A/N: Okay, who thinks that "out of the woodwork" is something people say? Because Becca doesn't. And I do. I want a vote. Then we'll just see, Bec, we'll just see. BTW, everyone, BECCA'S DRIVING! Watch out drivers, pedestrians, pilots and chickens, she's a maniac! Just kiddin, babe. Bec's a great driver. She even learned how to park the car today. Let's give her a big round of applause, eh? *hugs Bec*

Well, this fic is almost over and I think I speak for everyone when I say FINALLY! It's not very long but it seems to have taken forever to me. Hehe :) Prolly just one more chap after this. So thanks for the reviews and thanks for reading this again!

Disclaimer: I know I don't own them. Sometimes I think I do, though. In my dreams, I own all of them. And Julie owns Clay. Something she can never say in real life. *giggles* Hi Julie!

CHAPTER 8

Monica sighed as she followed Rachel up the stairs to their apartment. She had the length from the front door to the staircase, and the bottom of the stairs to their floor all memorized.

Their uneventful weekend in the Pocono's had ended too quickly. She was back home - back to New York City, muggy, smoggy, loud, angry New York City. Back to her normal life of sitting around, waiting for something that would never come. Back to loneliness and anxiety and boredom.

33, 34, 35, Monica counted wearily, arriving at the top of the steps. She heard Rachel searching for her keys in her purse, the clink as she took them out, and then a gasp.

"What are these?" she asked excitedly.

"What?" Monica wondered.

"These roses! 12 long-stemmed roses, they're beautiful! Oh... hey..." Rachel trailed off. " 'To Monica, From Chandler.' Wow. I thought you dumped him!"

Rachel shoved the roses into Monica's arms. The sweet scent filled her nose as she struggled to comprehend what Rachel was telling her. I thought I dumped him too... she thought. She sniffed the roses again. As Rachel opened the door, she found a glass vase, filled it with water, placed the roses inside, and delicately placed the vase on the kitchen table. They smelled very nice, and probably

Beep. Rachel pressed in answering machine button.

"Hello, Monica, this is Doctor Eckhart. I'd like to speak to you about the surgery very soon, so please call my office when you get this message." Monica clenched her fists.

Beep.

"Monica, it's your mother. I was wondering if maybe you wanted me to take you shopping for some new clothes this week. I'll talk to you later."

"What, now I can't even dress myself?" she muttered angrily.

Beep.

"Hey - uh, hey, Monica. It's me. Ch-chandler, that is. Chandler Bing. Well, that's obvious, I guess, I mean how many Chandler's do you know? Uh - anyways... I haven't heard from you lately so I was just calling to say what's up. I hope that's okay, y'know, that we're, uh, talking, and stuff. Um, give me a call when you get this message. If you want to. Okay? Yeah, I'll talk to you later. Bye."

Monica smiled without realizing what she was doing. Rachel laughed out loud.


"Oh my God! That man is in loooove with you!" she cried, giggling.

"What makes you say that?"

"Uh, maybe the incredibly nervous message he left you, or perhaps the gorgeous bouquet of roses he sent to your house? Geeze, Mon, how many not-so-subtle hints do you need? Call the guy back, before he wets himself!"

"I'm not calling him," Monica murmured, sitting down on the couch.

"Why not?"

"Because, I - I don't - I'm not seeing him!"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"You sound like a five year old."

"If you tell me why you won't call him, I'll stop bugging you."

"Fine," Monica said in exasperation. "I'm not calling her because I'm not getting into a relationship where I'll only get hurt, okay?" She stood up and slammed into her bedroom.

Rachel followed her and knocked on the door. When she didn't answer, she called, "Who said you're going to get hurt?"

"Hey, Mon."

Monica looked in the direction of the door, which had just opened and shut.

"Hi, Rach," she said, turning down the volume on the radio. "How was work?"

"Exhausting," Rachel replied. "The orders for the new pants got mixed up with the women's lingerie and I ended up with 25 boxes of thongs in my office."

"I'd take your day over mine," Monica said under her breath. I'd do anything to get away from the boredom and loneliness of sitting at home all day with nothing at all to do. I'd give anything to be able to even see those thongs you were complaining about.

"What'd you say?" Rachel asked.

"I said, sounds like a tough day."

"Yeah, it was. Hey," Rachel said, her voice suddenly taking on a different edge. "Do you want to, maybe, ah, go down to the coffeehouse?"

"That would be great," Monica said in relief. She was going stir crazy.

"Great!" Rachel replied, a little too enthusiastically. She handed Monica her purse and they went downstairs. Monica heard the tinkle of the bell as Rachel opened the door and the light chatter of patrons in the shop. She felt her way to their favorite couch in the back and sat down.

"Gunther, can we get two coffees?" Monica called in the direction of the bar.

"Make it three," Rachel said quickly.

"Three? You expecting a date?" Monica joked.

"No... you are."

Monica's eyebrows shot up and she opened her mouth to ream Rachel out when someone else said, "Hi."

Rachel is so dead.

"Hi, Chandler!" Rachel said cheerily.

"Hi, Rachel. Hi, Mon."

"Hi, Chandler," Monica said, forcing a smile. "Hey, Rach, can I talk to you for a minute?" She stood up and yanked on Rachel's arm.

"Uh, sure," Rachel said. "Not that you gave me much choice."

"What the hell did you do?" Monica squealed once they were away from Chandler.

"I invited Chandler here."

"Yeah, I got that, but why? You knew I didn't want to see him, and - "

"And I also knew why. Mon, you have been miserable since your last date. You never explained why you stopped seeing him, but it was so obvious that you wanted to see him again. You're trying to protect yourself from getting hurt, and I understand that. But I hate seeing you like this, so last night, I called Chandler and asked him to meet us here."

"Rachel - "

"No, look. Chandler is a great guy. I know that; you know that. You want to date him - there's another thing we both know. Now why don't you just suck it up, talk to him, and get over yourself? You guys have something. Do you really want to go through life not knowing if it could be something more?"

Monica sighed. Everything Rachel had just said was completely true. She wanted to talk to Chandler more than anything - the fact that he was standing behind her, probably looking at her, sent goose bumps of pleasure up her back. She'd been fighting against herself for a week and now, she realized, she couldn't keep fighting. It wasn't fair - it wasn't fair that her own insecurities were hurting Chandler; it wasn't fair that she was holding back so hard when all she wanted to do was let go.

"Okay, okay, I'll talk to him," Monica said. "But only for you." She smiled.

"Ooh, yay!" Rachel said excitedly.

"And, Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Monica turned around and sat down on the couch.

"Okay, then, I'm just gonna go sit - back there - yeah," Rachel stammered, excusing herself. Monica nodded and turned to the spot she could hear Chandler from. She smiled weakly.

"It's great to see you," Chandler said sincerely.

"It's great to see you too. Well, hear you, I guess," Monica said, laughing.

"Yeah. So, um, Rachel didn't exactly mention why you didn't, uh, set this up yourself. Y'know, why you didn't - "

"Yeah, that," Monica said. "Okay. I guess you kind of deserve for me to be honest about this."

"If it's that you just don't like me, I'd kind of rather you use a line. Y'know, it's not you it's me, or something equally generic," Chandler said in what Monica hoped was a joking voice.

"No, it isn't at all. Okay. I told you... all that because... because I was afraid. I thought that maybe, okay, you liked me now, but after some time, you might... not. You might not want to be with someone who's blind."

There was silence for a moment. "Monica, I'm so sorry you would ever think that. I know we talked about this before, and I know that I don't care that you're blind."

"I know you said that, but I - I have this irrational fear that you'll change your mind somewhere down the road, decide it was too much trouble. And I wanted it to be okay, I really did, but every time I was with you, I thought that it wouldn't be okay, until - "

"Whoa, whoa, Monica, slow down," Chandler said. "You were afraid that - that you would be too much trouble?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Monica said, blushing.

"And that's why you didn't call?"

"Uh huh."

"Wow. Monica - I don't know what to say."

"Pretty stupid, don't you th - "

He leaned in and kissed her.

"Think?" she finished with a gulp as he pulled away.

"Not really," he replied.

"So you're not mad at me?" Monica asked.

"Not at all."

"And we're okay?"

"We're perfect.... aren't we?"

Monica grinned, feeling truly happy for the first time in two weeks. "Yeah. We are."

A/N: Yep. Sap sap sap. :) *hugs all readers and pets Becca* HA!

*Yen*