2008
"Okay... on the count of three. One... two... three!"
Four rocks sailed out and smacked soundly into a piece of railing, sending it crashing five feet out from the deck.
"Okay, that was more rotten than I thought, or we have some serious rage issues," Chandler joked, then trailed off at the looks of focused, nearly demented determination on his friends' faces.
"Obviously the latter..." he muttered, picking up another rock.
"Y'know what? Let's not go on three. Let's just *go*," Rachel spat, hurling another rock at a piece farther up from them. It connected solidly, and the railing lurched southward.
"Since when can you throw?" Joey laughed.
"You don't know *everything* about me, Joseph Tribbiani," Rachel replied, sending off another deadly missile.
"Ooooo-kaaaay," Joey whistled, holding up his hands defensively.
"Hey, don't hog the destruction," Monica muttered.
"I'm not hogging. Jump right in..."
Chandler watched in awe as sweet Joey, prissy Rachel, and oh-no-this-game-needs-rules Monica proceeded to chaotically decimate the south side of his deck.
"Play nicely, children," he tried, but they weren't hearing him.
What the hell had happened last night?
"Do you have a baseball bat?" Rachel interrupted.
"I have a... fireplace poker..."
"Perfect." Rachel stalked inside and returned with the entire fireplace tool set, which she, Monica, and Joey immediately split between them and began beating the railing with mercilessly.
Monica beating something to death with a little broom... it was like his worst nightmare from his Married Days.
"This one won't go down," Monica said, pointing at a joist accusingly.
"Yeah, I super-glued them together last winter," Chandler apologized. "It was cold! Hammers get slippery."
"I like a challenge," Monica growled, raising her ash-broom menacingly.
"And I think I like the *inside* of the house," Chandler blurted, reaching for the handle of the sliding-glass door.
A yell, a thump, and Chandler turned around to find Rachel and Joey staring over the side of the railing, wearing identical expressions of horrified surprise.
"I'm okay!" Monica's voice rang out from below them.
He jogged over to the edge. Monica was sprawled out on the swampy ground below, picking herself up gingerly.
"Seriously, guys, I'm okay. I think I took a little skin off my hand, that's all." She stood up and took a step forward. "Oh... not okay, not okay!"
"What's wrong, Mon?"
"Ankle... *really* sucking... ow!"
Chandler vaulted down to the ground, saying a small prayer of thanks that Monica had fallen off the short end of the deck.
"Hang on, Mon." He swung her up into her arms. "I gotcha."
"I think maybe it's just sprained..."
"We'll take a look. C'mon."
He carried her to the living room couch, Joey and Rachel following nervously, and pulled up the leg of her jeans.
"That's a bad sprain," Joey said authoritatively.
"What?"
"Okay... when the makeup artists made something into a bad sprain, *that's* what it looked like."
"Does this hurt?" Chandler asked, bending her foot back gently.
"Yes!"
"How about this?" he rotated it a few centimeters.
"Yes!"
"How about..."
"Okay, we've *established* that it *hurts*, stop torturing me!"
"Yeah, okay," Chandler said, pulling her pants leg down gently over her rapidly swelling ankle. "Hospital time."
***
Joey pushed the Emergency Room door open gently, careful not to spill his tiny cup of coffee.
"Oh, for god's sake, Ross! It's not like I *pushed* her off the deck!"
Rachel was over by a stand of trees, yelling into her cellphone. At the other end of the parking lot, Chandler was carefully downwind, sucking cigarettes so fast he might as well have smoked a few at once.
The kinda cool thing was, they were pacing in unison.
"One... two... three... and turn," Joey whispered. "One... two... three.. and turn..."
"I was not in any 'danger', Ross! *Monica's* the one who decided to climb on the other side and *yank*! I was... yes, I was throwing rocks! No, I do not 'get a kick' out of 'endangering the life of our unborn child'!!"
Sooo... emotional hellhole, or deadly nicotine cloud?
He walked towards Chandler. His lungs would heal.
"It was *not* Joey's idea! Fine, it was *my* idea! Because I didn't realize she was going to do that! I'm not psychic! Well, maybe you *should* have married Phoebe!"
"Fun conversation," Chandler muttered, lighting a new cigarette off the still-lit butt of the one before.
"Oh yeah. Sounds *real* fun."
"Ross! Ross! Will you... I am not! I am *not*! She's *fine*, Ross, it... but it *didn't* happen! I'm not her mother, Ross! For god sakes no, I wouldn't have let Emma do it, what kind of mother do you think I... shut up! Shut up!"
"So, uh, how you like the... um, what teams are down here?" Joey asked nervously.
"For what sport?" Chandler exhaled.
"Pick one."
"Ross, will you just... because it was fun, Ross! Fun! Remember that? That thing we used to have, before we moved off to Boring Land to live amongst the Boringtons?"
"Uh-oh," Joey muttered.
"There's the Falcons," Chandler blurted. "The Braves... um, the Oilers..."
"The Titans..."
"Whatever..."
"Don't you hang up on me! Don't you..." Rachel let out a little scream and threw her cellphone violently against the pavement.
"That's two cellphones in a week," Chandler noticed. "Verizon is *lovin'* our angst."
***
"Okay, Mrs. Burke," the doctor said, entering Monica's room with his arm full of folders. "It's not as bad as we thought it might be. You've sprained it, and stretched a few ligaments. Let me put your X-Rays up for you..."
He switched on the lightboard and pulled black transparencies out of the folder. "Just as a note, though... always, *always* tell the attendant that you're pregnant before you have X-Rays done, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Monica mumbled, a second before her head shot up. "What?"
"Oh, don't worry," the doctor said. "It's just a precautionary thing."
"No... um... what?"
"'What' about which part?"
"The... uh... pregnant part...?"
The corners of the doctor's mouth twitched. "You... uh... didn't know?"
"I *can't* be pregnant."
"I'm afraid you are... is that a bad thing?"
"Wh... how... how far along... when... what?"
"It just showed up on your intake bloodwork... can't really tell from that. Would you like to schedule an appointment with one of our obstetricians?"
"Do you have a... heartbeat thing? An ultrasound?"
"I don't think a fall like that would hurt the baby, as early as this is..."
"You... don't... understand, okay? If you have that stuff, you have to do it to me, *now*."
"Your insurance might not..." he broke off at his first exposure to Monica's I Want Something Face. "Um, I'll call the nurse."
***
"Hey, little jumpy," the nurse cooed, gazing at the screen and turning to smile at Monica. "Looks like your baby's using your uterine walls for a trampoline."
"The baby's moving..."
"Honey, *that* baby's leading an aerobics class! Hang on, let me push on you a little, get Baby Burke there to slow down and say hi to Mommy, okay?"
"No-no," Monica burst out, stopping the nurse's hand. "Let it move."
"Let him move," she whispered, tears falling down her face.
"Let me turn up the volume," the nurse grinned, twisting a knob and filling the room with the sound of drums.
"It's so fast," Monica said nervously.
"It's *supposed* to be that fast. That there's a big healthy baby-heart running like a racehorse."
"Thank you," Monica sobbed. "Thank you..."
***
"You look pretty stoked for a girl on crutches," Chandler joked, tossing his magazine aside as Monica hobbled into the waiting room.
He stopped, taking in her tear-stained face, her radiant smile. "Monica? Did something happen?"
"Yeah, it did," she choked. "It finally, finally did."
"Okay... on the count of three. One... two... three!"
Four rocks sailed out and smacked soundly into a piece of railing, sending it crashing five feet out from the deck.
"Okay, that was more rotten than I thought, or we have some serious rage issues," Chandler joked, then trailed off at the looks of focused, nearly demented determination on his friends' faces.
"Obviously the latter..." he muttered, picking up another rock.
"Y'know what? Let's not go on three. Let's just *go*," Rachel spat, hurling another rock at a piece farther up from them. It connected solidly, and the railing lurched southward.
"Since when can you throw?" Joey laughed.
"You don't know *everything* about me, Joseph Tribbiani," Rachel replied, sending off another deadly missile.
"Ooooo-kaaaay," Joey whistled, holding up his hands defensively.
"Hey, don't hog the destruction," Monica muttered.
"I'm not hogging. Jump right in..."
Chandler watched in awe as sweet Joey, prissy Rachel, and oh-no-this-game-needs-rules Monica proceeded to chaotically decimate the south side of his deck.
"Play nicely, children," he tried, but they weren't hearing him.
What the hell had happened last night?
"Do you have a baseball bat?" Rachel interrupted.
"I have a... fireplace poker..."
"Perfect." Rachel stalked inside and returned with the entire fireplace tool set, which she, Monica, and Joey immediately split between them and began beating the railing with mercilessly.
Monica beating something to death with a little broom... it was like his worst nightmare from his Married Days.
"This one won't go down," Monica said, pointing at a joist accusingly.
"Yeah, I super-glued them together last winter," Chandler apologized. "It was cold! Hammers get slippery."
"I like a challenge," Monica growled, raising her ash-broom menacingly.
"And I think I like the *inside* of the house," Chandler blurted, reaching for the handle of the sliding-glass door.
A yell, a thump, and Chandler turned around to find Rachel and Joey staring over the side of the railing, wearing identical expressions of horrified surprise.
"I'm okay!" Monica's voice rang out from below them.
He jogged over to the edge. Monica was sprawled out on the swampy ground below, picking herself up gingerly.
"Seriously, guys, I'm okay. I think I took a little skin off my hand, that's all." She stood up and took a step forward. "Oh... not okay, not okay!"
"What's wrong, Mon?"
"Ankle... *really* sucking... ow!"
Chandler vaulted down to the ground, saying a small prayer of thanks that Monica had fallen off the short end of the deck.
"Hang on, Mon." He swung her up into her arms. "I gotcha."
"I think maybe it's just sprained..."
"We'll take a look. C'mon."
He carried her to the living room couch, Joey and Rachel following nervously, and pulled up the leg of her jeans.
"That's a bad sprain," Joey said authoritatively.
"What?"
"Okay... when the makeup artists made something into a bad sprain, *that's* what it looked like."
"Does this hurt?" Chandler asked, bending her foot back gently.
"Yes!"
"How about this?" he rotated it a few centimeters.
"Yes!"
"How about..."
"Okay, we've *established* that it *hurts*, stop torturing me!"
"Yeah, okay," Chandler said, pulling her pants leg down gently over her rapidly swelling ankle. "Hospital time."
***
Joey pushed the Emergency Room door open gently, careful not to spill his tiny cup of coffee.
"Oh, for god's sake, Ross! It's not like I *pushed* her off the deck!"
Rachel was over by a stand of trees, yelling into her cellphone. At the other end of the parking lot, Chandler was carefully downwind, sucking cigarettes so fast he might as well have smoked a few at once.
The kinda cool thing was, they were pacing in unison.
"One... two... three... and turn," Joey whispered. "One... two... three.. and turn..."
"I was not in any 'danger', Ross! *Monica's* the one who decided to climb on the other side and *yank*! I was... yes, I was throwing rocks! No, I do not 'get a kick' out of 'endangering the life of our unborn child'!!"
Sooo... emotional hellhole, or deadly nicotine cloud?
He walked towards Chandler. His lungs would heal.
"It was *not* Joey's idea! Fine, it was *my* idea! Because I didn't realize she was going to do that! I'm not psychic! Well, maybe you *should* have married Phoebe!"
"Fun conversation," Chandler muttered, lighting a new cigarette off the still-lit butt of the one before.
"Oh yeah. Sounds *real* fun."
"Ross! Ross! Will you... I am not! I am *not*! She's *fine*, Ross, it... but it *didn't* happen! I'm not her mother, Ross! For god sakes no, I wouldn't have let Emma do it, what kind of mother do you think I... shut up! Shut up!"
"So, uh, how you like the... um, what teams are down here?" Joey asked nervously.
"For what sport?" Chandler exhaled.
"Pick one."
"Ross, will you just... because it was fun, Ross! Fun! Remember that? That thing we used to have, before we moved off to Boring Land to live amongst the Boringtons?"
"Uh-oh," Joey muttered.
"There's the Falcons," Chandler blurted. "The Braves... um, the Oilers..."
"The Titans..."
"Whatever..."
"Don't you hang up on me! Don't you..." Rachel let out a little scream and threw her cellphone violently against the pavement.
"That's two cellphones in a week," Chandler noticed. "Verizon is *lovin'* our angst."
***
"Okay, Mrs. Burke," the doctor said, entering Monica's room with his arm full of folders. "It's not as bad as we thought it might be. You've sprained it, and stretched a few ligaments. Let me put your X-Rays up for you..."
He switched on the lightboard and pulled black transparencies out of the folder. "Just as a note, though... always, *always* tell the attendant that you're pregnant before you have X-Rays done, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Monica mumbled, a second before her head shot up. "What?"
"Oh, don't worry," the doctor said. "It's just a precautionary thing."
"No... um... what?"
"'What' about which part?"
"The... uh... pregnant part...?"
The corners of the doctor's mouth twitched. "You... uh... didn't know?"
"I *can't* be pregnant."
"I'm afraid you are... is that a bad thing?"
"Wh... how... how far along... when... what?"
"It just showed up on your intake bloodwork... can't really tell from that. Would you like to schedule an appointment with one of our obstetricians?"
"Do you have a... heartbeat thing? An ultrasound?"
"I don't think a fall like that would hurt the baby, as early as this is..."
"You... don't... understand, okay? If you have that stuff, you have to do it to me, *now*."
"Your insurance might not..." he broke off at his first exposure to Monica's I Want Something Face. "Um, I'll call the nurse."
***
"Hey, little jumpy," the nurse cooed, gazing at the screen and turning to smile at Monica. "Looks like your baby's using your uterine walls for a trampoline."
"The baby's moving..."
"Honey, *that* baby's leading an aerobics class! Hang on, let me push on you a little, get Baby Burke there to slow down and say hi to Mommy, okay?"
"No-no," Monica burst out, stopping the nurse's hand. "Let it move."
"Let him move," she whispered, tears falling down her face.
"Let me turn up the volume," the nurse grinned, twisting a knob and filling the room with the sound of drums.
"It's so fast," Monica said nervously.
"It's *supposed* to be that fast. That there's a big healthy baby-heart running like a racehorse."
"Thank you," Monica sobbed. "Thank you..."
***
"You look pretty stoked for a girl on crutches," Chandler joked, tossing his magazine aside as Monica hobbled into the waiting room.
He stopped, taking in her tear-stained face, her radiant smile. "Monica? Did something happen?"
"Yeah, it did," she choked. "It finally, finally did."