AN: I'm keeping the rating at PG-13 for now, but there is some swearing in this chapter, so if I need to, I'll change the rating later…
I have to say, I was shocked at how many people reviewed that short prologue, lol. (Thank you!) A few people asked me why I don't torture Monica…frankly, it's just not as much fun for me…hee.
When We Dance
~One: Fields of Gold~
When the night takes a deep breath
And the daylight has no air
If I crawl, if I come crawling home
Will you be there?
Two Weeks Earlier
I often have this dream; I am standing in a vast wheat field, a warm breeze rushing over my face, and through my hair. My hand brushes over the tips of wheat, as a wander toward the deep blue horizon—nothing ahead of me, nothing behind.
There is a sense of freedom within me. With no baggage of the past…no clear future taking shape…I am free to be who I want to be—I am free from the world that spawned the person I've become.
Eventually, inevitably, I wake up; my world collapses around me once more, and reality comes back to taunt me. I close my eyes, and struggle to find the fields again, but to no avail. The day invades; and I am once again reminded that I have become something that I despise, and the depression hits me, like a speeding taxi.
I rise, and greet the morning with a low grunt. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I cross the room, and fumble with the teakettle. My mind begins to clear, and I make a mental note of all the things I need to do today. I need to go to the store…we're almost out of bread. I need to check on our guest. I need to—
A sharp rapping on my front door interrupts my thoughts. Sighing deeply, I shuffle to the door and undo the door lock, two dead bolts and brass chain—this is New York, after all, who knows what kind of nutcases are running around? I laugh silently at my own little ironic joke, and open the door. My smile fades, when I see that my brother is in a horrible mood.
"Are you gonna let me in, or are you just gonna gape at me like some kind of fucking asshole?" Nothing but class; that's my brother!
"Sorry," I mutter half-heartedly, and move to the side. My brother stalks in, and looks around expectantly. I can't help but notice that he kind of resembles a gorilla, with his long, thick arms swinging around the way they are. I keep the thought to myself, and wait for him to form a coherent thought.
"Well, where the fuck is he?"
"Do you need to be so crass?" I say irritably. Honestly, it's not like we're teenagers.
"Sorry. Where the fuck is he you fucking asswipe?"
Asshole.
"He's in there," I point to the door in the back of the room.
"In the fucking closet? Are you trying to fucking kill him or something?"
"Well, I can't just leave him out here," I argue, "in case you haven't noticed, this is a studio apartment!"
"Yeah, whatever," my brother mutters, clearly not interested.
He thumps over to the closet door, and opens it slowly.
"He's not moving, fuck face," at least my brother is finding new and fun ways to use his favorite word.
"He's asleep, I say, as I approach. He had a long night, what with all his squirming and fighting back and shit," I mutter.
"You sure this is the right kid?"
"Of course I am."
"Whatever," my brother mutters, seemingly convinced. I make a mental note to check out our guest's pulse later.
"You got any food, butt plug?"
I shrug, and nod toward the kitchen. My brother heads toward the refrigerator, and I take a moment to observe the unconscious form that is slumped against the wall of my now-empty closet. While I still have my reservations about all of this, I know that there is no going back now.
*
Monica shook her head slowly, as she leaned against the doorframe. If Chandler was trying to get back at her, messing up her apartment was definitely the way to do it.
What was he really hoping to accomplish here? Yeah, he'd made a mess, and yes, it pissed her off severely, but it wasn't going to solve anything.
She sighed, and moved fully into the apartment. She realized at that moment that Chandler wasn't trying to accomplish anything; he was just being childish. Being childish was something her boyfriend excelled at.
"You really don't want to mess with me, Bing," Monica muttered to herself, as she picked up one of the kitchen chairs.
The door opened, and Monica spun around, expecting to see Chandler walking in laughing.
"Wow, what happened here?" Phoebe exclaimed, as she and Rachel walked into the apartment.
"Chandler happened," Monica said irritably, as she finished picking up the chairs.
"Uh oh, trouble in paradise?" Rachel smirked, as she sat down in one of the chairs Monica had just straightened.
"Shut up, Rachel," Monica hissed, and headed into the living room.
"Whoa, don't take out your anger on me? What happened?" Rachel held her hands up defensively.
"Sorry," Monica sighed, as she picked up a thin throw, and re-placed it on the back of the sofa, "It's nothing, really."
"You sure? Chandler's finally getting to ya, huh?" Phoebe giggled.
"No…well..." Monica scanned the room, "he is on my list now."
"Hey," Ross said, as he walked into the apartment, "Mon, have you seen Chandler?"
"Not since this morning," Monica sighed, "Why?"
"He was supposed to meet me at the museum today, and he never showed," Ross shrugged, and pulled open the refrigerator door.
"When was he supposed to meet you?" Phoebe asked.
"A few hours ago," Ross said, his head inside the fridge, "Hey Mon, do you have any juice?"
*
"Huh?" I asked, and turned away from the closet.
"Beer, asshole, do you have any beer?"
"Is there any in there?"
"Nope," I watched my brother close the fridge door, and look over at me expectantly.
"Then I don't have any beer."
My brother opened his mouth to swear at me, but a sudden rustling stopped him. I turned around, and saw that our new guest was coming to.
Two Months Earlier
"Is that a threat? Because you can not threaten me!"
"All I'm saying is that you may want to consider your actions here. You don't want to piss these people off."
"Trust me, I'm aware of the consequences. Just get me the money."
"Fine," the thin man relented, and wandered out of the room.
Turning his blue eyes up to the ceiling, he sighed and shook his head. This was no big deal; he certainly wasn't afraid of those dopey Radcliffe brothers. And he was definitely smarter than them!
What could possibly go wrong?
*
"Hey," Chandler smiled, as he walked into Monica's apartment, "anyone here?"
"Nope," Monica smiled seductively, and moved closer to Chandler.
"When is Rachel gonna be home?" Chandler mumbled between kisses.
"Late…very…very…late," Monica replied breathlessly.
"Mmm…excellent," Chandler grinned, kissed Monica's neck, and picked her up quickly.
Monica squealed as Chandler picked her up, then settled her head into the crook of his neck, as he carried her into her bedroom.
"Chandler?" Monica whispered two hours later. Her head was resting on his bare chest, and he was running his right hand through her ebony hair.
"Hmm?"
"Do you think we should tell them…you know, about us?"
"Do you think we're ready?"
"I think so," Monica grinned.
"Okay," Chandler shrugged, "but can we do it next week? I don't want to die before the Knicks game on Friday."
Monica giggled and turned her head to look up at Chandler.
"It won't be that bad," she smiled.
"Yeah, okay," Chandler grinned, "but if Ross murders me, I'm blaming you."
Monica laughed and shook her head, "It'll be fine—nothing's gonna happen to you!"
"That's what you think," Chandler chuckled, and pulled Monica up and on top of him, before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her deeply.
In a little while
Surely you'll be mine
In a little while I'll be there
In a little while
This hurt will hurt no more
I'll be home, love
When the night takes a deep breath
And the daylight has no air
If I crawl, if I come crawling home
Will you be there?
In a little while
I won't (be) blown by every breeze
Friday night running
To Sunday on my knees
That girl, that girl
She's mine
And I've know her since
Since you were a little girl
With Spanish eyes
Oh, when I saw her
In a pram they pushed her by
My, how you've grown
Well it's been
It's been a little while
Slow down my beating heart
Man dreams one day to fly
A man takes a rocket ship into the skies
He lives on a star that's dying in the night
And follows in the trail
The scatter of light
Turn it on
Turn it on
You turn me on
Slow down my beating heart
Slowly, slowly love
Slow down my beating heart
Slowly, slowly love
Slow down my beating heart
Slowly, slowly love
("In a Little While", by U2 ©2000)