eyes closed?
"No, they're open," Chandler said in complete puzzlement. Then it hit him. "You mean, you can't see me?"
"NO!" Monica yelled. "What happened? Why can't I see?"
Monica was overcome with terror. The last thing she remembered was falling off the bike and hitting something... and then she'd woken up soaking wet and coughing up water, with a stranger talking to her. And now he was telling her that her eyes were open - but she couldn't see! Blinding pain filled her head, and her arms and legs were sore and aching.
"I don't know," Chandler said. "An ambulance is on the way, Monica, everything's going to be fine." His voice was drifting away.
"Wait! Where are you going?" she cried, reaching out. "Please don't leave!" She'd never heard such desperation in her voice - but then, she'd never felt quite so scared and alone.
"I'm just standing up to look for the ambulance," Chandler said, and his voice was close again. "I'm sorry. I'm right here." He seemed to sense her horror.
"I didn't hit the dog, did I?" Monica asked suddenly, afraid that all of the pain she was in right now was in vain.
Chandler let out a small laugh. "No. You didn't hit the dog."
"I'm really sorry," said another voice, one of a child's. "I really didn't mean for Sammy to run in your way - "
"It's okay," Monica reassured the boy. Suddenly, Monica heard sirens.
"Down here!" Chandler called. "She's down here!" Strange voices surrounded her, hands were all over her - checking her pulse, touching her head, her arms, her neck. Monica felt like a small child, alone and forgotten. When asked if anything hurt, she said only her head and her wrist, which she could not move.
"Okay, ma'am, we're going to put you on a stretcher now," one of the men told her. She gasped as she was lifted up, onto a hard, flat board. She started to cry from the pain and fright. She had the sensation of moving,
and heard wheels rolling along under her. "We're putting you in the ambulance." She was lifted again, and she heard a door slam.
"Wait!" she cried. "Wait - where's Chandler? I want - I want Chandler to come."
"Only immediate family can ride along," one of the EMT's said briskly.
"He's my husband!" Monica blurted out. Chandler had been so kind - he had saved her life, he had soothed her and kept her calm. She needed him.
"O-kaaay," the EMT said doubtfully.
"I'm right here, Monica," Chandler said, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. Monica instantly felt more relaxed.
"Chandler? Will you - will you hold my hand?" she asked in a whisper.
"Sure," he said, and Monica felt a warm, strong hand take her frail, wet, shaking one.
"Thank you."
A/N: Okay, tell me what you think! Don't forget that warning about Chuck... I have a couple of deaths up my sleeve, if you know what I mean. *Looks around*. No one knows? Whatever...
*Yen*
